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Year-End Fiction Challenge, Anyone?

Started by BlueBard, November 04, 2009, 10:25:04 PM

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BlueBard

I have in mind a new Fiction Challenge... this would be for fun, not for prizes.  There will be no panel of judges.  And there will be a generous "suggested" deadline of Midnight, January 2, 2010.  I hope to post one myself.

The Challenge is to write a PG-13 story in any genre (minimum length 150 words) that includes ALL TWENTY words from the following list:

Word List:
---------
chocolate
crash (or crashed)
end
exploded
feast
fall
gift
gold
new
party
punch
resolve (or resolved)
scarlet
snowball
spend (or spent)
surprise (or surprised)
star
tree
turkey
warm

The words may be used in any context that makes sense but may not be modified or substituted except as noted above.  Plural forms of the words do not count.  The words must appear in either the title, the body of the story itself, or both.  They can be in spoken dialogue or in plain narrative.

For example, you must use the word "snowball".  "Snowballed" could appear in the story but doesn't count.  You could say something like, "the situation began to snowball out of control" and it would count.  "Fall" could be the season, or used as an action word.  "Turkey" could refer to the live bird, the main course of a Thanksgiving dinner, or a person being insulted.  Feel free to be creative in how you use these words.

While some of the words do suggest a seasonal theme, they do not have to be about or set in any seasonal or holiday setting.  It will be easier than you think to find ways to use all of these words in the same story; use your imagination.

Anybody interested?
STO/CO: @bluegeek

Tawodi Osdi


Glitch Girl

BB, count me in as well. It's so rare that I get to participate in these things. 
-Glitch Girl

"Cynicism is not maturity, do not mistake the one for the other. If you truly cannot accept a story where someone does the right thing because it's the right thing to do, that says far more about who you are than these characters." - Greg Rucka

kkhohoho

I can't guarantee it, but I might do it. My skills have improved considerably, (they were previously mediocre,) and I'm looking to use them. ;)
The Golden Age; 'A different look at a different era.'

http://archiveofourown.org/works/1089779/chapters/2193203

Xenolith

#4
I heard a knock at my apartment door around six.  I was preparing food for a feast at seven.  Some of my associates were coming over to discuss business.   It was the Christmas season so I had the place looking good.  I had a star on the tree in the corner and there was some garland along the railing to the second floor.  All of that Christmas jazz, you know?  This year I resolved to spend Christmas the old fashioned way, you know?  To be good to people.

So anyway, I figure one of my associates was a little early, so I opened the door.  There was this big lug standing there, a real bruiser.  He says, ?Are you Jimmy Piccolo??  I said, ?Yeah, who wants to know??  Now I ain?t no dummy, and I know as well as you do that when some big dope comes knocking on your door, and you don?t got any idea who he is, then he?s there for trouble.  Well, since I had a towel in my hands, I tossed it at his face right when he went for his gun.  This guy must have been an amateur.  Who doesn?t have their gun ready when they ask that question?  I mean, seriously, who does that?

So anyway, this guy is digging in his belt trying to find his gun, and I toss the towel on his head.  He tries to stop it, but too late.  His hands go up in the air and  I throw a round house punch that connects with his jaw.  Bam!  A warm, scarlet snowball of blood exploded from his mouth.  I leveled him.  I mean I really washed his dishes.  He doesn?t react to my punch, so I throw a few more shots into his gut.  It didn?t really matter though, he was knocked out standing up.  I started laughing it was so freakin? funny.  

So, anyway, this guy slumps against the wall with a crash and blood dribbles down his chin.  I didn?t want him to fall in the hallway so I pushed him into my apartment.  He landed on my new throw rug in the hallway, which ticked me off by the way, so I pushed him into the kitchen.  The clown had a gold tooth that fell onto my new, white, ceramic tile floor.  No big deal, right, well, it was because the tooth was attached to a trail of bloody saliva that left a stain you would not believe.  I was really ticked off at this point, right?  Right?

I searched his pockets for his wallet, gun, and anything else I wanted.  Inside his wallet I was surprised to see a gift certificate for chocolate and twenty dollars.  He didn?t have any identification.  No credit cards, no driver?s license, nothing, just a freaking gift certificate for chocolate and twenty bucks.  ?Who the heck is this turkey?? I said.

Anyway, I figured people would be arriving for the feast at any minute so I opened my sliding patio door and tossed him over the side into the dumpsters below.  It?s a 10 story drop, but at least he had a soft landing.  I think!  I had Tommy come over later and take care of the problem.  No problem.    

docdelorean88

I'm in. So, i just have to find the time, but soon there will be something!
"Roads, Where we're going we don't need... Roads"

BlueBard

Kudos to Xenolith for being the first to meet the challenge... and an interesting use of the word list to be sure.

"A warm, scarlet snowball of blood exploded from his mouth."

That line is so bad, it's hysterical :D  Good job!
STO/CO: @bluegeek

Xenolith

Bad?  I thought that was my Steinbeckian moment.   :P

Previsionary

Ok, gang. I haven't written anything outside of scripts in a while, so I thought I'd give this a try. I truly went for creativity this time around, AND it's not very long. Double score. Enjoy... or don't. Whichever, I don't care. Hmph.

CHOCOLATE: A LOVE AFFAIR

Chocolate? I love it more than life itself. I know it sounds pretty weird for an early thirty year old man who?s balding and has made a resolve to stop eating it so often, especially in Fall, to admit, but it?s the truth. It?s the star of my life. It means so much to me that I can?t imagine a world without it. It completes me, makes me whole, and fills me up ? it?s my everything. The only thing I could ever possibly treasure. Perhaps the only thing that?ll maintain me to my scarlet end.

