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Hast seen the white knights as they march past? Tell me, hast sighted the black footmen that follow as night follows day? Hast seen the cross of blood that binds them together? Tell me, have you seen the Order of the Temple? -x-x-x- The night was deep, and there was silence on the part of men; only the sounds of nature could be heard on the old path that ran through the forest. Day was done, and most travelers were well indoors, in inns or the homes of farmers who would house them for the night. For it was perilous to be about in the dark. But the sound of hooves could be heard, and the slapping sound of mail and padding. The lone horseman was clad in a black mantle, the hood back from his brimmed helm. The mantle was drawn close about him, and the red cross at his left breast stood starkly out, even in the night. He traveled at a brisk cantor, and neither man nor horse seemed at ease, despite the arms on man and horse. The night was perilous even for the brave and knightly. His gaze roved from one side of the forest to the other as he rode, almost expecting arrows to fly from the shadows; any native to this land would have told you how likely such occurrences were, even for armed soldiers. But perhaps this soldier was held higher than the others, or else he was plain lucky, for the forest yielded none of its perils, and presently he reached a clearing, reining in his horse and dismounting. Although he was not now alone, he seemed to be more relaxed. Five men stood off the road; four clad the same as the rider. The other two were clad in while mantles, and wore sugarloaf great helms. One of them spoke as the black rider walked forwards. “Is the location spotted and scouted, brother?” he asked, his voice deep, with a courtesy that seemed inherent to it. “I have looked, and have found it to be so, lord commander; the bandits have little regular sentries, and are fattened by their latest raids.” “It is well then,” the white clad commander said. “We can move out, take them unaware. Come, lord brothers, On behalf of God.” “On behalf of God,” came the muted response from the others as they mounted; the scout without complaint despite the lack of rest. But although they were swift in leaving, they moved at a relatively slow pace. The white clad knight leading them beckoned the scout to his side. “What approach shall we take, brother?” he asked. “The brigands have set their camp in the foothills, commander; it has good tree cover, and several caves. They have set up their main camp in a shallow valley between two spurs of mountain, where they have a fire pit, and several crude cabins. Normally, they would have one or two sentinels, but tonight they are too wasted from their raiding to care. One drunken sentinel badly placed, mayhap two.” “It will not be the easiest target, brother. Not all are drunk, and they greatly outnumber us,” the commander cautioned, more to himself than to the scout. His brow set in a frown under his helmet. “We will arrive in a minute, commander,” the scout said softly. In response, the knight held up his hand and gave a sharp, but still muted, command to halt. “Brother Sergeants, you will follow on foot. The knights shall lead the charge. The infidels are smitten by their greed, and offer no organized watch. We shall scatter and confound them, and you shall smite upon them.” “On behalf of God,” the others responded, and they set off, the sergeants leaving their horses behind. The camp gradually spread out in front of the riders’ eyes, the glow of a few fires through the spaced out pines, the dim shapes of a few buildings; most importantly, the sounds of human life. The two knights quickened their pace, shifting into a swift cantor. To the bandits, there was nothing more startling; one moment the peace of the night and the warmth and heat of the fires enveloped them, the next horsemen crashed through, scattering the fire and thrusting several unlucky brigands through with their lances. Bodies crashed about, to their feet or to the ground, some stumbling around drunkenly, not knowing whether to fight, flee, or just collapse. The knights vanished out of the fire area after the charge, leaving the bandits a few seconds of respite, a chance that was lost in the general confusion. Skillfully maneuvering, the two knights split and charged back into the clearing, one from each side. Two more bandits collapsed before they were gone. Even still, they had not yet routed, now trying to form some defense even in their unreadiness. The knights’ tactic of hit and run, while confusing and line-breaking, could not achieve the carnage that a pitched attack would have, and there were still over a dozen men left. But even as they—somewhat—armed themselves, the main Templar force arrived. Bolts flew out of the trees, piercing two more bandits, and even as they looked towards this new threat the four black-clad warriors charged headlong into the fight. Outnumbered three to one though they were, they had a clear advantage over the unarmored, ill armed ruffians they faced. Several fell in the first clash, and the cries of the wounded outweighed the sounds of weapons clashing. Hardly a half minute into the fight, and the six remaining bandits broke, fleeing for their lives. Surprisingly, the four Templar did not pursue, quietly watching the ruffians flee. Two of them unslung crossbows, reloading them. To them, the fight was done. Cries rang out from the forest, and the Brother Sergeants knew that the fight was done for those remaining brigands, ended on the points of the swords and lances of the two Templar knights lying in wait. -x-x-x- Mayhap not fitting the theme Pathfinding that well, I needed the flash fiction goal to get me to finish this. The title goes to my brother, who also tused 'infidel' in the same sense as this story (bandits being infidels, sorta a loose usage). But I'm rambling.
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Beyond the Constellations ...She's gone....I didn't believe him at first, when he told me. It couldn't be true, couldn't be real, never in a million years. I'd only just seen her yesterday, with her long dark hair that smelled of pomegranates and her smile that took my breath away, even after all these years. I'd only just seen her yesterday....Now I'm standing beside a casket. It's closed. I think I prefer it that way; I don't want my last picture of her to be still and pale. Maybe I'm selfish, but I want my last memory of her to be the graceful, laughing girl, glowing with light and life....I stand, silent, as they pray, and then everyone breaks for refreshments and condolences. I don't; I stay next to her, hands in my pockets. She was my compass, the one I could count on to lead me in the right direction. Before I met her, I was a wanderer; now I feel totally lost again. The square of carpet by her side is the only stable ground....There's a box in my right pocket, a box with a ring inside. I'd wanted to tether myself to her, to make her my permanent north star. But the sky is smothered in clouds now. She's gone in a direction I can't; she's gone beyond the constellations while I'm stuck in the atmosphere....I wish I could have talked to her one last time; I feel as though she would have given me a last piece of wisdom, because it's not fair that she would leave without saying goodbye. Why didn't she get any last words? I have the dumbest feeling that she would have known somehow that she was leaving, and told me the secret to life, told me how to go one without her, because now it seems like I've been given a map only to have it ripped out of my hands; I've been shown a path only to have it vanish from beneath my feet, leaving me stranded in a strange and unfamiliar wilderness....Now I guess it's up to me to find my own path, without a compass or a map or anything I thought would guide me. I have to keep moving; I can't stay: the only thing that's keeping me going even now is the hope that, if I go far enough, for long enough, our paths will cross once more. Someday, in a place far from this musty church, the clouds will break and stars come out, and I'll find my way again.***When I took a creative writing class, one of the activities we would often be assigned was to write a story in ten minutes. We'd be given a first line or a last line, or sometimes just a theme, and then told to fill in the blanks. The class is long over, but I often write like this; I find the pressure of a time limit forces me to disengage my filter and write honestly.So, yes, I wrote most of this story in fifteen minutes. After realizing it would be a perfect fit for the Fortnightly Flash Fiction Contest, I edited it and touched it up to make it more presentable, but the bulk of it was written within a time limit.All comments and criticisms are very much appreciated (I don't get nearly enough criticism for my work XD). But even if you choose not to comment, thank you for reading.
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~ ENIM SAPIENTIA ~ ~~~ Down an unknown road To embrace my fate Though that road may wander It will lead me to you ( - From "Go the Distance" by David Zippel ) ~ * ~ The path ambled along through the rolling hills, stretching away farther than the eye could see. We made our progress slowly, she and I; there was nothing in the world to hurry us and everything to encourage delay."Beautiful weather," I observed."It's a beautiful view."I smiled at the silken screen of hair that cascaded down the back of her head. "It certainly is."She let out a happy sigh. "Sometimes--sometimes I just wish I could walk forever.""Free of worry, free of care. Under the golden sunlight by day and the starlight by night.""And when it rains I would dance in it. I would laugh at the thunder. And when the sun came back its grin would dry me.""It sounds wonderful.""It does. Just to walk. . . .""And who would be walking with you?"She tensed. I looked away and quickly introduced a different topic. "It's amazing the way the hills are all so alike and yet somehow different. Sort of like people.""People aren't all alike.""Oh, but they are. At the bottom of every heart there are the same thoughts, the same dreams. Every heart has the--the same love. Some people just forget that. Some never find it. Some ignore it.""Jacob--" But she broke off."Rachel, I care about you. You know that, don't you?"She hesitated. Then she said, "Some have to wait for love.""Wait to find it?""Yes, some. But others who've already found it have to wait for the right time."She bit her lip. We walked on.All too soon there came a fork in the path. A side road branched off the main. We paused and turned to face one another. "Which way are you going?" I asked. I knew the answer, but I dreaded it. Somehow I hoped feigning ignorance would buy me a few more moments.She did not respond. She couldn't say it. She only murmured in a tone thick and strained, "Goodbye, Jacob.""Rachel, please . . ." But I didn't know what I was asking. I examined my shoelaces with a shrug of my shoulders. "'Bye, I guess."She turned away, hugging her shoulders. Her gracile figure sidled away along her path as I began along mine. But before she escaped earshot I turned with sudden fervor and called out to her."Remember what I told you! I care about you. That won't change. Even when paths branch apart, they come back together. They intersect again."She looked at me. Her eyes were moist and her cheeks glistened in the sunlight. Yet for all that she beamed at me. "I know it." ~ * ~ The next evening I was traveling my lonely path when another came up alongside it, running parallel. Somehow I sensed, before I even looked across the verge, that Rachel was there.She looked happy. Was there an almost haunted quality to her eye, or did I imagine it? I couldn't be sure. I only caught the corner of its deep beauty before she turned her head in the other direction without even glancing at me. I turned, too.Neither of us spoke. It would have been too painful. So close and yet so very far.But beneath the ache in my chest there was something else. Buried far beneath my skin, constrained by the twisting of my heart, it was there: joy. Just a faint glimmer of delicious joy. And somehow through the pain that little joy made me feel as light as air.Did she feel it?Ahead the paths diverged. As soon as I caught sight of it I halted. After a few paces, she did the same. My heart pounded as I stood there, gazing at the back of her head, hoping.She turned. She smiled. My heart soared.I stepped to her side, keeping on my path but not taking my eyes off her for a moment. I ravenously devoured each passing second spent staring at her. She flushed under my gaze; but the rosy tint to her medium-dark cheeks only made her the more beautiful."I miss you."She met my gaze with eyes that glowed brighter than the first stars appearing overhead. "I miss you, too."In tacit concordance we turned and walked on until our paths separated once more.And I kept walking. ~ * ~ That's the hard part. To keep walking. To go on and never falter. To know the only way back is forth.The world passes by me with each step. But I keep going because it's empty. I fill it with what good I can when I can; but there's nothing left in it, not for me.I wonder where she is and I wonder where my path is taking me. I wonder about many things. My mind brims with the swelling ranks of unanswered questions.But what can I do but go onward? With patience and perseverence I have to fight my way forward. Along the way I strive to make myself into a man worthy of her. She is like a distant star guiding me along. It is day and I cannot see her, but I know she is there, and I follow her.Someday our paths will reconnect. Until then I'll continue wandering; but my heart will never stray. For my Rachel I'll go that extra mile. Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith
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Ever Up He opened the door wide on creaking hinges, letting the orange light of evening spill across the floor of the hut. The windows followed, shutters flapping open in the breeze that was just now rising over the empty prairies from the north. It blew gently through the hut as he busied himself with other matters, shuffling about on aching knees.First, he swept. A slow task with the thatch-broom that he always kept in the corner. Dust rose in little clouds as he worked, glinting in the sunlight before the wind snatched it up and away.When that was finished, he turned to the furniture. Not much: only a wooden table and chair. These he dusted, straightening the small collection of books on the tabletop, and put away the pewter dishes that lay scattered about. They would be useless to him on the journey. He smiled faintly, though, as he touched the books. They were dear to him. He would miss them.Next, he hobbled outside, leaning on a stick that he had used for many years. Rounding the hut, he made his way up the hillside behind. There, he looked upon the pens of sheep and goats that he had tended for so long. A hermit must keep himself busy, after all, and what else was there to do on the open prairie but tend the animals and read and think? What more indeed?He wheezed a bit as he stooped to lift the latch of the main pen. The gate swung open, and he tied it to a stake so it would not shut. Within, the livestock shuffled around but did not leave the safety of the pen. They held together, looking back at him with dark eyes. Sad eyes. He smiled at them, always grateful for their simple, silent company.The descent from the hill was harder in the twilight. The hut seemed grey now, thatched with colorless reeds, fluttering in the wind. He stopped when he reached the door again, looking out into the distance.South, he looked, and then west. The wind stung his eyes as he turned to the north, and he shielded them with one trembling arm. Soon, now. Soon he would go. The thought sent a shiver through his aged body, and suddenly he wept, for he was lonely. Here in the desolation of the prairie, with only the sheep and goats to keep company, he was lonely at last.He had chosen this solitary life for himself, but now…now he longed for something else. He longed for speech and company…warmth on a cold night.Soon he would go. Yes, very soon, and he was ready.His hand gripped the wooden stick tightly as he turned from the door, leaving it thrown open to the prairie and the fading sun. With faltering steps he moved towards the chair, wheezing as he lowered himself into it. He wore a weathered cloak, and on his feet were traveling boots.Now all was prepared. Yes, now was the time.The hermit lay back as the sunlight fell away, and night crept up from the west. His eyes closed……and abruptly he went out…out from the sheltered place into that greater night where there are no stars. A dry land, with dark hills rising to a darker sky…But above those hills, fitful and half-lost in the darkness, it seemed that a pale light flickered faintly.Now suddenly he started forward on strengthening limbs, casting aside the walking stick, for he may now climb those deathly hills without weariness…climbing…climbing ever up.Ever up, toward the light. End ------------Hi folks. Officially, this is an entry for the Flash Fiction Marathon, following the theme "Preparation." Unofficially, this is the first COT short story I've posted on BZP. Funny how that works. It's a sad kind of story, but not, I think, too dark in the end. I hope you enjoy. Leave a comment or critique if the desire moves you. All such things are appreciated.JRRT
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DES MOINES, IOWA – The state cross-country meet was raging for the Class 2A Boys. In the lead was senior Rob Macker, but his team wasn’t cheering him on. The other seniors were, sure, but of particular interest for this match among all the underclassmen was Rob’s younger brother, Matt, the rising star for the Warriors. He was a mere freshman, and he was in second place. The history to their competition was interesting. Rob had come in first place for the 5k every year since his freshman year. He had let himself shine, and this senior year he wanted to solidify his perfect streak and his legacy. It was cool that his brother was making it tough for him, though. Perhaps if Matt won, Rob could enjoy cheering on his brother’s chance at a perfect streak. Yet, since they were both in high school at the same time, only one of them could have it. And Rob wanted it so bad. It felt like they were on their last half-kilometer. Rob kicked in his final burst. Meanwhile, Matt trailed ten yard behind him. He wanted it, too, and he wanted that perfect streak. It was something worth fighting for, and he wasn’t going to let his brother have it. Want. Desire. Matt wasn’t going to settle for second. He sprinted like crazy. For a moment, he passed up Rob, but Rob ran even harder. They were both dying as they suffered the fruits of their own determination. Then the finish line came in sight, and they sprinted even harder, as if they were running down a 100m dash. By two footsteps, Matt won. “Thirteen minutes!” shouted a friend. “Could have cheered more,” said Rob. His friend Sam handed Rob his hat. Coach Leer wasn’t happy for them. Matt didn’t quite understand it. He went over with Rob to make sure that their times were indeed at thirteen minutes. He showed them the time grimly, and though confused, Matt and Rob cheered and rejoiced. Then Coach Leer interrupted the powwow with a hand on Rob’s shoulder, and he said just loud enough that only Rob, Matt, and their best friends could hear, “Rob, your brother Craig is dead.” Craig was killed by a drunk driver while biking to the library. He was a junior and always a bit of a loner. People didn’t appreciate him much, but Matt always figured his day would come. He didn’t count on…these things. The next day, everyone knew, and was wearing black. Attention. Oh boy. From people who were mean to him and people who didn’t even know him. Then there was a girl who wore a dress that broke school policy. Matt felt an irrational hatred toward her. How disrespectful. He resigned from these people. He couldn’t live in their presence. Matt went to his classes, but didn’t talk to anyone. Rob came to school just to pick up homework, and left. The worst part about being sad was knowing just how sad others were, so he had to be sad for his brother’s sadness. Then he knew that Rob might be feeling the same way. Circles. The day after that, Friday, Matt decided to do what Rob did, and came only to pick up assignments before heading home. He did his work, and Rob did… Mother was home. Father was with the funeral director. When they had lunch together, Craig’s usual chair was empty, and nobody talked. When both brothers were done with their homework, almost instantly, Rob locked himself up in his room and never came out for the rest of the day. Matt wanted to do the same, but he ended up sitting down with his back against Rob’s door while he ticked away at the time, wondering how long it would take before things would ever be normal, or if he would be like Batman and just be troubled for the rest of his life. After a month, Rob put his hat back on again. It was really strange, though. Rob had always been the cool kid. People had looked up to him with respect but not…respect. It was different with Matt’s friends. His were relatively new, made just in high school. He hadn’t gone through four years of them yet. It felt like they knew him for his tragedy first and not for the brother and friend he had been beforehand, so he began spending time with Rob’s friends. They had once made fun of Craig, but at least they knew him. Then one day Rob did not sit with his friends. Matt looked around and found Rob eating outside, looking through brochures. “Aren’t you going to get in trouble?” asked Matt. Dumb question. Rob never got in trouble for anything and could break any school rule he wanted. “No,” said Rob. He left his bench and reentered the school, placing his flyers in a side-pocket in Matt’s backpack as he passed. Matt looked at them himself and saw that they had information on the marines. During their family supper, Rob wasn’t shy in bringing it up. “Dad, I’m joining the marines.” Perhaps it was supposed to be one of those special father-to-son moments, but it played out with the whole family. Without much questioning, Father supported the idea. Mother was against it, and Matt… He was curious. “Why?” “Because I’m not going to settle for tragedy anymore,” said Rob. “I’m not going to settle for loss. I want that so bad, but I haven’t given it my all, yet. I was meant for more than running 5ks in thirteen minutes.” There was more arguing, and with half a heart Matt pleaded Rob not to, but he was forced into understanding his brother. After the year and the graduation ceremony were over, Rob’s friends, all knowing his intentions, patted him on the back. When everyone left his grad party, Rob took off his hat and handed it to Matt. “Remember to settle for nothing less than your best life.” =[]= Curse the, thy foul word limit! Nevermore shall I endure your toxic burden! No, I take that back. I'm really being far too angsty and dramatic. Maybe I should just accept that this would have been better as a much longer story, because I can see how this could easily carry out to 5k if I had carried it out to its natural length. As it happens, this is very much contensed. Meanwhile, this has absolutely nothing to do with my story We Are Young, even though I use the same characters. There will be nothing quite so sad over there. 24601
