Contest [Issue 63] Continue the Story

M-axis · April 27, 2017

How come this contest has a different deadline that some others...?

zaydie_boy2000 · April 27, 2017

What if we do 3k words? Would that be ok? :unsure:

zaydie_boy2000 · April 27, 2017

I feel my story could be better if I had a 3k limit. If not I completely understand.

Hex · April 28, 2017

How come this contest has a different deadline that some others...?

The deadline is 1st May, 2017. It's the same as the K/D contest.

What if we do 3k words? Would that be ok? :unsure:

I feel my story could be better if I had a 3k limit. If not I completely understand.

The word limit is strictly 700-2000 words. The entries entered previously are very good examples.

zaydie_boy2000 · April 28, 2017

Trench Warfare

A chose your own adventure by Zaydie_boy2000

Page 1

Rain fizzes down onto the hard ground, crashing like lead onto the heads of the shivering men crouched just inside the deep groove cut into the sodden ground. Most lack helmets and many with gaping ugly wounds are struggling with the cold. Not far away, a streak of lightening rents the sky. Thunder's drums roll steadily on in the background.

The men are tired, exhausted in fact. Many are drooping like unwatered plants as the clutches of sleep grow ever stronger on them. Several are already lying in the thick layer of cold mud at the bottom of the trench, too tired to care where they fall. To the left there is a gaping hole in the trench wall, where a shell has ripped the earth clean away. The muddy water is stained red in places; red with human blood. A rifle lies nearby, seemingly twisted into a knot by some powerful being in a fit of anger.

Still the men hold their positions, gazing with tired eyes across the barren landscape. Little can be made out through the rain, except a few stunted trees.

A radio transmitter suddenly crackles into life inside the trench, loud even with the hammering of the rain. The men are aroused, and one reaches for the transmitter and flicks the switch...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Attention! Attention all soldiers in trench B-East we have a German breach in the trench just North of where you’re positioned* the voice from the transmitter warned, *we need you to fall back immediately to trench C-East just 100 yards behind! Stay low! They are coming! You must all fall back immediately!* The message stopped abruptly and the soldiers jumped to their feet. The dazed look in their eyes suddenly replaced with intense fear. 29 of the men frantically sprinted and leaped into the safer trench 100 yards back. But there were 30 men in the platoon... Who is the 30^th man of the platoon you may ask? Well, unfortunately that man… is you.

You’re back in trench B-East unconscious from a shell that landed a few feet away just earlier. A black haze is spread across your vision but it slowly dissipates and you begin to be able to see clearly again. The ringing in your ears grows louder and then begins to fade; replaced with a new unsettling noise: the sound of approaching footsteps. You begin to hear shouts in German getting louder by the second, and realize in utmost horror that you are in grave danger. With your whole platoon missing and a group of Germans fast approaching, you know you must act fast in order to survive. There is a trench behind you (trench C-East), maybe 100 or so yards back. There would be a very good chance of being spotted if you ran over to it. However, there is also a hole left by the exploded shell that knocked you unconscious. The crater would be just long and deep enough to hide in without being very visible from the center of the trench.

If you decide to dash back to trench C-East go to Page 6

If you decide to hide in the narrow shell hole go to page 7

Page 2

You pick up the transmitter and flick on the switch and speak through it. “Hello! Anyone here! I have an urgent message!” A short silence follows and then raspy voice with a strong accent calls out. “Who is this? I thought I told your platoon to evacuate to trench C-East!!” You are confused, “Wait a second…how do you know I’m still in trench B-East?” I exclaim “and who even is this speaking? Your voice doesn’t sound familiar at all!” There was a longer pause this time... and then you hear something…

Shouts of German in the background. The voice starts up again. “Well…You want the truth? Okay then, I’ll tell you... it will be too late anyways.” Your eyes widen but you continue to listen. “My name is Adal Schneider and I’m the sergeant of a German Unit that just passed by where you now stand just a few minutes previously. It was I that spoke through the transmitter telling your gullible comrades to evacuate to trench C-East. Little did they know that it was all a set up, and we have a special surprise waiting for them. We wanted all your troops in one trench so that when we released our poisonous gas it would kill them all. You are too late however, the fate of your fellow comrades is sealed. We are heading to trench East-C with the gas as I speak. This should be a message to you all never to underestimate the wit and cunning of a German.” The transmitter whirred and crackled, and then went silent. You must make a decision… fast.

If you decide to go through the satchel on the ground go to page 3

If you decide to chase after the Germans with the gas bomb go to page 5

Page 3

Inside the satchel are a few rations, a pack of cigarettes and a German uniform. The satchel must have been dropped by one of the soldiers when they walked by. If you get into the uniform, there’s a chance you could pass as a German troop. So you scramble into the cloths and take the mirror from your old uniform to examine yourself. You look pretty convincing. So with no time to waste you sprint over to Trench East-C hoping to encounter the Germans before they get there. As you approach you see a group of men in the distance heading in the same direction as you. You immediately recognize them as Germans from their striped uniform. You wave your hands through the air to get their attention and they finally notice you. The sergeant yells something in German in your direction. He is holding a large bag in one hand, and some kind of transmitter in the other. The large bag he’s holding contains the devastating gas bomb. The sergeant asks you a question in German, obviously fooled by your disguise. You falter to come up with a response in German but quickly regain your composure. You manage to formulate the phrase “I need to give you something.” from your crude German vocabulary. The German sergeant gives you a questioning look. Your mind is racing and you realize the only things you have on you is a knife, the piece of gum in your mouth, and a grenade. You come up with an idea. Behind your back you connect the chewed piece of gum from your mouth to the grenade and you hold your other hand out to the sergeant pretending to offer something. He lets go of his hand holding the gas bomb and reaches it out. You open your hand and to reveal to reveal nothing at all. The sergeant takes a closer look to see if there is in fact anything on your hand and you pull the clip to your grenade and chuck it at the bag with the gas bomb. The gum on the grenade makes it stick to the bag and when it blows up, it sends up a massive ploom of green gas. You sprint as fast as your legs can take you without looking back toward trench C-East. You hear noises of choking and shouting behind you just as you jump into the trench.

Advance to page 4

Page 4

Your comrades were there waiting for you and they cheer as you take off your German helmet. You have saved your platoon as well as everyone else in the trench and your deed will not go unforgotten. Because of your bravery and cunning the German attack had been foiled. You are given the new rank of sergeant and receive a medal for your honor.

The End

Page 5

You dash towards Trench East-C hoping to encounter the Germans before they get there. As you approach you see a group of men in the distance heading in the same direction as you. You immediately recognize them as Germans from their striped uniform. As soon as they see you they draw their rifles and fire. You don’t stand a chance and you’re shot down immediately. You die seconds later.

The End

Page 6

You jump to your feet and sprint as fast as you can towards trench C-East. Sounds of shouting ring out from behind you followed by the harsh crack of gunfire. You are being shot at and are forced to dive into a shell crater, narrowly dodging the torrent of bullets. Then, the sounds of gunfire come to an eerie halt. Looking behind you could be dangerous as enemy snipers could be aimed right on you. In your uniform all that you have is a knife, a few sticks of gum, a small pocket mirror and a grenade. Your mind races. You come up with two ideas.

If you decide to use your mirror to look behind you to find out what the Germans are up to then go to page 8

If you decide to lob your grenade backwards towards trench B-East as a distraction and then take a wild dash towards trench C-East then go to page 10

Page 7

You squeeze into the shell hole as the noises of approaching footsteps gets louder still. You curl into a position where you can just see trench floor. Suddenly a large boot lands only a few feet from your head. You recognize the leather immediately. The boot was often worn by the German foot soldiers that plagued the area. Another foot landed in front of you, and then many more. By the looks of it, there were anywhere from 15 to 20 of them. One of them shouts something loud in German and they halt and gather in a tight circle just 4 feet from your head. One of them, possibly the sergeant grabs his knife from its holster and carves a map onto the trench floor for the rest of his comrades to see. From where you are, you have an excellent view of the drawing. The sergeant draws two lines; possibly illustrating the two trenches on our side. He then circles the first trench while speaking some words in German. You recognize a few of them as “here” and “we”. He then circles the second line signifying trench C-East. A pang of fear hit your stomach like a brick as you recognized the German word for “gas” that the sergeant uttered. Were they planning to gas trench C-East? He had to warn the other soldiers who might be stationed there. The sergeant kicks dirt over his drawing and then led his soldiers further down the trench. You peek your head out of the hole and to your relief, the Germans are nowhere to be seen. A dirty transmitter is lying sideways on the ground and a torn satchel lies just to its right.

If you decide to use the transmitter to warn the others, go to page 2

If you decide to search the satchel for any useful items, go to page 3

Page 8

You take a stick of gum from your uniform, chew it up and stick it to the tip of your knife. Then you attach your pocket mirror to knife and hold it up facing behind you. You move it to just the right angle and you can see the Trench B-East. There are no troops to be seen.

Advance to page 9

Page 9

Suddenly, out of nowhere a German jumps down into the ditch followed by many more. You scream out in shock and take out your grenade, but they take out their rifles and fire at you before you can even pull the pin. The Germans have outsmarted you this time, and your life will pay ultimate the price.

