Fortnightly Writing Competition - Subject: Superheroes! ***WE HAVE A WINNER***

Started by Tenacious Stu, Sun 02/01/2011 13:36:58

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Tenacious Stu

You were in a Nuclear explosion which gave you the power to write awesome short stories. The commissioner has just telephoned to say that the evil Doctor Party Pooper has threatened to destroy the city with Death Robots  :o unless he reads a really good short story about superheroes, and so you come to the rescue.

The Challenge: Write a Short Story about a Super Hero/Superheroes

What are they called?
What Super Powers do they have?
How did they get them?
who is their arch villain?

Answer some of these questions or none, the choice is yours!

Maybe you tell the origin of your superhero, maybe they are in a battle with their arch nemesis, maybe everyone in the world is a superhero or maybe your hero just needs to pop to the shops?

One Rule: the superhero must be your idea, so no Batman fighting Superman, be creative!  ;D

other than that, there are no other rules, no word count or anything like that. A picture of your hero would be nice

Prizes for the winners:


First Place


Second Place


Third Place

Sorry about the shoddyness of the Trophies (I made them myself  :P)

Submissions must be posted in this topic by midnight on the 16th of January (London Time  ;))

After that voting will commence and any ties will be decided by a Random Element Generator Machine (AKA a hat with bits of paper in).

Good Luck!!!!!


Ponch

I'm going to have to give this one some serious thought because I really want that little trophy in my sig file.

Zetsaika

English is not my first language, and i did not spend much time on it too. Let's just see what happens. First entry on a forum competiton too, happy am i.

Super Penguin


"Onde upon a time there was a Penguin. A sad sad Penguim. He was so sad that his tears become so cold that they were used to make salty ice creams. One day Penguin wanted to don't be sad anymore and don't wanted to see other people sad too. So he put and old-and-all-powerfull super hero cape that his dad gave to him. His dad was a super hero, a nice one. For some reason he was forgotten. But the Penguin would not end like his father and so he started. To bring happiness one must work hard, hard like falling from the top of a stairway just to make silly children laugh. He was unstopabble, a true force of a nature made of hapinnes. Years passed and finally Penguin did it. Everyone and everything were happy. And suddenly he got it, a strange feeling. He was... he was not sad anymore! Maybe some of the happiness he made came back to him. And that is the story of the no-more-sad-sad super Penguin.
"In the longest day, in the shortest night. No Zombie shall escape my sight."

kconan

  “I’m just saying we should be more exclusive, and having “trivial powers” doesn’t mean automatic entry into the Crimefighting League Of Do-gooders,” declared Commander Fantabulous to the assembly of CLOD superheroes. 

  There were a few brief gasps and long sighs throughout the room as everyone considered this, and Captain Pummeloso replied, “Look, we need all the do-gooders we can get.  It is hard to recruit when we can only promise karma, which is why our arch-nemesis the evil Doctor Exlaxxo and his minions at the Council of Crooks and Cronies outnumber us!”  Captain Pummeloso added, “Also, according to our HR Director they offer full medical, dental, and optical.  Cyclopto’s ability to x-ray your body aside, what do we have?”  A few eyes went to Cyclopto, who was using his x-ray vision to give a “free x-ray” to the attractive, busty CLOD meeting stenographer.

  Commander Fantabulous studied the room carefully and said, “Understood that we are outnumbered and being a goody two shoes is boring compared to pillaging and plundering, but allow me to give everyone an example of how we should be more exclusive.”  The assembled superheroes immediately looked at Squeege-Man, who was gifted with the unique ability to clean anyone or anything with the snap of his fingers.  Commander Fantabulous went on, “No, I don’t mean Squeege-Man.  He’s actually helpful when I’ve had to rush to the office and didn’t have time to shower.  I mean “heroes” with mostly useless talents, guys like The Momma Joker or Passive-Aggressor.”  The Momma Joker, who was previously half-asleep, quickly perked up and said, “Your Mom doesn’t think I’m a useless talent when I’m…” but was cut off by an equally offended and louder Passive-Aggressor who said, “Ok fine, it’s not like I have the best ability.  I mean I wish I could be cool like you Commander Fantabulous, but not everyone is so lucky.  It’s ok though, I’ll be fine with you saying I haven’t earned my cape.  No really, I like you publicly embarrassing me in front of everyone.  Seriously don’t feel guilty, it’s ok.  No worries here.  Onward with the meeting fellas, don’t worry about ole’ Passive-Aggressor’s feelings.”

  Just as Passive-Aggressor started trailing off, the door burst open and smoke began pouring into the room.  Commander Fantabulous warned, “He’s here. Everyone take your Mega-Imodium, NOW!”  And then Doctor Exlaxxo casually strolled into the room while cackling his trademark Evil Doom Laugh of Doomâ,,¢.  Captain Pummeloso ran at him, presumably to pummel, but Exlaxxo simply pointed in his direction and Captain Pummeloso doubled-over clutching his stomach and began moaning.

