Treasure Poll: Peking Man

[Velox]

Vote here for your favorite Treasure story; entries have been randomized. Please MAKE SURE YOU READ ALL ENTRIES BEFORE VOTING.Voting begins now and will end on June 1st at 11:59 PM EST. Entries that do well will move on to the Treasure Final Poll, which will be posted at the conclusion of the 12th round preliminary poll.

• [*]

Confrontation

"So this is what you were hiding," breathed Aeran quietly as he and Risk walked quietly into the darkened cavern to face the being they'd hunted for a century and a half. The callous face of their enemy crinkled into a cold, feral smile. "Of course. Did you expect anything less?" Vharaan asked, the Shadow Construct's eyes remaining dead and cold. Aeran stepped silently toward Vharaan, staring at the massive mound of glittering jewels and priceless items lying piled high and arranged behind him like the horde of a dragon. And, of course, at the twisted, curved staff that lay at the top of the pile. The item he and Risk hunted for three centuries and hundreds of realms of existence far outside the earth world. "You'll never get away with your plan," he said to Vharaan. Risk nodded, though her voice shook as he said, "We'll stop you." "That will not happen," Vharaan hissed with cold certainty. "Yes! It will!" said Aeran, his voice filled with emotion. He pulled his sword from its sheath with a silent hiss that echoed through the caverns. Risk lifted her spear. Vharaan appeared to be completely unarmed, but Aeran had hunted this Shadow Construct long enough to know that betting against him was always fatal. But we have to do the impossible. Take him down here, whatever it takes. We cannot let him do more harm. "Dare you test your might against the greatest of the Hunters?" Vharaan asked, stepping toward them. A flickering spear of blue-black flame appeared in his hands. "I think it is time for me to bring an end to your pathetic quest once and for all." As Aeran held the Construct's gaze. He would have no qualms destroying Vharaan. The Shadow Construct was no mortal being, he was merely a statue given a semblance of life by his masters. As Vharaan spoke, Risk was already creeping past him, ready to finish him with one thrust of her spear. Quicker than chain lighting, Vharaan struck. Risk was still creeping past him when Vharaan grabbed the curved sickle-staff from the floor of the cavern and slammed the hilt into Risk's side. There was a flash of dark energy and the crack of snapping bones, and Risk fell to the ground, several ribs broken. Aeran leapt at Vharaan the moment he saw Risk fall. His blade locked with that of Vharaan. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Risk staggering to her feet, ignoring the barrage of chain lightning fired by Vharaan that tore through her leather jacket and smashed through the protective armor beneath. Aeran slammed his sword into Vharaan's neck. Any mortal would have died at one from the blow, but black liquid simply fell from Vharaan's neck and he snarled. At the same time Vharaan staggered back, Risk struck, fast as chain lighting. But Vharaan was faster. His spear slammed into Risk's throat with the force of a thunderbolt. With a small gasp Risk fell backward against the cavern wall, eyes staring sightlessly up at the sky. Aeran gave a low moan of anguish and fury. "You kill her!" "Yes," hissed Vharaan. "Your girl is dead, foolish immortal. But your life shall not be taken. Instead, I will simply relieve you of your thoughts for a few hundred millennia. It shouldn't be painful, simply…nothing." "Never!" Aeran hissed. "Very well," said Vharaan and charged. The two mortal enemies charged forward, Aeran's eyes filled with hate, Vharaan's filled with ceaseless, unending determination. And as Vharaan's blade bore down on Aeran, he tensed, ready to fight once more. --------