The End

Page 10

With shaky grip you pull the clip on your grenade and lob it backwards as far as you can. You hear it explode echoed by a chorus of German screams. You take this as an opportunity to hurdle as fast as your legs can take you in the other direction. Unfortunately your plan drew more attention to yourself than it distracted and the Germans easily gun you down. Your plan failed and you die a quick and painful death.

The End

1844 words (Not including original story)

Edited April 29, 2017 by zaydie_boy2000

zaydie_boy2000 · April 28, 2017

Hope you guys enjoy mine! :) You can try different decisions to reveal the full story.

Extremetankmaster · April 29, 2017

STORY THREE

A voice crackled to life"RUN!FAST!G.."A shot was fired and that was the last we heard from him.Hours later we were captured and to be beheaded on the morrow.They took us to Silence where we were to be imprisoned for the night.Lets read what happens!

On the bed Extreme saw,in the dim light,a long bag made of yellow cloth.Inside it lay the body of his friend.Extreme and his old friend were separated.He sat on the edge of his bed as the sad thought passed trough his mind’Alone!I am alone again..!’As he said this,he stopped,his eyes fixed.A strange thought came to his mind.’Since no one but the dead ever leave silence,let me take the place of the dead!’
He did not give himself more time o think about it.He opened the bag with the knife that his friend had made.He took the body and carried it to his bed and drew the bedclothes over his head so that it looked like he was sleeping and thinks''Rest in peace my friend for I shall destroy every single enemy tank!''Tears start swelling in his eyes but holds them back because he knew his friend's sacrifice was not in vain. Then he got inside the bag and stitched it from the inside.

When they laid him in the grave,He planned to let them cover him with sand and he expected to be able to work his way through the soil as soon as possible.Minutes passed and everything was quite.At last,he heard footsteps and was prepared then he heard a voice’He is awfully heavy for a thin dead man’another voice replied’STOP WHINING! now start tieing it on’ ‘Okay sir!’then a question came to his mind’Tied it on,tie what on?’

'Well, we are here at last'said the voice then another replied 'No a little further, you remember what happenned last time when it fell on the rocks Cedric was furious with us!!'he sarted hearing waves crashing upon rocks.Suddenly he felt like he was in the air,almost for a century and then he fell into water,ice cold water.A rock was tied to his legs he was slowly drowning and that’s when he realized]the grave of silence was- the SEA…

Will Extremetankmaster survive or will his friend's gravecloth become his own?Find out your self in the next chapter!BYE!

Extreme was wise enough not to panic.He kept his mouth shut.He still had the knife in his hands.He starts ripping the bag and the rope connecting the rock to his leg.He punges himself forward and starts swimming.After an hour he is almost a kilometer away from Silence but he starts losing strength.But luckily he sees a ship and calls out for help with every ounce of energy he had left.One of the men of the crew sees him pulls him on board.

He wakes up to the sound of an alarm,a jailbreak alarm,He starts remembering what happened.The captain stares at him as if he knows he was the prisoner but extremes blank face convinced him.Then the captain drops him in Rio as requested by Extreme. He jumps overboard and starts walking.Even though its been four years he still remembers the adress '24 street, second lane, Leo's coffee shop'He enters and sees Leo.Leo looked like he had seen a ghost!Extreme quickly asked the key and Leo gave it to him He goes to the back of the shop and starts counting'First row, second column AH ha there you are!"He inserts the key and turns it.

What does he see?Cedric giving him 50 k crystals or is it enemy assasins?(Its not the cedric one,right?)Find out yourself in the next chapter!BYE!

Edited April 29, 2017 by Extremetankmaster

Penguin40 · April 29, 2017

~~Crime vs Cruelty - Part 0~~

Fallen Revenge

The gravestone before him was stone.

Grey, and chilled by the wind that swept through the graveyard, the words carved into it reflected the weak sunlight that filtered through the trees surrounding him. Three lines. A name. Two dates. A quote.

The same quote that was on a scrap of paper next to her the last time he had held her, the same quote that was underneath her final paragraph. The same quote that she wrote before she took her own life.

But now he knew differently.

He took out the card that had arrived in his letterbox five months after the burial. Two days before today. It was plain white, with a few lines printed on it. Anonymous.

It said that she didn’t do it. That it was someone else. Someone else who took her. Someone else who took her away from him forever.

It had an address. He would find it. And avenge her life.

But one thought struck him. How, how did she manage to send this? How would a killer let her write it? Is she alive? Another thought struck him - if the wife was alive, there would only be one reason she had not shown herself - whoever was the assassin was part of a group. She was onto this group.

The address, he deduced, must have been a warning. A message, that there was a group of criminals, and it was now his obligation to eradicate the group, or die trying.

As these thoughts ran around his mind, he remembered that he was still in the graveyard, ahead of the grave of his supposedly deceased wife.

The last thing he heard before his vision blackened, was metal hitting his head. An arrow struck the back of his head, and he fell down, helpless, unconscious, right onto the sand of the grave.

When his vision finally opened, it showed him an empty, clean, pleasant and large room, and a massive and luxurious bed on which he lay. He, however, was barely distracted - in fact, his thoughts were now confirmed, that his wife was alive and was onto a group of murderers. The fact that he ended up in a room tailored to him, where everything was what he liked best, further confirmed his thoughts.

He felt pain on the back of his head, and he knew it was the metallic arrow. Nevertheless, he attempted to stand up, but he could barely sit. This move thus had the consequence of alerting a doctor assigned to him, who raced to the room.

“Hello, Mr. John Warton. You have just woken after a serious concussion on the back of your head. A woman told me about you, and we quickly took you here. You are currently under treatment, and not allowed to leave this place for a week. The woman, by the way, showed herself as your sister, in case you would want to know,” the doctor said.

The man, John Warton, quickly noticed that the doctor seemed to recognize him. He also took note of the last sentence, but avoided any mention. Instead he said, “How long have I been out for?”

“Not long, only about a day. You are fortunate, because such concussions can have serious implications. Think coma, memory loss, et cetera.”

“Indeed. By the way, can I see the arrow which struck me? Or did you throw it away?”

“Kept it, because your sister wanted you to have it,” the doctor told, and handed over the arrow to him.

“I can see why it didn’t hurt me,” Warton replied, and kept the arrow.

A Week Later

As the doctor had said, he could finally leave his bed unsupported, after a week. He quickly realized the home was his own, but paid no attention. Instead, he focused on the address on the letter. He had gotten it as soon as he could walk, and he read it again to himself.

176, Street 2, London.

This was evidently not enough, but he knew what the missing bit was. The address was incomplete in order to lead Warton on the right path, but stump anyone else. And it had succeeded, for in half an hour he was at the destination.

An elderly woman opened the door, who was John’s mother in law, the mother of his wife. She greeted him warmly, and she stated a rather curious statement to Warton, “Your sister came here, and told me not to touch whatever she left behind. Rather weird I must say. You can check whatever she’s been up to. Also, I heard about you being struck by an arrow at her grave. I’m sorry for it, hope you’ve recovered.”

Warton almost let out a laugh, but suppressed it because it could give away crucial information. He entered, and looked across the house. He quickly found a paper lying on a desk, and it said:

“Why would she suicide? And why would someone take her, when no other person wanted in?”

Warton was surprised. He already knew his wife was alive, but he was surprised at why anyone would place such an unnecessary message when Warton was sensible enough to figure the truth out.

But he knew that the house he was at, must be the destination. She would never lie. No, Victoria Warton would not.

He knew something was up. He hadn’t searched well.

He realized the answer.

It must be the room where he was in. The television had to be it.

He pressed his thumb onto the screen, and it worked. It turned on, now asking the user to enter a password to enter anything besides the cable and satellite television. He entered it, and got access. Now he took a virtual-reality “helmet” and wore it on, as he knew it was needed.

Now he saw a different world, and he noticed a few different rooms. Each were labeled differently. He entered one named “Victoria Warton’s Death”, for he knew what it most probably contained.

He saw Victoria, lying on the floor, stabbed with a dagger by a man. Then, the same man hanged her body up, cleaning the blood. Warton noticed numerous other men peeking in, watching from the sides, or from cameras.

“Goodbye, Stallinton.” a man said, a statement which confused Warton. But he kept watching, as the scene skipped to an hour later. She had survived the dagger, helped by Warton’s real sister, and she wasn’t even hanged properly. The two immediately discussed, and came to the conclusion that she has to follow the group undercover. Neither Victoria’s family, nor Warton would know she was alive unless she let them know.

The scene skipped to an unseen person explaining something.

“The note was right. It was not me. In fact, as you can see, I survived, and credit goes entirely to you, Warton. You must by now know why I have not explicitly shown myself, that I am following a terrorist group. And you need to now know, that Starilen Island is a lie. It was meant to be a plot. It still is a plot. At least, there remain rebels in the system, who will make sure they dominate the world. Your clue is registration, and that is where they all lie. Find them. And do not leave it to law - it must be your dagger speaking.

And now. A great responsibility is on you. We must kill them, or die trying.”

The virtual reality sequence then forced him out of the room, and he disconnected, returning to reality.

He remembered one important clue. Registration. She also talked about something called Starilen Island.