  Doctor Exlaxxo declared, “I’m here to make an announcement to the disgruntled and underappreciated CLOD member heroes.”  Passive-Aggressor quickly replied, “No really, I’m ok with you cutting me off.  It’s no big deal…It is fine, really…” and then was doubled over into extreme gastrointestinal pain before he could finish using his passive-aggressive powers.  Doctor Exlaxxo grinned and said, “You won’t guilt trip me Passive-Aggressor.  Now for the rest of you CLOD heroes, I’m not here for fistacuffs this time…Just to announce that we are looking to add a few good Crooks and/or Cronies.  So I’m offering a special package with full medical for anyone wanting to jump over to the dark-side.”  While no one really voiced the opinion, nearly every hero at CLOD was tired of both the general public taking them for granted and the relatively low compensation compared to competing evil organisations.

  Captain Fantabulous appeared to ponder this offer.  He then shook his head slowly, and said, “CLOD heroes are not greedy; they are driven solely by karma and the fact that they are helping their fellow man…but just out of curiosity, HMO or PPO?”

Tenacious Stu

Some good entries so far!

Come on guys, lets get more submissions  ;D

poltergeist

"With the snap of my fingers, I could set the whole neighbourhood ablaze. My clenched fist could put out even the most towering inferno. And what do I choose to do?

I choose to hunt.

You see, my father... I never met him. His brother -- my uncle -- used to tell me these stories, these magnificent stories, about my father's shows and the people he worked with. He was a great storyteller, my uncle... I guess people would usually just stop at the "your father was a magician" bit and leave it to a child's imagination, but he, he HAD the imagination of a child AND a way of expressing it. Imagine a cross between Hemingway and Dr Seuss and you wouldn't stray too far from him. You do know of Hemingway and Seuss, right?

...

In any case, yes, my father was a magician. The type that never revealed the secret behind a trick -- not that there are a lot of magicians that do. Even if he wanted to explain, say, how he made sparks appear just by rubbing his fingers together, I don't think he could. I don't think he knew what was wrong with him but, like me, I'm sure he wanted to find out.

Now, I'm not as good of a storyteller my uncle was, but I'm more than capable of giving you the gist of it.

My father met this man, a certain Charlie Pritchard, while he was on the road. Pritchard was your average model citizen, the kind you'd expect to see in one of those early 20th century 'American dream' infomercials. Suit, tie, slick haircut, leather shoes... Basically, the whole package. My uncle described Pritchard as a good man, and even though by now I know that he's far from any idea or interpretation of the word, I'm willing to admit that the Pritchard my father met really was a good man. Perhaps something clicked in him along the way that turned him into what he is today, but back then he saved my father's life... only to take it from him several years later.

Charlie Pritchard worked for his father's newspaper, the dreadful Weekly Herald, and was gunning for an executive position there but, as it turns out, Pritchard's relationship with his old man was far from idyllic. Somehow his father needed to be won over, or even, as some would put it, 'taken out of the picture', in order for Charlie to get his hands on the elder Pritchard's media empire. I don't know how exactly my father got involved in all of this nor do I know what his role in the whole Pritchard case was, but by now you already know that Charlie Pritchard took over the Weekly Herald after his father's... untimely demise. At least that's the official statement.

To cut the long story short, my father was pulled out of the gutter by Charlie Pritchard and rewarded for his 'service'. If it wasn't for Pritchard's generosity, I wouldn't be here. He paid for my education, my clothes, the food that was on our family's dinner table every night. I'm grateful for that, I really am, but I do not forgive lightly. Not after what he did to my father, the man who entrusted him with his life.

Pritchard turned over a new leaf once he sat down behind that big old desk at the Weekly Herald. He feared my father had noticed his increasing involvement in all kinds of shady business deals, and to tell you the truth, he feared for a good reason. My father did know. My father knew Pritchard's empire well. But instead of 'taking action' against the man, he chose to forget. I don't blame him, Pritchard was the man who saved his family from poverty, but he was naive to think Pritchard wouldn't look into tying up all the loose ends. Pritchard felt he had to secure his position, and he needed to do it fast.

So what that bastard did was break down the door to our house in the middle of the night, pull him out of his bed in front of his wife and child, beat the living daylights out of him and have him arrested, all bruised and battered.

The accusations were bogus. Everyone who knew my father also knew that he wasn't a criminal. Charlie Pritchard faked some money transfers and set him up as the 'criminal mastermind' behind the companies fradulent activities - namely those 'shady business deals'. This made him the embodiment of justice in the eyes of the people who read the Weekly Herald, which by now meant that the whole state licked his boots like a loyal mutt. Pritchard cut off the donations to my family, which caused us to briefly end up on the street.

