Fortnightly writing competition. Winner: KrisMacDee

[Wyz]

Fortnightly writing competition - A dream come true
For this competition your task is to pick a dream you once had that you can remember more or less (or a bit less) and make a story out of it. Ofcourse dreams do not have a consistent story line, so you have to create one. You are allowed to fill in things you make up along writing, to make it more consistent, or to write a begin and end. On the other hand, it does not need to make sense,... at all.

If you are having a really hard time remembering dreams yourself, you may also lend one from somebody you know. Give them credit if you do so.

General rules:
All entries should be in before May the 29th.
After the deadline has passed, people can vote for two days.
The entry with the most votes wins the competition, and the author has the honor of creating the next competition.
In case of draw, I will select a winner.

Good luck!

[Stupot]

Actually, my uncompleted entry for the previous task was about some dreams that I have had.  It was to be called 'Lucid Dreams' and I wanted the whole choose-your-own thing to reflect the idea of lucid dreaming, where you have some degree of control over the events that take place.

Maybe I could enter that, or an edited, linear version of it, into this week's contest? Would that be cheating?

[Akatosh]

That's an... interesting topic. I've had a strange dream a couple of years ago I've thought about turning into a short story, so I might enter.

[Wyz]

Cool.

Well Stupot, officially I would, but since nobody ever saw it I think I would allow it. But you have to put some more work in it though, would be fair to the other participants.

[NsMn]

That sounds cool. I enter!

[Stupot]

Cool.

Well Stupot, officially I would, but since nobody ever saw it I think I would allow it. But you have to put some more work in it though, would be fair to the other participants.

Yeh, It would need more work anyway.  It was nowhere near finished in it's old format. Infact I'll probably end up rewriting like 70% of that, on top of adding the new stuff.

[KrisMacDee]

thought i'd put up ma short story i wrote a while ago for school, which was almost 2 years ago so likely expect some cliche's but i've went through it and rewrote a couple bits to make it sound better. was based on a dream where i was homeless and lived on the street, then there was a robbery n things lol ended up only  vaguely having anything to do with the dream but enjoy!

Jack Darrow had spent the first 16 years of his life being moved like a understated pawn chess piece from institution to foster parents and back again, never knowing my real family. If his real parents had still been alive, what would his life been like? Would he have had a proper house, a wife, a car, two and a half kids and a white picket fence?  Some people aren’t as lucky as you or I.

It hurt him to know he had a sister somewhere out there; she too had been put into care with him when his parents were murdered whilst on a night on the town. They never even caught the culprit that did it, some pothead no doubt, looking for cash and they refused.

BAM!  Dead.

His whole life shattered like a dropped drinking glass; just as arbitrary, just as small. I’m not intending to sound over-sympathetic when I say that he didn’t deserve that: he was only four. Even to this day he remembers the day that young couple took his sister from him at the orphanage; they didn’t want to take two kids. One was enough trouble by the looks of the fight she was putting up. He tried for many years to get in contact with his sister however such was the bureaucracy surrounding the social work system that no-one could tell Jack where his sister was because of ‘PRIVACY ISSUES.’

Jack sat in an alleyway behind a Chinese restaurant where the smell of the cooking fish was so overpowering you could almost choke. His humble abode, since losing his job and being evicted from his flat, was a large sodden cardboard box, which provided as much protection from the weather as daily newspaper.

While trying to keep warm he turned over and saw his distorted image in a murky puddle. His real age was twenty but his dishevelled and dirty appearance made him look like a man in his forties. His wispy, tousled and long thin hair were matted and unkempt. A long duffel coat was draped pathetically over his thin, fragile frame, with only one remaining toggle holding it in place.

Jack’s life had never great, but since losing job and home, he felt even more of an outcast from society, his whole life was spiralling out of control. He tried to remain positive, by telling himself that he had reached rock bottom and things couldn’t get any worse. His reason for carrying on was the hope of finding his sister, she was his holy grail, and he knew if he found her everything would be all right.

“Jacky boy!”