He realized. Starilen Island was a project of building a manmade island near Britain, as a residential area. It was, however, meant to have some sort of a proper government, under supervision of British authorities.

It had to be the Starilen Data Registration Agency. The agency, which handled records of people in the area, which handled their identity data.

He decided he would have to pay the island a visit. He left the room and came outside, only to learn that a few armed men were outside the house.

He quickly raced inside, informing his mother in law. “Trouble around. Some men have attacked the house and they’re armed with weapons. And since this street has few people living in it, there’s no people or cameras to catch them.”

“Oh, no. They’re bound to be after you now. You’ve learnt about them, and they won’t stop at anything. Time to battle.”

He then raced outside, just behind the gate which stopped the attackers. There was a small garden between the front door and the gate, and it stretched across the outside of the house, and that was where he was.

He opened the door, but kept behind. They entered, and Warton quickly attacked with a dagger at the front man. He stabbed thrice, and he fell dead.

Four more men came in, and Warton drew a gun out. He made a daring flip and went over the head of one of his opponents, shooting the head thrice.

The men were not slow to react. They quickly turned and shot his leg, and in return Warton threw his dagger at one men. Simultaneously, he fired a bullet at another man. Both met death.

Warton shot another bullet, killing the man. But before he fell, Warton’s mother in law came outside in the garden, and the man took his chance. He fired a bullet or two at her, and she fell.

Warton raced to rescue her, but there was no saving. She was dead.

He left the house, jumped in his car, and decided he would get to Starilen.

Starilen Island.

By the next day, he had booked a visit to the island by sea, and now he was there. The island was a magnificent one, and its sights almost distracted him. But he quickly went to a taxi nearby, and told him to get to the SDRA headquarters.

The taxi driver, named Daniel Thomas, was, surprisingly enough, the same doctor who was assigned to him earlier. But Warton was not surprised, as though he expected it.

They reached the building in a short time, and Warton entered, saying goodbye to Thomas. But he instead came with him, stalking him. He knew his motive, and he wanted to aid.

Warton quickly reached an office in the building. It was owned by a friend of his, James Relion. He greeted him, and asked, “What brings you here?”

Warton replied, “I’ve heard that some terrorists reside here, and they’re responsible for my wife’s murder.”

At this sentence, Relion’s face became pale. He pulled out a gun and went to shoot him, but Warton grabbed the gun. He noticed an entrance to down under, and he went in, followed by Relion and then Thomas.

Once he came underneath, he noticed a number of men there, all terrorists. They had a person trapped in a bulletproof glass cell, which was evidently his wife.

The cell opened, and a fight ensued. In less than five minutes, only Relion remained there. He was, of course, the leader of the terrorist group, and he had more men to his disposal. Meanwhile, Warton quickly freed Victoria.

Warton, Victoria and Thomas all had guns ready. They aimed at the helpless Relion, bound to the ground.

But Warton couldn’t do it. He dropped his gun to the ground, saying, “Why would we be like him? If we do it, there will be no difference between us. Tom, arrest him, imprison him.”

Relion laughed. And at once, twenty more men showed up, and easily outnumbered the three. Relion grabbed Warton by the leg, freed himself, and threw him in the glass cell, leaving it open. Warton was bound by robotic hands.

It was twenty one versus two, now. Relion aimed his gun at Victoria, but Warton freed himself and forced the gun to shoot him instead. Warton died a heroic death, and Victoria could do nothing. As he died, however, he landed another bullet at one who tried to kill her. She fought, landing about seven shots upon them.

But she, too, became prey to four shots upon her. And she fell to her death, brought to peace by the knowledge that they died while fighting terrorists. They had sacrificed their life to stop terrorism.

Thomas was the last enemy. He could, however, do nothing, and he was imprisoned by the terrorists, who laughed. A cheer came. And at once, all was finished. Nobody else knew, nobody else could know.

And thus they remained, dominating the agency. They took over the area, infiltrating the government, but nobody could do anything. Nobody knew. Those who knew, fell. And a rule of terrorism began.

Yay, completed my story. Pretty weird tho, fled from the basic idea :(

1983 words, btw, last sentence of original story inclusive but not the rest. If there wasn't this limit I could do way more, but well :(

Edited May 1, 2017 by Penguin40

zaydie_boy2000 · April 29, 2017

~~Crime vs Cruelty - Part 0~~

Fallen Revenge

It had an address. He would find it. And avenge her life.

But one thought struck him. How, how did she manage to send this? How would a killer let her write it? Is she alive? Another thought struck him - if the wife was alive, there would only be one reason she had not shown herself - whoever was the assassin was part of a group. She was onto this group.

The address, he deduced, must have been a warning. A message, that there was a group of criminals, and it was now his obligation to eradicate the group, or die trying.

As these thoughts ran around his mind, he remembered that he was still in the graveyard, ahead of the grave of his supposedly deceased wife.

The last thing he heard before his vision blackened, was metal hitting his head. An arrow struck the back of his head, and he fell down, helpless, unconscious, right onto the sand of the grave.

When his vision finally opened, it showed him an empty, clean, pleasant and large room, and a massive and luxurious bed on which he lay. He, however, was barely distracted - in fact, his thoughts were now confirmed, that his wife was alive and was onto a group of murderers. The fact that he ended up in a room tailored to him, where everything was what he liked best, further confirmed his thoughts.

He felt pain on the back of his head, and he knew it was the metallic arrow. Nevertheless, he attempted to stand up, but he could barely sit. This move thus had the consequence of alerting a doctor assigned to him, who raced to the room.

“Hello, Mr. John Warton. You have just woken after a serious concussion on the back of your head. A woman told me about you, and we quickly took you here. You are currently under treatment, and not allowed to leave this place for a week. The woman, by the way, showed herself as your sister, in case you would want to know,” the doctor said.

The man, John Warton, quickly noticed that the doctor seemed to recognize him. He also took note of the last sentence, but avoided any mention. Instead he said, “How long have I been out for?”

“Not long, only about a day. You are fortunate, because such concussions can have serious implications. Think coma, memory loss, et cetera.”

“Indeed. By the way, can I see the arrow which struck me? Or did you throw it away?”

“Kept it, because your sister wanted you to have it,” the doctor told, and handed over the arrow to him.

“I can see why it didn’t hurt me,” Warton replied, and kept the arrow.

A Week Later

As the doctor had said, he could finally leave his bed unsupported, after a week. He quickly realized the home was his own, but paid no attention. Instead, he focused on the address on the letter. He had gotten it as soon as he could walk, and he read it again to himself.

176, Street 2, London.

This was evidently not enough, but he knew what the missing bit was. The address was incomplete in order to lead Warton on the right path, but stump anyone else. And it had succeeded, for in half an hour he was at the destination.

An elderly woman opened the door, who was John’s mother in law, the mother of his wife. She greeted him warmly, and she stated a rather curious statement to Warton, “Your sister came here, and told me not to touch whatever she left behind. Rather weird I must say. You can check whatever she’s been up to. Also, I heard about you being struck by an arrow at her grave. I’m sorry for it, hope you’ve recovered.”

Warton almost let out a laugh, but suppressed it because it could give away crucial information. He entered, and looked across the house. He quickly found a paper lying on a desk, and it said:

“Why would she suicide? And why would someone take her, when no other person wanted in?”

Warton was surprised. He already knew his wife was alive, but he was surprised at why anyone would place such an unnecessary message when Warton was sensible enough to figure the truth out.

But he knew that the house he was at, must be the destination. She would never lie. No, Victoria Warton would not.

He knew something was up. He hadn’t searched well.

He realized the answer.

It must be the room where he was in. The television had to be it.

He pressed his thumb onto the screen, and it worked. It turned on, now asking the user to enter a password to enter anything besides the cable and satellite television. He entered it, and got access. Now he took a virtual-reality “helmet” and wore it on, as he knew it was needed.

Now he saw a different world, and he noticed a few different rooms. Each were labeled differently. He entered one named “Victoria Warton’s Death”, for he knew what it most probably contained.

He saw Victoria, lying on the floor, stabbed with a dagger by a man. Then, the same man hanged her body up, cleaning the blood. Warton noticed numerous other men peeking in, watching from the sides, or from cameras.

“Goodbye, Stallinton.” a man said, a statement which confused Warton. But he kept watching, as the scene skipped to an hour later. She had survived the dagger, helped by Warton’s real sister, and she wasn’t even hanged properly. The two immediately discussed, and came to the conclusion that she has to follow the group undercover. Neither Victoria’s family, nor Warton would know she was alive unless she let them know.

The scene skipped to an unseen person explaining something.

“The note was right. It was not me. In fact, as you can see, I survived, and credit goes entirely to you, Warton. You must by now know why I have not explicitly shown myself, that I am following a terrorist group. And you need to now know, that Starilen Island is a lie. It was meant to be a plot. It still is a plot. At least, there remain rebels in the system, who will make sure they dominate the world. Your clue is registration, and that is where they all lie. Find them. And do not leave it to law - it must be your dagger speaking.

And now. A great responsibility is on you. We must kill them, or die trying.”

The virtual reality sequence then forced him out of the room, and he disconnected, returning to reality.