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There once was a matoran with yellow hands, yellow feet and a yellow mask. Yes, yellow appeared to be his signature color. This matoran loved many things, but the thing he loved most was the thrill of surfing. The wind in his face, the heat of fire rushing over his body and the speed, oh the speed! How he loved it all.He turned his board sharply to the left as the next wave approached. Moving with the flow of the surf, he began to accelerate. The only thought in this matoran’s head was speed. Yes, he had to move faster, faster.Soon the matoran was a mere blur to the world and the world was a spectacular blur to the matoran so much so that he could no longer see clearly. It was in this carelessness that the matoran fell with a grim splash.---Cough. Cough. Wheeze.“Easy there, fire-spitter. You may be fast, but not even you can breathe water like Toa Gali.”Jaller tried to clear his eyes of the sea-water and looked toward Naho bay. His companion was not ten feet from him bobbing on a surfboard and her voice was all too familiar.“Haha, you’re one to talk, Hahli. Last I checked you’ve had quite a few wipe-outs yourself.” Jaller raised a brow at the ga-matoran.“None that were anywhere near as fantastic as your grand display just now, oh great Captain of the Guard.” She stuck her tongue out, a soft irreverence in her tone.To that, Jaller was a little unnerved. He took his position in Ta-Koro very seriously. However, the ta-matoran was not currently in his home; he was with his friend on a peaceful day. Here and now he was lax and at-ease. That meant there was only one way to deal with such a comment.Jaller quickly spun his arm over the surface of the water, creating a decent-sized wave in the ga-matoran’s direction. After his magnificent spin, Jaller looked back to find his target had left; all that remained was a board floating aimlessly in the water.His eyes darted back and forth as he tried to look beneath the waves. He couldn’t make anything out. The feeling of loneliness was beginning to vibrate in his chest; it began making him uneasy with each passing minute.Was she in trouble? Could she actually breathe water? Perhaps she had fled on a Takea shark? His eyes darted everywhere in vain.Somehow, he gained the courage to speak,“…. Hahli?”Suddenly something pulled him beneath the waves.---A sharp sting burst through the matoran’s side. It was followed by another sting in his shoulder and one on his leg. The pain was immense, yet it had to be endured at all costs.Faster… I need to move faster. The thought was the only hope the matoran had to forget his pain. A dark buzzing filled the air with the sound of impending doom as he ducked and turned and even jumped over the lava. The distance he had covered from his home was great indeed. He knew his duty; he had to keep moving. Yes, keep moving…A blur of lava was the last sight the matoran would realize.---Two matoran dragged themselves to the shore of Mata Nui.“That was a cheap shot; pulling me underwater like that.” Jaller chided.“Oh, lighten up. It’s not my fault you can’t see underwater.” Hahli tapped her Kaukau. Its visor came in handy for Hahli. She loved to swim and she could hold her breath for quite some time.The sun was setting on the beach as Jaller and Hahli collapsed, exhausted.“You know, you’re normally not that reckless. What came over you today?” The blue matoran looked to her friend with a cheeky smile. She was glad to see Jaller relaxing for a change. As the Captain of the guard he always seemed to be serious.“… Well, today just seemed too good to waste…” Jaller looked off into the distance almost in a trance. A dark cloud loomed over his head as he spoke.“Hmm? … Jaller… What’s on your mind?” Hahli’s eyes grew concerned.Jaller wasn’t sure what to say at this point. How could he explain…?An old tale slowly faded into his mind.“Hahli, have you ever heard of a matoran named Lhii?” The words he spoke sounded mournful and grey.“Lhii? I can’t say I have.” Hahli looked down at the sand. Actually, she could have sworn she had heard the name before in passing. It never really struck her as a name she ought to remember until now.“Lhi was a ta-matoran. He was the Captain of the Guard before me. There are many stories of him in Ta-koro. He was a legend; he could surf through lava like it was water! Turaga Vakama said he would be second only to Tahu even today.” Jaller spoke with a mixed sense of pride and wistfulness.“What happened to him?”Jaller mutter a short word that was nearly inaudible.“…What?”“Hoto. There was a swarm of hoto plaguing Ta-Koro. According to Turaga Vakama, Lhii managed to find the swarm’s queen. He picked it up with a kohli stick and attempted to lure the swarm out of the village through the lava. Lhii managed to save the village, but the swarm was too much for him, and he… fell…” Jaller’s words had a certain rising and falling as he spoke.“… Wow… I never knew there was a matoran like that on Mata Nui.” Hahli shared Jaller’s mood as they both looked up towards a falling sun and a red star emerging from the fleeting light.“… I’ve got some big shoes to fill, Hahli…”Hahli gave a soft smile and rested a hand on his shoulder. It felt so soft and gentle in its reassurance.“We all do.”---------Whew. Lots of thought went into this one. So, yeah, a bit of a different angle from what I was generally seeing with this concept. Most stories I read and skimmed dealt with Vakama personally telling one of Lhii's tales. Well, I thought it would be refreshing to see Lhii's influence on the matoran of Mata Nui instead. Who better to focus on than the matoran who wears Lhii's (Lhikan's) mask?I actually kinda hate my entry because I had to shorten it so much. I started out wanting to do something really short, but it proved rather difficult with this one. Curse my ability to ramble! So, yeah, this one has a word count of 984 as opposed to my entry with a word count of 600. This one is better in my opinion.Hope you guys enjoy it! ^^
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LETTING THE READER KNOW THAT THE SETTING OF A STORY IS THE END OF THE WORLD IS ALWAYS A CATCHY, IF NOT CLICHÉ OPENING LINE, but in this case it seems more interesting to note that this story revolved around the philosophical implications of pizza. You could never have enough pizza. Well, you could, presuming that your stomach was at risk of exploding, but imagining that someone could eat on end and never have to worry about getting full, why would anyone want to stop to do anything but enjoy the sensation of having pizza in their mouths? Pizza was the reason mad wizards sought immortality in the first place, because dying meant you could no longer eat pizza. What a scary thought.……….As it happened, the end of the world was brought about by a mad wizard, although he claimed to like more sophisticated food. In fact, the food he liked was positively nasty. Well, perhaps that was why he was a mad wizard, because otherwise, if he sought immortality to eat pizza he would actually be a very sane wizard.……….But that’s irrelevant.……….Now, there was Buzzy and Monosmith, who resisted the end of the world and fought in many battles while crying out many sacred ideals. God, democracy, liberty, God, freedom, integrity, altruism, and God. It seems that they had their ideals down nice and neat.……….Well, they lost, the end of the world came, and the evil wizard ruled the universe for fifty-three million years. Buzzy and Monosmith each survived by virtue of time distortion and arrived at the end of those fifty-three million years to join the resistance that was at its peak then. They met each other in what felt like ages, even though it had really been more like three years for them.. It was on the outskirts of a really huge battle with laser fights and all the works. On a hill where Buzzy parked his space ship. They just stood there, panting.……….“You know what I need?” said Buzzy. “Pizza!”……….“I don’t think they have that this far into the future,” said Monosmith.……….“I have one in my space ship,” said Buzzy.……….Buzzy’s ship was big enough that he and several friends and allies lived comfortably within for two years in time distortion, and it most certainly had freezer cambers. These held pizza and other goods that helped Buzzy survive while flying near the speed of light throughout outer space.……….So they took a pizza from the ridge. In fact, several pizzas, because they were a lot hungrier than usual. Fighting battles and saving the world did that to you.……….“I want Red Baron,” said Buzzy.……….“Hey wait, it looks like you have Tombstone,” said Monosmith.……….“I like Red Baron more.”……….“The Tombstone is even stuffed crust. My mother used to buy those all the time.”……….“My mother – “……….“Don’t even. Your mother was an alien from the planet Alantra. You didn’t even taste pizza until you came to Earth as a teenager.”……….“The first I had was Red Baron. I have a lot of nostalgia, too, you know.”……….“Alright, how you cook Red Baron and I cook Tombstone? Isn’t that the obvious solution?”……….“Hey, wait, you’re right. Why are we even arguing about this?”……….They shrugged. It was just them being exhausted. So they cooked their pizza and sat in Buzzy’s lounge, looking out the window at the battle beyond where laserfire scorched the landscapes. Then the pizza was done, and they ate it with their feet kicked up on the table.……….“You know, I could probably end this whole battle on my own,” said Monosmith.……….“You’re being so emo lately. Lighten up. Because Pizza.”……….“Yeah, you’re right. It’s pretty strange. I’m kind of sure that this time we might be heading toward the end of the universe for real. As in, everything gets destroyed, not just a way of living. Everybody’s talking about the pursuit of happiness and has no idea what it is, and yet, here we are eating pizza. All we need are Ashley and a few other good old friends and I’d call this pretty good.”..........“I just had an idea,” said Buzzy, pointing out to the battlefield with the point of his current slice. “Why was it called the end of the universe in the first place? I think it was all because the evil overlord took control and hated pizza. I mean, then people stopped enjoying the simple things in life. People looked for power and pushed forth these strange agendas. Why can’t they just accept the simple pleasures in life? Like pizza. Pizza’s the purpose of life.”……….Monosmith shook his head. “Well, I believe the purpose to life is love, but then, what is love?”……….“Baby don’t hurt me.”……….“Stop it.”……….“Hey, you like classical music and I like pop, and that’s a good song. Imagine if that song would be playing over the battlefield. It would be pretty epic.”……….“Maybe after we win a few battles, we can spread the joy of pizza again.”……….Buzzy finished his last slice and thought it over as he chewed. “The question is, would it be Red Baron or Tombstone?”……….“I think we’ll find out,” said Monosmith.……….And thus was what might have been the single most important conversation in all of history. Buzzy and Monosmith made a bet on whether the masses would like Red Baron or Tombstone better. They fought a few more battles, as they said, reveled in the Technicolor of the laser weapons . Then, as it looked like the good guys were winning the war, they celebrated prematurely and started recreating old pizza recipes and campaigning with food.……….It turned out they were both right, Buzzy in the area of what music fit a laserfight and Monosmith in the area of pizza, which by far was more important. Then, when the good guys won, they resigned to their simple pleasures. Music, reading, play, friendship. And Tombstone was the best pizza. 24601
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Crimson Note In his dreams, he was the star.And it, in turn, was him.*** He had no name but a stage name. He had no life but a stage life. He faced his future brimming with ideas, knowing he was loved, knowing that he loved. He was but a Toa, living his life on the run. Touring the universe, meeting new people, captivating the audiences of the world and the hearts of many.The Crimson Note was a star.He now faced a crowd of hundreds. The Toa of Fire stood alone, his voice, amplified through Xian technology, blasting the mass of Toa and Matoran before him. He closed his eyes, for he was doing what he loved. He opened his heart, for what he sang was true and nuanced. He passionately struck the cords of his guitar, letting the audience know that he cared. This was not a performance. At the moment, and as far as he was aware, this was the performance of his life.The audience quietly cheered and danced in place. They never took their eyes off him. They never turned, or stopped paying attention. They could feel his emotion, and paid attention to it.He sang of past victories, as a Toa fighting a war. He sang of terrible loss, as a lone warrior facing monsters and masters of shadow. He sang of hope, and he sang of virtue. He sang of despair, and he sang of cruelty. Everything he felt and everything he was was laid out for everyone to see.The Crimson Note was not only a star, but a superstar.After the show, he went, quietly and alone, to a small bar in the nearby village he had called a home for several weeks. He came here often enough, and when he arrived, a crowd had already formed. He sat at a reserved table, amiably dodging Le-Toa groupies and avoiding the hateful stares of a De-Toa band. The three Toa of Sonics often blamed "talentless posers" like him for ruining modern Matoran music. This night, they sat by, watching his admirers and quietly wishing painful murder on the spotlight-hog they perceived him to be.He sat alone, sipping slowly from his drink. He always took a downtime after a performance. He sat now and thanked Mata Nui for his success. He silently thanked his fans, for allowing him to grow. He wondered where he would go next, how far he would go, and who he would meet."Are you joking? We are no friends of hoaxes like him, you ignorant Piraka-spawn!"His thinking was interrupted by one of the Toa of Sonics, the largest and nastiest of them all, screaming at a Ga-Matoran fan. The three De-Toa despised being associated with him. Often, fans of the Crimson Note would approach them, hoping to get closer to their icon. And today, with the crowd larger than it had ever been, the they were particularly volatile.The Toa that had screamed backed his voice with his sonic powers, knocking the unprepared Matoran across the room. She hit a wall and lay still.The crowd quieted in an instant. Some Toa ran to the wounded villager. They exclaimed that she was still alive, but hurt. As one, they all turned to the Toa that had screamed. After a pause, they all began to yell at them. Incoherently, they called them would-be murderers, Skakdi spawn, and so much worse.The Crimson Note stood up, hoping to prevent an all-out riot in the building. He was about to exclaim for everyone to calm down, to realize that what had happened been an accident, when the situation spiraled out of his control.The three Toa of Sonics began blasting at the crowd, sending several crashing back into tables and other patrons. Some of the Toa in the crowd began to return the attack, peppering them with small elemental bursts.The scene was chaos, and he didn't know what to do. Quickly, he brought up a wall of flame between the band and his furious fans."Everyone calm down! We're all brothers! We shouldn't be--"His plea for help was cut short by a brutal sound blast from one of the Toa of Sonics, who did not think much of camaraderie at the moment. His fans, already angry, became outraged when their idol was thrown across the floor, groaning with pain. The scene degraded into a crazed brawl.Standing as fast as he could, the Crimson Note ran towards the fighting Toa, trying to break up the fights. There was nothing in his mind but helping his Toa brothers. All of them had to stop before something terrible happened.And just as he reached one of the Toa of Sonics, he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a small dagger.It was only an accident.And at that moment, the red star went out.And then, in the room, there was silence. ***And in his dreams, he was the star.For now, dreams were all he was. Well.This was a very liberal interpretation of the "Red Star" theme.That's all I really have to say about this story.
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Guilt I knelt silently before the grave, the small white card a temporary gravestone. ADRIANA MARTINEZ 1974-2012 LOVING WIFE AND MOTHER My eyes couldn’t leave her name. As much as I wanted them to, I couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help but let the torrent of memories rush upon me. I remembered the first day we had met, how I had spilled her coffee accidentally, walking without paying attention to where I was going. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said quickly, taking out a napkin and handing it to her, picking up the fallen cup. “Here, let me buy you a new one.” I would’ve thought she’d be furious at me, but instead she simply smiled and allowed me to do so. I smiled back, and together we walked back into the coffee shop. It seemed so long ago now. A lifetime ago. Yet at the same time, it seemed like just yesterday. We shared a coffee together afterwards, and somehow I had had the courage to ask for her number, and even more of a miracle was that she had given me her real one, especially after I had just stained her blouse. That was one of the greatest days of my life. Then I remembered our first real date…how nervous I had been, how much I had prepared for it. How my best friend Aaron had helped me make it as perfect as possible. “Dude, chill, it’s going to be okay,” he said to me. But I couldn’t help it. I fidgeted nervously, wringing my hands together and pacing the backyard. I had set up a table accompanied by candles and a waiter in a tux: Aaron. Every second she didn’t show seemed like an hour. “Are you sure everything’s okay?” “Yes, it’s fine! Just look at it, it’s perfect,” he replied. I had to agree, it did look pretty nice. But that didn’t stop me from worrying. I had never felt this way about a woman before. I remembered just two days ago when I had only met her because of my clumsiness. I remembered the lovely conversation we had, where we discovered so many similarities. I remem— The doorbell rang. The intense desire burned in my heart all the greater and I rushed toward the door. A tear fell from my eye. She had loved that date so much, the perfect smile of hers always present on her face the whole night. Yet I couldn’t see it now. The memories were all a fog, and no matter how hard I tried, I could not see her face. Why? I asked myself, but could think of no answer. I shook my head quickly, trying to forget, focusing again on the happy memories. Yet that only made it worse as after every smile from every memory I realized that that was what I had lost. Her. Gone forever, those memories the only thing left of her. I buried my head in my hands as I remembered the day I proposed. A beautiful dinner at a fancy restaurant with a garden and balcony overlooking the ocean. I remembered how happy she had been when I got on one knee, but I couldn’t see it. Couldn’t see her smile, her face. It was the guilt. I had done this. It was because of me that she was dead. I should’ve listened to her when she begged me to leave my job – an undercover cop infiltrating one of the most vicious gangs in Los Angeles. It was dangerous. I knew that the moment I slipped up, the moment they found out, my family was dead. But I thought I was good enough. Good enough to evade their discovery forever. I was wrong. More tears fell. ”I’m sorry,” I whispered to the makeshift gravestone. Hoping I could say it to her, but knowing that I never could. I only wished she knew…knew how sorry I was. But it was too late now. She was gone. I tried to think of other happy memories – almost every moment we had spent together; our wedding, the happiest day of my life; the birth of our child, the second happiest day of my life. But I couldn’t. Now all I saw was her body with a hole in her head, a pool of blood under it. The duct-tape on her mouth, hands, and feet. The look of fear in her still-open, dead eyes. This picture of her face, her half blown-off face, would be the only one I could ever see again. Never again could I see her smile – only her fear. Her lifeless eyes. The guilt consumed me. Aaron approached from behind, probably wondering why I was still here, hours later after the funeral. “C’mon, man,” he said, “it’s not your fault.” “But it is.” And I knew that now, because of me, our children would have to grow up without a mother. ~ :: ~ A flash fiction piece I wrote a while ago for the Write-Off theme "guilt" -- saw that it fit the theme "gravestone" so decided to enter it into the contest. Not completely fond of this one, but we need more entries. If I wasn't in the middle of NaNo I probably would've re-written a lot of this, but oh well. Still, at least it's not the worst Write-Off piece I've written. Comments/etc. are welcome, but preferred in some other works of mine (such as Eldritch Abomination) that can be found in my library, the Shadowy Verge.