Jack was roused from his daydream, looking up to the figure of Sly standing over him. ‘Sly’ was his nickname, his real name was Simon Lyard and Jack had known him since they had met in the first ever orphanage he was sent to. Sly was also an outcast, another child that society wanted to hide.

Sly was thin and weasel-like in appearance, with piercing blue eyes that seemed to have the ability to look inside your head and read your thoughts. The main difference between the two men was that while it was evident that Jack was down on his luck, Sly appeared affluent, clean-shaven and well dressed; this was important when Sly was working a ‘mark’ during one of his many cons.

‘Jacky do I have a proposition for you!” Sly shouted excitedly.

“Y’know, you shouting and my hangover make a really good mix. Y’know like a fire to a bomb” Jack grumbled as he forced himself to his feet, squinting to save his eyes from the blinding sunlight, which he had been protected from inside his box.
“Stop bitchin’ and listen!” Sly excitedly exclaimed. “Well, you know I live opposite that electronics shop on Canal Street” Sly continued as Jack nodded impatiently, “...well during the day there is usually only one woman working the cash register- sometimes there’s a frail old bastard too â€" but as I said, usually… no-one else there.” A devious smile crept across Sly’s face.

“Are you suggesting that we rob the store?” Jack gave Sly a stare that would have stopped a lion in its tracks.

“C’mon Jacky, it will solve all your money problems, get you off the street, let you find that sister of yours.”

“Even try and bring my sister into this and you’ll drinking your next meal through a straw. ”  Jack looked at the scratched face of his wristwatch. “Damn, it Sly, with your stupid ideas you’ve made me late to meet that useless detective Barlow. Jack pushed Sly to the side and ran down the alleyway.

“If you change your mind you know where I am!” Sly’s words followed Jack up the alleyway and echoed in his ears, but he had star to guide him away from such temptation, the thought of finding his sister.

About three days after he had lost his job, Jack had spent his last fifty dollars on a lousy private detective, in a bid to locate his sister. He felt angry and cheated at the detective’s inability to find her, and it seemed as though he would have been better sticking a pin in a map and keeping his fifty dollars. However the guy was his only chance.

Jack had run all the way to Barlow’s office, forcing his way through the rush hour crowds. When he finally arrived he barely had the energy to knock the door.
Barlow answered his feeble rap on the glass pane in a voice which couldn’t be sleazier if it wore a thong and low-cut top. “Come in, the doors open!”

As soon as Jack walked in he felt he had stepped back in time to the 1920’s, Barlow’s decorating certainly paid homage to those great gangster days. The upright piano in the corner, the tall coat stand holding a trench coat and fedora hat, and the large desk dominating the room with only a single desk lamp to adorn it. No computers for Barlow. The guy thinks he’s Don Copone, thought Jack to himself with a slight grin.

“I’m sorry, I’ll have to call you back later, and one of my- eh, clients has arrived. Talk to ya later Drumsy!” He slammed the phone down. “Ah… Mr. Darrow, I see you got yourself a fancy new coat!” he grinned cheekily with his tawny, yellow pub key teeth and gave a long dry laugh.

“I see you’ve bought yourself some skin mags.” Jack replied with a smirk, noticing the glossy collection of Hustlers and Playboys stacked upon his table,  “Wife not putting out at home? Shame when marriages break down.”  Looking defeated by Jack’s comeback he got to the point.

“I found your sister; I know her name and where she works.” Barlow said in his greasy voice.

“Really!? That’s great, okay tell me!” Jack was quivering with excitement but became frozen when Barlow’s yellow pub key teeth resurfaced.

“For that information to be brought to light, I need say… 100 dollars. Well she was hard to find…”

“You can’t do that you cheapskate!”

“Actually you’ll find that I can… and also you’ll find I’m not cheap. I am expensive.”

*********************************

After leaving Barlow’s he had the want to run back up and knock each of his yellow teeth out of his head.