My friends told me that they think I?m having a love affair. Some type of hot, spicy relationship that revolves around me cuddling it in my sleep and keeping it warm when I need a treat. You know what I mean? I like to eat in my sleep. They think it?s weird; I don?t care! They don?t know it like I do. They don?t treat their chocolate like a gift that?s greater than gold. They rip into like it?s nothing. Like it wasn?t made to brighten their day. As if it?s some type of guilty pleasure that some company makes to punch a dollar out of their consumers. They?re wrong. They don?t know what a surprise it is to have sweet, warm chocolate melt in your mouth like a snowball of love ? no, no, hope. It?s a snowball of hope that washes away every sin of the day and leaves me longing for another tomorrow. My savior, that?s what it is. My savior.

You could call it an obsession; I?d disagree. It?s not a fad, I?m not hung on it, and I don?t want to marry it. First of all, that?s illegal. Second of all, I couldn?t kiss something that tastes so sweet. It?s not a turkey. You can?t just look at it ? savor it ? and let it be. You have to have it then and there. Who cares if you?re at party or behind a tree at a park; if you see, you need it. It completes you just as a soul completes a human. It?s a relationship that?ll never fail unlike your friends?. Your poor friends who think they?re in love, but don?t actually know what it is. They don?t know that their relationship is waiting to be an exploded mess on the floor that a dog would gladly feast on. They don?t know that my trysts with chocolate will always be new while theirs will crash into the sea of abyss totally spent. So don?t be sad for me and chocolate despite my need to give some of it up, be sad for yourselves. You?ll never get to know chocolate?s pure love. I feel so bad for you. So. Truly. Bad. Maybe one day you and others will understand. Maybe you won?t and it?ll be your lost. Well, I got to go.

Love, Chuck A. Hollick


Sidenote, the fact that I wrote this in under thirty minutes both scares and frightens me. I may need to seek help. Save me. :(
Disappear when you least expe--

Xenolith

"to have sweet, warm chocolate melt in your mouth like a snowball of love"

That beats my line by a mile.  :)

BlueBard

I had no idea what forces I was unleashing when I threw 'chocolate' into the word list...
STO/CO: @bluegeek

BlueBard

Quote from: Xenolith on November 06, 2009, 02:12:02 PM
Bad?  I thought that was my Steinbeckian moment.   :P

I think it was the "snowball of blood" part that got to me. :)
STO/CO: @bluegeek

Reepicheep

#12
A Christmas day off

   ?A day off is what?s needed.? The Boss had said. It was no question that Abe Vaughn had earned it, though he accepted the order with certain reluctance. It was not often that the Boss would demand that Abe take a day away from his side and already Abe was questioning to himself how the Boss would cope without him. Without proper muscle he could get shot by another family mug. Or kidnapped for ransom. Again.

   Then again, ever since that little fiasco at the docks, Abe had been endlessly on edge and tired. It was meant to be a simple job ? some smugglers were bringing a little feast of gold nuggets to one of the rival families. It was much better off in the hands of the Boss. He never caught wind of which family it was, but they clearly caught wind of him. Some new muscle was working double and told them he was coming. When Abe had got to the docks he saw the orange and scarlet hue of torchlight from a shelter at the riverside. It meant immediate trouble, unless he lay low and approached with slow, contained caution. The cold, dark sky was so thick with clouds that barely a star could be seen and the ground was thick with snow. He tugged on the collar of his coat and lowered his hat over his chilly, scarlet face.

   The gold was there, just as planned, concealed in wooden crates. They had been lifted from the delivery ship by crane, otherwise they were untouched ? just as Abe predicted. His timing was impeccable. Further investigations proved another interesting fact: only one guard stood watch over the gold. Boldly and with great resolve, Abe stepped towards him. The guard reached into his coat for a gun, but Abe used his natural acting gift and calmly waved a hand.

   As it turned out, there was no gun in the guard?s coat. Instead, he pulled out a cigarette lighter and stooped onto the ground. Abe naively strode forwards, almost expecting the guard to throw a snowball at him out of desperation. It was not before it was too late that he noticed a spark running between the guard and the crates. Before Abe could throw a vengeful punch, the Guard was gone and the crates exploded in a burst of fire. The last thing Abe could remember was the warmth of the flames and the shelter falling and splintered boards crash around him. There was no gold; just an attempt on the life of the Boss? right hand man.

   After he had got out of hospital, Abe spent most of his time at the Boss? side, gun readier than ever. If there was an attempt to kill him, it would mean it was to get at the Boss. Needless to say, it was the hardest advent ever. And now, for the first time in years, the Boss commanded that Abe take Christmas day off. Abe has no family besides the family, and He had no friends, besides the family.  It seemed almost devastating that he would be spending Christmas day alone. He had decorated his tree with a few sad baubels. But the loneliness got to him. It was eight o?clock in the morning and already he had no idea how to fill his lonely Christmas day.

   At eight o?clock in the morning, his loneliness was disturbed by a knock at the door. Another attempt on his life? He pulled a pistol from a drawer of the dresser and held it close to his chest, unlocking the safety. Through the window of the front door he could barely see the silhouette of a figure in a brimmed hat, holding a suspicious parcel under his arm. The element of surprise was everything. He burst open the door and held the end of the gun to the face of his visitor.

   He recognised the chocolate skin of the man at the door. He was not holding any murder weapon, but a turkey. It was none other than the Boss!

   ?Abe, my friend,? he said in his deep, resonating voice, ?I have decided to have my Christmas. Merry Christmas, my friend!?

   Abe laughed, surprised, ?Welcome in, Boss! Here?s where the party is at!?

   ?Please.? The Boss said with a smile, ?Today, you can call me Noel.?

Xenolith

#13
Its like the Soprano's around here all of a sudden.  

Nice job.

Previsionary

Silly, Reep. You used "crashing" and not the conjugates in the list. :P. I liked your story though. Seems to be your favorite niche, no?

Quote from: Xenolith on November 06, 2009, 04:44:03 PM
"to have sweet, warm chocolate melt in your mouth like a snowball of love"

That beats my line by a mile.  :)

or does it?! *dun dun dun* If only this were a dramatic reading contest with the likes of Christopher Walkens providing his voice. Imagine the pure awesomeness of that line then!

Quote from: BlueBard on November 06, 2009, 05:13:27 PM
I had no idea what forces I was unleashing when I threw 'chocolate' into the word list...