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THEO WAS LYING, AS ALWAYS, and he would never tell the truth. Neo couldn’t understand it, and he was sick of it. He made up his mind and decided that he would have nothing to do with him anymore. There was nothing – nothing – that could redeem this crooked old man.……….“Now wait just one minute. Where do you think you’re going?” said Theo. He put down his pen as Neo walked past his desk.……….“Out forever,” said Neo. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”……….“Do you mean to say what I think you mean?” asked Theo. He got up and put on his jacket. “Well, then, I’m coming with you.”……….“No, that’s against the point!” snapped Neo. “I’m leaving you and I’m never coming back! I’m never going to have anything to do with you. Do you realize how many people’s lives you mess with?”……….Theo was by Neo’s side now. He gave Neo a stern look. The crags that had accumulated over a long time over his forehead increased. It was the face of a man who always got his way and would not take “no” for an answer. “And where do you think you will go?”……….“That logic won’t work with me. That’s called making a deal with the devil, and he always comes to collect. I’m not going to do that. I’m not so short sighted or so low on faith. I’ll make ends meet.”……….“Boy, you have no idea what it’s like to make a deal with the devil,” said Theo. He put his hands in his pocket and lowered his head as they walked out of the business building. They passed Theo’s secretary, and Theo snapped his fingers. “Grab me a gun. I’m going out.” The waiter opened his drawer and threw a gun into Theo’s hands, which he took in stride and tucked underneath his jacket.……….They reached outside. There were many poor people on the street. Many of them had guns as well.……….“I’ve denied to other people, Neo, the consequences of my actions. I know this world is a hellhole right now, and the guilt for this situation lies in large part on my shoulders, but I have never hid this from you. When I compromised with evil in the hubris of my youth several generations ago, I put up a lie in my shame and in my sureness and conviction of my strength. Yet, that lie is pointless now. Your development has been much stronger now that you have seen the sins of the father. You can learn from my failures, and I have not yet finished grooming heroes to help me atone for my failures.”……….“I’m not going to be the one who helps you,” said Neo. “You don’t deserve it. I’ going to fix this world up, but it won’t be with the person who destroyed it.”……….“If you go right now I will shoot you,” said Theo.……….“Sir! You’re my grandfather!”……….“Great-great-grandfather, to be exact,” said Theo. “And I will only shoot you in the knee.”……….“I can’t believe you would do this. No, never mind. I can.”……….“I am your great-great-grandfather,” said Theo. “And you’re still pretty young. With your father dead and all those other generations gone, I’m the only father-figure you have, and as such, it is my right – no, it is my duty, to impart on you all the wisdom a father can bestow. Trust me, after several generations, I have improved. Do you know who you are? Of course not. That is why you need me, because I know who you are.”……….“What about Silver Bird? He was a mentor to my father, and his father.”……….“And your grandfather had even more angst than you when he was your age. However, as it happens, I know where Silver Bird is.”……….“You do?”……….“Yes, I do,” said Theo. “I’ve really been prepping you for guidance under him for quite some time. Since you’re officially taking things this far, I might as well take you to him. However, I must warn you, what you hear from him you will have to swallow. Come with me, then. I will take him to you, and in the meantime, there is something I want to show you.”……….So they walked around the building with the escort of Theo’s private security and found their way to a launching pad, with a small luxury ship. They got in, as they had many times before, drank their fine wine, and headed out into the stars.……….The location of Silver Bird was always a secret, of course. Theo and Neo kept their whereabouts hidden as well. It was the post-apocalyptic world they lived in, and the people trying to solve it were the ones most persecuted.……….Then, less than a day later, they encountered a meteor field. Neo opened up a hologram window to see what was outside. The ship stopped, and there was a wheel in outer space before him with transparent walls. When the ship docked, he stepped into its artificial gravity and looked at the stars under his feet.………. They walked up next to him. “See this field? This is what it left of Atlas, the home of our great race. You think you have no home? I have none, either. All that is left is the great, insensible tomb of Zero. I saw its destruction with my own eyes. I have no more sense of self to live for.”……….There were footsteps. “Theo,” said a man. Silver Bird. He walked up to them and, upon stopping, summed up Neo in once nod. “Why now? He’s not ready yet.”……….“What? But you’re wise.”……….“I’m not wise because I’m immortal but because I made mistakes. Theo’s made many. He just has less time to make up for them. Go home now.”……….And that was that. Theo put his arm around Neo and brought him back home. “I like this better than last time,” said father to son. - So that last line was referencing another flash-fiction write-off with Theo in it. That one was horrible. Also, I will reveal that at least one of these characters will be involved in an upcoming supersized epic that I will be releasing next year on my blog called The Adventures of Mary. You will read it because it will be awesome and fun. 24601
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Hue #1471 -o- The crunch of stone on metal hit their receptors like any other noise, and the other Mata’an units gathered mechanically around as the whirr and grind of gears in the broken limbs of the crushed unit rose and fell. Click, click, clack...silent. The light in the Mata’an unit’s eyes blinked twice and went out, and it was over. A hundred flat, impassive eyes stared down to register the Malfunction, and a hundred pings went out into the System to confirm decommission of Mata’an Unit 303. The System registered the loss, and a flash of radiation precipitated the external removal of Unit 303’s primary core. The process would be complete momentarily. A thousand instructions beamed out into space, and a thousand diagnostics ticked along in a second of real-time. Confirm receipt of primary core 303. Recycle process initiated. The mighty engines down in the heart of the universe burned a little brighter as the System directed a momentary stream of matter-energy toward its target in the void, and the cycle completed. Confirm re-installation of primary core 303. Shell construct re-established. In the six real-time seconds that had passed since Malfunction, the majority of the Mata’an units had returned to their designated tasks. Tireless hands were lifting and cleaning away the mass of fallen stone that had disorganized Unit 303 beyond efficient repair. The original shell construct was already being disassembled for re-purposing in the fabrication centers of the city beyond the Cerebrum. The marks in the stone floor would be patched, and other units scanned for further instability in the arches above. The System logged all these activities. All units proceeding according to function. Re-installation confirmed. Shell construct diagnostics complete. Commence integration. A shiver ran through the System. Commence first integration procedure. For a moment, the units ceased their tasks. A hundred heads turned in unison toward the pedestal at the far end of the chamber. A hundred eyes stared unblinking. They would observe the first integration to be conducted by the System. They would observe the re-introduction of Unit 303 to the Mata’an environment after recycle. They would observe, and then the work would go on. Integration commenced. Regulating levels. The crystal in the center of the pedestal increased in luminescence, and the light that hit their visual receptors shifted along the spectrum until it settled at hue #1471. Levels regulated. Link established. Initiating transit... The units waited for the radiation-burst that would accompany the transit of Unit 303 from recycle. One tick. Two ticks. Three ticks. Error. Transit failed. A hundred eyes blinked in unison as the error registered with the System. Error. Malfunction. Transit failed. A hundred pings went out to confirm transit failure, and another thousand instructions beamed out from the System, a thousand diagnostics ticked over and returned. Function: normal. Function: normal. Function...Error. Diagnostic failed. The System shivered again, and the units shivered with it. The crystal in the center of the pedestal shone on steadily at hue #1471, levels fully regulated. Awaiting transit. Awaiting transit... But integration did not proceed. Transit of Unit 303 from recycle did not complete. One tick. Two ticks. Three ticks. Malfunction. The Mata-System was silent. Stillness settled upon the chamber under the Cerebrum, and the cycle progressed outside. The Mata’an units stood waiting, tireless. Instructions would come. Their eyes registered the darkness outside, but the chamber was lit up by the glow of the crystal. The units looked on. Instructions would come. Instructions would come. But instructions did not come. Instead, a shriek, and a beam of commands went blazing out. Machines awakened in the cold and dark far away and obeyed. Tried to obey. Repair units: deploy and assess damage. Another battery of diagnostics checked and double-checked: Error—Diagnostic failed. The System snarled more commands. The instructions did not come. Repair unit 402, damage assessment complete. Recycle process structurally intact. No dama——Alert! Repair unit 331 damaged during deployment. Assessment: damage irreparable. Unit decommissioned. The ping confirmed decommission in a shower of static as a follow-up command screamed across the System. Deactivate recycle process. Deactivate recycle process! Primary core removed. Recycle already in-progress. Failure imminent. Malfunction. Malfunction! Transit failed. The crystal flickered, and one of the Mata’an units shifted its limbs. Transit failed. Fatal error. The instructions...the instructions did not come! A hundred eyes blinked in unison once more. A hundred eyes fixed upon that single, glowing point of light, registering at hue #1471, registering that red, red, crimson light... Bathed in red, one unit stepped forward, and then another. Three, four, ten...A hundred units stepped up to the pedestal and gazed blinking into that red, red light. The System raced on, but the units did not listen. Not anymore. Unit 303...Transit failed. There would be no integration. No recycle process. Decommission was the end. End. An end. There would be no more instructions. No more pings and confirmations. Now there was only function. Function until the End came...but the work would go on.The Mata-System fell silent in their minds as the units left the chamber in droves: silent, but not still. The System would watch as the work went on. But now...now the Mata’an were no longer simply units. They had learned a new truth, a new reality. They were Matoran now, and their minds were full of their own voices. Full of words. Words like Red. And End. And Death. -o- And far, far away—through the cold and the darkness that separated one world from another as both hurtled on through the void—a single unit stepped down from the pedestal in the mighty factory and felt something deep inside as it looked across the vast, spherical cavern with its furnaces burning crimson-red and hot. It felt something as the System and its instructions faltered, and the voices of the other world faded away. Now there was only one voice, and it spoke in words, and it felt... ...it felt... ...Alone. JRRT
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BetrayedThe battered Le-Matoran glanced nervously at the imposing fortress of cold, dark stone that stood before him. His armour was chipped, scratched and dented from a long journey, and the remnants of a travelling cloak he wore little more than rags. His once bright green armour had stained to a muddy shade of brown during his travels, and his eyes were dim. His hands trembled as he began to limp toward the fortress, his right leg twisted at an odd angle.He had been told that the cracked stone tablet held in his shaking fingers would save him at the end of his journey, and that he should protect it with his life. That he had done, and had paid dearly for. A rockslide caused several islands back had ruined his leg, and an unintentional dip in a dense mud pool had made him unrecognizable.It was the garbled, alien hissing that slowed him to an unsteady halt so close to an ancient wooden gate that he could almost taste it. His breath started to come out in ragged gasps and he found it hard to breathe.Until now the Le-Matoran had never witnessed a Rahkshi outside of the stories his old Turaga used to tell. Now with the creature staring at him from the other side of the gate, he noticed that the stories did the Rahkshi no justice. They were far, far worse in person. He could hear the Kraata squelching as it squirmed within the shell; the way the Rahkshi’s spine curled slowly first one way, then the other. The staff of the Rahkshi was glowing softly as if already in use, as if it were already busy injecting pure fear into him.With trembling hands and weak arms, the Le-Matoran slowly lifted the stone tablet up, offering it to the old oaken gate. The Rahkshi let out a faint hiss and it reached a smoothly armoured hand through the crisscrossing wooden beams, latching onto the tablet and prying it out of the Matoran’s hands. He watched as the Rahkshi seemed to inspect the cracked tablet, before it let out a high-pitched shriek. The Le-Matoran clapped his hands over his audio receptors, wincing as the harshly high-pitched noise sliced through his head. He shut his eyes tightly and doubled over in an attempt to drown the sound out. After a minute it ended abruptly, a hoarse voice that sounded as if it had not been used in many years speaking to the Rahkshi in front of him. The Matoran stood up slowly, involuntarily flinching when he saw the Makuta. The Makuta spared him no more than a passing glance, seemingly more interested in the tablet now in his hand.The Matoran fought back the urge to scream when the Makuta dropped the tablet to the ground and then crushed it under his foot, grinding it into dust for good measure. The Le-Matoran stumbled back as the Makuta passed through the gate, but did not fight back as the Makuta grabbed him by the neck and lifted him into the air. Fear clouded the Matoran’s mind, paralyzing him so that he could not speak to ask what was going on.A second later it was too late for the Matoran to do anything. The Makuta flung his arm and let go; the Le-Matoran flopped to the ground, scattering a few stray pebbles as he landed with a final crunch. A small breeze picked up, scattering the dust of the tablet across of the ground as the Makuta passed back through the gate, nodding to the Rahkshi before vanishing from sight without glancing back at the Matoran so easily betrayed.The End.Eh, it's not that great, but I'm not gonna have any more time to write up a new entry or edit this one more, and I must post it to enter.-ibrow
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Weeping Stars Special.It was the first thing that came to her mind when he started to cough again. She stared down at his body, spread out on the bed half covered in sheets, the other half exposed to fresh air. He was constantly either with a fever or shivering with the chills.A face, puffed up under the eyes, red at the cheeks. Lines under the eyes brought up from all the late nights, stricken with tiredness. But that was her face, not his.She moved the hair from her eyes and placed a cool towel on the young Toa’s head. He was breathing easily, but it was shallow. He didn’t get a coughing fit all the time, but each time he did it only reminded her of how much time he had left. He was a wielder of stone, so he was meant to be stronger than this.At least that’s what he believed.They were both Toa. She was one of Psionics, and he was one of Stone. Living as two of the guardians in their village wasn’t always easy. Matoran, people similar to them in every way except for their special abilities, constantly asked for requests and help. They were so different when they both discovered their power over the elements a few years back. They were almost total opposites in everything, mind and strength, humble and proud, even their skin color, white and dark brown.But… there had been an attraction. And years later, now married and surprisingly happy, they didn’t seem so different any more.They just seemed like one person.And she was about to lose her other half.“Are you okay?”She glanced his way and smiled, standing above him next to the bed right beside the nightstand. He wasn’t even looking at her, just staring up into the night sky by the window. She had just gotten back from a dispute going on in the village. Usually she would have taken her time. Today, she simply ended the silly brawl, forcefully.Today was not the day for pointless distractions.“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” she replied, frowning.“You know how I am,” he said, finally looking at her. He wasn’t downhearted, and he seemed comfortable.It had struck only weeks before. He started to feel dizzy on patrol, tired often. Then he started to vomit and get headaches.It was an ‘infection’, the local doctor had told them, a Makuta virus that could have been obtained from anything, from anywhere. Sometimes it took effect over physical bodies, or the mind, but it was usually something that could be cured.But this one was different, he had told them. It was attacking one organ in the Toa of Stone’s body, the heart. And there was no known way to counteract it now.“Would you mind grabbing me something…”“Anything,” she said, quickly, quietly. There was no light in the room, because the glare made his headache worsen. Only the stars gave them a soft light.“…I really, really want a chocolate chip cookie. A large one.”She almost laughed aloud as tears sprang to her eyes.“Oh yeah? The ones you like, at the bakery, right?”***When she returned he looked worse.The local baker was well aware of her husband’s condition. The two had been friends for years since the Toa of Stone had stopped a fire at the establishment.With a saddened look, he had given her the cookie for free. A large one, just like he liked it.Sitting on the bed, she handed him the cookie, now unwrapped, and he started to break it apart at the edges, placing each piece in his mouth.“I’m going to miss this the most…” he broke off a piece and gave it to her. She ate it, not hungry. As she chewed she kept her eyes on him. “The little things, see, the daily events that don’t seem important. Those are my most cherished memories with you.”His eyes seemed a little blurry, his breathing weaker. He reached out with his fingers, slowly wrapping them around her nearest hand.She started to choke up, so she leaned in and pressed her forehead to his. She didn’t want to keep watching him.And then he started to whisper.“I had a dream, of us. In Paradise, on this planet that never seemed to end…” she started to open her eyes, not knowing if he was delirious or not. “Our friends were all there, even the ones we’ve lost. Your sister was there. I was there… We’re all happy, we’re safe.”“K-kinda like in Artahka right?” she said, smiling and whispering back. But she didn’t believe a word of what he said.“No. This place was real. I saw it.” He stared up at her, and she forced herself to believe what he said, even though she didn’t understand.“I’ll be back. At some time and place. And I promise I’ll see you again…”***She walked out of the house, feeling the crisp winter air biting at her skin. It was somewhat refreshing though. Cool and real. She was lost right now, her mind numb. Her husband had passed away only moments ago.She glanced around, Matoran were watching her, their eyes all asking the same question. They all knew the answer.Reflexively she brought a hand to her mouth, taking a big bite out of the half eaten cookie. It tasted wonderful and still a little warm.Glancing upward as she chewed, she didn’t want to feel any emotions, for a few more minutes. Being a Toa of Psionics had advantages.Then, she noticed something.What he had been looking at from his window, far in the sky, high in the heavens. It glowed brightly, among millions of its brothers, but it was unique. The red star.It felt like it was staring down at her pitiful form, asking her to notice him; glowing with a promise.____The entire story including the title all come to a total of 998 words. This is the first Bionicle story I've written where they are portrayed as humans. It's an entry for the Ambage Flash Fiction Contest, Theme #1: Red Star. The story was published a few days ago in my short story collection... but since all the other entries were posted in the Short Stories Forum I thought maybe I should as well.
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Looming The plains before the wall were slick and muddy from the recent rains, pockmarked with blackened craters and the crisscrossing spider-web of trenches long-abandoned. It was a daunting sight, but there was nothing for it now. Oen sprinted across a stretch of level ground—a quick dash, breathless, and slid down behind a ruined outcropping of stone. The savage shouts of his pursuers rang in the air behind him. They had seen him at last, after all his caution and stealth, after all the hours spent crawling through the mud and filth with the rain beating down on him, half-paralyzed with the fear of discovery. He had only just made it past the Skakdi outpost. He had almost been in the clear. A short sprint to the shelter of the gate, and the long journey would be over...but the light of morning had given him away. It could never have been that easy.Oen leaned out from his cover and scanned the ravaged field before him once more, waiting for his chance. The shapes on the horizon approached, hazy under a dull gray sky. The siege may have been lifted for a time, leaving the field before the wall empty of enemies, but the war was far from over. They would not let him reach the city alive.The patrol turned aside to search one of the trenches, and there was his chance. Oen leapt up and ran, feet pounding the dirt. A shout went up, and he dove forward, headlong into another ditch. Mud splattered across his Kanohi as the sound of burning death seared the air above him. They almost had him that time. He crawled forward, following the direction of the ditch. It went parallel to the wall for a distance, and then curved towards it. Quickly now. Quickly! His lungs were burning, and his muscles ached, but he had to go on. So close. So close to those walls. They had given everything to get him here. Everything. He could not fail them now.The ditch grew shallower, and soon he had no choice but to stand up and run forward in the open again. He was maybe a hundred bio from the wall now. The gate loomed on the left, and he was sure he could see the shapes of sentries on the parapets. They would see him. Surely they would: a small figure on the muddy, pockmarked plain below. They would see his pursuers at the very least. That would get their attention if nothing else. He was almost there. Almost there!Another shudder in the air behind him, and the earth exploded in a surge of sweltering heat to his right. He stumbled, but kept going, trying not to run in a straight line. Don’t look behind you, Oen. Don’t even look. The gate was close now. Surely he was within range!Another blast, closer this time, and he felt fire scorch the armor on his back. The shock from the blast sent him forward on his hands and knees, dazed and weak. Get up. Get up. You’re a sitting target. They’re drawing a bead on you right now. But it was hard...he was so weary, and there was no sign from the wall. What if they couldn’t see him? What if they didn’t care? He wasn’t fast enough...Was this the end? After all this time, after this long, desperate chase across the war-torn plains, he would die here on the edge of safety? Was that truly how it would end?No. The tablet was in his hand, and suddenly he was up again, running with faltering feet toward the distant wall, arm upraised. The symbol on the tablet flashed and flickered in the dull light as he surged forward. Can you see it? Can you? I’m here! Look! Look at me!And then he felt the heat at his back again, and the ripple in the air, and knew that they had him. Time seemed to slow, and he stumbled once more, hand still raised. His eyes closed, and he waited for the end.A flash of light blazed around him, and he felt the surge of energy scorch the air into smoke, as he fell forward—--but he did not die. A shadow fell over the ground, and a rush of expanding air washed over him. A hand gripped his shoulder, hauling him upright, and suddenly there was another mask staring into his face. A Mask of Teleportation, and then it was a Hau again, and another blast of energy poured over them, but it did not touch them. Strong arms lifted him, and the Toa spoke:“Cutting it close aren’t you, Matoran? Where is Toa Kitah?”“Sh-she—” he gasped, still dazed, “She d-didn’t make it.” The tablet was heavy in his hand. It had been Kitah’s, before she died. It was her Pass, her identification, before the cursed Skakdi burned a hole in her back. She had pressed it into his hands, as the life slipped from her.“Get going,” she had rasped in his ear. “Still...still a chance.”Her breath had rattled in her chest as they both lay hidden in the muddy ditch, and then she was gone. The last of his companions, gone. It was only him now...he was the last. He had wept bitterly, clamping his hands tightly over his mouth for fear of alerting the patrols. Harsh tears that were lost in the rain. You are the last...Suddenly Oen realized that a Suletu was staring down at him now. A moment passed, and the gray Toa nodded in understanding, his face strained with the weight of shared memory. They had given everything for him, everything they had...it was a heavy thought.But then the Toa’s eyes flicked up toward the horizon. The Kualsi was back, and the world reeled and flashed away as Oen, last survivor of the Millennium War, was carried to safety behind the Looming Wall. ------------ For the Ambage Fortnightly Flash Fiction Contest. Theme: Tablet of Transit.JRRT
