Treasure Poll: Benito Bonito

[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 May 31 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.

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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. -------[*]Old Parchment It used to be that whenever somebody mentioned treasure, I would think of old chests filled with golden coins, buried beneath a temple overseas. Something that existed only in fiction, surely something that I, of all people, would never possess. I never thought, for a moment, that a treasure varies from person to person, that my greatest treasures, sitting in the basement, could be old parchment to someone else. ----- I first questioned my views on this issue when I met a cashier by the name of Gray Allen. He worked at the used bookshop down on Wilhelm Street, striking up the most absurd conversations with anyone who would listen. I came by to browse and ended up buying three issues of Treasure Hunting magazine, which I used to collect when I was young. Apparently he collected them too, and was quite eager to point out that this magazine focussed on physical treasures such as jewels or collector's items, which plants the wrong ideas in young minds. As he put it, "I will never forget my eleventh birthday party, when I looked a my stack of presents and realized that nothing I had ever gotten truly mattered to me." I can't help but agree. ----- That evening, after reading my magazines, I found no joy in flipping channels, no satisfaction in surfing the web. My friends offered to take me to the mall, but I had no passion for shopping. I picked up a Treasure magazine again, having no other ideas of what to do, and found a page heralding entries for a writing contest. I remembered entering a piece, I even won a free, two year subscription to the magazine. I had Long since given up writing, growing too busy with school, then my job. When I tried to start writing again I had profound trouble keeping my stories flowing, and my plots seemed too cliche. Perhaps this time, I thought, it would be different, maybe all I needed was some time. There’s no harm in trying again, so I did just that. I couldn’t use a computer, I just knew that I would get distracted. Writing by hand was far too slow, and I hadn’t seen any pencils in my house for months. In a bout of what just may be insanity, I concluded that the only medium with which I would follow through was my old typewriter, perfectly preserved from my younger days. It rested in a box, along with all my old stories. I brought the entire box and its contents to my bedroom, where I now sit, reading through my old stories. I remember writing DimentioPen as if it was yesterday, describing in detail how Greg, the protagonist, drew a door in the wall, opened it, and stepped into another country. In Over the Ocean I can almost feel the rocking of the ship, complimented by a terrible case of sea sickness, as the crew rush about trying to stay afloat in this storm. I get ready to start typing, thinking of what Grey, the Cashier, had to say. I would not give up my old stories, nor any stories-to-be, for a room full of diamonds. These words, typed so meticulously on this fading paper, are to me my greatest treasure, Grey Allen, the cashier, was simply the map that led me to it. Just two days ago, I would never believe that treasure lay in a small cardboard box in my basement, hiding beneath the trapdoor of boredom. Now? I find it hard to believe that I haven't opened this box before now. -------[*]The Beast “Why will you not leave me in peace?!” The dragon swung his clawed talons at the charging knight, roaring with frustration as he does so. The knight lurches to the ground and rolls just as he makes impact, before bouncing straight back up onto his feet, the danger having long since passed. The knight strode forward, his sword already drawn and held threateningly at his side. “You are a beast, wretch,” he spat. “You terrorise our people and leave us in fear. That is reason enough.” The dragon’s eyes blazed in a hideous inferno and it glowered down at the puny morsel before it. The titanic lizard raised one large, razor sharp talon the size of the knight’s forearm and thrust it in the direction of his attacker, “You are not here for justice. That much is clear.” Beneath his steel helmet, the soldier grinned. “Well, perhaps I am here for a little more. A dragon’s treasure is what makes the struggle all the more worthwhile.” The dragon reared its neck back and belched plumes of fire at the knight, who easily leapt aside with grace. “You will have no interest in my treasure, human!” the beast roared. “Gold is truly uncomfortable to lie on, and diamonds hold no more value than glittering rocks!” “A likely story,” the knight smirked. And he ensured the conversation would go no farther as he charged forward. The dragon raised one massive arm to strike his rival down, but was too slow. With a lightning fast lunge, the knight pierced the dragon’s soft underbelly. The dragon roared in pain, but in that vicious screech, there was something else. Misery? Loss? Surely impossible. It was merely a monster. The beast toppled to the ground, clutching its stomach and moaning gently. The knight looked at his fallen enemy and nodded, a malicious smile twitch on his face, though not that the creature could see. He stepped past the brute towards the back of the cave. He turned back and saw one solitary eye focusing on him. In its final moments, the dragon would get to see the knight take its treasured possessions as a prize. And then it may die. He squinted against the darkness, before finding one solitary chest. The soldiers heart sank as he looked at the measly container. Perhaps it was full of jewels? Rubies, sapphires, emeralds? Something that would make this worthwhile. And yet it wasn’t. He looked at the contents and shivered with rage. There were beryl scales stacked one on top of the other, stood next to an ink drawing of a female beast, perhaps drawn by one of the village folk, then stolen during their ghastly hunt for food? Next to it lay several