Yes... yes, you are very convenient to blame. Thanky, Bluebard, for stepping up. My craziness is NOW your fault. ^_^
Disappear when you least expe--

Reepicheep

Quote from: Previsionary on November 07, 2009, 02:05:54 PM
Silly, Reep. You used "crashing" and not the conjugates in the list. :P. I liked your story though. Seems to be your favorite niche, no?

Picky, picky. You happy now?

BlueBard

Quote from: Reepicheep on November 08, 2009, 11:22:00 PM
Quote from: Previsionary on November 07, 2009, 02:05:54 PM
Silly, Reep. You used "crashing" and not the conjugates in the list. :P. I liked your story though. Seems to be your favorite niche, no?

Picky, picky. You happy now?

No...

Quote"The last thing Abe could remember was the warmth of the flames and the shelter falling and splintered boards crash around him."

'Tis still easily correctable, but you don't get to get by with a one word replacement.  I'd make suggestions on how to change, but that wouldn't be fair. ;)
STO/CO: @bluegeek

BlueBard

The Case of the Scarlet Star
A Firebrand Story
by BlueBard

The Metro City Firefighters Charity Ball was in full swing.  Wealthy socialites from all over Metro City and beyond had come together, ostensibly to donate to the Metro City Firefighters Family Relief Fund with a generous gift of money.  The fund was a truly worthy charity, set up to help families who were left homeless by a house fire.  But the real reason for the ball itself, held every Fall, was for the politically connected to throw a party and put on a show for each others' benefit.

Which partly explained both Fire Inspector James Brand's presence at the Charity Ball as well as his considerable visible discomfort at being present.

"Would you mind posing for a picture with me, Firebrand?" asked a plump woman wearing a ridiculously tight, sparkling evening gown in green and a broad, phony smile on her painted lips.  Gold and emerald jewelry adorned her wrists, fingers, earlobes and neck.  Her dyed jet-black hair was piled on top of her head in an elaborate bun and framed by a silver tiara.  She'd no doubt spent a small fortune on her outfit for the evening, but Brand couldn't help thinking she looked like an over-decorated Christmas tree.

Before he could say anything, she leaned in and grabbed his arm while her pet photographer snapped off a shot.

"Well, I simply must run, Firebrand.  So many people to meet!"  And with that, the woman sashayed off toward someone else with the photographer in tow.

'And that is pretty much how my evening has been so far', thought Brand.  Tonight he was not much more than a showpiece for the Metro City Fire Department, the only metahuman, super-powered person among their ranks.  As ordered, he was present and in his finest blues.  But he wasn't happy.  And hearing the nickname he not-so-secretly despised over and over again was really starting to get on his nerves.

Fortunately, he wasn't the only attraction commanding attention at the ball.  He looked across the ballroom where camera flashes exploded like firecrackers as a smiling woman laughed and posed for the media.  The Charity committee had scored a coup and managed to secure the appearance of a real celebrity, well known actress Sunny Day.  Partygoers flocked to get near her, but most particularly the males of the species.  Brand had to admit the woman was stunning.  Her long red evening dress silkily clung to the curves of her body and perfectly accented the flowing red tresses of her hair.  She certainly didn't need gaudy jewelry or super powers to attract attention.

Brand turned away and began threading his way through the crowd toward a refreshment table.  He briefly considered drowning his sorrows with the well-spiked punch.  But he was technically on duty, so he'd settle for a cup of hot chocolate.  His nostrils caught the scent of roasted turkey wafting through the kitchen doors, and he was suddenly hungry.  The gala feast planned for this event was the only consolation for an overworked bachelor like himself.  Too many of his meals came out of a fast-food bag.

With the watchful gaze of a trained observer, Brand's eyes kept sweeping the great hall.  His glance most often fell on a ring of armed policemen surrounding a glass case in the center of the room.  They were there to guard the Charity committee's other coup, a display of the famous Firebrand Diamond on loan from the collection of billionaire Wayne Richards.  It was thought that showing the unique red gemstone with the name that was shared by the Fire Department's most famous inspector was a clever touch.  Curious onlookers stared past the policemen to awe over the fist-sized red diamond.

His thoughts drifted back to the previous day, when he'd been called into the Commander's office for a meeting.  He'd been surprised to find Metro City's police chief there as well.

"Good afternoon, Commander.  Chief Benson," Brand had greeted them, his glinting eyes warily sliding from one man to the other.  "Chief, surprised to see you here."

"Good to see you, Firebrand," Chief Benson, a dark-haired, broad-shouldered fellow in a police uniform, replied.  "But this isn't a social visit, I'm afraid."

Brand winced at his unwanted nickname.  "Yeah, I thought so.  So what does bring you, and me, here?"

Commander Johnson spoke up.  "Inspector Brand, there has been a credible threat that the Firebrand Diamond is going to be stolen during the Charity Ball."

"Have you called the police department yet?" Brand quipped.

"Brand, be serious," snapped Commander Johnson, his neat black mustache framing his frown of displeasure.

"I'm seriously wondering why you're telling me this.  I'm a fireman and an arson inspector, not a police officer and not a costumed super hero like the Metro Patrol."  The Metro Patrol was Metro City's resident team of superheroes.  Brand had long ago resolved to avoid any association with them.  Bad enough to have a cape's powers he'd never asked for and a cape's nickname he didn't want.

"I'll have quite a few of my men at the Ball, some of them in plainclothes," admitted Chief Benson.  "But Commander Johnson here mentioned you'd be in attendance and frankly, I'd like to know I have the backup of someone with your abilities in case things go wrong."

Brand nodded and sighed inwardly.  Superhero or not, he knew he wouldn't keep his nigh-invulnerable backside on the sidelines while men and women of ordinary flesh and blood put their lives on the line.

Taking Brand's nod as his encouragement, Chief Benson handed him a letter.  "Your Commander got that this morning and notified me right away."

Brand took the letter and read it.

It read, 'I'm going to steal the scarlet star right out from under your noses, where everybody can see me.  You can't stop PowerJack.'