My mother was a housewife. She couldn't carry the burdain of keeping the family afloat, so she... she committed suicide.

My uncle found me on the street not soon after her death. He was looking for us after we ended up homeless. Unfortunately, he didn't get here in time to save my mother too.

You might be wondering how I found out about all of this. It's actually pretty easy once you've got a way in. Pritchard was a fool not to keep tabs on me, a simple change of identity made me practically undetectable to him and his goons. Once I got into the Weekly Herald it became only a matter of time before I let out all of the forgotten skeletons from Pritchard's closet."

He takes in a deep breath before he collects himself, clears his throat and continues...

"That's the kind of man you worked for. That's the kind of man you were hired to protect.

I know you had nothing to do with this, I know you never did nothing to me, my father or my family, but you were in the way. All of you were in the way. This could have ended differently if people weren't such docile sheep."

Ashby puts down the charred skull of what was, only moments ago, a security guard at the Pritchard estate. He sifts through the dirt and ash with a curious index finger and picks out a relatively unharmed tooth, cleaning the dust off of it before placing it gently in his messenger bag.

"I'm sorry."

The crackling fire that's slowly enveloping the cold courtyard breathes life into the bleak scorched surroundings. A warm gust of wind coincided with Ashby's slow rise over mounds and mounds of human remains. The stench of sulphur doesn't even bother him anymore. It has become negligible.

Ashby pulls the hood of his coat over his eyes and begins walking over to Pritchard's home. The lights in the house go out.

The shotguns are ready, guns and rifles too. As Ashby directs his glare at Pritchard's bedroom window, all of the candles in the house begin burning with a blinding intensity.


"The hunt will soon be over."

EDIT:
Added a missing italic tag  :P

Tenacious Stu


What? Come on? Only three entires with the deadline looming ever closer? After I worked so hard creating beautiful, but shoddy trophies for the winners? Let's have a mad rush of entries starting...NOW!!!!!!!

Ponch

Well, poop. The deadline is looming and I never managed to come up with a good idea. :P

I guess I'm not tenacious enough, Stu. (See what I did there? ;))

matthewmcmurry

When you think of the word 'superhero', what do you picture? Do you picture a man (sometimes woman) hopping around in colorful capes and costumes fighting crime, gaining the adoration of all who witness their good deeds? Very well, but what you don't realize is that they're all doing it very, very wrong. You see, faffing about in their little disguises and getting all that publicity is what will eventually become their undoing, whether it be have all their loved ones murdered or just have very bad things done to them. These sad endings are always because of their thick ego that's on display to the public eye. Someone will find out who they are, someone will find their true weakness, and someone will use that weakness to ruin them. They fail, and everyone involved gets either killed or raped (or both) because of their mistake of not doing their deeds incognito. I wish I could have thought of this before I got my powers, but I guess you live and learn.

Sorry, my mind loses track easily, I'll cut that rant off short. So, what does that make me then? Well, first off, I'm Arnst. That's pretty much it. Not 'ARNST THE INCREDIBLE' or anything, just Arnst. Even before my powers, that was just it. Might as well change it to 'Average', because that's what I am. Well, excluding the aforementioned powers, but really they don't make me any less 'Arnst' that I already am. Enough about that, now to the more interesting bit. My powers. Probably one of the more grim powers out there, but I make people explode. Cool, right? Not really, because I can only make 1 person explode, because of a little accident. I was young. It was right after I got a letter in the mail, explaining to me that I have been chosen as an experiment blah blah blah. Basically they just did something to me at birth with out telling my parents as part of some experiment. I couldn't believe that I got powers, this is something that every kid dreamed of! But, it was just a letter, how could I have believed it's real? The skeptic in me turned on and I simply disposed of it, thinking nothing of it.

Then one night, we were having the obligatory family dinner. Grandma was over, and she was just talking. I swear her brain was so focused on talking that it didn't have any reserve power to let her blink. It was painful. I kept trying to eat my food really fast so I can excuse my self, but the food was the visual equivalent of diarrhea , so it was either let my ears bleed or vomit. As my mind began to wander, the memory of the letter began to return to me. Now, when you're in a situation like I was at that age, you don't think very clearly.  Of course I thought the chance of that letter telling the truth was less that 0%, but I was a kid, a very curious kid. It was terrible of me to think like that, but my grandmother just wouldn't shut up.

Unfortunately, the letter was correct. Also unfortunate was how easy it is to use it. If you think about it just the right amount, and you're picking grandmothers nose out of your soup.  When I was a kid, I played all the violent video games and watched all the R rated movies, and I don't think any amount of that can prepare you for someone exploding all over you. There was no fire, or dust, or smoke. Just red. A lot of red. To be honest it was the most red my eyes have ever witnessed. Probably goes the same for my parents too. That moment was the first (and unfortunately not the last) time I have ever seen people react to someone spontaneously exploding, and believe me, they lose their shit.