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The Artist 　 She stood in the elevator watching the number meter rise one by one, starting from the ground up. In a drench coat, tan in color with a little too much make up on her face, the woman pulled the spongy from her hair, letting it flow across her shoulders. One of the walls was a mirror while the other two were of a fabric material, dark violet in color. The lift had that distinct smell, one of air freshener and window cleaner which was probably applied by the maids every day. The woman looked over to the right at the mirror, catching her reflection. Bringing a hand to her hair, she tried to adjust it a little. Wring it out, push it up to give it that life and curls that she knew she had. Nothing. It remained wet and flat. With a sigh she returned to the number meter, which now hit '15' on the mark. The doors opened. Walking to her right, she stepped out onto an open walk way. When she had first moved here, she was terrified of heights, barely looking down when she left her apartment. The window in her room beside her bed, she also had kept closed. And one night it started to rain, and the thunder started to roar with authority. She had gone to see how close the storm was despite it being high in the pitch black, night sky. Sudden lightning streamed across the sky and illuminated the whole city. She timidly looked below, noticing for the first time all the people down there, like insects scurrying to find their shelter. Many nights afterward, clear skies or not, she would look out her window and watch the city with a smile on her face. She imagined all the people, and what they were wondering about on nights like these. She had never been good at writing, painting, or music. But with a smile on her face as she came up to her door, lost in thought, she blushed at feeling like an artist, glancing out her window. Capturing … the moment. It was a light feeling, but it was something that never hurt when she put too much faith into it. Shaking the key as it fitted into its slot, she pushed the door open. "I'm home!" she called out. The young lady appeared from the bedroom, lightly skinned and very quiet, a young girl who lived next door. "He's asleep…" "Thank you again for staying so late, we got busy-" "It's alright and I never mind. Besides, he's great company." "Tell your parents and brother, I said hello, and thank you again…" "You said that already," her young friend laughed before leaving, not asking about pay and promising to babysit again. The young woman walked into the bathroom, removing her coat and work clothes before heading to bed. The child slept under the covers, head on the pillow. Dark brown hair, like hers and curly, he breathed in and out softly. Her five year old son; her sacrifice, joy, treasure and life. Reaching over, she kissed his forehead and rested next to him. Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed him gently against her. Sometimes, not for his comfort, but hers. The light in the bathroom remained on. She didn't get up to turn it off. The room was not too bright, and not too dark, so within moments she fell asleep to the therapeutic sound of light breathing and heavy traffic. For now, it was enough for the both of them. ---------

[*]

Darkest Depths There was a stir in the damp, mildewy air deep beneath the earth's surface, in a dark, dank hole that had never known the warm embrace of the sun. A scaled, onyx tail slithered across the floor and over clinking coins from ancient kings as the dragon awoke. The reptilian behemoth lazily eyed its hoard, dull and lifeless in the gloom. It saw no goblet or gold gauntlet out of place, no ruby or rock tarnished by filthy, mortal hands. Satisfied, it rose, arching a spine as old as the mountains and extending wings that had not seen sky for aeons. On its exposed belly were tens of hundreds of jewels, some scraped and cracked, but all worth a fortune. The dragon paced, moving copious amounts of muscle that had been motionless for many a year. Boorish, arrogant feet against charred stone drew the monster's attention. Ah, yes. Food often came to it in these morbid, morose tunnels that writhed and wormed throughout the dirt. It never understood why. Perhaps, even after all these years, there were heroes above, seeking to destroy its kind and reap the spoils that the dragons had claimed. Perhaps this was merely a lost traveller. It mattered not. Just as the dragon, oily black as a moonless midnight, was about to roar a great gale of golden flames, it paused. No filthy peasant quailed before him, nor did an ironclad idol irritate him with intrepid idiocy. It was a boy, dressed in bright blaring shades of blue and black. The boy looked lucidly up, leering in a lukewarm manner. "Ah," said the boy. "I lost the tour group, didn't I?" The dragon watched as the child whirled wavy wires of who-knows-what out of a pocket of his preposterously constricted pants and placed a bud-like bulge at the end of each wire into his enormous ears. With that, he turned and trotted away without further talk or tarry. The dragon, surprised and staggered, watched for well over an hour before wandering after the well-rounded boy. The tremendous amazement by the tepid tot had worn away, replaced by an eerie inquisitiveness. The land long left behind had altered, it seemed. It seemed that some slovenly snacks had stolen time to grow fat and filling. Perhaps the other dangerous, daring dragons did not know of this tasty discovery, atop the amazing area above. Perhaps such a positively appealing place merited a little merry meandering through. --------

[*]