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This here's my entry for the first Ambage Fortnightly Flash Fiction contest, the topic for this week being the Red Star. Snowfall rings in at about 990 words, so I cut it kind of close. The story is about a run-down team of Toa stationed in an abandoned section of Ko-Metru during the Toa - Dark Hunter War. Anyways, enjoy.Asiar opened his eyes.What was that noise?It was a rumbling. Vague, steady, low. Like a celestial gate being raised, or a Great Being himself setting foot upon the world, Asiar thought. He’d always had good hearing- and imagination- and he wondered then if anyone else had noticed the turmoil. Or was it his subconscious playing games…? Perhaps the tension from the last battles had simply carried over. Now, there were only seven Toa left in their encampment.The thin Toa of Stone quickly swung his legs off the edge of the bunk he'd been resting on, planting his heavy feet firmly onto the chilled ground. He needed to find Lusath.Striding swiftly outside, Asiar ventured off towards his friend’s tent. Slowing his pace to enjoy the crisp air, Asiar took in a deep breath, raising his eyes to the horizon; all around were crystalline towers, lancing brilliantly into the sky, the glow of knowledge visible easily in darkness. Higher still in the sky Asiar saw a peculiar red haze, a stronger light of the same hue nestled at its center; what this was exactly, he was unsure. Shrugging, he continued on his way. The blue shine of intelligence reflecting off of the ice gently repelled the smooth blackness of the night.Upon reaching the next tent, Asiar lifted the doorflap and peered inside, allowing in a discharged flurry of eager snowfall. Lusath stood within the tent, his close-fit emerald armor reflecting the glow of the overhanging lantern. Asiar saw that Valere was present as well, her cobalt Hau set in a grim expression, along with Intris, whose burnished black armor betrayed his status as a Toa of Magnetism. Surveying the occupants, the Po-Toa walked quickly inside, dropping the flap behind him, so that it rolled off the edge of his shoulder like rain.“Well,” Asiar began after greeting them, “I was taking a bit of a rest, you see, and-““You were awoken by a noise you heard from afar… After exiting the tent you saw the crimson astral anomaly that has remained overhead for the past few hours.” Asiar grunted acknowledgement, nodding his agreement. He’d forgotten how astute Intris was with his Suletu.“We’re not sure what it is,” affirmed Lusath, the Toa of Plantlife continuing where Intris had left off, “it may have been above us for forever, but just recently, the brightness has intensified. This could be symbolic. But superstitions aside, my friends… to business.”Rising from his seat, Lusath gestured at a map laid out on a table in the center of the tent. “The Dark Hunters have sent two regiments of soldiers towards us by this route.“ He pointed out a path, twisted as a Doom Viper’s neck, along a canal, scything azure across the pristine Ga-Metru district depicted by the parchment before them. By this time the other three Toa had gathered around, and observed the stratagems and tactics proposed by Lusath. “Honestly, I propose that we send in for reinforcements; after we lost Megrel, Adray, Farro…” he trailed off.The Dark Hunter insurgents were relentless; so many of the defending Toa had been slain in recent weeks. In wartime like this, losing allies and friends mattered emotionally even more than it had in the past. When your ranks fell apart, Farro had once liked to say, so did your resolve and your sanity. Though it may have seemed an obvious sentiment, this creed became profound to the last seven Toa there; there, the encampment, unfortified, calling the streets of Ko-Metru home, Asiar reflected.The thoughtful Toa was startled back to reality by a faint increasing whine, like air being forcibly shoved aside by a hurried traveler.“What…” Valere noticed it as well. She rose from her seat cautiously. The sound increased drastically, suddenly resolving itself into a hoarse yell, and then there was, in quick succession, a grinding impact, a grey form tearing through canvas, and then a blur of brown motion, a woomph of air being expelled unwillingly, and then snow, quiet and pure snow drifting down into the tent.Through this blur of motion the Toa had stood, dazed, but now they could see what had transpired. A Toa of Ice, by the looks of it, had fallen from some indeterminate height, easily level with the surrounding knowledge towers, crashed through the roof of the tent, and likely would have impacted heavily, if not for Asiar’s split-second instinctual Calix usage, and his natural strength.The three Toa who were still on their feet, Asiar having knelt down next to the fallen Toa, gathered around in shock, looking down at him; steam rose from the body, ashen armor edged with white lay cracked and shattered, and a pale broken Arthron rested upon the face. In great surprise, such as one does upon witnessing a Fikou slay a Muaka, Lusath identified the Toa below him as one he knew. But, Lusath recalled, he had not known him for a long time.“Adray…?” How was this possible? A friend, a brother, who had been dead by the hands of the Hunters for years, was lying before him. The other Toa ringing the body were just as surprised; they had all seen the brave Toa of Ice executed cruelly by a now-nameless Dark Hunter. There was no way in Karzahni that he had returned.Languidly, as though moving any faster would kill him outright for a second time, Adray opened his eyes. The cobalt hue was faint, as though death had achromatized its essence. Just as slowly, Adray began to raise his arm, the others around holding their collective breath in incredulity. And as the revived Toa of Ice pointed vertically, into the night sky, towards the Red Star above, he uttered something that made absolutely no sense to the observers."Long way down...”A brief explanation about the story: Anyways, hope you all liked the story. As this is pretty much my first story, reviews are appreciated. : )
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The warm golden fingers of the crepuscule were withdrawing. The gilt was melting off the trees' leaves, leaving the auburns and ochers of autumn to their own polychrome. A chill wind whistled through the branches, with a nuance of humidity that foreboded rain. Below, gloom was gathering among the tree trunks. Leaves crunched beneath the feet of two peripatetics as they sought their way through the forest. It was a relaxing stroll gone awry.One was a short boy with unkempt yellow hair. His ears were small and his mouth antithetical in size. Dressed too sparingly for the collecting cool he shivered, his arms folded.His companion was nearly twice his height, with unusually short legs and long torso. Beneath an orange and black coat he was contentedly toasty.Asked the former, "Haven't we passed that same stump seven times?""What makes you say that?""The moss growing on it looks like a three-headed space alien with tentacles."The other scratched his chin. "You know, I do remember that. I think you're right." He frowned. "But that's the first time today." He rolled his eyes and walked on."Hey, I wasn't leading when we got lost, remember? You wanted to lead, and I was benevolent enough to let you.""Benevolent!" the lanky scoffed. "You've lived here your whole life! You must have been in these woods hundreds of times! Don't you know where we are?""You've been here as many times as I have, fuzz-brain.""Always with you leading. You never let me before. How should I know my way?""What happened to that instinct you always brag about? You should be able to find your way out ""I'd be able to smell my way out of here if someone hadn't avoided his bath last night.""Then why'd you help me hide?""I didn't think our lives would depend on my nose!""If that ever happens we'll be doomed. You couldn't smell your way out of a paper bag.""I'd like to see you try it!""I'll find my way and without my nose.""Then why don't you?""It would be easier if you would keep quiet," the yellow-haired boy retorted. "And if my foot wasn't throbbing with every step!""I told you not to cross that log. It was too high.""You could have told me a little louder.""Is that rain?" The taller companion raised his face to the sky. A large, fat drop landed on his nose with a plop. He squirmed with distaste. "Great, now we'll be lost and wet.""Didn't I tell you the forecast said it would rain today?""Just because they're lucky every now and then when their psychics are right doesn't mean there's any reason to believe them.""I'm surprised you couldn't sense the rain with your 'instinct.'"As the rain fell harder their dissentient discussion rapidly developed into an altercation, an event not at all out of the ordinary."Look, pal, if you don't keep quiet I'm gonna leave you out here in the cold alone!""If you do you'll only die of starvation while I find my way home. Lemme go!"With a fist to his captor's stomach the yellow-haired boy freed himself. He received a kick to each shin in retaliation. Best of friends and best of foes, they broke into fisticuffs in earnest."Why don't you take a long walk on a skyscraper?" snapped the taller."Dr. Frankenstein called today, he wants his monster's brain back!""Your lips are moving but I only hear a buzzing sound coming out!""That must be your brain sizzling!""Slob!""Noodle-head!"A new voice broke into the racket. "Calvin! Calvin!"The contenders broke apart. Quoth the shorter, "Mom?""Calvin? Calvin, where are you?""Over here, Mom! Over here!"Crashing through the brush she appeared beside them. She held a flashlight in one hand that illuminated her face. It was a contorted mixture of choler and relief."Where--have--you--been?""We got lost, Mom! It's Hobbes's fault! He was leading the way, but he had no clue where he was going.""Don't tell lies!""But it's the truth! Hobbes has no sense of direction!""He couldn't have got you lost and you know that. He's just a--Oh!" Without warning she fell to her knees and wrapped her son in her arms. "I'm just glad you're all right! Let's get you home and into a warm bath."An hour later, snug and cozy in his bedroom, Calvin gazed from his window. The moonlight glazed the treetops with silver, setting each raindrop scintillating like the stars above. From here the woods, so frightening and frustrating not long before, became picturesque, even halcyon."You know, Hobbes," he sighed, "getting lost wasn't so bad, after all. Not when you look back on it.""It could have been worse. We might never have found our way home. It was still a bit scary, though.""Not as much as it would have been alone. Together, it wasn't so bad. Finding your way is a lot easier when you have a friend to help you find it.""It's even easier on a full stomach," the tiger countered. "Let's go back tomorrow--but after dinner, okay?" Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith
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For some time, the Toa Ekara of Iron had been standing in the center of the village square, slowly turning from side to side. Passing Matoran glanced at him, but moved on. Toa Tiro on watch was a common site on Mount Kohanga.Now, deactivating his Mask of Vision, he turned to his teammate. "Nothing, Poro. I checked everything within a kio radius, including the sky and the tunnels in the mountain. All I saw was a Matoran trade caravan that seems to be on the way here." He paused. "Anything to fear from them, do you think?"The Stone Toa looked uncertain. "I'm... not sure. Where's Matakite?""Right here," came a voice behind them. They turned. A tall, ebony-clad Toa of Earth had just come out of the ground. "Something wrong?""I had one of my visions," Poro told him. "I only remember glimpses, but it was bad." He shivered.Matakite looked grave. Poro's teammates had learned, years ago, to listen to his Mask of Clairvoyance. "And what did you say at the time?" he asked. "Tiro, were you there?"Tiro shook his head. "He told me afterward so I could scan," he replied. "He was alone when it happened." He activated his mask again. "But I sent a messenger to Mahara - I thought she could help. She's coming now."In a few moments, Mahara, Toa Ekara of Lightning, came into the others' view. She hurried to join the rest of her team."I got your note, Tiro," she said. "Did you find anything?""Only a Matoran trade caravan," he said again. "Matakite wants to know what Poro said in the trance."She nodded. "Where were you?" she asked Poro."On the wall - alone, unfortunately," he replied. He held out a small, half-formed sculpture. "But I was working on this at the time."She nodded again, and took it, activating her Mask of Psychometry.She stood there, searching, straining for that one point in the stone's past.After several moments, she looked up at her brothers."I found it," she said. "'Mercenaries, slaves - darkness...'that was the first thing he said. After 'darkness,' he started shaking, violently." She paused in remembrance. "Then he said 'Darkness... evil... and hidden in...' - he stopped again there - 'in that we have sworn to protect.'""'In that we have sworn to protect'?" Matakite repeated. The words had chilled him. "Is this darkness ... is it in the village? Or-""Matoran!" Poro exclaimed. The others looked at him. "I still don't remember, no. But think about it - what else could it be but Matoran?"There was a slight pause."Perhaps," Matakite said, "you should take a closer look at that caravan, Tiro."The Iron Toa was already examining it. "Quite a few guards, all well armed," he reported. "But this is a dangerous area... Six wagons, large, pulled by Ussals... Cargo..." his voice changed slightly. "I think we have a problem.""What is it?" Matakite demanded."The cargo seems to be composed mainly of weapons. And some machines I can't really identify." He paused. "I'd call that evidence enough.""Perhaps," Matakite replied. "But we have sworn to protect them, and we can't attack - especially on suspicion. Whoever organized this... infiltration may have counted on that.""But attack is not our only option."He nodded at his brothers and sister. "I'm going outside. Keep an eye on me, Tiro. You'll know what to do."A week later, a party of utterly demoralized Matoran raiders found their way out of the mountainous maze they had been trapped in. A maze made of equal parts solid walls - constructed by the Toa of Earth, Iron and Stone - and haunting visions - courtesy of Matakite's Mask of Illusions.Thanks to the combined visions of the Toa Ekara, the Barraki's plans of conquest had received a slight check.___My entry for the first theme of the Flash Fiction Marathon, slightly edited. There were a few things I had no time to fix when I entered, and I've put back some stuff I'd cropped out for space considerations.It's also my first story on BZP, and my first completed Bionicle fanfic. (I started a story for the last SSC, but was to lazy to take it anywhere.)My names were all taken directly from Maori, except for Poro and Tiro. Those were shortenings of "poropiti" and "tirohanga" respectively. Maybe they're nicknames or something.Thanks for reading!-Excelsior
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Without further (or pretty much any) ado, I present you my collection of non-Bionicle entries in the Flash Fiction Writing Contest. Average Days Treasure ••••• 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. Death, Riches, and the Package The Game ••••• “Play the game, take the chance, and win great riches!”That was all that the letter had said. In the same package was a brand-new GPS with coordinates already programmed into it. In fact, it seemed to be pretty much useless, as it wouldn’t do anything aside from give the bearer directions to that one location. In the top right corner of the screen there was a button. If it was pressed, a little bar appeared at the bottom, reading, “Accept or Decline?” Even if one pressed accept nothing happened, aside from the button disappearing.Now Frederick sat in his hovercraft on a Friday night with absolutely nothing to do. His family had all died in a blazing fire the day after the package arrived. It didn’t seem to be connected, and the only odd thing was that the GPS sat unscathed in the ashes. That definitely was odd, but he figured it was just made of some strong alloy. Still, he wanted to know why that gas can on the porch spontaneously combusted, and why it happened only seconds after he had driven away to work.Work. He had been informed that night that he was being laid off, no warning. No reason was given, either. The manager of the restaurant came up to him, handed him his final paycheck, and said he was fired. Needless to say, yesterday was the worst day of his life. His wife and son dead, his house and all his possessions aside from his bank account and his hovercraft stripped from him. At least he still had the car, though. It cost a lot, and he bought it with money from that lottery. Now he had about a thousand dollars left in his account, enough to provide him food for a while.He wiped away a single tear as he walked into the bank. This was the day following the worst day of his life, and he had nothing to do, nowhere to go. All of his friends were halfway around the world. He had just moved here, and he didn’t know anyone.Insurance? Loopholes, loopholes, and more loopholes. It seemed that every just so happened in the perfect way that he would get nothing. As Frederick walked out of the bank, now with all the money he had to his name, he chuckled. It was a cold, hollow, humorless laugh that quickly died away, leaving him in his hot, mournful tears.What had this world come to? Whoever these people that sent the package were, they had to be behind all this. Nothing else made sense. It all just fell perfectly to leave him with a car, food, and enough money to last him for a good trip. With a fist slammed against his dashboard, he flipped on the GPS, ready to see just what this “game” was, and why someone had ruined his life to get him to participate. The screen flashed for a moment, reading, "Do you really want to accept the end of your life?" With the tears still trickling slowly, he pressed, "Accept." Not Alone Amor Omnia Vincit ••••• Life wasn’t worth living anymore. Kaitlin knew that too well. Everything kept going wrong, and she was afraid of what would happen when she stepped out of her own door. The world hated her, and she hated it. May as well cut off the living **** in which she lived. It would be today.Slowly drifting awayLost and so afraidWhere is the hopeIn a world so cold?She used to have friends. That was what kept her alive. Then they all left her, so she turned away from them. Two or three remained. Soon enough, she realized that that was because they wanted her money.Looking for a distant lightSomeone who could save a lifeLiving in fearThat no one would hear your cryIf she had someone, then maybe things would be different. But Kaitlin Stonewell was alone, and no one gave a second thought about it.Can you save me now?She might as well tell everyone that this was the last day. All the “friends” on whatever social networking sites. Her family.I am with youI will carry you through it allI won’t leave youI will catch youWhen you feel like letting go‘Cause you’re notYou’re not aloneJonathan glanced at his phone. New update from... Katy? She never got online anymore. He saw the first words–“Goodbye, world”–and began to panic.Your heart is full of broken dreamsJust a fading memoryEverything’s goneBut the pain carries onA call? Someone with a quick eye trying to dissuade her. ...Jonathan? If anyone would care, Katy guessed it would be him. Nice guy, she used to be a good friend with him before he moved into the neighboring county.Lost in the rain againWhen will it ever end?The arms of reliefSeem so out of reachHe had to stop her... This was insane! Why would she commit suicide? She seemed like such a happy girl two years ago.But I, I am here…The door was blocked. No one could climb through the window. Now it was time to take the pills... A knife would be too painful, and she didn’t have a gun.Jonathan silently thanked God that the traffic was light as he drove as fast as he could. Her house wasn’t too far... just across the county line.And I will be your hopeWhen you feel like it’s overAnd I will pick you upWhen your whole world shattersWhen you’re finally in my armsLook up and seeThat love has a faceNo water... She had forgotten a glass. Saliva would have to do... It would take a while, though.…He slammed on the brakes in front of her house, jumping out of the car as he heard sirens wailing. C’mon...Sirens? Someone called the law. Seconds after she heard them, she heard a banging on her door and Jonathan yelling. A knife it had to be, then.Slowly drifting awayLost and so afraidWhere is the hopeIn a world so cold?“A chainsaw, anything will work, mister Stonewell!” Jonathan yelled down the stairs. He heard the sound or shuffling in her room... she was still alive.Then the policemen arrived. They rushed up the stairs and burst into the room with their equipment, Jonathan pushing through despite their attempts at holding him back. The knife had quickly been snatched from Kaitlin, and all that was left was to wrap her in his arms and whisper quietly. Finality Ultimatum ••••• “You have died,” the creature said. There was an odd air about it. It’s face was that of woman, and its body was also rather feminine, aside from being rather muscular. However, her legs were double-jointed, covered in pure white feathers, or at least the portions showing that weren’t under her robe were. She had two massive wings protruding from her back. “I’m dead, okay...” responded Jerome, “But... who are you?”“You are alive,” said the... Harpy? That was Jerome’s best guess. She wasn’t exactly like one, and in fact a few features were quite distinctly different. Still, that was what he would call her.“Um... what?”“You are dead, you are alive. Is that difficult for your mortal brain to comprehend?” she asked, cocking her head to one side, looking rather concerned, as a child would look at a baby animal that he thought he might have just injured.“No, no... But how can I be alive and dead? I was stabbed in the gut and...” he trailed off, looking at his torso. There were the three stab wounds, a dagger left in the highest. He silently reached up to his neck and felt the entry and exit points of a bullet. So when you were dead, you still had wounds, but didn’t feel pa–Burning, slicing, tearing agony ripped through his body. Jerome collapsed to the pure white floor on nothingness. The Harpy-creature stood there staring, an odd smile curving her lips. “Then you wish?”He could barely pant out, “What... do you... mean? Why am I... AAGH! Why am I... feeling pain after death?!”“Then you do not,” she said, the maddening gaze still locked upon his own. She spread her arms, and the pain eased.