He remembered one important clue. Registration. She also talked about something called Starilen Island.

He realized. Starilen Island was a project of building a manmade island near Britain, as a residential area. It was, however, meant to have some sort of a proper government, under supervision of British authorities.

It had to be the Starilen Data Registration Agency. The agency, which handled records of people in the area, which handled their identity data.

He decided he would have to pay the island a visit. He left the room and came outside, only to learn that a few armed men were outside the house.

He quickly raced inside, informing his mother in law. “Trouble around. Some men have attacked the house and they’re armed with weapons. And since this street has few people living in it, there’s no people or cameras to catch them.”

“Oh, no. They’re bound to be after you now. You’ve learnt about them, and they won’t stop at anything. Time to battle.”

He then raced outside, just behind the gate which stopped the attackers. There was a small garden between the front door and the gate, and it stretched across the outside of the house, and that was where he was.

He opened the door, but kept behind. They entered, and Warton quickly attacked with a dagger at the front man. He stabbed thrice, and he fell dead.

Four more men came in, and Warton drew a gun out. He made a daring flip and went over the head of one of his opponents, shooting the head thrice.

The men were not slow to react. They quickly turned and shot his leg, and in return Warton threw his dagger at one men. Simultaneously, he fired a bullet at another man. Both met death.

Warton shot another bullet, killing the man. But before he fell, Warton’s mother in law came outside in the garden, and the man took his chance. He fired a bullet or two at her, and she fell.

Warton raced to rescue her, but there was no saving. She was dead.

He left the house, jumped in his car, and decided he would get to Starilen.

Starilen Island.

By the next day, he had booked a visit to the island by sea, and now he was there. The island was a magnificent one, and its sights almost distracted him. But he quickly went to a taxi nearby, and told him to get to the SDRA headquarters.

The taxi driver, named Daniel Thomas, was, surprisingly enough, the same doctor who was assigned to him earlier. But Warton was not surprised, as though he expected it.

They reached the building in a short time, and Warton entered, saying goodbye to Thomas. But he instead came with him, stalking him. He knew his motive, and he wanted to aid.

Warton quickly reached an office in the building. It was owned by a friend of his, James Relion. He greeted him, and asked, “What brings you here?”

Warton replied, “I’ve heard that some terrorists reside here, and they’re responsible for my wife’s murder.”

At this sentence, Relion’s face became pale. He pulled out a gun and went to shoot him, but Warton grabbed the gun. He noticed an entrance to down under, and he went in, followed by Relion and then Thomas.

Once he came underneath, he noticed a number of men there, all terrorists. They had a person trapped in a bulletproof glass cell, which was evidently his wife.

The cell opened, and a fight ensued. In less than five minutes, only Relion remained there. He was, of course, the leader of the terrorist group, and he had more men to his disposal. Meanwhile, Warton quickly freed Victoria.

Warton, Victoria and Thomas all had guns ready. They aimed at the helpless Relion, bound to the ground.

But Warton couldn’t do it. He dropped his gun to the ground, saying, “Why would we be like him? If we do it, there will be no difference between us. Tom, arrest him, imprison him.”

Relion laughed. And at once, twenty more men showed up, and easily outnumbered the three. Relion grabbed Warton by the leg, freed himself, and threw him in the glass cell, leaving it open. Warton was bound by robotic hands.

It was twenty one versus two, now. Relion aimed his gun at Victoria, but Warton freed himself and forced the gun to shoot him instead. Warton died a heroic death, and Victoria could do nothing. As he died, however, he landed another bullet at one who tried to kill her. She fought, landing about seven shots upon them.

But she, too, became prey to four shots upon her. And she fell to her death, brought to peace by the knowledge that they died while fighting terrorists. They had sacrificed their life to stop terrorism.

Thomas was the last enemy. He could, however, do nothing, and he was imprisoned by the terrorists, who laughed. A cheer came. And at once, all was finished. Nobody else knew, nobody else could know.

And thus they remained, dominating the agency. They took over the area, infiltrating the government, but nobody could do anything. Nobody knew. Those who knew, fell. And a rule of terrorism began.

Yay, completed my story. Pretty weird tho, fled from the basic idea :(

1983 words, btw. If there wasn't this limit I could do way more, but well :(

Oh, btw I didn't include the original story, but directly continued from the last sentence of Twee's story. :P

Nice job! ^_^

kaisdf · April 29, 2017

Blast, Zaydie did Savage's...

RIP any hopes of me coming first then...

Extremetankmaster · April 29, 2017

I hope I win :P

Drazox · April 29, 2017

I hope I win :P

kaisdf · April 29, 2017

Story 3

The Promotion

Rain fizzes down onto the hard ground, crashing like lead onto the heads of the shivering men crouched just inside the deep groove cut into the sodden ground. Most lack helmets and many with gaping ugly wounds are struggling with the cold. Not far away, a streak of lightning rents the sky.

The men are tired, exhausted in fact. Many are drooping like unwatered plants as the clutches of sleep grow ever stronger on them. Several are already lying in the thick layer of cold mud at the bottom of the trench, too tired to care where they fall. To they left there is a gaping hole in the trench wall, where a shell has ripped the earth clean away. The muddy water is stained red in places; red with human blood. A rifle lies nearby, seemingly twisted into a knot by some powerful being in a fit of anger.

Still the men hold their positions gazing with tired eyes across the barren landscape. Little can be made out through the rain, except a few stunted trees.

A radio transmitter suddenly crackles into life inside the trench, loud even with the hammering if the rain. The men are aroused, and one reaches for the transmitter and flicks the switch.

v

Static crackles like burning twigs.

“Sergeant!”

The voice cuts through the background interference like a hammer through wet clay.

“Yes, commander?” comes the answer of someone who dreads what is to come, but has to avoid sounding like it.

“You have a new mission.” A series of groans and muttering from the men nearby. “The German radio outpost is directly across No Man’s Land from your current position. At 2300 hours, take your section and capture it. Take as few prisoners as possible, and if you can get hold of one of those new code-making machines, there might be a few promotions and some tickets away from the front line coming the way of you and your section.”

“Wilco,” the Sergeant replies, spirit somewhat refreshed after the mention of promotion.

The soldiers - in the loosest sense of the word, some still young enough to have run away from school - gather around a lamp like children around sweets. The slice of moon in the sky leaks small drips of luminosity onto the battleground. The time rocks on, and at the assigned hour, the lamp is killed and the section crawl over the trench walls.

Knees and bodies engulfed in mud, and blood, the men get to the barbed wire and attack with wire cutters. Once past the “impenetrable” barrier, they rose. I would like to say they were majestic, like dolphins gliding through the air, but no. Unimpressive would also be generous. Nevertheless, they climb up to the trench wall and brutally silence the Nazis in the area.

The bunker with the radio has a solid metal door, locked and barred. The soil around the door is very weak, and a few minutes’ desperate clawing at dirt removes enough to poke a barrel through. The Germans inside shy away like rats rushing behind desks. But they couldn’t outrun the bullets of the leader.

With no more opposition, entry is easy, and looting is easier. A transmission comes in while they loot. Total silence falls in the room for the short few seconds of time carved by the message.

“Stabsgefreiter! Eine Mannschaft von Männern ist unterwegs. Halten Sie an und warten Sie auf den Zorn des Nazi-Adlers!"

[“Radio Officer! A squadron of men is on the way, hold on and wait for the incoming wrath of the Nazi Eagle!” Credit to and Wikipedia for the translations and positions]

None of them understand the message, most it seems could barely speak English, let alone German. But it invokes dread. Haste to get out means that things get dropped. Things that usually don’t survive being dropped.

When all that can be carried is carried, the would-be bandits flee one shelter for another, hovel to hovel, trench to trench. Cracks from behind shredding the silence of the night, dirt forced skywards by whistling lead lashing the ground, each bullet trying to find a target. Silent thuds of artillery firing in the distance. After the first explosion, the ensuing blasts were drowned out by the whine of damaged eardrums.

A man goes down, a scream of agony, a spurt of blood from a couple of new holes in his legs and back. A hero runs back to help the man, and throws the corpse to its feet in an effort to make it run. His efforts are quickly cut short by the appearance of a new earhole on either side of his head, with a cartoonish gap linking the two.

The group run on, unfazed by the two losses, adrenaline and willpower all that keeps them from disintegration. The Sergeant vaults the Tommy wire and nose dives into the trench, the men following with a little less grace.

The men regroup and collapse into a bunker, adrenaline gone like a breath of wind. They make an inventory, and end up with three radios, a transmitter, a few smashed bits barely salvageable, and a few things that they had never seen before.

The Sergeant radios in to relate the overall success of their mission, and the next morning he is told to leave the front lines and bring enough men to carry the equipment.

A long ferry ride over a sea like glass and they arrive. The sergeant is on the train to London by that afternoon, marvelling at the efficiency of it all.

He wakes up to a telephone ringing. Stumbling out of bed, eyes barely open, hair streaming out in all directions, he reaches out and picks up the receiver.

“Sergeant?”

“Mmm-yes…?” he yawned, speech slurred.

“You are due at the station in forty-five minutes, and I was told to make sure you are awake.”

“Thank you,” he replied.