Cinderella

₪҉₪

She spins and she sways To whatever song plays Without a care in the world And I'm sitting her wearing The weight of the world on my shoulders I am looking into baby-blue eyes, so big that that I can see my reflection, as I sit in the rocker and sing off key since mother is running late tonight. I smile my own goofy daddy smile into those eyes, and your toothless smile is reflected back at me. Beautiful, and I will remember it forever. It's been a long day And there's still work to do She's pulling at me Saying "Dad, I need you," I toss you over my shoulder and spin in tight circles, calling you a sack of potatoes. Your adorable giggles that melt my heart are intermingled with chattering words that you've only just learned. Too dizzy now, I set you down, and you amble over to your beautiful mother, your palm-sized feet leaving palm-sized indents in the grass. You are the most precious walkie-talkie I will ever have. Beautiful, and I will keep it in my heart forever. "There's a ball at the castle And I've been invited And I need to practice my dancing Oh, please, Daddy, please?" I stand, cheering at the top of my lungs, to your mother's embarrassment. She claps enthusiastically, but leans over and asks me what could possibly be so intense about pee-wee soccer. I shrug and cheer louder. You stumble over the soccer ball, which comes all the way up to your toddler thighs, and your peals of laughter warble through the air like butterflies. Beautiful, and I will love it forever. So I will dance with Cinderella While she is here in my arms And time passes as it does, with its own enigmatic manner. Time is callous, unyielding, and merciless, not bothering to stop for anyone or anything. It leeches strength from the very bones of the greatest of us, leaving frail shells spotted with age. Still, time is generous and compassionate, feeding life into the youngest and brightest of us, strengthening them and giving them wisdom. Helping them to grow up, flowing with just enough benevolence to let you live life to the fullest. The whole thing is beautiful, and it's the world we live in. 'Cause I know something the prince never knew Oh, I will dance with Cinderella The world we live in is so big, I can't fathom it. But my world is so small, but it's all that I can fathom. It is you, my beautiful daughter.

I don't want to miss even one song 'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight It is you. Your smile, your laughing eyes, your hugs that you dive into with all your heart, the melody in your name, and the sweet sound of 'daddy' carried by your voice. It's what I live for, and what I treasure above all else. And she'll be gone...