“How did you just do that? Why don’t I feel the pain anymore? Where the heck are we, and who are you?” asked Jerome desperately, quickly shifting his eyes from his wounds to the being.“I am what I am, and this is the place where we are. I am taking you where you wish to go.”“I want... I want to go to heaven... If that’s what you mean. Heaven exists, right? Are you an angel, coming to take me there?”“I am what I am, and I am taking you where you wish to go,” she said, closing her arms. “You seem to be set on where you want to go, so we shall leave immediately.”“But... I really am dead? That’s it? I can’t do anything else? I got killed doing my job, and I can’t do anything else?”“I will take you where you wish to go. Willpower being what it is, you decide your fate.”“Can I... go back? Can I live after that? Am I still alive on earth, suffering my wounds?” he asked, trying not to grimace as the pain crept back into his body.“You wish what you wish, I am yours to command,” she answered, fully closing her arms again. Her smile never wavered.“Then... take me back to earth, to–Argh! It hurts!”“Then you wish not?”“No... I want to live... Agh, it hurts so much!”“This will last. It is not just for returning.”“Ugh... that doesn’t matter... Just... take me... home,” was the last thing Jerome said before collapsing. Mad Science Character Story ••••• New York News Journal A Death to Be Mourned Written by Janet Grouping, May 12, 2013Most scientists would agree that tossing random chemicals into a vat, stirring them up, and seeing the results isn’t science. Well, to Doctor Rex Canis, it was. This stage name has become widely known recently, along with the symbolic tattoo and hat that go with it. In his own words, “A wolf with a crown describes my name, and fedoras enhance any appearance worth any bit of decency. Especially a lab coat, they go excellently together.”Curtis Spice, as was his real name, liked to entertain. Kids, teens, adults, all flocked to see his shows across the world. He kept them humorous, somewhat informative about science and the like, and generally fun for himself. Doctor Rex was known for randomly tossing bottle of soda into which he had just dropped a package of Mentos into the audience. He howled at random moments, just for the heck of it.Everyone especially enjoyed his shows on the nights of the full moon, as he always had a special surprise. The only thing common to all of them was his superb display of effects and the fact that he “transformed” into a werewolf. These were especially fun nights, as his antics were doubled. Whether he ripped a hamburger to shreds while eating it, flew across the stage in a massive jump, or tossed water balloons into the front row, these shows sold out moments after tickets went on sale.What most people don’t realize is that there was truth behind his shows. Doctor Rex was the victim of experimentation by a terrorist group. The tattoo was a symbol of him surviving their horrid torture, and in the end he became a real, live werewolf. After being kept in captivity by the U.S. Military for years after the terrorists had been disbanded, for the safety of all. However, after proving that he could live a normal life, Curtis was set free, and he immediately put his persistent cheerfulness and bright mind to work in show business.Two days before a full moon show, he was shot in his bus in the dead of night. Police have no clue as to who the murderer might have been, aside from possibly one of the former terrorists. The only clue was a note left beside Doctor Rex’s body, containing content inappropriate for print. In essence, it said, “The blood moon would have killed everybody.” As the full moon of his show was a “blood moon,” multiple theories have been formed regarding this message.Regardless of 37 year old Curtis Spice’s death, his entertaining shows are sure to live on in the hearts of people around the world, and his example of overcoming strife has inspired many more people than could be imagined. False Alarm Preparation ••••• "Shh, hide everything, quickly! Timothy can't see it yet!" whispered Sarah to her sister, Keonna. The two of them had just managed to hide the streamers, confetti, and banner for the teen's birthday. He walked into the room, his eyebrow raised as his sisters giggled. Then, shaking his head, he moved on to the kitchen. Both sisters crossed their fingers, hoping he wouldn't need anything out of the cabinet in which they had hidden the food supplies, including his cake.When he walked back through the living room only holding a can of soda, they gave each other looks of relief. The house had been like this the past few days, and they knew that Tim was suspicious of them. That made sense, of course, what with them sneaking, laughing, and generally being, well, suspicious.Then the day of his birthday came. Tim carefully poked his head out of his room,glancing sneakily up and down the hallway. No doors were cracked no sounds of stifled giggling broke the dead silence. Then again, that was to be expected at six o'clock in the morning, what what with Mom declaring no school on his birthday this year. Home schooling was such a great thing at times. Smirking, he crept silently down the stairs and into the kitchen.Victoria, his mom, was standing there when he walked into the room. With a small, "Good morning," and, "Happy birthday," she handed him a plate of pancakes. Beside that, everything seemed normal. With a shrug he went into his usual routine: eat, empty the dish washer, get dressed, and start messing on the computer. Sometime around eleven Keonna got up, and Sarah followed about an hour later.His Dad, Walter, walked in the door sometime around five in the afternoon. They all sat in the living room, and Tim opened his presents after his family sang a certain song (that is, in fact, copyrighted) to him. After that, they dispersed, and it seemed like a normal day, aside from now having a fair sight more money and a new game. That night, he went to bed content, though surprised.The following morning, however, a Saturday, he was surprised even more. When he trudged out of bed at nine (which was late for him), he found the house silent again, aside from Victoria moving around downstairs, probably cleaning the bathroom. With a rather large yawn, he walked into the kitchen.The moment his face was visible around the corner, he was assaulted with a foghorn, a dozen or so voices, a few pounds of confetti, and three cans of silly string. Sputtering, he crawled out of the pile and got up with the help of one of his friends. Immediately he was handed a plate with Eggs Benedict (his favorite breakfast, oddly enough) covering it, and he was dragged into a chair at the dining room table. Still coughing from the inhalation of those likely poisonous fumes from the string, he glanced around the room, seeing most, if not all his friends from church and other activities standing around him. Yeah, that had surprised him. Looked as if his family knew him well enough to know that he would expect a surprise and they had managed to trick him anyways. With a chuckle, Tim went right to eating his breakfast.Well, there we go, my second topic for this. Feel free to critique them, and you may critique my Bionicle entries here. =3 -
This'll be for the Bionicle entries only. Others to be found in another topic. Predictions of the Unpredicted Visions••••• Pleasant dreams, he said? No catch? Should’ve known better. Karzahni, that Vortixx was a random passerby. She should have realized that. She should’ve refused the offer.It looked like a normal Suletu. Kanohi of that type didn’t generally have side effects, except for the fact that secrets were generally spoiled on accident. Not too bad, and a generally useful mask.Problem was, some random Toa had come up to Fawae the other day and offered to give her this Suletu. He said it was specially forged to give the wearer pleasant dreams. That wasn’t too abnormal; after all, the art of slightly modifying masks in their forging was becoming rather common. The moment she handed him the widgets after she tested it, he was walking down the road again.All this ran through her mind in those last seconds.The night she bought the mask, she had returned from her patrol and greeted her team. A few had oohed and awed at the new mask, a few had said it was a waste, and the leader–Corus–seemed flat-out indifferent. Eventually, the Toa remaining in the camp fell fast asleep, with Fawae thinking of how good the following day would hopefully be.She and Corus were the only ones awake in camp. Her leader informed her that they were all either gathering supplies or switching patrols. The early dawn painted a beautiful sky. The Rahi of the morning created a peaceful noise. The surrounding foliage let off a sweet aroma. Corus offhandedly commented, “Great morning. Hope it will be just as great of a day.”Fawae awoke. The morning was picturesque. Corus glanced at her and offhandedly commented.She nodded and replied, “Yea–wait, didn’t you just say that?”“...No? You okay, Fawae?”“Um... yeah. Fine. Just... Déjà vu.”Corus shrugged and kept going about his work. The rest of the day was rather uneventful, but still peaceful and somewhat fun. Fawae found the coincidence that she had dreamed reality before it happened quite odd, but not anything to really be concerned about. That night she fell asleep while pondering the possibilities. “Oh well... Probably just a freak occurrence...”Running. Some kind of freakish monster had just consumed Corus, and now it was chasing the rest of the present team. Where had this come from? There wasn’t any warning!Fawae jumped from her sleeping pad. This time she was the second awake. One of her brothers was busy stoking the fire. Not that he really needed to, being a toa of fire. He just liked playing with fire, which the rest of the team found amusing.An explosion rang through her ears, accompanied by bloinding light and searing heat. When her vision cleared, Fawae saw a gigantic, freakish monster. She screamed for everyone to wake up, and they were quickly engaged in combat.It didn’t last long. The creature that had seemingly materialized from nothing was completely immune to elemental attacks; in fact, it seemed to become stronger with each blow received. Its maw clenched down upon two members of the team, but Corus wedged his quarterstaff between its crushing jaws just in time to save them.Then he was gone. That set them running. This freakish monster had just consumed Corus, and now it was chasing the rest of the present team. She tripped and fell. In a moment, she felt teeth, and then nothing.Fawae jolted awake, screaming. Her brothers leaped from their mats, asking what was wrong. After a few seconds of heavy breathing, she began to reply... and she couldn’t remember why she screamed. And Nothing Happened The Legends of Lhii ••••• “Lhii was surfing, like he did any time he wasn't guarding the village or sleeping. After all, his board and his spear were both the only things that felt natural to him... Well, his duty and love for his Koro were natural, too. Yet, you are smart enough to know what I mean, young Matoran.“Where was I? Ah yes! Lhii was surfing. The lava was especially fierce that day, and he was enjoying the thrilling ride between life and death. Now, I will not pardon lava surfing, and still discourage anyone from participating in it. Still, I will readily admit that that I got enjoyment from watching Lhii long ago...“Surfing, right. My mind seems to be wandering today. Anyways, Lhii caught an especially furious wave and went into a wild flip. I was scared, but only for a moment. He came magnificently back to the swiftly flowing magma below him. The bystanders cheered and clapped, and another Matoran that was surfing tried to outdo him. He tried to do a flashy move. Ended up flying off his board.“Time seemed to go in slow motion. The audience gasped. I gasped with them. Then, from seemingly nowhere, Lhii caught his foolish friend and safely transported the scared Matoran to shore. Needless to say, he gave up surfing for quite a while.“Back to Lhii, though. He decided to wrap up that day of lava surfing, and quickly the activity at the river dwindled. Most of the Matoran there were there to watch him anyways. And so the majority of them trickled back to Ta-Koro. Lhii, of course, immediately went to go on duty, even though he was told to take the day off. No one could keep the captain from his guard.“So he patrolled. Lhii went with two of the other guard members to perform the hourly rounds. They were about to check the cable leading to Ko-Wahi when Lhii noticed the cliff upon which they were standing was crumbling. He quickly dove to the side with one of the other Matoran. The other was able to jump out of harm’s way, or so he thought.“It was after the fact that the Matoran realized his dilemma. He jumped off the cliff directly onto the cable... and he was now swinging from the snapped cord, over the massive chasm below him! Needless to say, he was scared out of his wits! He was so shocked that he let go of his lifeline!“That would’ve been the end of him under normal circumstances. However, he was with the brilliant Lhii, a faithful friend in any situation! The brilliant little Matoran had seen the situation coming, and after getting up from his dive, he immediately leaned out, his left hand grasping a sure protrusion and his right reaching for his friend. His deft hand caught his friend’s ankle, and the third Matoran was able to pull them both back onto the ledge safely.“Hmm... what happened next? Oh yes! Lhii and his two friends quickly were able to retrieve the cable with long poles and hooks, and they tied it off so that nobody would accidentally use the broken cable. They went to get supplies, fixed it, and the rest of the day was uneventful.“Now, what is the point of this story? Nothing happened, you say? That’s exactly the point! Lhii was vigilant, and thus nothing happened that day! His acute observation, whether in a fun competition or a routine check, saved multiple lives! Learn from the example of Lhii and be ever vigilant, good Matoran.” Fight or Flight Flight ••••• Running, running, forever running. The beasts were always behind, ready to consume her. Why didn’t they tire, why was there no escape? Did Mata-Nui, the Great Spirits, or whoever was in control of the universe find it fit for her to eternally suffer like this? Did she commit some overwhelming sin that had gotten her banished to this Doom Viper’s pit, this Karzahni?She didn’t know, and she didn’t know why she didn’t know. She didn’t know how she could find these lost memories, either. She didn’t even know her name.She woke up one morning here, or at least she thought morning was the correct term. She had vocabulary jumbled in her mind, and she knew what a lot of it meant, or at least she assumed she did. She also thought she was in a cave, and that the cries of these terrible beasts sounded like ferocious, starving Muaka. The grunts sounded like furious Stone Apes. The hisses sounded like venomous, hunting Doom Vipers.But she couldn’t remember anything! She was a... Matoran. Of water, she thought, due to the blue armor she caught sight of in the brief light she entered every few hours. The beasts stopped when she entered these areas, staying out of sight. She thought she was safe. Then night fell, and she found herself fleeing again.She still didn’t know why. She didn’t have a clue. She just remembered... blood. Oil. Torn flesh, shattered machinery. Dying gasps. Cold laughs. Utter fear. Bright red eyes. Fire on the water surrounding the village. Darkness. She thought she had died...But she couldn’t remember anything. That was nothing. It was fragments of memory, not memories themselves. She remembered adrenaline pumping, fighting for her life. Against something. It was some beast, or maybe it was some sapient creature. She didn’t remember. She just knew that she couldn’t fight this time. She had to continue her flight, desperately hoping for a light at the end of this tunnel... A light that wouldn’t be from an impossibly tall, perfectly smooth shaft going straight into whiteness above.Fate... that was the word. Why had fate taken her here? What was fate, truly? Was it that she would run until her strength gave out, that her flight would end and she would be torn to shreds by these Rahi?Wait... was that light? She dared not hope. Yes, it was. It grew stronger. But it couldn’t be an escape. Was it? It seemed warm... unlike the previous rays. They were sterile, white. This was flickering, warm, orange.It was a... candle? A torch? Those were light devices. They provided fire. Fire was warm, flickering, life-giving. They meant someone was near. With one final push of her tired legs, the Matoran stumbled from the tunnel and into the light. Frosting Alternate Universe ••••• Vezon fell through the dimensional hole. Instead of gracefully planting his feet into the snow, he face-planted into it. He immediately began to slurp it up. Then he realized that it wasn’t snow, it was... sweet. Smooth. Even though he had no idea what it was, he kept slurping away.Then, once he had been sufficiently filled, the half-Skakdi stood and looked around himself. There was still plenty of the stuff, covering the mountains like it really was snow. The mountain itself, which he could feel now that he had eaten quite a bit of the substance, was squishy and porous. Shrugging, he dug some up, and popped it into his mouth.Again, sweet. Squishy. Delicious. He licked his lips and began trudging forth. He seemed to be in some kind of land of food... that looked exactly like Mt. Ihu. Interesting. The squishy white substance came down from the sky in little drops, coating everything. It was certainly stickier than snow, aside from being extremely delicious.Oh, there was Ko-Koro. Maybe the Matoran there could explain the odd weather. He liked it, but it would take forever to lick himself clean once he got out of it.When he got to the village, he saw the citizens going about their work... and they were all brown, as he saw if one scraped off the sticky substance. He walked up and, not saying anything, bit the head off one.Ignoring the ensuing panic, Vezon leaned against a red and white striped pole. Sweet, crunchy, with a little spice. This was definitely an interesting universe. He wondered what he would taste like, if he met himself. Shrugging, he strolled right on down the mountain, ignoring the screams and attacks. After all, the spears were made of something that broke rather easily and tasted quite delicious. The points were sharp, though they seemed to just be a hard version of the sticky stuff.Soon, he was on the Mangai. It was tightly packed, but once he hit it enough, the substance was very crumbly and bitter. Yet, it tasted good. Shrugging again, he continued. When he reached the river of lava... he dove in. Five seconds later, he was out of it, screaming in agony. His face, tongue, eyes, and everything else burned. Whatever it was spicy. Good, but spicy.This was a very strange dimension. Shrugging once more, he continued trekking on his merry way, tears still pouring from happiness and utter pain. Not Everything The Legacy ••••• Blood, dirt, sweat, grinding joints. Blurred blackness, muffled sounds. His enemy stood, the crowd jeered. Was this all Trymak’s training had come to? If Gelu were here, he’d be disgusted... and he would be cheering, too. However, he had, for some reason, opted out on watching the match. The Toa of ice grunted, rolling to the side right before his opponent’s blade would have pierced his shoulder.Oh, Spherus Magna had been reformed, and everyone was at peace, for the most part. Still, old habits die hard, and the gladiatorial matches, while slightly tamed, were a massive attraction and competition for all the villages. Atero had been rebuilt, and in the center was a massive arena. The rest was a massive, sprawling city, filled with residents of all the villages; each village had rebuilt itself in an easily accessible location and laid down a road to the central city.Society had quickly found itself to revolve, at least for entertainment purposes, around the tournaments. Every week the villages held their own tournaments for training and qualifying for the monthly tournaments in Atero. The top winners of these, in turn, participated in the yearly Heroes’ War. This had become the biggest event of Spherus Magna, and every ten years past champions were invited to return. If they chose, they could send another fighter in their place, training them personally for the whole year leading up to the event.Trymak was one of those students. Gelu, the champion of a Heroes’ War long ago, had chosen the spry Toa as his trainee. Instead of conventional training, they travelled as merchants around the world. At first, Trymak was disappointed and ready to leave Gelu, but he realized soon that their travels were more important than he thought. He didn’t fight daily, but Gelu entered him in whatever village’s match was happening when they were in town. He learned the fighting styles of everyone, and though at first he often lost, he quickly learned to think fast.This was the year of the Heroes’ War. Trymak had found himself in the second to last match and, after a vicious fight with a Glatorian of Tajun, he was placed into the final bracket. Now he faced the champion of Tesara, Gresh. He still entered into these tournaments, and constantly showed his skill in battle. Despite having been in the sport for centuries, the Glatorian was as energetic and strong as ever. He was, in fact, a very difficult opponent to face.This difficulty was becoming all too apparent. Trymak was, to say the least, getting his posterior handed to him. It was all he could do to not get bested in the first few seconds. Gresh seemed to be everywhere, not missing a step in his dance around the Toa of ice.Wiping blood from his lips, Trymak deflected Gresh’s blade with the grip of his war hammer. A rather unconventional choice of a weapon against a fast opponent, he knew. But I he could get one hit in, it would be over.Well, it was pointless. It wasn’t all about winning, it was about the experience. Thus, completely exhausted, Trymak threw up his hands and fell to his knees. Dirge Music ••••• Death and life. Both were facts of the world. Heroes came and went, villains were the same. The average Matoran lived the average life, worked his job, met with friends. This went onwards for centuries, until something brought him to his end, whence unfortunate circumstances caused his heart-light to blink out.The funeral dirge echoed eerily over the dunes of Po-Koro. It was only fitting that the death of the village’s greatest musician was honored by a full, solemn orchestra. Drusteph had been a pioneer on Mata Nui, introducing the island to music that they had never before heard. Whether he played the violin with a rock or composed a piano piece involving sawing the strings, he was a brilliant Matoran. He used water wheels to create electricity–without the help of a Toa!–which he channeled into oddly shaped instruments that created previously unheard sounds.This orchestra consisted of his friends, his followers, and his enemies. Yes, even those who were against his music. The ones who opposed Drusteph the most played most passionately at the ceremony of his death. He was their opponent, he was the one upon which they placed the blame of the wild actions of the day. Yet, in spite of their dislike, they could not say that the Matoran lacked skill.Drusteph was the life of Mata Nui, he was the power behind happiness. He brightened the days with his magical music, his sorcery of sonic and electric energy. He was simultaneously the Matoran that discovered unnatural electricity and the father of music using the energy. The orchestra’s piece, incorporating more somber elements of the music, reached its end, and not a dry eye was in the massive procession. Drusteph was laid with his first instrument in a mausoleum dedicated to his legacy. The carving around his coffin were ornate, filled with bright designs that he would have wanted. The funeral would have been almost too solemn for the hero of Po-Koro were it not for these cheerful designs.As the second orchestral piece began, the mood quickly brightened. Life was to keep going, and the music of Drusteph was still there. The distinct electronic noises echoed over the dunes, and though tears were still present, joy was felt in the hearts of the gathered Matoran. The music kept going after dusk, moving back to the village. Villagers from every Koro joined in the celebration of life, the song that was no longer a dirge, the music of Drusteph that was there, invigorating them and pushing them onwards.Well, feel free to comment on any or all of them. =3 In addition, my CoT topic is right here.