He stumbles out of bed and gets dressed, the rough cotton of mufti scratching him all over. Breakfast is potato, as usual, and the bland mush does little to cull the tiredness.

A car horn slices through the silence from the alley outside, and he opens the door. He walks down the three steps and clambers into the car. The chauffeur skilfully manoeuvres through the mid-morning traffic and they make good time, arriving a few minutes early.

The Cabinet War Rooms. A walk through winding corridors to the office of the home secretary, and a short meeting, more commonly known as an assessment for promotion begins. Top secret questions begin to be asked, and oaths made. By the afternoon, the sergeant, now an officer in a more covert section of the army, is sent to Bletchley Park to help run a new top-secret section trying to crack the new Fritz code, dubbed the “Enigma”.

Whilst working at Bletchley, he [REDACTED - TOP SECRET]

Sorry, the ending was a little rushed...

Hex · April 29, 2017

Story 2 -

The gravestone before him was stone.

Grey, and chilled by the wind that swept through the graveyard, the words carved into it reflected the weak sunlight that filtered through the trees surrounding him. Three lines. A name. Two dates. A quote.

The same quote that was on a scrap of paper next to her the last time he had held her, the same quote that was underneath her final paragraph. The same quote that she wrote before she took her own life.

But now he knew differently.

He took out the card that had arrived in his letterbox five months after the burial. Two days before today. It was plain white, with a few lines printed on it. Anonymous.

It said that she didn’t do it. That it was someone else. Someone else who took her. Someone else who took her away from him forever.

It had an address. He would find it. And…kill the tank who took her away from him. The villain was identified as a thunder and viking with black paint and protection modules against each weapon ever existed in Tanki world. This tank was extremely popular and had too many people supporting him(cuz he bribed them with gold boxes). It was because of him he lost the love of his heart. He emotionally blackmailed and sexually assaulted her! He told everyone that she was his girlfriend! At one point, she went mad and self-destructed(#RIP4ever). The villain’s excuse? “She had taken too many drugs and went crazy last night, the filthy creep! I had been wasting my precious time with a F***ING DRUGGER instead of catching gold boxes!” The worst part was that people believed him! This gave him even more sympathy and fame! Now accusing the villain was dangerous as ever turret will turn to face him and fire. He would not be able to complete his mission…NO he would have to use stealth and kill him while making it look like an accident. No one knew that he was one of the best xp/bp tanker. UNBEATABLE. This was an excellent advantage! Practicing to hit those irritating targets(that move) will finally pay off!

No one knew where the villain lived. But armed with the address, he knew that the villain’s days were numbered. Or maybe, he thought. I can make someone else do this work….someone who has suffered more. After asking others and taking care of suspicious tankers, he drove into the famous bar “TANKER’S BAR.”. He enters the bar and orders a cup of premium oil. He took his cup and went to a table of rough and tough looking tanks. “Who are you noob?” they asked. “That is none of your business!” he said “I am ready to join your gang and get rid of that villainous tank! But I cannot do this alone. So I need your help.” They considered him for a moment. Cool paint, XT M3 hornet, XT M3 railgun…”okay, we will take you if you swear by the tanker’s oath.” The tanker’s oath, if broken, will result in the death of the tanker. “No big deal” he said and slid the cup towards them, raised his railgun and chanted:

“You do not know who to trust

And I know I must

This oath was made for truth

which is an extremely wonderful fruit

So I will take this oath

To make no loath

And if I do anything like having you fried,

When you get up, you will find that I have died.“

“Your good….” they said but he interrupted them. “I know where he lives” he said…[dramatic silence and three turrets nearly popped out of their hulls].. “Where?” Said three voices at once. The reply - “The address unfortunately came in a form of a riddle, and it says: this address is in pieces, solve it and you will fight me ([{and probably die…harharhar}]). To summon me, say “oh almighty, I am ready to die”(#lolsucker). Some say the first is the worst, but I say it’s the best, especially in ZEBRA, ORANGES(Hate the fruit but like the sound of it!), NEST, ELEPHANT……” When he looked up, the three tanks had disappeared. He could have sworn that he heard a loud tinkle of the door bell before he even completed the riddle. He knew that the villain was done for because the riddle was so easy. “Think again” said the tiny nagging voice in his main engine system. He thought over it and realized that the riddle was too easy. A powerful tank would want to hide his address with great difficulty.. He decided to wait till morning. He left and reached his humble house. It had a simple kitchen with a refrigerator. There were simple utensils neatly stacked in the shelves. There was a single bedroom with a bed for two. This room was connected to the bathroom. There was also a living room with two or three sofas. His house was painted white, green and pale blue. He just got to one end of the bed. The other end was reserved for his beloved. He shut his engines and went to sleep.

He was being pursued. The villain had made three hundred and seventy two clones of himself. They trapped him in Sandbox. All of them had double damage and defense with double speed boosts. They had tired his engines and made him use all of his supplies. They shot him dead. Strangely enough, he was still screaming. He had woken up. The bird(or rather a flying tank looking like a bird) was chirping at the window. He got up and realized that he was okay and that making clones was illegal. He got off the bed, made a warm drink of coffee oil(oil and coffee drunk separately is fine but drinking them combined made you stronger than a super drugged tank) and went to the nearby shop to buy newspaper. He read the headlines. THREE TANKERS DEAD IN MAP ZONE! IDENTIFIED TO BE CLUB AIMING TO KILL A GOOD GUY(the town thought that the villain was a good guy)…blahblahblah.. He threw the newspaper into the dustbin. He rushed home and read the card. ”…sound of it!), NEST, ELEPHANT. You will find me not where the gold falls when you say the summoning words.” He had understood what may have happened but not did not know where the villain lived(#irritation).

He waited patiently on the North end of Legend’s road. Funny idea, calling the place Legend’s road because you would only find noobs there. A twins M3 with hunter M3 arrived. They had been best enemies in school but they decided to compromise because the villain had affected them both. Our hero explained what happened to his enemy. They both agreed to go to map Zone.

It was midnight. The guards did not care when our hero and his enemy did not return from Zone. They never cared who returned except for gorgeous girls. They both stood in middle of Zone. They chanted “oh almighty, I am ready to die”. Nothing. The twins turned his turret to shoot his enemy but then there was a siren and they knew that a gold box was dropping. They waited until it hit the ground. It looked like a ordinary gold box but our hero was sure that there was something different about it. It was slightly bigger than it was supposed to be. He kept his distance from the box because it did not feel right. The twins was greedy and despite our hero’s warnings, he charged into the box. The box immediately exploded! Our hero was knocked out. When he revived, he realized that he had lost almost all of his health but that was nothing compared to what happened to his enemy! He had vaporized completely! He suddenly heard a horrible voice and moved faster than a railgun’s shot and hid. “It was a M3 twins and M3 hunter…” it was the villain!

He wanted to activate double damage but he knew that it was useless. Why the hell did he always have his supplies active at all times(#curiousrage)? What he said could not have been happier news. “They will never know that I live, not in Zone, but in INDUSTRIAL ZONE(#tanksarefools).” Chuckling to himself, he left the place. Our hero left the place cautiously and returned home.

He brought many supplies. He was ready for a battle! He went to Industrial zone. He chanted “oh almighty, I am ready to die” and activated all supplies. Nothing happened. He moved, disappointed, but still alert. There was a loud noise like a fire cracker and the earth in his initial position blew up. The villain came down from the building. A super super super super duper duper duper duper ultra ultra ultra ultra ultimate ultimate ultimate ultimate…OKAY,OKAY, CUT THAT S*** AND GET TO THE POINT!. Well(I am throughly insulted with myself), there was a great battle and they flew out of the map(#superdoublelol) and fell into the map. I will make the battle short. At one point our hero was running out of supplies(#givememoredrugs) and crashed into his house and it was ruined. When he opened his eyes, he saw the cup of coffee oil. Now I said that our hero made coffee oil but did not drink it(#logic). He drank it and what should happen…happened! Our hero rushed towards the villain like a meteorite and blew him up to death!

He was, of course, arrested but was released because he was high on drugs with the villain. So the best explanation they said that they were doing it for fun. As our hero was being interviewed, he revealed the truth and everyone believed him(#surprised)! After that, he lived happily ever after! !THE END!

ps. By the way, sorry for the abrupt ending but I was running out of ideas! XD :D ;D

ganesha-1

1590 words!

Title required!

zaydie_boy2000 · April 29, 2017

Blast, Zaydie did Savage's...

RIP any hopes of me coming first then...

I feel your quality of writing is better than mine though. I dunno exactly what the stories are being judged on but think you have a good chance of winning.

Edited April 29, 2017 by zaydie_boy2000

opidude · April 30, 2017

(Continuation from story 1)

How to save a world… or maybe not.

I open the message. In it is a message from my good friend. It read, “Yo dood wanna go to KFC and eat sum chicken? Dem coupons arrived at ma house this morning.” Of course, I cannot refuse the mouth-watering KFC chicken that I had just been offered. I cast my world-saving responsibilities aside and left to spend some time with my friends and chicken.

When we arrive there however, the KFC restaurant is a wreck. The windows are shattered, the roof is smashed and there’s bits and pieces of the brick wall from the once-was KFC. The tornado that struck the city last night must’ve wanted to eat some of the chicken too. I drop to my knees and I find tears forming from my eyes.