Brand handed back the letter.  "I've heard of PowerJack.  New bad guy on the block.  He stole a high-tech battlesuit from Stellar Defense Systems and started using it to commit smash-and-grab crimes.  Nobody's caught him in the act so far."

"Right," said Chief Benson.  "Our sources at Stellar think that his battlesuit is in need of repairs, though.  It's been noticed that he hasn't used the suit's beam weapons lately.  We think he's trying to steal enough money to get them fixed.  He's still dangerous, though.  The suit gives him amplified strength, the electromagnetic forcefield makes him effectively bulletproof, and it allows him to fly."

"I can't fly," Brand reminded him.  "So don't expect me to be able to chase him down if he takes to the air.  So why aren't you calling on the Metro Patrol?  They live for stuff like this."

"They are on a special mission for the US government and out of reach for now.  We don't have anyone else we can contact," Chief Benson replied.  "Will you help us?"

What could he have said?  'No?'  It didn't matter in the end anyway.  He would have been obligated to be here at the Charity Ball regardless, so he might as well have police cooperation instead of getting in trouble all by himself like he usually did.

As Brand helped himself to a black mug filled with hot chocolate, he heard a dulcet voice behind him.

"Could I get some punch, please?"

Brand turned to see the red-haired actress standing there and smiling at him.  He couldn't help but notice that the smile appeared to be far more genuine than the last one he'd gotten.  But then again, she was an actress.  As the flashing cameras would have reminded him, even if he had forgotten.  He successfully squelched the first smart-aleck comment that came to his mind and managed a polite, "Of course, Ms. Day."

Brand set down his mug and ladled a bit of the punch into one of the delicate-looking glass cups.  He picked up both drinks and handed the cup to her.

The actress took a little sip, and her green eyes widened a little bit.  "Whoops!" she exclaimed.  "I didn't realize the punch had a kick to it!"

Brand grinned.  "The committee seems to take great pride in making sure everybody leaves the ball with a warm glow."

She set the cup down on the table.  "I don't drink, myself.  I refuse to give the tabloids any more ammunition than they can make up themselves.  I think I'll have what you're having."

Brand's estimation of the pretty actress rose as he filled a mug with hot chocolate and handed it to her.  "Here you are, Ms. Day."

She took a little sip and gave a little murmur of pleasure.  "That's better.  Please, Inspector, I'd prefer if you called me Sunny.  Or even 'hey, you!'.  Ms. Day just doesn't fit."

"Sunny it is," Brand replied.  "I guess you know who I am, then.  You can call me Brand, or Jim if you like."

"Not 'Firebrand'?" she teased.  "Don't worry; I know you don't care for that nickname."

"Oh?"

Sunny leaned in closer and looked up at him with a conspiratorial grin.  "I do my homework, Jim.  To tell you the truth, I've been looking forward to meeting you."

"Me?  Why?"

"Well, I guess you could say that I'm a bit of a fan of yours," she blushed.  "I'm not a powers groupie," she rushed to assure him.

Some people obsessed over metahumans, he knew.  Brand had never wanted that kind of attention.  Despite his relatively low-profile he still had to waste time dealing with fan mail and he still had to turn away the occasional proposition from some woman who was only interested in the fact that he was different.

"That's good to know," he replied, his voice even.  His suspicious little mind, as he admitted to himself, wasn't quite ready to believe that he wasn't just some kind of a photo op to this woman.

She must have sensed his reservations, judging from how the smile on her face faltered.  "Oh, me and my big mouth.  I'm sorry, Jim.  I don't want to leave you with the wrong impression of me."  Brand had to give her credit for perceptiveness.

Sunny was suddenly conscious of the surrounding crowd, watching them while trying to pretend they weren't watching.  She waved toward the dance floor where couples were doing their best to look elegant.  "Maybe you and I could dance together?" she asked hopefully.  "It will be easier to have a real conversation without the gossips around."

Now it was Brand's turn to blush.  "I'm not really much at dancing," he replied.  "I never know where to put my left foot.  Or my other left foot."

Sunny smiled.  "I don't believe for a second that you're all that clumsy, Jim Brand.  It's like acting; you just need the proper motivation."

And so he soon found himself on the ballroom dance floor with Sunny.  At first, they concentrated on moving together in time with the music.  Sunny was an excellent dance partner, silently coaching him on how to move across the floor with the subtle pressure of her hand in his and the arm around his waist.  He watched her and the other couples and figured out how not to embarrass himself.  Everybody respected their space and nobody tried to cut in, even though he was conscious of many people watching.  He began to enjoy himself.

"See?" she grinned.  "I knew you could do it.  I believe in you, Jim."

"And what do you believe?"

She captured his eyes with her own gaze.  "I believe you're a hero."

"I'm not a hero," he frowned.  "Just because I can charge into a burning building without getting burned, doesn't make me a hero.  The real heroes are the guys who do that without super powers.  They're the ones putting their lives on the line day after day."

"You are a hero," she insisted.  "You're someone that people can look up to.  Not because you have super powers, but because you're out there trying to make a difference.  Would you be out there doing what you do even if you didn't have powers?"

"Yes," he replied with firm conviction.  "Maybe not as effectively," he admitted, "but I can't imagine not trying."

"And that's why I believe in you," Sunny smiled.  She leaned in closer, giving him a little hug before moving apart to a respectable arm's length.

And then Brand knew.  She got it.  She understood.

"You're a remarkable woman, Sunny," he told her honestly.  "You do see through all of the PR and hype, don't you?"

"Yep.  Just because I have to live with it every day doesn't mean I have to believe everything the press says about me, or you.  You just have to read in between the lines."

For the first time in longer than Brand could remember, he was seriously tempted to let down his guard emotionally.  His flesh might be invulnerable, but his heart and soul were not.  He was beginning to respect this woman as more than just a publicity-seeking Hollywood starlet.  And maybe more than just simple respect.  He almost forgot about everything but this beautiful, remarkable woman in front of him.