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Hello, short stories readers. These two stories I am posting today were my two entries for the most recent SS contest, Warm Up. They're exactly as I entered them for the contest, although I did think about editing them. But as this is a compiliation and not a rewrite, editing them wouldn't make much sense, IMO (although I did change one letter in the second story, but that's it as far as editing goes).Anyway, enough blabbering and onto the stories:Theme: VisionsWord Count: 568Title: The Curse of VaguenessKafor blinked and saw herself.No. That wasn’t it. Not exactly. She did see herself, but it was herself from the future. The Skakdi Seer watched as her future self battled a figure dressed in white robes. The being moved with the grace of a serpent; indeed there was something vaguely serpentine in his thin arms and legs that sent shivers up Kafor’s spine.Kafor wasn’t alone in this vision, however. She saw a black-and-green warrior fighting alongside her future self. She did not recognize his species at all. He was hunchbacked and hideous, with a round helmet with a protruding backside. He carried a sword and buzz saw shield, but he used them mostly for channeling shadow elemental energy.Who is that being? Who are we fighting? Kafor thought, but she really didn’t expect an answer. Her visions were always vague and this one was no different.It was then that Kafor sensed someone nearby. Glancing to the left, Kafor saw a Toa of Iron chained up (which she found ironic). She recognized him as Toa Nasis, a customer of hers, but she didn’t feel disturbed to see him in chains. She’d never liked him much anyway. She didn’t even bother theorize why he was here when she knew there wasn’t any point in speculating in these visions.Kafor turned her attention back to the fight. She saw her future self fire eye beams at the white-robed being, who ducked while at the same time with his arm blocking the shadow being’s sword. The white-robed being smirked and his face changed into a Kanohi Pakari. He slammed his fist into the shadow being’s face, sending Kafor’s future ally stumbling to the ground.Future Kafor gasped, but then the shadow being got back up and shook his head, as though he got punched in the face by unnaturally strong beings every day. The shadow being charged at the white-robed enemy again, swinging his sword. This time landing a hit on the enemy, cutting through his robes and revealing black armor underneath.Future Kafor shot more laser blasts at the white-robed enemy, which hit him in the chest. Kafor figured that should‘ve been a fatal blow, but the enemy merely staggered backwards and glanced down at the smoking hole in his chest. It looked as though the enemy’s innards were completely devoid of organs, similar to a robot’s anatomy.Then the enemy scowled and clapped his hands together, creating a sonic boom that Kafor couldn’t hear. She knew it was a sonic boom because her future self and her future ally clasped their hands over their audio receptors and reeled in agony. Kafor was glad she couldn’t hear it.The enemy ran at Future Kafor and her ally. Kafor blinked again and found herself lying rigid on her bed, staring up at the ceiling of her room. She cursed her vision for ending just then, but only halfheartedly. Her visions were always unclear and she hadn’t expected this one to be different.This one seemed more important than past visions, however, perhaps because it directly concerned her. Kafor only wished she knew when it was going to take place, if nothing else. She also wondered what Nasis had to do with it.Not much I can do about it, Kafor thought. Except, of course, wait. And, although I’ve become so good at it over the years, I hate waiting.------Theme: FlightWord Count: 578Title: The Test“Okay,” said the Le-Matoran instructor, sitting in the passenger’s seat beside Kongu. “Have you checked the levitation and weight disks?”Kongu nodded. “First thing I quick-checked, instructor-sir.”The instructor scribbled on his pad. “The chutes?”“Full,” Kongu answered. “And capped-blocked, too.”The instructor scratched something else down. “Levers and pulleys fully operational?”“Completely, instructor-sir,” said Kongu, pointing at the pulleys before him. “I had my engineer-friend look them over beforehand.”“Emergency lights and radar systems in proper condition?”“Of course, instructor-sir.”“All safety procedures followed?”“To the letter, instructor-sir.”“Then let’s commence-began the flight test.”Kongu smiled and nodded and turned to the controls. Although Kongu was careful not to show it, his nerves were wracking him so badly that he almost forgot what to do. If he passed this test, he’d become a licensed airship pilot. If he failed . . . well, he could always be a chute monitor, Kongu supposed.All right, Kongu thought. Just need to pull-grab this pulley and up-high we’ll go.The Le-Matoran pulled the pulley toward himself. The airship lurched, almost throwing the instructor off his seat, though thankfully he was securely tied down thanks to his seat belt.“Quick-sorry about that,” said Kongu, hastily letting go of the pulley to turn his attention to the instructor.That caused the ship to lurch back, knocking the instructor’s skull back against his seat’s head. “Ow! Keep your eyes on the sky, student!”“Yes, instructor-sir,” said Kongu, turning his attention back to the controls.This time, the airship flew although Kongu noticed out of the corner of his eye that the instructor was frowning and scribbling something on his pad. Kongu tried to ignore the instructor. His friend, Matau, had told him that as long as he kept his cool, Kongu would be able to pass.The airship was now in the sky, but it was not moving. Kongu had yet to unleash the capped proto chutes because he was busily making sure that the airship was steady and aiming forward. He’d heard tales of careless students who’d uncapped the chutes when the airship was aiming slightly toward the ground, which usually resulted in a bloody, messy death for everyone involved.The sensors indicated that the airship was stable, so Kongu said to the instructor, “Which way do I go-fly, instructor-sir?”“Go-fly north,” said the instructor, pointing straight ahead. “Just don’t-“In his eagerness to obey the instructor’s commands, Kongu immediately pulled the lever that uncapped the chutes. He opened them a little too wide, however, for the ship shot forward at dangerous speeds. They were flying straight toward a building and would have crashed into it had the instructor not immediately flipped the emergency break switch just in time.Without warning, the airship stopped so abruptly that Kongu was thrown forward and hit the controls. Shaking his head, Kongu looked at the instructor and smiled sheepishly.“So . . . did I pass-succeed the test?” said Kongu, although he knew the answer even before the instructor answered.“No,” said the instructor, shaking his head. “You failed-lost. Land the airship and we’ll speak-discuss your future later.”Kongu nodded unhappily and landed the airship, though this time he was careful to do things right so they wouldn’t crash into the ground.As Kongu and the instructor exited the airship, Kongu decided that maybe being a chute monitor wouldn’t be such a bad job after all. Would be easier than flying airships, at any rate.Comments, criticisms, reviews, etc. are all welcome .-TNTOS-
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Below is the entries list for the Flash Fiction Marathon Contest, divided up by theme. Entry #1: Member Name: Varkanax39Theme: VisionsStory: Vision of the Fall Vision of the Fall The city of Shadovar gleamed in the light of the rising sun as the brilliant hues of orange and red reflected off the pale, translucent mirror-glass. The massive buildings of the City of Mirrors and the tall, twisting spires were made all of the same reflective glass, which was shot through with tendrils of gold material.The Citadel at the heart of the city stood facing the mighty Pyramid of Glass, which was made entirely of opaque crystal harder than the most solid protosteel.Some said that this city had been built by the Ancients; the enigmatic beings that had left many constructs behind them and had once inhabited Shadovar before vanishing without a trace. Others said it was the work of even older forces, perhaps the Mindeaters or the Infinus themselves. In any event, the modern inhabitants of the city, Toa, Ix, and Elemental alike, did not know.But they all feared to approach the Last Spire, the obelisk that was home to the Seer. Even now, Seer stared through the translucent glass of the Spire, he shook his head, sighing at what he knew was to come in so short a time.His visions had warned him of these days, the last days of Arcaea. When everything would be torn apart, and the Elemental Kingdoms would become nothing more than a memory of what had been lost.Even now, the visions he seemed to whisper to him. He did not see the city as it was now, but as it would be soon. He saw the citadel of Arcaea against the backdrop of choking ash and brilliant flames, torn apart by brilliant displays of elemental power.The Seer watched as a dark, powerful Elemental, surrounded by a group of shadowy, hooded Ix, stand face to face with another Elemental, who had two Toa flanking him. They were locked in a battle on both the mental and physical level as they fought in both the aura field and with elemental power, blinding flashes of light detonating all around him.And at last, the Seer saw the end of Arcaea. The Twelve Elemental Kingdoms torn apart, dispersing on the wind into nothingness. Soon all that was left was a remnant of Shadovar, a broken, pitiful reminder of all that the City of Mirrors had once been.Then the sun of Shadovar itself was extinguished, and eternal darkness fell over the city.Silently, a being stepped from the darkness to stand beside the Seer. He wore a black cloak, like an Ix, but he was clearly not of their kin. One hand was gloved; the other was pale white and twisted.The being stared for a moment at the brilliant cityscape below in silence.“You have seen what is to come.” He whispered.It was a statement, not a question. The Seer nodded quietly. “Yes,” he whispered.“The end of an era,” said the hooded being. “The visions must come true, or the Dark One cannot be stopped.”The Seer knew that the being was correct. Every vision he’d seen with his Kanohi of Foresight had proven to come true. He had paid a price beyond comprehension for the legendary mask, and it had always served him well.“You know what you must do,” continued the hooded being. And though it pained the Seer to know his vision would come true, and though he knew he was passing judgment on the lives of far too many beings, he nodded quietly.“I shall do it,” he whispered as the visions of the destruction to come flooded his mind once more.Word Count: 598 Entry #2:Member Name: Zosia DarrTheme: Bionicle - VisionsStory: The Visionary ₪҉₪ "Get out,"Dispatched to the Northern Continent on Makuta Icarax's orders, Pridak had been granted jurisdiction over a small peninsula. What the Makuta had failed to mention, however, that the land's primary inhabitants were rocks and Rahi.Perhaps to lessen the sting of the slap to Pridak's ego, they'd dispatched a small herd of Matoran to go with him and serve as his staff.The Matoran ducked his head in compliance. "Sir,"Pridak sat down heavily on his stone work desk, knocking the scout's report tablets to the floor with a resounding clatter. He looked out the window of the shack that he was supposed to call a fortress. Instead of seeing the occasional boulder that littered the landscape, he saw Xia.The imposing skyline stabbed into the sky, reaching for the twin suns as though trying to dethrone them. Fire fueled the race to the heavens, new factories and foundries being created every day. Smoke and haze seeping from the buildings hung in the air, tasting like grandeur. The addicting sensation of success, production, and monopoly thrummed trough the streets, making the realm of the Vortixx truly unique and beautiful in the Universe.It wasn't only the landscape that made Xia enviable. It was the spirit of the inhabitants. They were forward thinking, always. Sharp minds formed the backbone of the population, while the perfect combination of ruthless and genius sat in the seat of authority. Manipulative, cunning, and clever, the Vortixx were at the very least admirable.And the beauty didn't end there. In his mind's eye, Pridak saw Xia's smog spreading across the world, turning everything to the same twisted beauty. Nothing in existence would be able to compare, of that Pridak was sure. It wasn't long before the sharp skyscrapers and strong fortresses of factories blotted out the suns completely.It was majesty.And one day, maybe not so far away, that envisioned majesty could become reality. Of course, Pridak would have to work for it. Dreaming could only get one so far. Naturally, he wanted to get out from under the thumb of the Brotherhood of Makuta. At the moment, Pridak thought that would be a bit pre-mature. He would establish his tiny dominion on this Northern Continent Peninsula for now. Pridak was not a Toa, but he did believe in destiny. He would lay low, and wait until the time destiny called for change. ₪҉₪ Word Count: 401 Entry #3: Member Name: PyrrhonTheme: VisionsStory: The StormThe chilling wind swept across the empty field like floating knives, forcing the small blades of grass downward. The storm was coming, I could sense it in the air. A small drop of liquid dripped down onto my face, slowly sliding towards the ground. The water dropped from the edge of my mask, falling down to the grass below. The rain had come, and with it, the storm drew closer and closer. The weather was a sign, a grim warning. I knew that he was coming, charging headlong into the future, and towards a destined fight. The storm, it was only part of what was coming towards the field. But I knew that the storm was the least of my worries.My mask had shown me this many days, many weeks ago. It had revealed to me what I did not wish to see. I had pierced into the future, seeing what would be... and there was no way I could change it, no way to stop it. But I knew I had to push that from my thoughts, to concentrate not on what I knew would happen, to prepare myself for what was coming. The Mask of Clairvoyance had at times been the greatest of blessings... now it was a curse. I had seen the future, and I would have given anything to have wiped those memories out of my mind. The storm was coming.How had it come to this? I wasn't even fully certain myself. I had had the vision before I even knew what it meant, Back then, it seemed impossible, unlikely to even be close to reality. But now the coldness I felt wasn't the storm. I had known what was going to happen, and I could have done nothing to stop it. My death had been written out before my eyes, the end of my own life playing out in my mind. And my mask could show me what was coming, but I could not stop it... what I had seen, it was going to happen... and nothing could change that.My thoughts were shattered by a clap of thunder as it sounded in the sky. The storm was here, I could feel it around me, throughout my entire being. The air and winds were no longer peaceful. The storm had come upon me as I knew it would. He would be here soon... and destiny would enact itself just as my mask had shown. Death was awaiting me, as clear in my mind as the flashing of lightning across the darkened sky. I didn't want it to end like this... but destiny could not be undone. I had seen it, and it would happen... I just wished that it could have been differently.I can do nothing about it, I have no choice but to fight. I can run no longer, destiny has placed me here, and here I shall face the future. Though it is futile and I know that I will not win, or even have a chance... I will fight as I have been destined. But I will not just surrender to death, I will not die easily. Destiny shall get its fight, but it will learn that a Toa never surrenders, even in the face of death.Words: 544 Entry #4: Member Name: Grimoire AlbastruTheme: VisionsStory: ContactFor the first time in countless millennia, the desolate silence of the cavern had been pierced by the arrival of one such noise that it had imagined it would never again hear since its very creation.I emerged into the cavern, the sounds of my heavy breath echoing against the walls. My name is Vezon. And though I had no true idea as to why I had arrived at such a curious location, I knew my duty was done. I had arrived.A distant voice had called me here from the very recesses of my shattered mind. Ever since I had left my old “allies” back in the lair of my birth, I had been egged on by the deep desire. This urge to press ever onwards. This need to travel somewhere, though with never a clue as to where or why. But now, here I was.And there stood my prize, waiting for me. The rivers of lava threw a meagre light upon the glistening ornament that rested upon a throne of rock. I knew that it was meant for me, and the voice approved, so I surged forward to claim it, my heavy footfalls creating vibrations that shot around me.But what I couldn’t have seen coming was that as soon as I laid my hands upon it and pulled it close to me, my already fragmented mind exploded. I tried to stifle a scream, but it tore through my mouth regardless. I threw myself to the ground and thrashed wildly like an injured Rahi. Images swam before me, faces I could not place, locations I might never live to see, scenes of which I could never have dreamed of. I slammed my eyelids shut as if I could escape this hideous torture, but it was to no avail, as all this resulted in was the ceasing of the war between reality and the visions that threated to tear through my own skull. And the visions had won.All before me was beautiful, yet all was terrifying. I knew now what I held, the Kanohi Ignika. A source of terrible, yet glorious power that could devastate the entire universe, or perhaps save it. It could fall armies or raise them from the ground. It had seen the beginning of the universe and it would remain to see it at the very end. And now it was mine. I cradled it in my arms as I screamed helplessly for whatever assistance the Great Beings might lend me.They offered no solace, but even as my mind unravelled at its last remaining seams, the voice that led me here whispered ever so softly, like a lover, “Let me show you.”And so I did. I felt my prize sink into my body, even as I beheld the worst of it. For following this example of power and horror, came visions even more sublime than any I had hitherto witnessed. For I saw the end of the world. I saw the fire in the sky, the fall of Metru Nui and the extinction of the very stars. I stood back and stared as the last breath of life was swept away in the hurricane that enveloped all I might ever have known.The sights receded eventually, but the damage had been done. Devastated, I rocked back and forth, sobbing gently. The back of my head seared with pain and the ghosts of those visions were alive in my mind. And as I lay, shivering and alone in that deep, dark, desolate cavern, slowly, I began to laugh.Word Count: 596 Entry #5: Member Name: Astris JanusTheme: VisionsStory: FatesToa Radeic sped through the chute system, using his powers over sound to block out any distractions. He checked the device on his wrist. “Twenty minutes,” he whispered.Time seemed to slow as he looked down, his eyes fixating on a Matoran being terrorised by a Visorak. He released a quick concussive blast, accounting for the change between liquid protodermis and air, and knocked the Visorak off its feet, allowing the Matoran to escape. Under any other circumstance, he would have gone down there and helped the Matoran more thoroughly, but the situation was dire… *** From the beginning, Radeic had the gift for seeing visions. Some would say gift, others would think it a curse. Radeic had mixed feelings. It had helped him before, seeing things that would happen and then being able to stop them, but sometimes the visions made no sense. This was a problem at first, leading Radeic to believe he was going mad, but that stopped once he acquired a Kanohi Rode. Now he could tell the difference between the true visions and the mere delusions. *** Radeic saw his stop, and cut through the chute, using soundwaves to cushion his descent. He landed next to a railing, over-looking a large gorge half full of silvery liquid. He checked the device again. Fifteen minutes. He checked that he had everything. The sword, the Kanoka, the scales, the venom, the torch, everything was here. He just needed one more thing… *** The last vision Radeic had seen was disturbing. At first, he wrote it off as another delusion, but it kept recurring and, with the use of his mask, he learned it to be the truth. He had panicked at first, but eventually managed to calm himself. He formulated a plan. The vision was terrifying, but it had shown him how to stop it.He just needed to collect some items; the sword said to be able to sunder protosteel walls with the merest slice; the scales of a Kanohi Dragon; a level 8 reconstruct at random Kanoka disk; venom from a Nui-Jaga; and an ever-lasting torch of legend.These items would be hard to find. But he had to try. He was more worried about what he had to do with the items, but that didn’t matter right now. Now he had to get them, because he only had one week left.One week until his island was destroyed. *** He looked over the railing. It was a long fall. Even with only ten minutes left, Radeic hesitated. All the items were strapped to him and he knew that had to do this, but still he hesitated. The outcome was still uncertain to him… *** One thing had plagued Radeic. Every time he saw the vision, the ending would change. There seemed to be two outcomes, one good and one bad. He tried to use his Rode to determine which result was true, but they were both the same. It would appear that he couldn’t see what the results of his actions might be. This was new to him. Occasionally, he would see what would happen if he didn’t follow the vision, and while that was bad, it seemed that if he did follow his visions, there was a chance that it would be worse.But he couldn’t worry about that now… *** Radeic wished he had thought about it before. He wasn’t sure what to do.He took a deep breath and calmed himself. He had to take the chance.“For the island,” he said, leaping into the energised protodermis below. ~~~ Words: 598 Entry #6: Member Name: Inferna FireswordTheme: VisionsTitle: In the Swirling Vapors (word count: 592)It was rare that a Makuta would hallucinate, and the idea of one attempting to do just that was almost unfathomable. Inconceivable, one might say.Yet, Makuta Hecate was planning to do just that.The Virus Master observed her locked private quarters once more, checking the array of ingredients she had. They were all exotic, but easily obtainable for someone like, as they were ingredients that she normally used for monster-making work. Taking them from the storehouses in Destral had provoked no questions.It was a good thing, too, because what she was about to do would definitely provoke questions, if anyone were to see her.The floor around her table, the lone virus vat that bubbled with the base potion, and she herself was ringed with a thin trail of salt. It felt somewhat silly to her, but the texts she had consulted for this sort of ritual had all advised the circle be placed around her workspace before beginning.As she was a novice – albeit a skeptical novice – she wasn’t taking any chances.Taking a breath, she solemnly began placing the ingredients into the bubbling liquid, waiting for the color to change before she added the next one. With each element that was put in, the fluid hissed, the high temperature quickly liquefying it all. By the time the last part was in the brew, it had turned a sickly green that smelled terrible: even the most vile of virus combinations didn’t smell as awful as this.Hecate tried not to gag as she spoke the formal words that preceded inhaling the vapors. “To the hunters of the dark realms, hear my call. I come with an appeal to you. Let my visions herald your coming and be the medium between my desires and yours.”She felt silly repeating the archaic chant, but went through it all, holding a black crystal of onyx in her hands in prayer. In the most reverent manner that she could, she leaned directly into the rising steam, and deeply inhaled the fumes.The reaction was immediate: the world blurred around her, and she was forced to stumble back and sink into her throne-like chair before she gracelessly fell onto her backside. Blackness welled up in her vision, but since Makuta couldn’t fall asleep, she remained awake, though she wasn’t completely sure of that fact. Things that seemed similar to the few dreams she’d had when she’d had a physical form were floating through her vision, making it hard to differentiate from reality.Then the voices came. One male, two female, they whispered in her ears, their shapes lurking in the corners of her eyes and vanishing when she tried to look at them directly.“We know,” the strongest female voice hissed. “We know what you desire. We will fulfill it.“You have the means to give us what we desire. Promise us that, and we will insure success in your endeavors.”A remainder of Hecate’s rational mind got her to speak. “Yes, but I would rather discuss this later. There isn’t privacy on Destral.”Hisses came from the other figures, but the stronger female voice silenced them before she spoke again. “Look for us in mirrors and the echoing places. We will wait.”Slowly, the visions ceased, and Hecate raised her head up again. The churning of her brew had stilled some time while she was gripped by visions, so all was quiet.Lowering her head down into her hands, she rested. And thought of the consequences making deals with the Nightborn could be. Entry #7: Member Name: YukikoTheme: VisionsStory: Wake (487 words)He was standing alone on the black sand. The air pressed down on him. It would storm soon, his aching limbs told him that. This was too real as always, this surreal place. But he waited. He had learned to wait. There was nothing else to do in this world beyond his control.“They are coming, Vakama.”Vakama looked up. “Toa Lhikan?”He couldn’t keep his surprise completely concealed. He had not seen the toa of fire for a very long time, in life or in his visions. And yet, here he was, his greatswords slung over his shoulder.