Enraged, I storm back to my laboratory to find a way to save all of the remaining KFC restaurants in the entire world. I go to my desk, and start my computer.

Suddenly, something plops onto my head. As I reach towards it, an unfamiliar voice started to speak. “I sensed a strong will for chicken around here… who knew it was from a petty human?” The voice continued to chuckle. “I can send you on a journey. It will not be an easy one. If you succeed however, you will be granted three wishes. If you decide to take the opportunity, simply grab the object I’ve placed onto your head. If you decide not to take the opportunity, simply shake your head like you’re gesturing a ‘no’.” Deciding not to take a chance from this shady person I’ve never even met before, I shake my head sideways. However, as the object falls onto the ground, I realize that it's a hot, juicy piece of KFC chicken. Unconsciously, I reach my hand out and grab the chicken, unable to let a perfect snack be ruined by the dirty floor.

This is when I realize what I had just done. The voice whispers, “Seems like you have made your decision. Now let’s go!”

The room suddenly goes pitch black, and a mysterious figure suddenly appears in front of me. The figure talks in the same voice I had heard in the lab. “Welcome to your doom.” What? Before I can even wonder where I had just been taken, the voice speaks again. “Whoops, wrong cue card. Ahhhh wait…. I think it was somewhere around here…. Ah found it!” The figure clears its voice. “Welcome to… uhh… dre… aa… m… wait a sec.” The voice mutters in the background. “Wait mom how do you say this?” A higher pitched voice replies in the background, “Dreamyland, you nug” The voice then speaks in a proud voice. “Welcome to Dreamyland!”

I take a second to decide whether or not that piece of chicken I just ate was infused with some sort of hallucinogen or not. After a few pinches on my cheeks and a big slap on my nose, I conclude that this isn’t a dream.

The figure steps out of the shadows. It’s a… unicorn? It hands me an envelope. In it is a picture of a rainbow coloured sock. The unicorn sobs, “This is your quest. I lost this sock last week, and I just can’t stand seeing the remaining sock alone without its pair! If you manage to find him, I shall grant you three wishes.” ...It brought me all the way here just to help it find a sock? But wait a second. If what this unicorn’s saying is right, if I can find that sock, I might be able to save the world!

As I ponder on this matter, I find the something stuck onto the unicorn’s horn. It’s the rainbow sock that unicorn had been searching all this time. I point out, “Erm… It’s on your horn…” The unicorn glances at its horn. Tears pour from its eyes and it says, “Oh thank you so much… Who would've thought it was on my horn all the time? Thank you... Just, thank you..." I can't think of anything to say. I finally then say, "Well you're welcome..." I can't imagine how hideously confused I probably look right now. The unicorn then sobs,
"Now, as promised, I shall grant you three wishes.”

Overwhelmed by the stupidity of this unicorn, I mutter, “Wait let me think for a bit…” The unicorn then suddenly replies, “And your wish is granted!” Instinctively I say, “Wait—“ The unicorn interrupts, “Aaaand your second wish is granted!”

Okay, I must now be very careful. One wish left, and if I mess this up, the world may end. I shout, “I wish for earth to be saved!” The unicorn then suddenly grabs a computer out of nowhere, and begins to type some things. He then shows me the screen. On it was a Microsoft word document of a document named “earth”. The unicorn then clicks the save button. “And your wish is granted. Thanks for helping me find the sock!”

Before I can even say anything the unicorn happily fades away into the darkness, and I am left alone in the lab once again. What… just happened? Did I just throw away my wish…? This unrealistic situation I had just gone through… might’ve been the only chance I could’ve saved the world… and…

…

*Three years later*

The world blows up and everyone dies.

The end.

~875 words

lol things happen when its 3AM and u got 2 essays and a lab due morning xd

Edited May 1, 2017 by Hexed
Valido entriyo

April 30, 2017

Completely forgot about this contest.. How much time do I have?

Magenta · April 30, 2017

i am writing it, am midway through. doing story number 3. what i am afraid of is i might not finish....... :'(

cant the deadline be extended just one day? i don't htink so...

April 30, 2017

I have not even started yet. I don't know which story should I choose.

Extremetankmaster · April 30, 2017

Trench Warfare

A chose your own adventure by Zaydie_boy2000

Page 1

Rain fizzes down onto the hard ground, crashing like lead onto the heads of the shivering men crouched just inside the deep groove cut into the sodden ground. Most lack helmets and many with gaping ugly wounds are struggling with the cold. Not far away, a streak of lightening rents the sky. Thunder's drums roll steadily on in the background.

The men are tired, exhausted in fact. Many are drooping like unwatered plants as the clutches of sleep grow ever stronger on them. Several are already lying in the thick layer of cold mud at the bottom of the trench, too tired to care where they fall. To the left there is a gaping hole in the trench wall, where a shell has ripped the earth clean away. The muddy water is stained red in places; red with human blood. A rifle lies nearby, seemingly twisted into a knot by some powerful being in a fit of anger.

Still the men hold their positions, gazing with tired eyes across the barren landscape. Little can be made out through the rain, except a few stunted trees.

A radio transmitter suddenly crackles into life inside the trench, loud even with the hammering of the rain. The men are aroused, and one reaches for the transmitter and flicks the switch...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Attention! Attention all soldiers in trench B-East we have a German breach in the trench just North of where you’re positioned* the voice from the transmitter warned, *we need you to fall back immediately to trench C-East just 100 yards behind! Stay low! They are coming! You must all fall back immediately!* The message stopped abruptly and the soldiers jumped to their feet. The dazed look in their eyes suddenly replaced with intense fear. 29 of the men frantically sprinted and leaped into the safer trench 100 yards back. But there were 30 men in the platoon... Who is the 30^th man of the platoon you may ask? Well, unfortunately that man… is you.

You’re back in trench B-East unconscious from a shell that landed a few feet away just earlier. A black haze is spread across your vision but it slowly dissipates and you begin to be able to see clearly again. The ringing in your ears grows louder and then begins to fade; replaced with a new unsettling noise: the sound of approaching footsteps. You begin to hear shouts in German getting louder by the second, and realize in utmost horror that you are in grave danger. With your whole platoon missing and a group of Germans fast approaching, you know you must act fast in order to survive. There is a trench behind you (trench C-East), maybe 100 or so yards back. There would be a very good chance of being spotted if you ran over to it. However, there is also a hole left by the exploded shell that knocked you unconscious. The crater would be just long and deep enough to hide in without being very visible from the center of the trench.

If you decide to dash back to trench C-East go to Page 6

If you decide to hide in the narrow shell hole go to page 7

Page 2

You pick up the transmitter and flick on the switch and speak through it. “Hello! Anyone here! I have an urgent message!” A short silence follows and then raspy voice with a strong accent calls out. “Who is this? I thought I told your platoon to evacuate to trench C-East!!” You are confused, “Wait a second…how do you know I’m still in trench B-East?” I exclaim “and who even is this speaking? Your voice doesn’t sound familiar at all!” There was a longer pause this time... and then you hear something…

Shouts of German in the background. The voice starts up again. “Well…You want the truth? Okay then, I’ll tell you... it will be too late anyways.” Your eyes widen but you continue to listen. “My name is Adal Schneider and I’m the sergeant of a German Unit that just passed by where you now stand just a few minutes previously. It was I that spoke through the transmitter telling your gullible comrades to evacuate to trench C-East. Little did they know that it was all a set up, and we have a special surprise waiting for them. We wanted all your troops in one trench so that when we released our poisonous gas it would kill them all. You are too late however, the fate of your fellow comrades is sealed. We are heading to trench East-C with the gas as I speak. This should be a message to you all never to underestimate the wit and cunning of a German.” The transmitter whirred and crackled, and then went silent. You must make a decision… fast.

If you decide to go through the satchel on the ground go to page 3

If you decide to chase after the Germans with the gas bomb go to page 5

Page 3

Inside the satchel are a few rations, a pack of cigarettes and a German uniform. The satchel must have been dropped by one of the soldiers when they walked by. If you get into the uniform, there’s a chance you could pass as a German troop. So you scramble into the cloths and take the mirror from your old uniform to examine yourself. You look pretty convincing. So with no time to waste you sprint over to Trench East-C hoping to encounter the Germans before they get there. As you approach you see a group of men in the distance heading in the same direction as you. You immediately recognize them as Germans from their striped uniform. You wave your hands through the air to get their attention and they finally notice you. The sergeant yells something in German in your direction. He is holding a large bag in one hand, and some kind of transmitter in the other. The large bag he’s holding contains the devastating gas bomb. The sergeant asks you a question in German, obviously fooled by your disguise. You falter to come up with a response in German but quickly regain your composure. You manage to formulate the phrase “I need to give you something.” from your crude German vocabulary. The German sergeant gives you a questioning look. Your mind is racing and you realize the only things you have on you is a knife, the piece of gum in your mouth, and a grenade. You come up with an idea. Behind your back you connect the chewed piece of gum from your mouth to the grenade and you hold your other hand out to the sergeant pretending to offer something. He lets go of his hand holding the gas bomb and reaches it out. You open your hand and to reveal to reveal nothing at all. The sergeant takes a closer look to see if there is in fact anything on your hand and you pull the clip to your grenade and chuck it at the bag with the gas bomb. The gum on the grenade makes it stick to the bag and when it blows up, it sends up a massive ploom of green gas. You sprint as fast as your legs can take you without looking back toward trench C-East. You hear noises of choking and shouting behind you just as you jump into the trench.