₪҉₪

(Disclaimer: Lyrics belong to Steven Curtis Chapman.) ---------

[*]Golden Idol Two metal blades clashed against each other in the decrepit ancient temple, growth and decay went hand in hand as the battle continued. The golden idol sat gleaming in the background, standing on a pedestal as ancient and decayed as the rest of the temple. But the little statue shined as brightly as it had for many years, in the light of a small opening in the roof above. It was the cause of the battle, and only the winner would walk away with the gleaming prize. "You're too late now, the treasure is mine! But killing you will be an added pleasure, James." The first of the fighters remarked, sweeping low with his blade, just as the other blocked with his own blade to keep from losing his legs. "You've caused me enough problems, I won't deal with your meddling any longer!" "I won't let you take it, Zerov!" The other remarked, blocking a blow with his blade and using it to push Zerov back, before delivering a disorienting blow with the hilt of his blade to his foe's face. "This treasure is going to the museum... where it belongs, not the hands of some illegal collector!" Zerov let out a grunt as he struck the ground, trying unsuccessfully to get back up onto his feet as the intense pain shot out through his head. "I have been searching for this for many years, I will not just give it up!" "Funny, so have I." James walked over, swiping the little golden idol from the pedestal. As he turned to walk away, a low and ominous rumble filled the air. The pedestal began to sink into the ground, a bad sign. The entire Temple began to shake, pieces crumbling off and falling to the ground. One of the pieces struck James' hand, knocking the idol from his grasp. Then, the floor began to split and crumble apart, separating as a ravine formed in the center of the room. Zerov slid toward the chasm, barely managing to clutch the side of the abyss to keep himself from falling to his doom. "Look what you've done! This is your fault, you fool!" James saw the golden idol roll across the uneven floor, balancing dangerously on the edge, a good distance from Zerov. He had to choose which one to save, and quickly. James walked in the direction of the statue, ignoring the hanging Zerov and his pitiful calls for help. "Wait, stop! Don't leave me to die!" Begged Zerov, his grip beginning to slip as he struggled to find a good handhold. "Please, do not abandon me here! Keep the treasure, but do not let me die!" James seemed unfazed by his words, heading only for the treasure and grabbing it from its dangerous perch. "The museum will enjoy this..." "Wait, you can still help me! Don't leave me like this!" The terror on Zerov's face was apparent, that of a man in what he feared would be the last moments of his life. James moved over to the ledge, near Zerov. He looked down at the treasure seeker, the coveted treasure in his hand. "Please!" Let out Zerov with one last cry. "Have some mercy!" Without a word, James stepped down on Zerov's hand. ---------[*]I'm Going To Lose Shaggy hair, Russell Brand style. Charming good looks, Charlie Sheen. Smooth tongue and access to smoother wine. Big muscles, and bigger money. Fourteen cars from across Europe: Spain, Italy, Germany. Fourteen stab wounds across his chest, back, legs, and one unsettling one dead center in his throat. The body was strewn lazily parallel the bed where a wiry, pasty skeleton of a man sat, a long bloody knife in his fingers, a bleak, horrified look on his face. What had happened? There was a reason that his best friend was dead at his feet. There was a reason there was a knife in his hands. That reason was the petite brunette, powerful and perverted. The man turned back, stark white skin shining in the light, revealing dark purple bags underneath his widened bronze eyes. His hair was brown and greasy, and his wallet was thin as he was. Even with her husband dead, he knew it would never work out between him and the widow. She rolled over gingerly, peppy pink nighty presenting her perfection. She smiled at him; eyeliner purple, lips pouted. She began rubbing his back, oozing enthusiasm. The body was more interesting. This was his best friend on the floor. His brother. He had fought him for so much, for the best job, for the best car, for the best woman. Never had the survivor come out on top. The victim of success was now the victim of steel. Nothing was right in this world. "Forget about him." She whispered in his ear, now on her knees behind him, massaging his shoulders. He had fallen to envy, but he would not fall to lust. She was the head cheerleader. She was the bachelorette. She was Robin Scherbatsky. All the boys wanted her. All the men pleaded for her. They hunted like Indiana Jones, and she was their Crystal Skull. Too valuable to sell; too dangerous to keep. "He doesn't matter anymore." Hissing cobra's were beautiful too, until they bared their fangs. He hadn't acknowledged her just yet. He doubted he'd be able to. He looked down at the knife in his hands. Jagged. Blood stained. In the moonlight, still reflective. In between the patches of blood he caught a glimpse of his own eye, and her flowing, perfect hair beside it, kissing his ear. He didn't care. He was numb. The man at his feet had felt pain, lots of it. There was no instant death. There was screaming. There was bleeding. Pleading. Nothing about it had been fair. He knew it. She knew it. She enjoyed it. "He is gone now." Hot breath sent his heart racing. He turned to her, to look boldly into her chocolate eyes. He turned to stone. Those eyes had led his best friend to his closet grave. "Now there can be us." Men would've killed for this woman. He didn't. She killed for him. --------[*]Average Days Granny Trisha rocked back and forth in her chair, humming an old tune while knitting a sweater. A cliché scene, as she herself knew, but she enjoyed it. The children and grandchildren of the Helens family enjoyed wearing her warm, comfortable, homemade clothing. So she kept rocking, the benign smile upon her lightly wrinkled face portraying the good years through which she had lived. Brian sat on a couch across the room, playing his Xbox 360. He couldn't play MW3, Battlefield 3, or anything like that because of Granny being at the house. He didn't really mind, though. Sometime it was fun to play Blur or another, somewhat tamer game. Of course, he still got to blow up cars and such, but there wasn't blood, language, or any other glaringly objectionable content, so Granny was fine. In another corner sat his Mom, Olivia. She