pearly white, jagged chunks. Egg shells. The knight turned wildly on his heels. “What is this, some manner of joke?” he hissed. “All dragons guard treasure, but this…This is worthless to me!” “To you, yes…” the dragon rumbled mournfully. “But not to me…They are all I had left to remember my mate…and my son…Both of whom you so cruelly took from me.” The dragon blinked, and the knight watched as a single tear drooped from that massive eye. The knight kicked at the chest and yelled in rage. This was ridiculous! All that effort, all that struggle and for nothing of value! The beast spoke of treasure, but this was nothing of the sort! And surely the idea that this beast could feel sentimentality was ridiculous. He was a knight, and this was just a lizard. -------[*]"I've been searching for treasure since I was a child," the young wanderer said. He stood before the group he had assembled - adventurers, warriors, mercenaries. "It's an old story - my tribe was conquered and our lands stolen by a stronger tribe. Though we escaped with our freedom, our lands and possessions changed into other hands. My tribe is impoverished, and it's my job to change that. "I've made it a rule to work alone. My finds have been small enough without division with strangers. "Now I'm breaking that rule. Not because I want to, mind you. But this is too big a job for one man, and my tribe is far away. And whatever's at the end... is still more than worth the trip." He paused, eying his listeners. Many of them looked impatient or bored. But a few - those whom he had known longest - looked intrigued, and a bit apprehensive. These knew, or had heard of, his expertise in searching out valuables. They also knew his customary reserve concerning his past and present affairs, and his determination never to let anyone have a penny of his finds - even at the risk of his life, he worked alone. They knew any venture he was willing to give others a share in, a share which extended to the profits, must be something very big. "Over a month ago," he continued, "I heard a rumor - a rumor of a legend come true - up north. I investigated." He paused. "Many of you are treasure hunters yourselves. How many of you have heard of the Minemaster's hoard?" By their reaction, he judged perhaps a quarter of them had. Although it was an obscure myth, all treasure-seekers heard it eventually. The legendary giant stockpile of all the best precious metals and stones unearthed by the miners of many countries, and given to the just-as-legendary Minemaster, their chieftain. The size of the hoard was only matched by the deadliness of its defenses. One of them spoke up. "It's also called the Bounty of the Earth," he conceded, "But most of us call it the Dream-Quest, if not the Treasure-Seeker's Doom." He looked at the youth hard. "You say it's real? And attainable?" "That's why you're here," the youth responded simply. "With my information, and all our efforts, we can find and retrieve it - if the rest of you will join me." There was a pause. Then one man rose. "If your proof is good, I'm in," he said. "I would call this quest the Ultimate, for a treasure-seeker." One by one, the others followed. To the Ultimate Treasure, or to death. -------[*]A Lecture on Wealth “What is treasure?” The man paced back and forth, his features hidden beneath the wild hair that covered most of his face. His strides were smooth and confident, and every step he took seemed to shake the very ground on which he walked. However, his words seemed to have had more of an effect on those around him than his heavy footsteps. All around him, puzzlement crept into previously carefree faces. They had signed up in order to hunt for treasure, not debate upon what the term treasure actually entailed. A single hand rose above the crowd, its owner carrying a confident – although rather bored – look upon his face. After a few moments of hurried gestures to make sure no one would interrupt him, the leader of the group beckoned him to speak. “Treasure is anything that you deem to be valuable.” A murmur ran through the group, and it quickly turned into hurried whispering about whether or not he was correct. Before anyone could come to a reasonable conclusion or even get past the opening points to their argument, the leader once again spoke up. His voice cut through the clamor like a knife, immediately stopping short any conversations that he was not participating in (which was all of them). “That isn’t a bad guess, but I’m sorry to say you are wrong. Very, very wrong. You see, treasure isn’t something as vague as “something valuable to me”; if that were the case, you could call even a ratty old hat a treasure under some circumstances. Friends aren’t a treasure either, and the same goes for family. Those things are all worthless in the greater scheme of things! “So what is treasure? All I’ve told you so far is what it’s not, and I can see that some of you are growing impatient. Well, let me tell you: treasure is anything you have to steal, lie, or kill in order to attain. Treasure is anything you could auction off for a hefty sum of money. Treasure is anything that you can cast aside if it means making a fortune. If you are ever in doubt, ask yourself, “Is it valuable to many people around the world and, more importantly, would they pay for it?” and you’ll be sure to grab to correct item.” He stopped pacing for a moment and turned his head towards the group, his visible eye brightly shining with anticipation. His lecture was nearly complete, and he could already see that it had done its job of stirring the members of the group into a frenzy. Seeing this, he couldn’t help but grin behind his beard. “Now let’s go get some treasure.” -------[*]I can't remember. It hadn't been long since it happened, that was evident. The gun barrel would hardly have been hot if that was the case. But I couldn't recall what had led up to this point, or why I would have shot the woman on the floor. I stared at her body. She was clearly dead; no one could sustain that kind of head trauma and survive. I was numbed by the shock of it. All I could feel was the gun, comfortably