Advance to page 4

Page 4

Your comrades were there waiting for you and they cheer as you take off your German helmet. You have saved your platoon as well as everyone else in the trench and your deed will not go unforgotten. Because of your bravery and cunning the German attack had been foiled. You are given the new rank of sergeant and receive a medal for your honor.

The End

Page 5

You dash towards Trench East-C hoping to encounter the Germans before they get there. As you approach you see a group of men in the distance heading in the same direction as you. You immediately recognize them as Germans from their striped uniform. As soon as they see you they draw their rifles and fire. You don’t stand a chance and you’re shot down immediately. You die seconds later.

The End

Page 6

You jump to your feet and sprint as fast as you can towards trench C-East. Sounds of shouting ring out from behind you followed by the harsh crack of gunfire. You are being shot at and are forced to dive into a shell crater, narrowly dodging the torrent of bullets. Then, the sounds of gunfire come to an eerie halt. Looking behind you could be dangerous as enemy snipers could be aimed right on you. In your uniform all that you have is a knife, a few sticks of gum, a small pocket mirror and a grenade. Your mind races. You come up with two ideas.

If you decide to use your mirror to look behind you to find out what the Germans are up to then go to page 8

If you decide to lob your grenade backwards towards trench B-East as a distraction and then take a wild dash towards trench C-East then go to page 10

Page 7

You squeeze into the shell hole as the noises of approaching footsteps gets louder still. You curl into a position where you can just see trench floor. Suddenly a large boot lands only a few feet from your head. You recognize the leather immediately. The boot was often worn by the German foot soldiers that plagued the area. Another foot landed in front of you, and then many more. By the looks of it, there were anywhere from 15 to 20 of them. One of them shouts something loud in German and they halt and gather in a tight circle just 4 feet from your head. One of them, possibly the sergeant grabs his knife from its holster and carves a map onto the trench floor for the rest of his comrades to see. From where you are, you have an excellent view of the drawing. The sergeant draws two lines; possibly illustrating the two trenches on our side. He then circles the first trench while speaking some words in German. You recognize a few of them as “here” and “we”. He then circles the second line signifying trench C-East. A pang of fear hit your stomach like a brick as you recognized the German word for “gas” that the sergeant uttered. Were they planning to gas trench C-East? He had to warn the other soldiers who might be stationed there. The sergeant kicks dirt over his drawing and then led his soldiers further down the trench. You peek your head out of the hole and to your relief, the Germans are nowhere to be seen. A dirty transmitter is lying sideways on the ground and a torn satchel lies just to its right.

If you decide to use the transmitter to warn the others, go to page 2

If you decide to search the satchel for any useful items, go to page 3

Page 8

You take a stick of gum from your uniform, chew it up and stick it to the tip of your knife. Then you attach your pocket mirror to knife and hold it up facing behind you. You move it to just the right angle and you can see the Trench B-East. There are no troops to be seen.

Advance to page 9

Page 9

Suddenly, out of nowhere a German jumps down into the ditch followed by many more. You scream out in shock and take out your grenade, but they take out their rifles and fire at you before you can even pull the pin. The Germans have outsmarted you this time, and your life will pay ultimate the price.

The End

Page 10

With shaky grip you pull the clip on your grenade and lob it backwards as far as you can. You hear it explode echoed by a chorus of German screams. You take this as an opportunity to hurdle as fast as your legs can take you in the other direction. Unfortunately your plan drew more attention to yourself than it distracted and the Germans easily gun you down. Your plan failed and you die a quick and painful death.

The End

1844 words (Not including original story)

Superb surely the winner! :D

Extremetankmaster · April 30, 2017

To the fellow tankers who wrote the sequel to the third story,I am sad to read that you have written the enemy as Germans,the writer clearly did not indicate the enemy as german and thinking of the enemy as German seems cruel and inhuman to me sure, they have done bad things in the past but that does not mean you have to taunt and discriminate them.By doing this you really hurt the hearts of german players who play tanki.Sorry if i wrote something wrong(I am Indian and know little about the germans).I dont want to start a war,I only want to advice others not to do it next time.Thank you for reading and good luck. :lol:

Penguin40 · April 30, 2017

(Continuation from story 1)

How to save a world… or maybe not.

I open the message. It was a message from my good friend. It read, “Yo dood wanna go to KFC and eat sum chicken? Dem coupons arrived at ma house this morning.” Of course, I cannot refuse the mouth-watering KFC chicken that I had just been offered. I cast my world-saving responsibilities aside and left to spend some time with my friends and chicken.

            When we arrive there however, the KFC restaurant is a wreck. The windows are shattered, the roof is smashed and there’s bits and pieces of the brick wall from the once-was KFC. The tornado that struck the city last night must’ve wanted to eat some of the chicken too. I drop to my knees and I find tears forming from my eyes.

            Enraged, I storm back to my laboratory to find a way to save all of the remaining KFC restaurants in the entire world. I go to my desk, and start my computer.

            Suddenly, something plops onto my head. As I reach towards it, an unfamiliar voice started to speak. “I sensed a strong will for chicken around here… who knew it was from a petty human?” The voice continued to chuckle. “I can send you on a journey. It will not be an easy one. If you succeed however, you will be granted one wish. If you decide to take the opportunity, simply grab the object I’ve placed onto your head. If you decide not to take the opportunity, simply shake your head like you’re gesturing a ‘no’.” Deciding not to take a chance from this shady person I’ve never even met before, I shake my head sideways. However, as the object falls onto the ground, I realize that it was a hot, juicy piece of KFC chicken. Unconsciously, I reach my hand out and grab the chicken, unable to let a perfect snack be ruined by the dirty floor.

            This is when I realize what I had just done. The voice whispers, “Seems like you have made your decision. Now let’s go!”

The room suddenly goes pitch black, and a mysterious figure suddenly appears in front of me. The figure talks in the same voice I had heard in the lab. “Welcome to your doom.” What? Before I can even wonder where I had just been taken, the voice speaks again. “Whoops, wrong cue card. Ahhhh wait…. I think it was somewhere around here…. Ah found it!” The figure clears its voice. “Welcome to… uhh… dre… aa… m… wait a sec.” The voice mutters in the background. “Wait mom how do you say this?” A higher pitched voice replies in the background. “Dreamyland, you nug” The voice then speaks in a proud voice. “Welcome to Dreamyland!”

I take a second to decide whether or not that piece of chicken I just ate was infused with some sort of hallucinogen or not. After a few pinches on my cheeks and a big slap on my nose, I conclude that this isn’t a dream.

The figure steps out of the shadows. It’s a… unicorn? It hands me an envelope. In it is a picture of a rainbow coloured sock. The unicorn sobs, “This is your quest. I lost this sock last week, and I just can’t stand seeing the remaining sock alone without its pair! If you manage to find him, I shall grant you with three wishes.” It brought me all the way here just to help him find a sock? But wait a second. If what this unicorn’s saying is right, if I can find that sock, I might be able to save the world!

As I ponder on this matter, I find the something stuck onto the unicorn’s horn. It’s the rainbow sock that unicorn had been searching all this time. I point out, “Erm… It’s on your horn…” The unicorn glances at its horn. Tears pour from its eyes and it says, “Oh thank you so much… Now, as promised, I shall grant you one wish.”

Overwhelmed by the stupidity of this unicorn, I mutter, “Wait let me think for a bit…” The unicorn then suddenly replies, “And your wish is granted!” Instinctively I say, “Wait—“ The unicorn interrupts, “Aaaand your second wish is granted!”

Okay, I must now be very careful. One wish left, and if I mess this up, the world may end. I shout, “I wish for earth to be saved!” The unicorn then suddenly grabs a computer out of nowhere, and begins to type some things. He then shows me the screen. On it was a Microsoft word document of a document named “earth”. The unicorn then clicks the save button. “And your wish is granted. Thanks for helping me find the sock!”

Before I can even say anything the unicorn happily fades away into the darkness, and I am left alone in the lab once again. What… just happened? Did I just throw away my wish…? This unrealistic situation I had just gone through… might’ve been the only chance I could’ve saved the world… and…

…

*Three years later*

The world blows up and everyone dies.

The end.

~861 words

lol things happen when its 3AM and u got 2 essays and a lab due morning xd

That should win, because of just how big a joke that is :lol:

Seriously, that was one pro troll, made me laugh quite a lot :P

Extremetankmaster · April 30, 2017

Oh and also, Tanki you have to start paying the reporters more,cause they seemed to be in a really bad mood while writing the three stories. :P

KillerGnat · April 30, 2017

Yiper's story (font changed from the overused Trebuchet to Arial heh). I thought the story would be pretty dull if I continued with the battle-field setting so I changed things around a bit. :ph34r:

A Second Chance

Rain fizzes down onto the hard ground, crashing like lead onto the heads of the shivering men crouched just inside the deep groove cut into the sodden ground. Most lack helmets and many with gaping ugly wounds are struggling with the cold. Not far away, a streak of lightning rents the sky. Thunder's drums roll steadily on in the background.