How can I get that much money? He thought to himself, I could do the store heist with Sly, but it goes against everything I believe in morally. A battle was raging in his head, on one side his moral code and the wish to hold on to his self-respect; and on the other the need to belong, to no longer be an outcast, to find his sister.

There was no contest.

“Okay Jacky this it!” Sly shouted excitedly, he was behaving like a child on Christmas morning. “You’re worries will soon be over Jacky, take this.” Sly handed him pair of gloves and a sawn off shotgun.

“Whoa, whoa! You never said anything about using guns Sly!” Exclaimed Jack.   

“Shhhhhh!!! Keep your goddamn voice down! What, you expecting us to run in and ask politely for the loot?” sneered Sly.

“Look I’m not doin’ anything that could get someone hurt!” Jack retorted.

“Fine Jack, you stay in your back alley all alone, I’ll get someone with ambition to help me.” Sly hissed as he turned to walk away from Jack.

“Okay, you win I’ll do it.” Jack knew Sly was playing him like a fool, but there was too much at stake, he had to find his sister.

“Good let’s go!” Sly pulled a ski mask over his face and threw one to Jack.

Sly stood in the shadows of the alleyway across from ‘SWITCHED ON ELECTRONICS,” waiting for the right moment to strike. Jack could feel his heart pounding in this chest as though it was going burst through.

“Right the shops empty, let’s go!” Sly commanded as he ran across the road, with Jack in close pursuit.

         **************************

The girl behind the counter, a pretty girl with cascading locks of black hair, was frozen to the spot as she saw the pair of robbers brandishing guns burst into her father’s store.

“Okay don’t move. Do what I say, this is not a toy!” Ordered the thinner man, waving the gun in the girl’s direction.  “ Get the loot!” he screeched at his taller accomplice with the shabby jacket who - seemingly anxiously - jolted forward, and in that moment the look on the girls face changed from surprise to anger. “ How dare they come into my father’s shop and steal from him.” The angry thoughts flashed through the girl’s mind, as she instinctively reached under the counter for the alarm button…

         ***************************

“ Don’t move!” Jack yelled. Bang! It was too late. Jack spun round to see the smoke coming from the muzzle of Sly’s gun. “She might have been reaching for a gun!” Sly protested sensing the waves of disbelief and anger emanating from Jack. “Quick Jack grab the cash, before the cops come!”

Jack looked at the body of the girl slumped over the counter. Waves of remorse swept over him, like a tsunami of conscience. But something wasn’t right. He felt like something important to him had left. His conscious? His morality?

“Jack, move! I can here sirens!” The panic in Sly’s voice, spurred Jack into action. He leapt across the counter opened the register and grabbed the contents. In a matter of seconds he filled his holdall with all the notes and coins in the till and all the MP3 players on the counter.

Sly and Jack ran from the shop and into the adjacent alleyway, throwing the masks and guns into a large dumpster as they went. “To my flat to split the gear!” Sly ordered.

At Sly’s flat the proceeds of the robbery, three hundred and eleven dollars and nine MP3 players, were split. “It was my job therefore I should get a bigger share!” Stated Sly and handed Jack one hundred and ten dollars. Jack in no mood for an argument, after seeing a young life snuffed out, accepted the money and left.

In a daze he trudged the streets hardly believing what had happened. All that kept him going was the thought of finding his sister.

Jack made his weary way to Barlow’s office. Barlow’s face lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw the money in Jack’s hand. Just as he was about to speak, Barlow snatched the money out of his hand. “Well, see what you can do when you put your mind to it?” sneered Barlow. Jack was dying to roll the blood money in his hand into a fist and stuff it down Barlow’s throat, but he knew he must keep calm.

“Well Barlow you have your money where is my sister?” Jack demanded.

“ Ah yes, her name is Mary Wells, she works in an electronics shop, somewhere in New York.” Said Barlow, leaning onto the back against the chair, arms crossed.  Jack’s heart jolted.  “I can’t remember the name of the store but it was on erm…  Canal Street. Damn it, what was it called…?”