warm in my left hand. I shook my head, trying to prompt my memory and stop staring at the dead woman. That was when I saw the other corpses. All twenty-eight of them. I turned around, taking stock of my situation. I was the only one left standing from whatever had happened here. Most had been shot, but some had been killed with other implements or simply beaten to death. And every corpse was still warm. Had I done this? “Fascinating,” said a voice from behind me. I spun quickly, with my gun hand swinging up if its own accord. A large man stood in the doorway, with his face just slightly in shadow. “Who are you? Where am I?” I said. “We've already been over that subject quite a few times. That was the twenty-ninth time, in fact. You really can't remember, can you? The artifact must affect the user's memory when activated.” He glanced around the room. “It certainly affects your survival ability.” As he spoke, I began to recall certain events. I had been chasing rumors of a long-lost treasure of powerful and ancient potential. Those rumors had led me here – “And that was when you saw there were others besides you who were making a bid for it,” smiled my visitor. He saw the expression on my face and laughed. “It's not that I can read your mind. I've merely seen you go through this many times, so I have a good idea of what you'll say next. It always runs along the lines of 'What is hap --'” “What is happening to me?” I demanded. I was fast losing patience with this wordy figure in the shadows. I stepped forward and grabbed his jacket, jamming my gun at his head. He seemed to lose a trifle of his calm. “What is happening is that you got to the artifact first without understanding what it was. It grants the ultimate power: Survival. Mostly that manifests in superhuman abilities of self-defense when threatened. It is also apparently impossible to take the artifact from you by force. Hence the bodies,” he said, with a wave of his hand. “Though it's within my reach right now, I think I'll pass on that opportunity. It's that necklace you're wearing. Not much to look at, eh?” It was not. It was a very plain piece of jewelry. I would have doubted this far-fetched story, but I was remembering more. I still did not remember killing anyone, though. I mentioned this. “Ah, I don't know about that. Perhaps it takes care of your mind as well as your body. Perhaps your mind would have been twisted out of shape by so much killing, so it granted you selective amnesia. It didn't shield me, but that's okay; my mind's a bit bent already.” He grinned a little madly. I let him go, overwhelmed by all this. I started to walk away. “I will find you,” he called after me. “And I will find a way to make that necklace mine.” -------[*]The Only Object of Value “When the time comes, do whatever you must. Find It. Never surrender It. It is the only thing that can ensure your survival. Always keep in mind: It is our most valued possession and our greater treasure.” Anna ran. Anna ran and ran, out of breath already, pleading with herself not to let fresh memories overwhelm her. The mansion was large, and she knew her way better than her pursuers. Even then, she could hear the crashes that the invaders caused. She tried to block it out. “Find It. Find It.” Anna repeated this aloud, over and over. She needed this, a goal. It was not a matter of finding It. She knew what It was, and where It was. She knew It was what they wanted. She also knew the men would stop at nothing to get it. It was invaluable. Even as these thoughts occurred to her, she remembered, how just minutes earlier, dissidents broke through the estate’s security. She remembered how these men shot down her parents. She remembered how her own bodyguards had barely managed to ensure her escape. She didn’t want to remember anymore. Anna came to a tall, gold-rimmed mirror. As quickly as she could, she undid a complicated lock, and the mirror slid away smoothly, revealing a cold, sterile-looking room. Dashing in, she slid the mirror back. Inside, Anna saw a familiar laboratory, the location of the most valued object in the world. It itself was just across from her, a small rack of open test tubes containing a fluorescent liquid. It was the family’s treasure, the thing that separated them from the dissidents. In reality, it was a vaccine. Anna wanted to smash it. She knew her family would still be there if it wasn’t for the vaccine, but even as she thought it, she knew it was not true. It had not been long before Anna’s birth that a massive epidemic struck Earth. Millions upon millions died. After some time, a few scientists managed to isolate the virus and create a vaccine, but instead of presenting it for widespread distribution, it became a sign of the elite. Anna’s family was wealthy. They had gold and jewels, all the treasures imaginable. It all became worthless; the vaccine was the true treasure. The wealthy and healthy could easily overpower and oppress those of less fortunate families. With so many deaths, those of the higher order knew that society could not keep functioning for much longer. In their avarice, however, they did not care. Anna was young. She knew not of why everything happened. She only knew her family had something others needed, and that it had resulted in the death of people she loved. Crying silently, Anna slumped in a corner of the room, hugging the family’s coveted treasure tightly. A wild shot broke through the mirror door. It was a careless move: a door of fragility protecting a treasure. A young boy, not any older than Anna, entered the room. His appearance was unkempt, his eyes red from crying. Surely one of his family had the disease, or perhaps him. She’d seen people like him in the outside. He would not, could not stop now. Her family was wealthy. They had gold and jewels, all the treasures imaginable. But it was the vaccine that they desperately needed. The boy lifted his gun. ** That night the men who invaded the estate reprimanded a young boy savagely. He had found the vaccine, but in his carelessness, sullied it with blood. It was no longer any treasure worth retrieving.