Almost.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Chief Benson talking to the police officers surrounding the glass case where the Firebrand Diamond lay on display.  He was giving them some important, urgent information by the look on their faces.  Brand could see a steely resolve in their expressions that told him something was about to happen.

"Something wrong, Jim?" Sunny asked, concerned.

"Could be," Brand replied.  He stopped dancing.  "I can't tell you how much I've enjoyed spending time with you, Sunny, but I'm afraid duty calls."

She sighed.  "It was too good to last," she agreed.

Brand hesitated.  "Save me a dance?" he ventured.

"For you, Hero?  Always," she grinned.  "Go on, now.  I think that police chief over there wants to talk to you real bad."

Brand reluctantly left the dance floor and walked up to the knot of police officers.

"What's going on, Chief?"

"I'm glad you're here, Firebrand.  We've gotten word that PowerJack has been spotted in the area.  He could strike at any moment."

Brand suddenly got an idea.  "Can one of you fine officers switch jackets and caps with me?  If PowerJack thinks I'm just another police officer, maybe I can surprise him."

With quick agreement, an athletic policeman about his size swapped outfits.  The fit was tight, but he figured he'd pass.  Brand took up station guarding the diamond with the other policemen and swept the great hall with his relentless gaze.  If that gaze happened to fall on Sunny from time to time, well, no harm done.  Brand was careful to keep an eye on the skylights, though.  Somebody who could fly could make good use of them, he figured.

Even so, he was still a little startled when the sound of shattering glass pierced the noise-filled air.  Partygoers screamed and ducked as glittering shards rained down onto the floor and a gleaming blue figure dropped through with a crash.  There was a rush of wind as the blue-armored figure hovered in midair.  A polarized faceplate hid the man's face.

'Gotta love a predictable bad guy,' Brand thought to himself.  His first instinct was to rush forward to protect the people, but he forced himself to stay put with the police officers for the moment.  If things turned deadly, he'd do whatever needed to be done.

"This is PowerJack!  I'm here for the Scarlet Star!" he crowed with an electronically amplified voice.  "Stay out of my way and nobody gets hurt!"

Brand braced himself for the armored figure's attack, along with the policemen around him.  But they were all surprised when PowerJack swooped down, landed on his feet, and grabbed a familiar redhead in a red dress.  Sunny Day screamed.

'The Scarlet Star!  I'm an idiot!' Brand cursed himself as realization dawned too late.

Police officers throughout the ballroom, in and out of uniform, had their weapons drawn.  But Brand knew they couldn't shoot.  There was too much danger to the innocent bystanders who were even now scattering and ducking for cover, and the bullets would be ineffectual against the magnetic force field anyway.  They were all helpless to stop PowerJack.

Sunny fought painfully as the battlesuit-clad, would-be kidnapper struggled to hold onto her without hurting her too much.  But he was having trouble keeping a firm grip with his clumsy, hard gauntlets.

"I'll be contacting you with my ransom demands shortly," PowerJack barked.

Brand glanced at the nearby glass case.

Suddenly, Sunny managed to slip from PowerJack's clutches.  He'd get his hands on her again momentarily.  But it was all the opportunity Brand needed.

With a sharp karate chop, Brand smashed his hand through the thick glass case and grabbed the large diamond.  Then he threw the red gemstone like a snowball at the armored villain, with all of the superhuman strength he had.

The glittering scarlet star smashed into PowerJack's helmet with the force of a jackhammer, completely bypassing the suit's magnetic field and knocking him to the ground.  Police officers swarmed the prone figure, trying to subdue him.  The augmented strength of the battle suit gave PowerJack the advantage, as he rose to his feet and began tossing men aside like rag dolls.

And then Brand got there.  He grabbed one of PowerJack's arms and yanked him off-balance.  Continuing the momentum, Brand smashed him bodily into the floor with enough force to crack the marbled tile.  Brand pounded away at him, not letting up for a second as PowerJack tried to recover, to fight back.

The battlesuit's boots suddenly exploded with a jet of flame, blasting Brand backward and sending PowerJack skipping across the floor like a stone.  Both men got to their feet and Brand charged forward.

Apparently deciding not to face Brand's savage assault, PowerJack blasted into the air again and flew upward through the broken skylight.

Brand rushed over to check on Sunny, who was still sitting on the floor and shaken by PowerJack's attack.  "You going to be okay?" he asked in a worried tone.

Sunny managed to smile back at him, still trembling.  "I think so," she said weakly.

Brand shucked the now-ruined uniform jacket he'd been wearing and put it over her shoulders.  He helped her to her feet, then glanced around at all of the damage.  The Firebrand Diamond lay on the floor nearby, remarkably still in one piece despite the punishing abuse it had taken.  Brand reached down and picked it up.  He'd make sure the authorities took proper possession of it.

"I need to check around and see if anyone was hurt," he told her, knowing his responsibility to serve but reluctant to leave her.

"Go on, Hero.  I'll be okay."

Brand turned to leave.  "Hey, Jim!" Sunny called.  "Save me a dance?" she asked hopefully.

It took him only a moment to consider the honest answer he felt welling up in his heart.

"Always," he replied with conviction.
STO/CO: @bluegeek

BlueBard

FYI... Just a reminder.  There's no judging going on, so comments are welcome and you can submit as many stories for the challenge as you want to.

The point of the challenge is to get people writing stories and the only real criteria is whether you use all of the words in the word list or not.  It's a good way to break writer's block.
STO/CO: @bluegeek

Xenolith

Not a bad story Blue Bard.  I think this would have made a nice little comic book story.  I thought it was well told and you did a good job of describing the environment and setting the stage.  I pretty much saw everything coming though, except the kidnapping.  That was a nice twist.   :thumbup:

BlueBard

Quote from: Xenolith on November 13, 2009, 09:24:09 PM
Not a bad story Blue Bard.  I think this would have made a nice little comic book story.  I thought it was well told and you did a good job of describing the environment and setting the stage.  I pretty much saw everything coming though, except the kidnapping.  That was a nice twist.   :thumbup:

Thanks!