was reading a book, occasionally glancing at the clock to see if she should start steaming the vegetables yet. After an especially noisy crash, she said to Brian, "Could you turn that down? It's a bit loud." With a roll of his eyes and a smirk, Brian complied. The aroma of the cooking soufflé was filling his nostrils, drawing saliva into his mouth. After licking his lips, he brought his mind back to the game. Surprisingly, he was still in first, and it didn't look like that would change. Brian's brother and sister, Jacob and Bethany, were off in their rooms, doing something or other. Jacob was probably playing Diablo III. Bethany was probably watching anime, reading manga, or playing some game. Not that they were being reclusive, they were just doing whatever at the moment. Dean, the father of the family, was probably doing taxes, something work-related, or playing with his iPhone. Finally, after another fifteen minutes of a similar setting, Olivia told Brian to get his siblings and dad for dinner. He obliged, having just finished a race, and soon all six people preset in the house were gathered around the table. After a quick prayer from Dean, they began eating. It was a short meal. Compliments were paid to Olivia on how good it was, and small talk was made. Bethany and Jacob had some nerdy conversation about something or other, with occasional comments from Brian. Dean told a joke that was simultaneously funny and worthy of groans. Then, one by one, everyone dispersed, and Olivia cleared the table and put away the food. Brian quickly did the dishes then went to the room he shared with Jacob. After about five minutes of convincing, Brian managed to pull Jacob from Diablo and got him to play a few random rounds of Team Fortress 2. Both chuckled and had a bit of fun, and then Jacob insisted on going back to his game. Brian rolled his eyes and went to surfing the web. Back in the living room, Granny Trisha sat, now watching a movie while working her needles. It was a normal day spent at her son's house, which was fine with her. Normal days were good. She still got to see everyone–even her fourth grandchild, Evelyn, and her husband, Zach, who had visited earlier–and gotten a sweater finished. She had good, respectful children and grandchildren, and she treasured every moment she got to watch them have fun. Indeed, normal days were sometimes the best. --------[*]Member Name: Takua123 Theme: Treasure Word Count: 599 Story: Desire June 29: I brush the sand off of my pants, but more sand only replaces it seconds later. The dust storm has been going on for a few days now. I could remember when I signed up. They needed recruits. Course, who would sign up for it? I mean, the flyer read: "Recruits needed for expedition. No guaranteed return." The kind of scum that signed up was greedy, and had nothing left to lose. Gold and jewels were their drugs. I see a lean, small man, we don’t know his name, and he won't share it. He carries a small sapphire around his neck, he's got nothing else. Sometimes I see em up late at night, caressing that gem. It scares me. Me? I'm not greedy, and I wouldn't say I'm much scum. I've lost my wife, my job, my kids. I got nothing left. So I said to myself, "Why not?' July 1: We woke up to one of the men dead. He's the first. The was a big man, and I was surprised how long he lasted. At least the storm cleared up. All we have now is the sea of sand and each other. God I hope I can do this. July 5: We found a ruined structure stickin out of the ground today. The Boss says this is it. We've started to dig it up. Might take a while. I see eager faces all around me. The little riches that go around our team are wanted by everyone. These kinds of people scare me, and I don’t know how I could be so obsessed. July 7: We’ve established camp here. With the few tents we have I share mine. My mate is The Sapphire Man. It’s been hard to sleep. I don’t know if it’s the constant rambling and muttering of The Sapphire Man or the odd sounds I hear below me. Constant creaking and moaning can be heard below me. I feel scared at night. July 16: After days of digging The Boss says we’ve reached it. I peer down at the pit. I can see a large pile of gold and jewels at the bottom. It looks amazing… Two men quickly jump down. They seem eager, and it looks like they both have lost some goods. The two men are fighting over the treasure. When the dust clears they are dead. Both of their arms lay over the others necks. July 20: Several men have killed each other. The treasure seems to glow. It’s gorgeous. They have dug a staircase down to the bottom, and the less insane, the living, descend. There are only about 10 of us now, including The Boss, Sapphire Man, and me. The bottom shows long stone hallways. Fighting breaks out between us all and I grab some of the goods and flee. I hide now. The gold I have seems to sparkle. July 25: I need more. I need it. I need it. I rush out to the pit to find the treasure gone. I clasp what treasure I own and ascend the stairs. At the top I see ruin. The tents are gone and bodies lie everywhere. I see The Sapphire Man, dead, his precious gone. Treasure lies scattered. I grab it. But I need more, more. I hear groaning I look to my right to see The Boss, barely living. I walk over to him. He holds in his hands the remaining treasure. He looks up, and says: “Your eyes, they’re, different.” Then he is still. I pick up his treasure, but now, I NEED MORE.

Edited May 31, 2012 by Velox

[Toa of Dancing]

Number 7, my own. Simultaneously happy and saddened to see that multiple people did the non-gold/whatever treasure that I did. =P

[Grant-Sud]

A lot of good entries here, some really noteworthy and some very unique. All in all I say number 3 was the best, for the detail. I couldn't help imagine the kid and laugh. =D Besides that though, I voted shamelessly for myself. :B

[Aderia]

I have fallen to the shameless self voting trap.

[Archer Vonn]

Well I am clearly blowing away the competition.

[Excelsior]

I voted for 1-Excelsior

[Velox]

Alright, unfortunately it has just come to our attention that we missed one of the Treasure entries (entry #8 in this poll). I have since edited it in, and I will be extending the polling period on this poll only for one more day. I ask that for those who already voted, please read Entry #8, and if you would like to change your vote to entry #8, then please PM me. Thanks!

[Ballom Nom Nom]

Went with number six here, although a lot of the entries seemed quite good.~B~

[Velox]

And now that the extra day is passed, poll closed.