[Space: Ocean of Awe]

Voted for My own, number two. =)

[Grant-Sud]

Good entries here, but I felt like number 7 was the most thrilling and interesting. Only thing I didn't like was the ending. The boy got reprimanded for killing but the older men did the same thing to a couple people before. :/ Besides that, it was great and made me feel saddened for both children.

[dotcom]

Good entries here, but I felt like number 7 was the most thrilling and interesting. Only thing I didn't like was the ending. The boy got reprimanded for killing but the older men did the same thing to a couple people before. :/ Besides that, it was great and made me feel saddened for both children.

The boy was reprimanded not for killing, but for making the 'treasure' useless to them. The vaccine, contaminated with blood, was of no value to them. It's relating to one of the themes in the story, the fragility of value and worth.Either way, I'm glad you liked it. It seems to have generated the desired emotional reaction, of which I am glad.I voted for my own, number 7, but there were good entries all around. This contest really brings out quality.

[Grant-Sud]

Okay I got ya, I thought the blood part meant more like spilling blood.

[Excelsior]

I voted for 6, although I also liked 2. Probably everyone here can relate to the writer protagonist.On a side note, it's interesting to read 2 and 5 together, as they're saying exactly the opposite things.May the best story win!-ExcelsiorEDIT: Hey, I have a vote. That's cool.I have to admit, I wasn't hoping for too much this theme. I just wanted to enter something.-X

Edited May 30, 2012 by Excelsior

[fishers64]

I went for 2, although 5 caught my eye, if only the piratey-pep talk nature of it. Nonetheless, all the other entries were good reads, so hats off, etc.

[Ballom Nom Nom]

Tough choice between 2 and 7, but I eventually went with the latter.~B~

[Maganar]

I voted for #3 specifically for the reason I think most people skirted away from it. It tooks a cliche setting for a treasure story... and then it went somewhere else entirely with it. Even though I was expecting something unlike the norm given the desire for creativity in this contest, it still came with a bit of surprise. I'm assuming this is a consequence of word count, but it obviously could have used a more potent finisher becuase it just kind of stops dead at the end. Anyways, that one earned my vote.Probably next on my list would have been #7, but I really like the dark undertone and, to be quite honest, dark truth of #5.

[Velox]

Polling period over; poll closed.