Since this whole challenge is about playing around with words, it seemed appropriate for the 'scarlet star' to have a double meaning in this one. :)
STO/CO: @bluegeek

BlueBard

33 days remaining, just to start the countdown...
STO/CO: @bluegeek

Tawodi Osdi

There have been plenty of good stories so far.  I haven't had much time to work on my submission because of having to write a short story for my college class.  Fortunately, my classes will be over in a couple of weeks, and I will have the time to write my story for this contest.

BWPS

#23
BATMAN AND ROBIN:
A VERY BATTY BATMAS
by BWPS

   Christmas was here. Shoppers continued to spend money they didn't have. The fall of snow had covered every tree in Gotham Central Park. A child got hit in the face with a snowball and began crying. But it was barely heard over the incessant jingle of the Salvation Army bell drilling into Batman's skull.
"Just drown it out. Focus."
It was difficult with a gaping bullet hole in his stomach. Difficult to drown out the noise of the daytime city below, difficult to stay warm, difficult to ignore the stench eminating from his costume. Scarlet dripped onto the snowy rooftop with every step.
"Focus. You're better than him. You're faster. You can catch him even in this condition. You have to this time. For Robin." But even the caped crusader has his limits. Batman fell prey to unconsciousness, As the bells continued their jingle, Batman thought back to how he had gotten here. The investor party. Last night. Fox's insistence that Bruce Wayne make an appearance required more than a little convincing, but WayneCorp's investors needed to know that their stocks weren't going to crash because the head of the company was on permanent vacation. Dick had more than proved himself able to handle patrol by himself, so Bruce agreed to attend. The guests were treated to an expensive feast and for a moment Bruce thought he might try enjoying himself. From behind a chocolate swan, a woman caught his eye. She was short, fat and round and waddled around the party with an umbrella in hand. He caught her monocled eye immediately. Exactly his type.
"Penguin!"
But why the drag? Despite his criminal behavior, Cobblepot was a well known socialite (or maybe he's like a sewer monster or something, who can keep up?) and would be expected to turn up at a party like this. What was the point in disguise at all? A quick survey of the crowd revealed several of Penguin's goons, concealing plenty of heat.
"Dick, bring the car around. Penguin is here and he's up to something. Something that is likely not good," Batman said into his Bat-ular Bat-phone. Robin's Bat-reply came immediately.
"Well, it's probably good for him. I mean whatever he's got planned will likely hurt someone else, but techincally it will be good from his point of view, financially."
"But it's still 'not good' overall, Robin"
"Well, it's still possible that the total 'goodness' he experiences will be greater than the total bad experienced by those he harms. Though its impossible to have a standard for moral quantification short of the law, which clearly would not consider his planned action good, most likely."
"Just bring the goddam Batmobile so I can change, Reta rd. My Bat-tery is low."
Downstairs, Bruce Wayne changed quickly into his Bat-suit. Robin watched without incident.
"Let's go upstairs and beat up Penguin and his gang. Then find out what he/she's up to!"
"Great idea, Batman! Hey I was just wondering why you have body armor and I don't."
"Shut up, you moron. Let's just go. I'm the goddam Batman."
The dynamic duo made their way back to the party. Lady Penguin saw them immediately and shouted
"Waugh! Waugh! Waugh! It's the Bat-brain and his little altar brat! Get him, boys!"
Immediately, three of the guests pulled out tommy guns even though they jam up easily, are hard to reload, and are difficult to conceal because everyone in Gotham acts like its the 1930s for some reason. The crowd screamed and ran as fast as they can toward the exits. One attendee in particular completely overreacted and threw himself through a window to his death. Penguin's goons began to open fire randomly. Batman was too quick for them though and instantly launched a punch at the nearest goons chest, busting his sternum and puncturing both his lungs which caused him to live in an iron lung forever but was non-fatal because Batman never kills anyone. Robin threw a Bat-a-rang or a Robin-a-rang or whatever at another guard's gun. It lodged in and exploded his gun up something fierce. After the remaining goons were put quickly hung out to dry, the room filled with a resounding laugh.
"WAUGH WAUGH WAUGH WAUGH WAUGH! WAUGH WAUGH WAUGH WAUGH WAUGH!"
Woman penguin stood with umbrella pointed at Batman.
"Thought I didn't have a very good plan, did you Batty? Well actually I do. You see this umbrella is actually a brand new RAY GUN which I shall now fire at you WAUGH WAUGH WAUGH!"
Penguin pulled the trigger. The end of his umbrella shot out a ray of energy.
"Holy gold turkey star, Batman!" Robin screamed as he dove in front of the ray intended for his partner even though he didn't have body armor and Batman did.
"Robin... NOOOOO!!! YOU SPECIAL NEEDS CHILD!"
But it was too late. Robin disappeared in a flash of smoke and all that remained was his costume. Or was it? From inside the fallen clothes, a robin, like the actual bird kind of robin, emerged and flew about the room.
"What have you done, Penguin? I am going to not-quite-kill you!" Batman yelled.
Bruce lunged toward penguin who rolled backward hilariously. Batman jumped upon him and began punching him mercilessly in the face.
"What have you done?!"
Again and again Batman broke bones in Penguin's pudgy body. Penguin's skull fractured over and over. He let out a "WAUGH!" with each blow. Finally, heshe could take no more.
"Enough! Please! I suspect this shall put me in critical condition though not kill me."
"Start talking!" Batman growled.
Penguin let it all out, "I was hired by THE JOKER. You see, I developed an umbrella-shaped ray gun that turns people into BIRDS! Due to an unfortunate side effect, it also changes the person's gender, so when I attempted to turn myself into a penguin to test it, I turned into this beautiful woman and was unable to change back!"
"That's disturbing! How do I change Robin back?" demanded the world's greatest detective as he punched more information from the fat villain.
"The Joker stole the antidote from me as soon as I perfected it! He blackmailed me into coming here because he wanted me to turn Gotham's wealthiest citizens in birds so he could steal their money and generally just urine people off elaborately. But he couldn't get invited to a party like this and he didn't have a bird-gun, so he needed someone in my position to do it for him and so he stole my antidote so I'd be forced to help him in order to regain my manly manhood... WAUGH WAUGH WAUGH!"
"Expositon!"
"I'm sorry, what?"
"You said someone in your position, I was just pointing out that it's actually your ex-position as you are not currently in a good position as I've captured you!"
"Oh... okay."
Penguin suddenly did a Judo backflip and landed on his feet, from his tuxedo he had pulled a metal bucket!
"I guess I've spilled my guts now, CHUM!" he yelled as he threw the bucket's contents toward the Dark Knight. The thick liquid doused Batman who began to brace himself for the burning of acid or perhaps poison. But instead the stench of rotten fish wafted into his nostrils and almost forced him to vomit. Penguin stood there with a look of triumph on his face.
"What was that?" yelled the masked manhunter.
"Fish entrails! Didn't you get the puns? WAUGH WAUGH WAUGH!" he cackled.
"Well that doesn't help you much at all. I would have expected acid or perhaps poison. This smells terrible but it doesn't stop me from apprehending you. Why'd you even have a bucket of chum on you?"
"Well, It WAS my lunch," the portly crime boss responded.
"Gross," said the Batman, and he quickly pinned the Penguin down and put him in bat-cuffs, dragged him downstairs, and got a bat-bat from his bat-trunk and beat the penguin to unconsciousness before dropping him off at the prison.