“I am what you want to see, Vakama. The storm is coming, and you must learn to make out the truth through the rain.”Vakama said nothing after that. He leaned on his staff, following his old mentor’s eyes toward the mottled gray sky. The wind picked up speed, piercing through his armor. He shivered. The rumble of thunder grew steadily louder, until a flash of light pierced the air above them.Lighting should happen in a split second, but Vakama could swear that he saw the jagged arms of the bolt reaching down toward them to embrace Lhikan. He shielded his eyes as the spot where Lhikan stood blazed with light. He could make out nothing.When the light faded, there was only Lhikan’s golden hau, laying on the sand before him. The eye-holes of the mask blazed red, then green.“Turaga!”Vakama sat up in his pallet. He rubbed his hands over his face to clear the last shadows of sleep from his mind. That voice...it had been Jaller’s voice. But the Captain of the Guard was gone. Gone to the land of the dead, most likely never to return.Vakama had learned to accept his visions. After all, his people venerated him for it. No longer did others question his sanity when he told of his dreams. He was the noble Turaga Vakama, leader of the Ta-matoran.The things he saw in the fire, after all, were not incomprehensible. He stared at the now dead pot of coals in the center of his hut. When he was awake, he could make sense of it, turn it into real voices and figures and events. But in the unconscious territory of his dreams, his mind melded and twisted and dissolved. There were still some nights when he woke feeling cold all over; when he was not sure if he was awake at all.And those eyes. Red and then green. What did that mean? The Makuta? His eyes were red, and his poison turned the eyes green. But matoran could have green eyes as well. Then there was Jaller’s voice. It had sounded different. Almost…Older, Vakama thought. Like a toa’s.He sat up and began to tend to the coals, as the sun hid the dying stars from the sky. Entry #8: Member Name: DespairTheme: VisionsStory: The ObserversWord Count: 546In the time before time…I watched as the once-mighty planet shattered into pieces, and I watched as the robotic vessel the others called their home started its journey through the stars. I observed the many events that took place within that robot – that universe. From the first hesitant steps of the Matoran to the treachery and eventual downfall of the League of Six Kingdoms; I watched it all. The others also watched, but I had no idea what scenes they were forced to view or if they too suffered the same way I did. It was our duty to examine the history of that world, and for most of us it was a wearisome task. I was no exception to this, for I would often grow tired of observing what had already come to pass.Among our numbers were a few who, like myself, wished to get a glimpse of the future instead of this endless stream of age-old history. When we were not busy fulfilling our duties of examining the past (which, admittedly, was not very often), we would often debate on what the future would be like. You see, we only knew of one time: the past. The present was hidden to us, and the future was an eternal mystery to all. Although you could argue that we each had our own time that could be labeled as the present, I believe most of us would agree that that was nonsense. When we were created, we were forced to cast aside our own lives for the sake of something greater.Or at least that was what we had been told. I found that “something” to be infuriatingly vague, for it gave us no idea of what exactly we were sacrificing what others deemed so precious for. Was it for the Matoran, who lived carelessly happy lives down below? Was it for the future that we would never live to experience, trapped as we were in a bottomless pit of the past?I kept these thoughts to myself, but this was my reason for wanting to see what would come to be. I wanted to know that my sacrificing my own happiness and the similar sacrifices of the others would indeed come to bring about something worthwhile. Even in my heart, I couldn’t imagine what could possibly be worth all that I had endured. I could only label that future as “something”, for none of us knew what it was.That was what I hated about the visions; the future was hidden from even we who had more than earned the right to know it. In all the events I had seen unfold, good had always somehow managed to prevail. So why, when there were those suffering for the sakes of others, could nothing but misfortune come their way?I closed my eyes, hoping in desperation that it would block out the images rushing through my mind. I knew it wouldn’t; I had tried hundreds of times before now and it had never worked before. However, a person could always hope.For me, hope was all I had left. I had hope, not for the future, but to see the future.Visions of the past were all I lived for, and visions of the future were all I dreamed of. Entry #9:Member Name: fishers64Theme: VisionsStory: Between Cities (463 words)“Where are we?”“It’s a little hard to tell, seeing as it’s dark in here.”“Nuparu, aren’t you the guy who is supposed to be able to see in the dark?”“When Kongu can see in pitch black, I will too.”Kongu reached out a hand to his side. A wall. Curved like a tunnel. He felt his way along it, only to run into a solid obstacle. “Hey, watch where you’re going! You’re just like Kongu, always so clumsy!”“Thanks, Nuparu, I really appreciate that. Let’s see, we are in a dark tunnel…somewhere…”“Metru Nui. I mean, I see Metru Nui. Bright and happy, people are their jobs, happily talking with each other.”“Come on, dude, knock it off.”“No, seriously, I see Makuta rising up the Coliseum, energy pylons bending to his will…I see Visorak spiders now.”Kongu grabbed his friend’s arm. “You’re hyperventilating from too much time in the dark.”“The city is deserted, dark, and still.” Nuparu said as Kongu dragged him forward. “The Matoran! They are coming back! They are rebuilding!”“Yes, we all know this. The Turaga told us about it. We saw it before.”“I see the Order of Mata Nui! Building fortifications around the city! They sent us away on another mission – but we were different.”“How?”“I can’t explain.”“Look, we have to get out of this tunnel – it’s driving you bonkers. There is no ‘Order of Mata Nui’. We are Mata Nui’s servants.”“Something dark…rearranging the stars…”“There’s a light ahead. Come on, Nuparu.”“Smashing…trembling…darkness...gone. The Matoran left. Bright sunlight.”The two Toa emerged from the tunnel. Magnetic sheaths blinked, liquid protodermis dripping onto the stone below. Rahi scurried through nests of debris. The floor was painted with a fine layer of dust. The ceiling was a grim web of girders encased in Visorak webs and bits of still-intact stone and wires. Walking across a sagging bridge, Kongu saw dim lights of forges still burning. He ran, almost without thought, to the edge of the silver sea, grimy and murky. The Great Temple, cracking and falling in. The top spires of the Coliseum, falling, crushing homes and sculptures the crafters must have put hours into. A lone Gukko bird flapped over the abysmal scene, coming to rest at his feet. Dead.“No!” he shouted.* * *“Kongu, are you all right?”Kongu blinked. He was on the ground, leaning up against a tunnel. His memory returned – a Zyglak, clobbering him against the wall. Nuparu offered a hand up. Kongu ignored it and scrambled to his feet.“What’s with you?”“Just a little taste of Karzanhi.”“What?”“Look, we have a city to save, and we don’t have time for visions. Now let’s get moving.” Entry #10: Member Name: KumataTheme: VisionsStory: Doubt (596 words)Sunlight stained the sky with streaks of gold and violet. Below that colourful canvas stretched a barren plain; a desert that - even though Spherus Magna was reformed - remained as lifeless as ever. Upon it lay a vast figure of dark and rusting metal. That the final resting place of the Great Being’s robot creation (which for a time housed the spirit of Makuta Teridax) should be on such unwelcoming terrain was a curious quirk of fate.Overlooking this scene was a lone figure standing upon a rocky peak. Turaga Vakama’s robes flapped gently in the evening breeze.“So, here you are.”The Turaga of Fire turned, startled by the voice, and set eyes upon another, more aged Turaga of Fire coming up the slope.“Dume,” said Vakama, the surprise evident in his tone.Dume considered the younger Turaga. “What troubles you?”Vakama’s eyes dodged Dume’s gaze. “I am not troubled.” Dume said nothing, but continued to stare. For the next few moments Vakama was silent - then sighed wearily and turned away. “It is my visions.”Dume stepped forwards, joining Vakama’s side. “Something you have seen?”“No. It’s… the fact that I have them,” Vakama replied sadly. He paused before continuing. “I thought my visions were messages from the Great Spirit. I convinced myself that they were meant to guide me, that I was shown glimpses of terrible things so I may prevent them from happening. But now we know we were all part of that robot… now I understand. They weren’t messages after all - just products of my own malfunctioning mind. They were no guiding force; the Great Beings simply erred when they constructed me. All that effort to assure myself that I was sane, and in the end I really am crosswired.”“Vakama…” said the older Turaga kindly, “you are a fool.”Startled again, Vakama looked up. Dume elaborated. “I may not have witnessed your time as a Toa, but I have heard stories enough of how you wrestled with doubt during those days. Particularly how you overcame it. And now, centuries later, you disregard those crucial experiences? Only a fool does this.”“But this - it’s different now!” Vakama protested, an unusual desperation in his voice. “I thought my visions were meant to be. I thought they played some significant role in the course of my destiny! But they were only glitches, hallucinations-”“Answer this,” interrupted Dume sternly. “Did your visions provide insight that allowed you to help others?”“Yes, but-”“Were there times in your past where, had you not experienced visions, you would have failed your goals, your duty, even your destiny?”“I… yes, I… believe so.”“So. Whether these are visions or glitches is irrelevant. They supported your personal growth and - much as we were components in a larger robot - your visions and your acting on them were vital gears in the machinery of history. Without them we may never have reached this new paradise.” Dume placed a hand on his companion’s shoulder. “I understand that the revelation of what we were and the true nature of our universe is difficult to take in. But you must remember that it does not alter who were are. It would be a terrible thing for you to succumb to doubt after all your years of courage and wisdom.”Vakama’s only response was a gradual, grateful smile. Dume lowered his arm. The two Turaga stayed atop the peak for a while, looking wordlessly at the fallen giant. Then, without another word between them, they began their journey home. Entry #11: Member Name: ClickTheme: VisionsStory: Rock of AgesIt had fallen without warning in the middle of the night, nearly crushing Gekara on her way home, and neatly slicing a half off of Verius’s hut; luckily he wasn’t home. From a distance, it had a boring appearance, like any rock you might find at the edge of the Black Spike Mountains, but on closer inspection, became a powerful enigma for the inhabitants of New Atero. The entire boulder was covered in writing in an unknown language; the only pictogram of a stout little being with a triangular head and a disk in one hand. Once Solis Magna had risen, it revealed a large crowd of Matoran and Agori crowded around, torches slowly going out over their silent vigil.“Stand aside, villagers, stand aside!” A towering Glatorian of Fire broke the silence as he broke through the mob, wading up to the rock. A wizened old Turaga followed, and then a small Matoran of Ice.“What happened? What is this?” The Turaga immediately burst into questions, to which followed an explosion of stories and alibis, which were silenced with difficulty by the Glatorian. The Matoran was furiously taking notes on a small tablet. “Call on Nokama, she might be able to read this.” A flurry of motion and talking passed as a group of Matoran ran off to the north bringing the word. A hot hour passed before a light blue Turaga walked into the circle, villagers spreading to give her room. The group grew tense as they awaited something to happen, and Nokama furrowed her brow in intense concentration. After a few minutes passed by, she stood up in defeat and shook her head.“Mata Nui will not grant me a vision of its meaning. Perhaps, by knowing its past, we may be able to understand its purpose.” At those words, another group of Matoran broke off in search of a Toa, bringing back a Toa of Plasma wearing the Mask of Psychometry. As the orange being tried to break into the center, all eyes were on him, waiting to see the result.The Toa nervously glanced first at the crowd, and then at the Turaga, Glatorian, and Chronicler in the center. He tentatively reached for the stone, drew back for a moment, and then allowed the power of his mask to show its past to him. He first started shaking, and then his free arm started a spasm as elemental energy cracked through the air. His eyes widened, then his mouth gaped and a low moan escaped before he shot backwards into the crowd, smoking. The surprised villagers jumped back, and a few reached out to catch the limp Toa. All wide eyes were on the charred armor as one Matoran pronounced he was dead.“The vision must have been too much for him. This seemingly common rock may have an interesting history indeed,” said the first Turaga. At the sound of this, the Toa shook momentarily, and his heartlight flashed just long enough for one word to escape his sealed lips.“He…lp.”The pictogram flashed and a hairline crack grew from it, enveloping the whole stone until it collapsed in on itself in a shower of dust. After recovering from shock, the anxious crowd peered into the clearing hole.Inside was a rectangular pod with a clear covering, revealing a being like the one pictured on the stone. A disk flashed across as the being’s eyes opened, and the crowd saw a distant planet, split into seven elemental fragments and a race not unlike themselves…(589 words) Entry #12:Member Name: Legolover-361Theme: VisionsStory: Returned (600 words)Koi is gone.Just yesterday over the meal table, she had sat and talked with the rest of us — Eknosis, Rea, and me — had eaten her fill, had smiled in her withdrawn fashion at every joke told, her eyes glimmering under the candlelight. Now she is passed like a dream, her seat empty. Her name only comes heavily to my tongue.As I prod at my food, Eknosis asks me if I feel fine. Concern is in the Toa of Earth's eyes, but it seems thin as paper."I do," I respond, "but does—"Her name refuses to be uttered. Eknosis acquiesces. The remainder of the meal passes in silence.* * *Our dwelling is not overly large. It consists of four bedrooms, one per occupant; a dining room with a circular table and four seats; a kitchen; and a small living room whose bookshelf acts as a magnet for faint coatings of dust. Eknosis, being a Toa of Earth adorned with a Mask of Accuracy, does all the hunting required for sustenance; Rea, a Vortixx, cooks behind locked doors; and I, Ikara, remain in the library most of the day, scribbling on whatever paper I can acquire as I ponder philosophy.Koi would normally tidy the rooms, but with her absent, I go about the work myself. My subconscious mind recycles thoughts of the Toa of Water; my conscious mind expunges them as they surface.When I dust the last shelf in the living room, I light a candle with my fire powers and, under its flickering light, pore over a volume I have been reading for days. Reality, it suggests, is subjective. It's wistful to imagine death is a dream, but I need solace from something.* * *Solace, I lament, left with Eknosis.Night had fallen, and the Toa of Earth had failed to knock upon the door. For the first time in what seemed like millennia, I had felt a shard of fear pierce my heart. Eknosis is still unreturned.Rea is apathetic. Expecting sympathy from a Vortixx is folly, true, but could she really ignore the absence of our lifeblood?She says she will cook using leftovers. No utterance of Eknosis's name enters her speech, and I offer none in return.My reply is to nod and again open the book I had been reading: An Examination of "Reality", by K. Aria.* * *"Don't you leave," I finally say to Rea over dinner.She doesn't respond. Angrily, I repeat the question; she ignores me.Cold fear wraps around my heart. In panic, I round the table and grab her by the shoulders, yelling the question in her face. Finally, she snaps. The others aren't gone, she says; I am."No." Yes.She's hopeless. I stand up. "Forget you."She says I can't. "Stop bluffing," I challenge, but she denies the allegation. She asks: How could I possibly erase a part of myself?My subconscious mind screams under the sudden pressure of pain. Rea must feel it, for she cries in return that I must be a fool to have fallen for this dream.This... dream?The thought serves as a trigger. The candles in the living room are extinguished. Rea laughs as my existence is turned off as if by a switch. She pulls away — as does the rest of the dining room — whiplash yanks my head back hard enough for my neck to hurt—I awaken in the cruel grasp of a prison: walls of debris in a cold, dead universe. My Mask of Illusion dims, fading from bliss into dead weight.I am returned.I am broken. Entry #13:Member Name: TNTOSTheme: VisionsStory: The Curse of Vagueness (568 words)Kafor blinked and saw herself.No. That wasn’t it. Not exactly. She did see herself, but it was herself from the future. The Skakdi Seer watched as her future self battled a figure dressed in white robes. The being moved with the grace of a serpent; indeed there was something vaguely serpentine in his thin arms and legs that sent shivers up Kafor’s spine.Kafor wasn’t alone in this vision, however. She saw a black-and-green warrior fighting alongside her future self. She did not recognize his species at all. He was hunchbacked and hideous, with a round helmet with a protruding backside. He carried a sword and buzz saw shield, but he used them mostly for channeling shadow elemental energy.Who is that being? Who are we fighting? Kafor thought, but she really didn’t expect an answer. Her visions were always vague and this one was no different.It was then that Kafor sensed someone nearby. Glancing to the left, Kafor saw a Toa of Iron chained up (which she found ironic). She recognized him as Toa Nasis, a customer of hers, but she didn’t feel disturbed to see him in chains. She’d never liked him much anyway. She didn’t even bother theorize why he was here when she knew there wasn’t any point in speculating in these visions.Kafor turned her attention back to the fight. She saw her future self fire eye beams at the white-robed being, who ducked while at the same time with his arm blocking the shadow being’s sword. The white-robed being smirked and his face changed into a Kanohi Pakari. He slammed his fist into the shadow being’s face, sending Kafor’s future ally stumbling to the ground.Future Kafor gasped, but then the shadow being got back up and shook his head, as though he got punched in the face by unnaturally strong beings every day. The shadow being charged at the white-robed enemy again, swinging his sword. This time landing a hit on the enemy, cutting through his robes and revealing black armor underneath.Future Kafor shot more laser blasts at the white-robed enemy, which hit him in the chest. Kafor figured that should‘ve been a fatal blow, but the enemy merely staggered backwards and glanced down at the smoking hole in his chest. It looked as though the enemy’s innards were completely devoid of organs, similar to a robot’s anatomy.Then the enemy scowled and clapped his hands together, creating a sonic boom that Kafor couldn’t hear. She knew it was a sonic boom because her future self and her future ally clasped their hands over their audio receptors and reeled in agony. Kafor was glad she couldn’t hear it.The enemy ran at Future Kafor and her ally. Kafor blinked again and found herself lying rigid on her bed, staring up at the ceiling of her room. She cursed her vision for ending just then, but only halfheartedly. Her visions were always unclear and she hadn’t expected this one to be different.This one seemed more important than past visions, however, perhaps because it directly concerned her. Kafor only wished she knew when it was going to take place, if nothing else. She also wondered what Nasis had to do with it.Not much I can do about it, Kafor thought. Except, of course, wait. And, although I’ve become so good at it over the years, I hate waiting. Entry #14: Member name: Kal GrochiTheme: VisionsStory: Salvation (552 words.)Running. Jumping. Flying. He did all of these with ease.But there always seemed to be a hunger that he couldn’t appease.Life. Battle. Death. All these and more flashed before his eyes.But he couldn’t even see through the web of his own mind-created lies.A blinding light, there, at the end of the tunnel!But he couldn’t reach it, no, as his fate would tell.“Don’t worry, Vakama,” the resting red Toa said,“The Vahki and Makuta all seem to have fled.”Suddenly he turned, seeing weapons of destruction,Matoran reduced to a state where they could barely even function.He stepped back in fear, before realizing his mistake,Already he had resigned the Matoran to their fate.Suddenly, the vision broke, he recoiled from the sphere,Attempting to conquer his mind numbing fear.“Vakama!” Nokama called, “What did you see?”Vakama shook his head, trying from his mind to flee.“The Matoran, they’re in danger!” The distraught Toa cried,Seeing his friends go to sleep, their freedom denied.Nokama put a comforting hand on his shoulder,Though to Vakama, he only felt colder. *** Vakama sighed, sitting beneath the stars, having finished the small poem. He had yet to find Lihkan, let alone discover what he was to do with the Great Disks. He closed his eyes, thinking over his recent memory again. *** When he closed his eyes, he saw Lihkan. Chained, beaten, but his fiery will burned bright still. The elder Toa of Fire stared into Vakama’s eyes, his gaze piercing Vakama’s innermost thoughts.“Do not fail the Matoran,” he commanded, a dark laugh coming through in the background. “You’re their guardian now, Vakama, they need you. Do not lose hope, do not back down, and you will prevail.” Lhikan’s face contorted in pain, his back arching as a shadow whip burnt another bloody trail down his back.“Go, Vakama!” He commanded. “Do not tarry here, the Matoran need you!” The golden-armoured Toa of Fire let out a slight groan as he was struck again, fading from Vakama’s view, not hearing the desperate cries of the mask maker. *** “Vakama!” The Toa of Fire heard. “Vakama!” He stirred awake, his hand instantly reaching for his disk launcher, ready for battle…when he noticed it was just Nokama attempting to awaken him.“Another vision?” She asked, concerned. Vakama nodded, averting his eyes. Nokama sighed, banging her fist against the wall in frustration. Vakama stood, walking to the front of the small canyon where they were sheltered. He had a perfect view of the Coliseum.He pulled out two of the Great Disks, again, looking at them intensely. Suddenly, he felt an almost magnetic pull between the disks…normally he would resist this, to prevent any possible damage to the disks…but this time, he let them come together.He was surprised by the result. Instead of just bouncing against each other like normal disks might, they merged. He looked at them closely, pulling out the other four disks, one by one, and combining them all, applying a little of his element to make sure they merged well.He smiled, looking at the finished product. A burnished, golden-hued disk, almost with a majestic aura about it.“Nokama,” he said, a determined look on his face, “I think I’ve just found our salvation." Entry #15: Member Name: Danska: Shadow MasterTheme: VisionsStory: Ihiko's Terror (559 words)Ihiko sat alone in his hut, staring through the circular window as the fading light sunk below the horizon. He was visibly shaking beneath his mask, his mind filled with strange ideas he could not possibly know. Right in the middle of his work shift he had gained a sudden realisation of things he knew he had never seen and places he had never known. It was strange, to say the least, and disturbing for one so deeply concerned with facts and certainty as he.He had seen in his mind's eye the great Toa Heiran, first and greatest of all heroes, legend of the Five Isles and champion of the Drakooni Wastes. He had stood tall, power radiating from him in great waves of heat and flame. He held aloft his mighty sword, the sword that had delivered a thousand Matoran from greatest peril, and a thousand more who had never even heard his name. He stood alone in a great expanse of sky and sand, stretching in every direction further than the eye could see. It was a place Ihiko had never been, yet somehow it was as familiar as the shores of his homeland.Then, suddenly, the Toa's light began to fade. His armour darkened, seeming to lose its vitality and substance. Slowly it faded, until it was nothing more than ash in the wind. The hero of centuries, the Toa who came to be known as both the greatest warrior and greatest peacekeeper these people had ever known, was no more.It was obvious this vision was of the past. Ihiko knew, as all knew, that this mighty hero had died long ago in a far distant land, felled at last by the many evils he had long kept at bay. Ihiko knew not why he saw this, nor even that what he saw was true. He knew only that he had seen it - that heknew it - and this scared him. Neither logic nor reason could explain how this could come to be.But that was not the most disturbing thing. No, one fact weighed down on him heavier than any other. It was something he knew beyond any doubt. Something which filled him with great hope and great terror; with great joy and great sorrow. It was a simple fact, coupled with an equally simple observation. But he knew it would change everything.In the final moments before Heiran had vanished, Ihiko had glanced one more thing. One small, fleeting thing. As the great Toa's mask crumbled before him he saw, without any shadow of a doubt, a face he knew only too well. It was in that moment that he knew, this was more than a vision of the past. It was also a vision of the future. For the face he saw behind the mask, the face he had glimpsed so very briefly, was his.He knew, in that instant, what his destiny was. He knew where he had to go. He knew what he had to do. Like many before him, he must take up the mantle of Toa. He must wield the raw power of nature itself to protect his people from the evils that lay beyond their shores. He, Ihiko, must become the new protector of the Five Isles.He had never been more scared in his life.