So after that traumatizing event, I received another letter in the mail. The company angrily informed me that I had breached contract and was to be limited of my power. I was 12, so all that contract information on the first letter was a foreign language to me. They acknowledged that since I (and most of the other test subjects) were of an age where logic is impaired, they would limit my powers until I did good with them. Essentially, this means that I have one more chance not to screw up. I guess this means that I have to blow up the right person? I find the logic of this situation skewed.

--

So lets fast forward to yesterday. Years past and I never found a use for my power, so I just forgot about it and kept living my severely normal life. Up until yesterday, at least. I was just walking down the city street, sipping on my uncomfortably hot coffee, heading back to my apartment. Since I live in NYC, you see homeless people all the time. No one ever messes with them, it's kind of their job to just sit there and beg. In my time in this city, I've never seen anyone mess with them, until yesterday. I was getting pretty close to my apartment, when I heard what seemed to be a confrontation in one of the alleys. I probably should have just ran to my apartment and forget about it, but no. Stupid.

I turned into the alleyway to see a pugnacious young man and one of the homeless folk. The guy was beating up on him, yelling at the homeless man to give him all of his money (his shouting interspersed with expletives). It was a miserable sight, seeing someone helpless and in need having the life kicked out of them by someone who's probably the opposite. All the ire that built within me made me wish I could do something about it. Then I remembered.

“No, you idiot. Just forget about it”, one half of my brain said.

“Come on! This is your chance! BLOW HIM SKY HIGH”, the other half yelled.

The two halves then proceeded to have a nasty fist fight in my head, causing a headache. I couldn't take it anymore. It's either now or never. I'm going to send this guy to hell in pieces.

Then I did something stupid. Really stupid.

“Hey jerkoff!”, I yelled.

They both turned to look at me. “Shit”, both halves of my brain said in unison. Way to go, Arnst.

Everything was suddenly a blur. It was either now or never, and I already blew my cover. The man withdrew his shank. Seeing the weapon brought a daze of confusion over me, everything began to spin. I closed my eyes and thought as hard as I could. I remember the last thing the hoodlum said to me.

“Jerkoff huh?! YOU'RE GONNA REGRET SAYING TH--”

--

My eyes darted through the anger filled letter, informing me that my powers are officially removed and I had failed the experiment. I threw it away quickly, too embarrassed tor read it thoroughly. I slumped down into my couch and sighed. As much as I tried to convince my self that accidents happen, it still wasn't enough. You know, in retrospect, what I did could be a good deed after all. I mean, the guys probably never going to harass anyone ever again. Having a homeless man explode all over you is probably enough to shock you into insanity.

Tenacious Stu

The Competition is now over, thank you to all of those who took part.

Voting will now commence.

Good Luck Everyone!!!

P.S.

Quote from: Ponch on Sat 15/01/2011 15:58:27
Well, poop. The deadline is looming and I never managed to come up with a good idea. :P

I guess I'm not tenacious enough, Stu. (See what I did there? ;))

Haven't you read what's under my avatar?!?!?  :P

kconan

matthewmcmurry

The misdirection just before the end was great

poltergeist


Ponch

matthewmcmurry. Loved the twist. (And my second vote goes to Zetsaika, because he was the only one to include a picture of his hero!)

Atelier


Zetsaika

"In the longest day, in the shortest night. No Zombie shall escape my sight."

poltergeist

Question: do we have more than one vote? Because I'm wondering how we're going to figure out who's in 2nd/3rd place.

Tenacious Stu

@ Poltergeist

Quote from: poltergeist on Tue 18/01/2011 12:39:39
Question: do we have more than one vote? Because I'm wondering how we're going to figure out who's in 2nd/3rd place.

Quote from: Tenacious Stu
After that voting will commence and any ties will be decided by a Random Element Generator Machine (AKA a hat with bits of paper in).

;)

Voting will finish in a few days, so any stragglers should think about getting their vote posted!


matthewmcmurry

poltergeist.

Great story, and the ending was just awesome. 

Tenacious Stu

And that's a rap. We had four fantastic entries and six people voted and the results are...

FIRST PLACE: MATHEWMCURRY




As Kconan and Poltergeist both had the same amount of votes, second and third place were decided by a random name picked from a hat, where the names were placed by an independent adjudicator.

second place: Kconan




third place: Poltergeist



Thank you to everyone for taking part, congratulations to the winners, I pass the torch to mathewmcmurry to come up with the next Fortnightly Writing Competition. I look forward to it.

matthewmcmurry

Thanks for all the votes, fellas.  :)

So, correct me if I'm wrong (I'm new to this), I just post the competition when I get the idea?

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