   Wayne Manor's basement. The Batcave. Robin had wasted no time in building a nest for himself to live. He no longer responded to Bruce's offensive insults and instead flew around the room happily.
"Is there anything we can do, Alfred? I don't want Robin to be an actual bird, and I certainly don't want a girl Robin, that would be just stupid like something a terrible writer would put into a terrible comic book for absolutely no reason at all. And she'd wear goggles."
"I'm afraid not, Sir," said the mustached Butler. "The only thing you can do now is try to find The Joker and get the formula from him. But first, you may wish to change clothes. You smell of fish and urine."
"A little gift from our old friend Penguin, I didn't think you'd notice the urine over the fish, " Batman muttered.
"Yes, " said Alfred Britishly, "I have quite a sophisticated sense of smell.
"Well there's no time for that! I have to find Joker before something terrible happens to Robin! He's like a retarded son to me!"
"Well then, Sir, it appears that you are soon to be a grandfather," Alfred said.
Batman looked at the nest and saw a tiny blue spotted egg which bird-Robin was cozying herself around.
"Oh no! I'll save you, Robin, if I have to almost-kill everyone in the world to do it. TO THE BATMOBILE!"

   The mean streets of Gotham. Batman tracked down the Joker using the world's greatest detective skills with no need for elaboration and was now in hot pursuit of the car being driven by the Clown prince of crime, who fired a large gun at Bat's bulletproof vehicle. Batman gunned the throttle and rammed the Jokermobile from behind.
"Come on Joker, just pull over. I promise I'll go easy on you!" Batman said.
"Sorry Bat-brain-butt! But I think the joke is on YOU!" said the Joker as he threw a clown-themed bomb downward. The explosion sent both vehicles off the road. Batman regained control but the Batmobile would not move forward, and he realized why as he saw his front-left tire roll down the road. The JoCar was destroyed, and Joker was nowhere to be seen. Batman pulled himself from the cockpit, but was surprised to see the Joker aiming a gun directly at his chest.
"Hey Bats, YOU STINK!" He said, and shot the caped crusader in the stomach. The Joker ran off quickly as Batman staggered to the ground. The Batmobile. If he could fix the wheel he could catch up to The Joker on foot easily. He scanned the area, it was gone. Nowhere to be found. He had taken out the spare to make room for more Bat-themed weaponry. A huge and costly mistake. The Joker was right, he did stink. He had failed to win in a fight against a guy dressed up as a clown. The one person in the universe who was exposed to harmful chemicals and actually DIDN'T get superpowers had defeated him. He was a failure.
"No, " he said to himself, "Don't think like that. There's a mentally challenged little mamma-bird back there that needs you. You have to get the formula from Joker. And you can do it. Because YOU'RE THE GODDAM BATMAN."
His pep talk gave him enough strength to move forward. He got to his feet and began to run after The Joker immediately, climbing upon a rooftop as he followed the clown through the city. Unfortunately for Batman, he could not handle losing so much blood and fell into a coma before he ever caught site of his target.
   
   When he came to, Batman realized that he had failed miserably. He had been out for hours and The Joker would be impossible to find. Depressed, he took a cab back to Wayne Manor. The driver put two-and-two together and realized that Batman was Bruce Wayne but was killed by a thug before he could tell anyone. When he arrived, he saw Alfred making Bat-stew in the kitchen.
"How did it go, Master Bruce?" he inquired.
"Bad." He said,  "I let the Joker escape, I lost my chance to save Robin who will likely remain a bird forever and probably fly into a window or something, I have a huge gaping bullet wound that for some reason I haven't died from, and I smell like fish guts, urine, and feces." he fell to the ground in a puddle of blood.
"Well cheer up, Sir, it's Christmas!"
"I'm dying Alfred."

               THE END
I apologize in advance for everything I say on here. I regret it immediately after clicking post.

BlueBard

18 (or so) days left!

Break that writer's block!  You can do it!  Be creative!  Be bizarre!
STO/CO: @bluegeek

Xenolith

#25
I resolved to surprise the hosts this year.  I wasn?t going to be that boring guy who drug the party to a ruinous end.   I wasn?t going to melt like a snowball in the fall, slowly fading away unnoticed.  No, this year I was going to be the gold star on the tree.  I would be something to talk about for years to come.  This was going to be my year to shine, and I was was willing to spend a few days in jail if I had to.

I grabbed the turkey from the hostess as she brought it from the kitchen and threw it into the middle of the table.  It crashed into the scarlet-colored glass punch bowl, slopping chocolate-flavored punch on the near-by guests.  They were quite angry, to nobody?s surprise.  Knowing I had their attention, I tore off my shirt and swung it above my head while yelling, ?The feast is over, but the party has just begun!?