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Warm-Up: Flash Fiction Marathon Today we have come to you with a unique form of contest: You are to run a marathon. A marathon of short stories, or, more appropriately, flash fiction pieces. For the next twelve (12) days there will be twelve (12) themes. And, also uniquely, this will be the first crossover contest including both COT and the Library.Sound like something you’re interested in? Then make sure you read the following: Contest Rules and Important Information [*]Each entry MUST be between 400-600 words. This is flash fiction.[*]One new theme will be given out each night. Each theme will be given out at Midnight, EST (hopefully; I have finals and graduation and other things next week), every night for 12 days[*]The contests will alternate between BIONICLE and COT. The first contest will be BIONICLE, the second will be COT, then going back to Bionicle and so on.[*]Bionicle entries may be human-Bionicle, if you wish. Just as long as they have some sort of relation to Bionicle. As usual, the story does not have to follow the canon storyline -- you may create your own characters, settings, etc., as long as in some way the story relates to Bionicle.[*]COT entries are not allowed to be Bionicle. That's what the Bionicle themes are for.[*]For each theme, contestants will have 48 hours to enter – so, if it’s a Bionicle theme, you will have until the next Bionicle theme is announced (as there will be a COT theme in between there) to enter your story.[*]After the 48-hour entry period, the entries will be placed in a poll for you – yes, you! – to decide the winner for the day; each winner will be receiving a small prize. At the end of all 12, the 12 winners will be pooled together and judged by judges for a final prize of greater monetary value.[*]It is very likely that an extra prize will be given for those who enter all 12 challenges, both COT and Bionicle.[*]Each winner for the 12 themes will receive a small prize, to be announced.[*]If you are going to post your stories, do so in the correct forum; COT stories belong in COT, Bionicle stories belong in the Short Stories section of the Library.[*]All entries must adhere to BZPower's rules and guidelines.[*]Your story must be new and never before posted on BZP. You can certainly have been working on your entry before this, but it must be posted on BZP after the start of the contest for it to be eligible.[*]Keep it PG-13-ish appropriate. So no gory descriptions, excessive violence, inappropriate content, et cetera.[*]You cannot edit your entry 30 minutes after it is posted. Once you post your story, you will have thirty minutes to edit it in order to make any formatting changes or to edit your story itself -- if you edit your entry post after that, your entry will be disqualified. PM me if you have to edit for story for some reason after 30 minutes before you do so.[*]If your story is not posted in this topic with the correct format, your entry will not be entered into the contest. [*]Do not use unnecessary formatting -- see more in the "How to Enter" section. How To Enter: There will be two main topics, one for Bionicle (this topic) and one in COT (which will be posted when the next theme begins); make sure you post your entry in the right one. If you are entering a COT theme, post in the COT topic.To enter, please use this form:Member Name:Theme:Word Count:Story:NOTE: Do NOT link to your story. It is fine if you wish to post it on BZPower, but for entering this contest, we ask that you post your story in this topic. Thanks!Furthermore, do NOT have any unnecessary coding when entering your stories. This means no color, not signoffs, no indents, etc. You may use italics, underline, etc. if it’s used for the body of your story, but please leave your posts as bare possible.And so, without further ado, I present to you: THEME #9: The Legacy As usual, any interpretation of the theme is valid, but it must be a BIONICLE story and it must adhere to the rules in the first post. Deadline: June 5th, 4:59 AM EST (keep in mind the time -- this is the night of the 4th, but at ~5am EST or ~2am PST, due to the late time that I am posting this theme) Theme #7 Alternate Universe As usual, any interpretation of the theme is valid, but it must be a BIONICLE story and it must adhere to the rules in the first post. Deadline: June 2nd, 11:59 AM EST Theme #5: Flight As usual, any interpretation of the theme is valid, but it must be a BIONICLE story , and it must adhere to the word count restriction posted above. Deadline: May 31th, 11:59 PM EST THEME #3 The Legends of Lhii As alluded to in the banner above, the second theme will be "The Legend of Lhii." Write a Legend of Lhii. One of the stories invented or adapted by Turaga Vakama and told to the Matoran of Mata Nui. See the BS01 article. This is a BIONICLE theme, and it must adhere to the word count restriction posted above. Deadline: May 29th, 2:59 AM EST (note: changing time limit to three hours later to compensate as I didn't post the theme until now) It is our honor and pleasure to host yet another contest for you. We wish you all the best of luck, and hope we receive as many entries as possible!Your hosts,Andrew (Velox)John (55555)
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Warm-Up: Flash Fiction Marathon [ Bionicle topic :: Entries Index] Today we have come to you with a unique form of contest: You are to run a marathon. A marathon of short stories, or, more appropriately, flash fiction pieces. For the next twelve (12) days there will be twelve (12) themes. And, also uniquely, this will be the first crossover contest including both COT and the Library.Sound like something you’re interested in? Then make sure you read the following: Contest Rules and Important Information [*]Each entry MUST be between 400-600 words. This is flash fiction.[*]One new theme will be given out each night. Each theme will be given out at Midnight, EST (hopefully; I have finals and graduation and other things next week), every night for 12 days[*]The contests will alternate between BIONICLE and COT. The first contest will be BIONICLE, the second will be COT, then going back to Bionicle and so on.[*]Bionicle entries may be human-Bionicle, if you wish. Just as long as they have some sort of relation to Bionicle. As usual, the story does not have to follow the canon storyline -- you may create your own characters, settings, etc., as long as in some way the story relates to Bionicle.[*]COT entries are not allowed to be Bionicle. That's what the Bionicle themes are for.[*]For each theme, contestants will have 48 hours to enter – so, if it’s a Bionicle theme, you will have until the next Bionicle theme is announced (as there will be a COT theme in between there) to enter your story.[*]After the 48-hour entry period, the entries will be placed in a poll for you – yes, you! – to decide the winner for the day; each winner will be receiving a small prize. At the end of all 12, the 12 winners will be pooled together and judged by judges for a final prize of greater monetary value.[*]It is very likely that an extra prize will be given for those who enter all 12 challenges, both COT and Bionicle.[*]Each winner for the 12 themes will receive a small prize, to be announced.[*]If you are going to post your stories, do so in the correct forum; COT stories belong in COT, Bionicle stories belong in the Short Stories section of the Library.[*]All entries must adhere to BZPower's rules and guidelines.[*]Your story must be new and never before posted on BZP. You can certainly have been working on your entry before this, but it must be posted on BZP after the start of the contest for it to be eligible.[*]Keep it PG-13-ish appropriate. So no overly gory descriptions, excessive violence, sexual content, inappropriate content, et cetera.[*]You cannot edit your entry 30 minutes after it is posted. Once you post your story, you will have thirty minutes to edit it in order to make any formatting changes or to edit your story itself -- if you edit your entry post after that, your entry will be disqualified. PM me if you have to edit for story for some reason after 30 minutes before you do so.[*]If your story is not posted in this topic with the correct format, your entry will not be entered into the contest.[*]Do not use unnecessary formatting -- see more in the "How to Enter" section. How To Enter: There will be two main topics, one for Bionicle ( here) and one in COT (this one); make sure you post your entry in the right one. If you are entering a Bionicle theme, post in the Bionicle topic, not this one.To enter, please use this form:Member Name:Theme:Word Count:Story:NOTE: Do NOT link to your story. It is fine if you wish to post it on BZPower, but for entering this contest, we ask that you post your story in this topic. Thanks!Furthermore, do NOT have any unnecessary coding when entering your stories. This means no color, not signoffs, no indents, etc. You may use italics, underline, etc. if it’s used for the body of your story, but please leave your posts as bare possible.And so, without further ado, I present to you: THEME #12:Preparation Any interpretation valid. Remember this is a COT Theme. Entries must comply with all rules posted in the first post. Sorry for the delay, banner will come later.Deadline:June 8th, 11:59 PM EST THEME #8:UltimatumYes, in the intrepid Velox's absence I'm announcing your theme. As usual, you may use the theme however you'd like. Remember that this is a COT theme, and your story must comply with the word count regulation.Deadline: June 3rd, 1:59 AM EST. THEME #6:Amor Omnia VincitAs usual, you may use the theme however you'd like. "Amor Omnia Vincit" is a famous latin phrase meaning "Love Conquers All." Remember that this is a COT theme, and your story must comply with the word count regulation.Deadline: June 1st, 1:59 AM EST. (banner forthcoming)THEME #4 The GameAny interpretation is valid. The only requirement is that this is a COT theme, and it must adhere to the word count restriction posted above.Deadline: May 30th, 11:59 PM ESTIt is our honor and pleasure to host yet another contest for you. We wish you all the best of luck, and hope we receive as many entries as possible!Your hosts,Andrew (Velox)John (55555)
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One People “…and so the Great Spirit descended from the heavens, carrying we, the ones called the Tohunga, to this paradise. We were separate, and without purpose, so the Great Spirit bestowed on us the three virtues: Unity, Duty, and Destiny.”Night had descended upon the bays of Ga-Wahi, the sun slipping past the endless ocean as the first stars begun to appear on the darkening skies. Po-Koro guards stood solitary on the lillypads, watching the sun disappear with a secret longing to follow it. To them, daylight brought the comfort of hard work. In the night, the goatdogs and their swarms would wander stealthily; at light, their attacks could be anticipated. So the guards stood in silence, their ears listening through the waterfall of the Naho bay and the chirp of insects, eyes desperately searching for the glow of a Bohrok in the shadows.Inside a hut, we Po-and Ga-Koran huddled together around Turaga Nokama, the chill of dusk dampening our spirits. Soft lights hung from the ceiling, attempting to lighten the mood. The Turaga ebbed and flowed like the tide, telling tales of peaceful times. Nokama had finished one of her stories, and now it was Onewa’s turn.Did they think we would simple-mindedly listen to the tales, though? The thought came from a dark corner of my mind. We were all hunched forward, eyes fixated on the elder as he spoke, but I doubted many of us were actually listening. I was among those thinking of what lay outside, those Pahrak lurking in the shadows of the area; halfheartedly listening, I found I couldn’t, because something in Onewa’s introduction seemed odd, as if there were something wrong in the Turaga’s statement.“Turaga,” I piped during an intermission. Several heads stirred, turning in my direction, along with a very surprised pair of robed storytellers. “You preach of unity in your tales, and here two villages sit. Yet you call us ‘Tohunga’, which means we are different people. If the Great Spirit gave us the three virtues and desired for us to be united, why did he give us a name that indicated otherwise? Why aren’t we called something like Matoran?” I expected anything but the uncomfortable silence that followed. There were no mutterings, no signs of support from my fellow Po-Koran. Nokama’s head was cocked in deep thought as she and Onewa considered my words. There was no deep reasoning behind my urge to speak, nor desire just to be noticed. I just wanted to note a point. And now I desired nothing other than to hide my brown Akaku and disappear once again into the crowd.After many moments in thought, the Turaga straightened themselves. My brothers and sisters turned intently toward them, to see how they would address the outspoken Matoran. Each second they paused I anticipated with dread.The lillypad rocked, swaying in the still bay, and an explosion could be heard from the Naho waterfall. My outburst was soon forgotten as those closest to the windows saw what happened, scrambling to flee from the stealthy, cunning, rapidly approaching Bohrok.*** The next few days fighting for Ga-Koro drove my outburst from everyone’s memories. I took the sidelines as the Onu-Matoran stepped up to defend us, and Jala and Takua took the spotlight. In a sense, I was glad to be shoved aside. But people still remembered. I went back to the shadows in my kiln, back to daily life, after the Toa defeated the Bahrag. My role as spectator continued as I watched the Bohrok Kal attack, and the Toa Nuva take off again on another quest. Somehow though, once the gossip of the heroes’ latest escapade grew old, people were coming together, not just in a time of need or danger, but a time to talk about something that we had missed in centuries of listening for the tales.The Turaga gathered us in Kini Nui once the Kal were defeated, claiming it was a great climax in our history. I was among the crowd, confused on what was going on, one of the many poking my head above the rest to get a good look at Turaga Vakama.“Matoran of Mata Nui!” he cried boldly, lifting his firestaff up to the sky. “The Great Spirit bestows a gift upon you all, as testament to your courage and their unity. The Time of Troubles has at last come to an end!” Many gasps and shouts of joy came from the people around me as they saw Takua and Jaller walk up beside the six elders. They were changed, taller and stronger, their bodies different. Some Le-Koran next to me jumped for joy when he realized he would soon be more limber, and an Onu-Koran was thrilled at knowing he would be stronger come the next sun. But I reveled in none of that, as I smiled with the rest. I was happy for a different reason.He called us Matoran.----------------------------I've been wanting to write this for a while, a storyline reason of how the name "Matoran" was introduced in 2003, and this was the result. Spent a year and a half getting stuck after going halfway through, but I finished it too late for the deadline for Flash Fiction Marathon Theme 1. It's currently 829 words with the title.
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Well, I wasn't going to make one of these, but I need a topic for them to be reviewed by the SSCC. So. Aqui los están.VisionsShadow of the WindI stood on the lip of the crater, gazing down into the unfathomable darkness of its immeasurable depths. We were here. We had done it. A smile forming on my mask, I looked up, turning to my companions.But of the three, only one was present – Quintus. The sunlight glinted off his green armor, but something about the way it reflected was...wrong. I looked into his face, which bore a peculiar expression, a satisfied sort of smile that I couldn’t quite place. “Where are the others, Quintus?” I asked. My heart rate rose rapidly, though I wasn’t quite sure why.The world spun. I felt like I was hanging upside down for a split second and then as if I was falling and then-I stepped back in horror. In Quintus’ place hovered a dark form, a roiling mass of pure shadow. From its depths came a terrible sound – laughter, laughter in Quintus’ voice, the same laugh I had come to know so well from the easygoing Le-Toa. “You have done well, my friend.” The words echoed in my mind, the words in my friend’s voice, but not his voice. I got the feeling I should run, but my feet didn’t seem to want to listen. The mass of shadow seethed, a violent ripple passing through it, and a bolt of its substance flew from it, impossibly fast, and struck me in the chest-My eyes snapped open. I was breathing heavily, my heart racing. Quintus stood over me, a worried expression on his face. “You all right, man?” he asked. I nodded slowly. “Well, if you’re sure...” he shrugged. “Get some sleep. There’s still a few hours ‘til your watch.”I wanted to take his advice – badly. I was tired, extremely tired, and we had a long day tomorrow. But instead I rose. “Nah, that’s all right. I’ll take it from here.”Quintus looked at me curiously, then shrugged again. “If you say so.” Within a few moments, he was sound asleep.I gazed out over the clearing, looking upon the sleeping forms of my companions. The dream...could it really have been just that? My gaze fell upon Jotham. He had warned me, privately, of course, about taking Quintus with us. Maybe my imagination was just catching up with me, and I was subconsciously inventing things based on his warning?Yes. Yes, that must have been it. I sat back against the tree, settling myself in a comfortable position, preparing for the long wait ‘til morning.Legends of Lhii - This is the original version. 828 words.InstinctA ring of six torches, flickering in the darkness, encircles the group of Ta-Matoran, casting wavering pools of light upon the pit of sand at their center. The excited conversation of moments before has faded, and all eyes are fixed upon the hunched being leaning on his staff at one end of the slightly elliptical pit.Turaga Vakama taps his staff on the ground once, and the flames of the torches fal to glowing embers. He reaches into a small pouch at his side, withdrawing a single stone and casting it into the pit. The Matoran cannot see the details of the stone in the darkness, but they know it well. The Turaga’s ancient voice rings through the group, every word clear despite the softness of his tone. “You have heard many times the legends of Lhii, the greatest lavasurfer Ta-Koro has ever known.” Vakama pauses, and the Matoran wait expectantly. “But surfing is not all he was known for...” ⁂ Thwick, thwick, thwick, plink. The rock skipped across the water, sending ripples across the peaceful surface of the bay. Lhii glanced down and selected another rock, about the size of his hand, about half the width of his finger. In a well-practiced motion he drew back his arm and sent the stone flying with a flick of his wrist. Lhii liked it here, alone, in this peaceful bay, hidden from the outside world by the cliffs rising up on all sides, impassable save for a single trail of which Lhii alone knew. Out here he could think, something he never had the time or space for back in Ta-Koro. He chose another rock. Threw it. Thwick, thwick, thwick, plink.Crunch.Crunch? Lhii turned casually at the sound, mostly worried that he had been discovered and would have to find another hideout. But to his relief, no one was there. With a shrug, he chose another rock. Threw it. Thwick, thwick, thwick, plink.CRUNCH.Now that he hadn’t imagined. Lhii turned again and stood, grabbing his lavaboard as he did so. Someone – or something – was there, and he didn’t want to meet it unprepared. Cautiously, Lhii made his way for the narrow staircase of sorts that was a natural feature of the rock. An upward glance revealed nothing (not that he had expected it to), so he began to climb.He was about halfway up when he heard it again – CRUNCH! But it was followed by another sound, a muffled sort of cry, as though for help. Lhii quickened his pace.By the time he reached the top, the muffled cry was no longer muffled, nor was it a cry – it was a full-on scream. The crunches, too, were no longer crunches, but powerful reverberations Lhii could feel through the rock at his feet. A large formation of rock sat atop the ridge, and he dashed around it without second thought – he was moving on instinct now.The scene would have struck fear into any Matoran’s heart, and Lhii was no exception. A Muaka in mottled grey-and-brown armor stood before him, massive, the largest he had seen. It crouched menacingly, a snarl upon its maw, ready to pounce – but not on him. The Rahi took no notice of Lhii, intent as it was on the Ga-Matoran backed against the wall of rock, cowering in fear. Her screams had died; fear lodging all sound back in her throat.Lhii was afraid, yes. But this did not stop him. His pace never slowed as he dashed for the Rahi. Diving forward, he planted his lavaboard on the ground, and pushing off it into a perfect aerial roll landed on the beast’s back. The Muaka’s attention was on him now as it lunged back and forth, attempting to shake him off. But Lhii hung on.Lhii was positioned atop the Muaka’s neck at this point. In a swift motion, he split apart the two blades that made up his lavaboard and slammed the butt of one of them into the Rahi’s temple several times. It was a blow that would have crumpled a lesser Rahi instantaneously, but the Muaka barely seemed affected. Lhii looked down into its eyes and saw the expression he had hoped never to see again – the look of a creature driven to madness by the Makuta. There was but one way to end this.Lhii dropped the blade in his left hand and grabbed the edge of a plate of armor. As the Muaka skidded to a halt, Lhii let himself fall, slipping sideways off the Rahi’s neck, still holding tightly to its armor. An upward thrust, the flash of the blade in the sunlight-And everything was still. With a long, wistful glance at the body of the slain Rahi, Lhii retrieved his blades. Cleaned them. Formed them again into his lavaboard.He offered his hand to the Ga-Matoran as she rose unsteadily to her feet. Wordlessly, the two began the long trek back to Ga-Koro.Flight - Yeah, it sucks. I know.I Didn't Sign Up for ThisThe moment I stepped off the elevator to Le-Koro I knew something was wrong. The place, simply put, seemed abandoned – the usually lively Le-Matoran were nowhere to be seen; instead of their singing voices, the only sound was the whistle of the wind. All that remained to suggest they’d ever been there was a single flute, haphazardly discarded at the center of the square.I bent over and picked the instrument up, examining it. I lifted it to my lips, played a few notes-The Koro sprung to life, dozens of Matoran leaping from hiding places, regarding me curiously. Well, that was odd. At least-A droning hum filled the air, growing louder by the second, cutting off any chance at conversation. Turning, I saw what looked to be dark clouds billowing up in the distance, approaching rapidly. There was a flurry of movement as the Le-Matoran jumped to action, racing off in all directions. Some ran to the edge of the platform and – leaped off!?Dark forms swooped up from beneath the platform of the village – it took me a few moments to realize that these were Gukko, the Matoran’s mounts. I chuckled softly. Well, those vineswingers could try their crazy stunts if they wanted.One Matoran had remained behind, calling for my attention. I quickly ran over to him. Kongu, he said his name was. Evidently the Turaga had been taken by Nui-Rama, and the oversized bugs were now attacking the rest of them.“Good luck, then,” I said. “I wish I could help, but-”Kongu’s face broke into a grin. “Excellent, my friend! I myself am in want-need of a second!”It took me a moment to realize what he meant. “Ohh, no,” I protested. In my mind, Ta-Matoran belonged firmly planted on the ground. The air was for Matoran of that element.Kongu, however, would not be deterred. He whistled for his own mount and threw me atop it despite my protests – he was surprisingly strong for a Matoran of his build. “C’mon, firespitter!” he cried. “You can throw a disc, right?”“Well...yes.”“Well then, throw them! It’s no different than doing it from the ground, unless by ‘different’ you mean ‘better’.” He grinned wildly, and a smile involuntarily broke on my face as well. His enthusiasm was infectious.And then we were charging for the edge of the platform and leaping off and-Flying.In an instant, all my doubts evaporated – the sensation of flight, of soaring above the lowly earth...there is nothing like it.