The men are tired, exhausted in fact. Many are drooping like unwatered plants as the clutches of sleep grow ever stronger on them. Several are already lying in the thick layer of cold mud at the bottom of the trench, too tired to care where they fall. To the left, there is a gaping hole in the trench wall, where a shell has ripped the earth clean away. The muddy water is stained red in places; red with human blood. A rifle lies nearby, seemingly twisted into a knot by some powerful being in a fit of anger.

Still, the men hold their positions, gazing with tired eyes across the barren landscape. Little can be made out through the rain, except a few stunted trees.

A radio transmitter suddenly crackles into life inside the trench, loud even with the hammering of the rain. The men are aroused, and one reaches for the transmitter and flicks the switch....

Doctor Graves observed the patient calmly sitting in the chair; watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. Graves knew that the outward tranquillity of this sleeping man was an illusion, masking the battle raging in his mind. Eyes closed, Graves tried to imagine what the patient must be going through -- dreams turned into battlefields, his sleeping mind controlled by a machine; he shuddered and re-opened his eyes. All to mentally prepare people for being soldiers thought Graves bitterly.

A few short years ago, Graves was a leading supporter of dream tampering. He and his team had successfully developed a dream simulator, crafting false worlds in one's sleep. The benefits would be immense, or so they thought. The government quickly recruited Graves to begin a dream training program for soldiers. He accepted without hesitation.

Now, as he witnessed the outcome of his labours, Graves began to doubt the value of his actions. Turning his head from the sleeping man in front of him, he gazed out the window over the rows and rows of cement buildings. Each structure reminded him of gravestones, hundreds of precious lives resting in every one, cut off from reality. Another shudder shook his body; he pushed the bleak thoughts from his mind and jotted down notes regarding the patient. His life's work had come to nought. On one end, people were using his invention as a legal drug, cutting themselves off from the hardships of the world. On the other, the government was ruining the lives of young men, forcing them to undergo intense training. And here he was, a broken, middle-aged man. A fortune made off of something that was destroying the world, and no way to spend it. Aiding in the destruction of lives in the name of national security.

Graves walked out of the dream ward, shutting the door behind him. The evening check-ups were already done by now, which left him nothing to do but go home. Home! Graves mentally scoffed. As if you could call it home.

The walk from the barracks back to his mansion used to be the highlight of his day, signalling the end of another successful eight hours of work. It seemed as if nothing could cheer him now, however. He walked gloomily past the neon lights proclaiming in bold letters "Dream World: An Hour of Blissful Slumber", "Thriller Dreams. For those who want action in their lives" and similar titles. The parking lots were filled as if the beckoning bright lights had blinded people to the madness within. Graves trudged past, hardly noticing the light snow that began falling.

At home, he made up his mind. Taking a pen and paper, he began writing.

I'm sorry. All that I've done in life has been used for evil. The world would've been a better place without me in it attempting to transform it for the better. It seems as if everything I do is twisted and warped into the opposite of what I was trying to achieve. In my will, I've left instructions for how to use my fortune. Would that I could go back and change my decisions in life. But since I can't, taking my life is the next best step. Life is unbearable.

R. Graves

The poison went down easily and he sat down waiting for it to take effect.

Graves jolted awake, surveyed his surroundings, and rubbed his eyes. He felt tired and confused. Stiffly, he rose from his chair and realised he was connected to a large machine. In an instant, his entire dream came back to him, and he rushed to his computer, extricating himself from the machine's grasp. A glance at the program running told him all he needed to know. Graves sighed. "It was all an illusion," he said aloud, smiling for the first time in what seemed an age. He had been given insight into a future with dream altering through a dream -- or a nightmare. Graves began shutting down the machine. Excuses would have to be given to his investors, he realised; he was most likely destined to a life of poverty, and he was destroying his life's work, but he was at peace. A second chance isn't something one gets every day, and Graves wasn't going to waste his.

Edit: oh yeah, 715 words. Was too lazy to write more; no kill.

Edited April 30, 2017 by Hexed
Valid entry.

April 30, 2017

My entry:-

The Missing Diary

The gravestone before him was stone.

Grey, and chilled by the wind that swept through the graveyard, the words carved into it reflected the weak sunlight that filtered through the trees surrounding him. Three lines. A name. Two dates. A quote.

The same quote that was on a scrap of paper next to her the last time he had held her, the same quote that was underneath her final paragraph. The same quote that she wrote before she took her own life.

But now he knew differently.

He took out the card that had arrived in his letterbox five months after the burial. Two days before today. It was plain white, with a few lines printed on it. Anonymous.

It said that she didn’t do it. That it was someone else. Someone else who took her. Someone else who took her away from him forever.

It had an address. He would find it.

And then he woke up from a prolonged slumber. It didn't take him long to realize that it was all a dream. Everything seemed altered from what it was prior to his sleep. He stroked his eyes and glanced at the watch. It was already eleven o'clock. He soon took a bath and then had his breakfast. Within an hour, he was ready to leave his home. He had an appointment with Dr. Marcus that day. He didn't have to wait for long because there were only a few people before him. When his turn came, he nonchalantly went inside the room, got settled and sighed.

"So how are you feeling today?", the psychologist asked.

Ben started shivering and his face grew anxious. His deep gray eyes bore an expression of profound thought and he spared a minute remaining hushed. Then he stated, "Well, I saw another vision today. I really deem that she did not kill herself. Someone else had done it. I.."

"Oh, come on. It was just a nightmare. Why don't you forget whatever had happened?" Dr. Marcus interrupted. "Sometimes life takes away from us the ones whom we cherish the most. But we have to live on. "

"But what if it really was a murder? I am convinced it wasn't her writing. Someone else penned that message."

"You need a break. Why not visit some place and recline? It will be beneficial for you." Marcus said, avoiding his enigmatic question.

"Why don't you simply believe me?" Ben replied, rather superciliously. "I already told you that she had a penchant for writing everything in her diary. And her diary is missing. If that diary is ascertained, then the matter will surely be resolved. "

"But don't you presume that it's a little improbable? The entrances were locked. How could the murderer escape?"

"I don't know that. But there must be some way. Anyways, I shall leave now. My head aches a bit." Ben said and soon moved.

Ben was an editor in a daily newspaper company. Some months back, when he returned home, he was astounded to find the house in unbroken darkness. The door was locked but thankfully he had another key with himself. When he went indoors and turned on the lights, he got the greatest trauma of his life. His wife was dead and lying on the floor with only a knife in her hand that had turned red with blood.

He also found a letter in the table with a few words written in it. But that was insufficient to justify what forced her to take such a major step.

But after observing the handwriting, he immediately concluded that it was not written by her wife. He started believing that someone else had killed her wife, although the police had confirmed that it was a case of suicide.

He started suffering from schizophrenia. He saw hallucinations and heard his wife articulating with him. Then he met Dr. Marcus who started his attempts to cure him.

Dr. Marcus was a young doctor, not more than twenty-five years old. He had treated many subjects, seen a lot of peculiar cases, but Ben's situation was entirely different from that of the others.

"Whatever happened with Ben is quite tragedic. It seems tough for him to recover." Marcus' assistant said.

"Yeah, I know. I am trying to get him freed of the misconception in his mind. This is going to take some time." Marcus responded.

Marcus was determined to cure Ben and had commiseration towards him. In his house, he had a horologe that was pretty traditional. It was actually unserviceable for him as it didn't function anymore. He decided to sell it at 'The Old Curiosity Shop'. The next day, Marcus went to the shop carrying the heavy wooden piece.

When he reached the spot, he said to the shopkeeper, "I would like to sell away this clock. It's about hundred years old. How much money can you offer for it? "

The shopkeeper, who was an old man of sixty, looked at the watch scrupulously. He examined it and then said, "I don't think that I can pay you anything for this clock. But if you want, then you can exchange it with any different article in the shop."

Left with no other alternative, Marcus agreed. He forthwith began to explore the shop for an article that might be useful enough for him. Suddenly, something struck his eye. He saw a diary kept on the table. He picked it up. He was shocked to see that it belonged to Mrs. Erica Jones, the wife of Ben.

"Ah, that diary. Some man had brought it to me a few months back.", the old man told.

Marcus rapidly turned over the pages of the diary and paused when he reached 24th February, the day before she died.

He read, "This day has certainly been good enough. Tomorrow, I am going to give Ben a nice surprise on his birthday. I am sure he will be going to enjoy that. I am also going to prepare his favorite dishes."

He turned to the next page. She had written a paragraph on the diary that morning. When he read that, he understood everything. The words gave him an unexpected bolt. The mystery of Erica's death seemed to be unraveled. Now he knew that Ben's supposition was not a perverse one. He had to inform Ben about it and about the danger that lay ahead. He had to help Ben take his rightful revenge.

To Be Continued.

938 words, excluding what was provided before. This was thought out and written within a short period of time, so the plot might not be up to the mark.

Edited April 30, 2017 by Hexed
Valid entry.

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