:\

Tawodi Osdi

My entry was originally intended as a sequel to a story I wrote for my Creative Writing class, but once I started writing, it became much bigger than a short story without having the level of completeness that would make it a story; so, instead, I decided to make both of the stories into a bigger story, and what I am submitting is really just a scene from that bigger story using the rules of the contest though the final story will be excluding many of those additions.  Here goes.

Application Day

   Myron preens in front of the mirror before he heads out for the Justice Squadron try-outs.  His cape seems to be flowing nicely and his cowl is sitting comfortably across his nose.  He breathes into his palms to test his breath and decides to pop in a mint.  He walks to the window that opens onto his fire escape and opens it.  Before he steps upon the landing, he repeats his usual ritual.  He looks at the picture of MLK he has hung on the wall and reminds himself that real heroics does not depend on super powers as he slips from visibility.  As he steps on the landing he finally realizes that it had snowed sometime in the night.  He closes window behind him and gingerly makes it down the slickened ladder and into the alleyway behind his apartment complex.  He steps onto the main sidewalk and looks around the ghetto that is his home.  He thinks he could have left a long time ago with the money he makes as a professional interpreter but remembers what his mama said about remembering ones roots and helping those who need the help the most.
   He heads down the street and sees a young boy step from behind a stoop and suddenly feels a cold object splat against the back of his head.  He looks around and sees another boy with a look of surprise on his face.  ?Jason, what just happened,? the boy asks.  ?I don't know, Akachi.  I think there is a ghost.?  Myron hears from behind him.
   Trying to assure the two boys, Myron turns visible and says, ?I'm not a gh...? before being interrupted by a duet of screams as both boys run off in alternate directions.  Myron slaps his head in embarrassment, and from above, ?I did not know that scaring children was a hobby of yours, Mister Invisible.?
   Myron looks up and sees a familiar Asiatic woman floating in mid-air surrounded by a scarlet nimbus.  ?Yeah, I have it listed as one of my interests on my resume, Avenging Aura,? he says.  The woman lands next to him and the glow fades.  ?What brings you to my neigborhood??
   ?I was flying past to go to those try-outs you told me about when I saw you become visible,? she says.  ?Hey, is that the new costume you had ordered??
   ?I'm glad you changed your mind about going for the try-outs.  I hope Captain Spectacular changes his mind,? Myron says.  ?And, yes, this is my new costume.  It came in sooner than I expected which is a good thing since my last costume got ruined fighting Gold Star's gang when that tree exploded.  It is actually much better than I expected.  It is worth the money I spent for it.?
   ?That is good, but as for Cap, he was already tired before the fight and said he wanted to crash for the whole week,? she says.  ?He looked like he was ready to fall down.?
   ?Well, if it isn't, Mr I,? Myron hears from behind him.  ?Who is that woman you are talking??  Myron turns around and sees an old black man wearing dark shades and carrying a white cane.
   ?This is Avenging Aura, a friend of mine,? Myron says respectfully.  ?We're in the same business.?
   The old man faces roughly in the direction of the Avenging Aura and says, ?take care of this boy for me when you are out fighting.  He is a gift to this neighborhood and is like a son to me.?
   The woman straightens up and says, ?I am resolved to that very thing.?  The old mans gives a grunt as affirmation and turns and heads down the road.  After the man is out of hearing range, the Aura turns to Myron and says, ?who is that old man??
   ?That is Blind Turkey Johnson.  I've known him since I was little.  He used to be a blues player back in the day.  He even taught me how to play the harmonica,? Myron says.
   ?I did not know you were a musician.  I would like to hear you play sometime,? she says.
   ?I'm not professional quality, and I usually only play for friends and family,? he says.
   ?We are friends, now.  You should play for me sometime,? she says.  ?And, would you like a lift to those try-outs.  I can use my powers to levitate you and keep you warm.?  The scarlet nimbus reforms and envelops both heroes and they both take off into the air.  In the warmth of her glow, Myron regrets that she and Cap are an item but is thankful that her telepathy doesn't work on him.
   ?To be fair, it turns I can read you mind when your invisibility is not activated.  I noticed it when you became visible in the laundromat last night, but I didn't want to say anything at the time,? she says.  Myron nervously clears his throat and is glad that they arrive at the Justice Squadron headquarters quickly.  Upon the approach, he notices a line of garishly clad individuals awaiting admittance inside the opulent headquarters.  The Avenging Aura lands them at the end of the line behind a fellow dress in  black and red battle armor and a mechanic voice chimes up ?Hey, the names Heavy Nova.  S'up??
   The Aura gives a confused expression before realization dawns.  ?Oh, you are asking how I am doing?  I am doing well, and my name is Avenging Aura and this is Mister Invisible.  I am pleased to make your acquaintance,? she says.  Before anymore conversation can take place, the doors to headquarters open and the heroes and wannabes file into the building.
   As each person enters the door they are handed a cup of hot chocolate by a golden clad blonde woman and greeted with a warm greeting.  ?Hello, my name is Power Punch.  Welcome to the try-outs.  We have set up a banquet table at the back of the room.  Enjoy the party while you wait for your interview.?  Myron and Avenging Aura walked into the circus of applicants, and after along and pointless application process are rejected.

marhawkman


BlueBard

Okay, this non-judgmental challenge is now over.  Feel free to post one if you got one, but this thread can be unstuck.

Congratulations to everybody who wrote something!  Now go write something else!  This Fiction board needs more stuff to read on it.

I think Xenolith gets kudos for the shortest entry.  I thought the funniest one was Prev's (mmmm.... chocolate.) 

Oh, and a rather large gentleman wearing shiny brass knuckles is standing over my shoulder and tells me I should give credit to the wise guys who wrote the gangster-themed stories.  Very nice.  (Can I go now?)
STO/CO: @bluegeek

marhawkman

Crap, I totally forgot....  Enh, I did write something, but not for this.   It's Xmen themed so I guess I'll post it.