Jack stood rooted to the spot, knowing in his heart what the answer to his next question was: “Was it ‘Switched On Electronics’?”

“That’s it!” Barlow squealed, “So have you’re information, now piss off.”

Jack staggered from Barlow’s office, the pain of finding his sister to lose her before even being able to speak. The pain he felt in his chest made it fell as though it was him that had been shot, the wound burying into his soul. He tumbled onto the rain-drenched streets of New York, and shouted at the sky, like a lone wolf howling at the moon.

cheers for reading if you got this far 

[[Cameron]]

I actually keep a decent track of my dreams and felt this one lent itself to a short story. Very short. So anyway. Hope you enjoy it
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
      We knew it was coming. We thought it unbelievable, but we’d been told it was true. The end of the world was coming. In approximately 5 days. That’s what they told us. That was 4 days ago.

        Many tourists and long term residents made it their mission to return home. China, Africa, whatever they chose to call home. People went out of their way to be with family and friends.

        But there were those of us that didn’t. We’d chosen to live each day as if it were our last, and finally that would ring true.

        We first heard whispers of the party about 2 days ago. We decided to chase up all leads and finally found out the whole story.

        Turns out that when the end of the world comes, no one cares about money, so a few people had managed to organise a huge party with a giant sound system, at the top of this hill out in the middle of nowhere.

        Masses of generators and speakers littered the area. Drugs passed around like Woodstock, but with less hope. We wanted to drain these moments of every bit of enjoyment we could. Or perhaps we just wanted to run away form it all.

        At some point I noticed the music started to die. I looked around and saw everyone had stopped. They were staring in one direction, behind me. I turned and saw what had captivated their attention.

        A wall of flame, burning across the land with such speed, and such might. It seemed unnatural. Giant shadows moved behind it. I felt my eyes were tricking me.

       The wall passed over us all within seconds, and in my final moment I saw what had been behind the flames. I wish to god I hadn’t.

[KrisMacDee]

@ Cameron : What was behind the flames!? :o

[NsMn]

Probably his alarm clock 

[KrisMacDee]

Probably his alarm clock 

A flaming alarm clock...

Nice...

Nice...

Where would a gentleman go to purvey one?

[Wyz]

Nice entries so far.
Lol, the classic cliff hanger dream. I always hate them because going back to sleep never seems to finish them.

btw KrisMacDee, pretty consistent dream you have there You should make a screenplay out of it.

[KrisMacDee]

like i said i've tweaked it to have a plot so it only resembles my dream in structure the ending I added cause i just woke up after the robbery I would rather have put that one than some of my other incredibly weird dreams :S although now as I'm typing it could be quite funny 

[Wyz]

Well, since this was an existing story, any freshly written story would actually be more valuable.

[uncle-mum]

The feet pounded against the floor â€" metal â€" sound ringing,  The windows were broken and the sound crept through the cracks.  The feet kept pounding down the hall way.  My breath was short, my vision blurred.  I learned onto the door and the door gave way.

She was sat on the bed, her shirt undone.  I could not help but look and now hands were pounding on the the door.  I glanced towards the noise, taking in my new room â€" ceilings high, curtains ornate and not to my liking.  I turned back to my wife but she was gone.  The walls collapsed to the sound of the sirens blaring from the next building.  My wife was on the roof and before my heart could beat she had jumped.

[Wyz]

It is time to vote. Well actually it was time to vote 3 days ago, but nobody did so you can vote for two days starting NOW!

ps.
I'm a bit late due to the fact my computer broke down sorry about that.

[Wyz]

Ok, since nobody took the liberty to vote I'll just pick a winner myself
Congrats KrisMacDee! You win this contest and have the honor(burden) of creating a new fortnighly! Good luck.

[KrisMacDee]

Ok, since nobody took the liberty to vote I'll just pick a winner myself
Congrats KrisMacDee! You win this contest and have the honor(burden) of creating a new fortnighly! Good luck.

Wow thanks for whoever voted, just remembered about this! lol Now to think of an interesting fortnightly  :o