Fortnightly Writing Competition - Backstabbing - RESULTS!

Started by kconan, Mon 08/05/2017 15:27:11

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kconan



We live in treacherous times.  That brother, that best friend, or that lover...do they have our well-being and overall best interest at heart?  Or are they plotting and scheming, waiting for that penultimate moment of betrayal where they plunge the knife deep into our back?!

Rules:
-> Anything goes storywise as long as at least one character backstabs another character
-> Short story, not a sketch story, so at least 500 words
-> Deadline is Friday, May 26th


The voting categories will be:

Best Stab:
Best Stabber:
Best Setting/World:
Best Writing/Style:

Trophies:

       

JudasFm

Does it need to be a literal stabbing or can we have a metaphorical one?

kconan

  Metaphorical.  But the metaphorical backstabbing could include a literal stabbing.

Mandle

#3
MY MEMOIR OF ME

Meh... Now that I "sit" on death-row in my supermax prison cell in ADX, Fremont County, Colorado, I guess I should probably "write" down the whole story that landed me in here.

It all started before I was even born. I was a breech birth. The surgeon cut into my mother's belly just a tad too deep and I came out a quadriplegic. Not only was I the wrong way up, but also back to front, and that quack nicked my spinal cord just below the neck while opening my doorway into this world.

If you are going to continue reading my story then I suppose I should warn you right now that everything you will read in the telling is from the neck up, as I experienced it.

There's not going to be any chase scenes, car or otherwise, nor will there be any shoot-em-ups, nor any steamy moments with the ladies.

Nope, just me and my head.

So, we can probably fast-forward through the formative years of my life with this brief montage:

I was hand-fed by my mom. Dad skipped town. Mom home-schooled me the best she could until the state took me away from her. I missed her hugs even though I only felt them on my forehead. But I could imagine what they felt like to her.

I was institutionalized and soon learned how to play the system. I was a pity case, which meant most of my care workers considered me a lump on a bed to clean up between the buttocks and be done with.

But Nurse Evell was different. I'm guessing she had no life outside of her job, or maybe that's just me being an asshole, but she read to me the collected works of Theodor Geisel, starting with "Hop On Pop" and ending with "The Lorax".

The open-ended children's book ending of "The Lorax" haunted me for weeks until I realised that life holds no answers except those we make for ourselves.

So I started making up my own stories...

People always talked right in front of me as if it were my ears that don't work. Ironic really considering that they are one of the few things that do.

I overheard Nurse Evell telling Nurse Young that she "had a bit of a thing" for Doctor Archer. Thanks to being spammed with daytime soap operas from the TV, I could figure out what that meant.

So, I asked Nurse Evell what Doctor Archer meant when he said she "had a nice caboose". Yeah, I also watched a lot of black-and-white movies.

After a few weeks I saw a change in the mood between the doctor and the nurse, and even once managed to catch them sneaking a quick kiss when they thought I was sleeping.

This is when I asked Nurse Evell why Doctor Archer had to touch me in my "special place" so often. This I got from an "after-school" special episode of that crime dog with the Scottish-sounding name.

A police lady visited me, Detective Juilliard was her name, and asked me to show her where the "special place" was on a Ken doll. I pointed to it with a straw she put in my mouth.

I never saw Nurse Evell or Doctor Archer again in real life, but I did see a spot on "60 Minutes" where I learned that Nurse Evell had killed herself, and Doctor Archer was in jail.

I was hooked!

Another fun pass-time I invented as a young boy, and one I recall fondly, was a game I called "Swap The Pills":

Nurse Young, never the most focused of individuals, and even less so after her gossip partner, the late Nurse Evell, left the scene, had a habit of placing the tray of pill cups for the other patients on my bedside table right next to my head.

After I had washed down my own pills, and while she was attending to my sponge bath, it was a simple matter to lean my head over, straw still in mouth, and use just a little suction to pick up pills from various cups and redistribute them in others.

I have no clear record of how much mischief I managed to cause playing "Swap The Pills" and could only judge it by the increase in "Code Blue" calls over the hospice speakers and the climbing frequency of ambulance sirens heard outside, but I imagine it was at least a body-count of more than a dozen but less than twenty before Nurse Young stopped coming by anymore and was replaced by Nurse Kelvin, who never left the tray within reach unfortunately.

The fun was over for then, but... ahhhh... Good times...

My tenth birthday went by.

And I don't think I've mentioned up until this point that I had an older sister? My sweet, sweet Jeanie...

So nice and so willing to shed tears whenever I faked a seizure...

This next story of how her sweet, sweet life came to an abrup...

*CLANK*

Oh shit, I hear them opening up the containment gate at the end of my cell-block. They are coming to take me out of my death-row cell here for the last time. I guess I must fast-forward my story if I want to dictate it in time for this machine to save it for the ages:

After I put away childish games, and started to concentrate on my real life goals, I actually found it amazingly easy. Some nice strangers, dead now most likely because of me, had put together a fund, for when I came of age, on this amazing thing called the internet.

So, upon my twentieth birthday, I became a tad wealthy to the sum of around $170,000 or so... And I exited the institution for the outside world for the first time in my memory.

It wasn't hard to exploit this internet community that had grown around me somehow without me knowing anything about it. People tend to assume that the disabled are all poor unfortunate saints, and so this was the role I played on the talk-shows that followed. I knew just how to play the shows' hosts... I had been watching them for years after all...

I became the most miraculous case of a head-on-a-stick warm-fuzzy news sensation that made everyone just feel great about life in general for about three years. I met presidents and even the Pope!

And that's when I played the "Swap The Pills" game on myself, after much research of course, and fell into an intentional coma for six weeks. My brain activity fell to the baseline that modern science could measure and I was declared "brain-dead", but, yeah you guessed it, I "miraculously" recovered.

Upon awakening I proclaimed that I had been to and seen beyond the veil of death. Nobody had ever come back from a flat-line on brain activity before. The world news was split about even between declaring me a faker, and a true miracle.

I preyed upon the latter reports, and my cult grew exponentially. I found the best follower-base in areas that had been forced to abandon their religions such as Russian states during the rule of Communism, and the country of Japan which had a huge, gaping religious wound in its society ever since their God-Emperor had been relegated back to mere mortal status after World War Two.

The Japanese cultists supplied the scientific know-how (the best being the ones who once followed Shoko Asahara), and the Russian cultists gathered the materials we needed to complete our amazingly simple project:

One very basic, and rather low-yield, atomic bomb. One which would easily fit inside the trunk of a car. But one which would end the world.

Just as I had been backstabbed by the world upon my birth, so would I backstab it in return.

*GRRRRRAAAAATE*

That was the door opening. They are coming for me! Okay, so here's what happened next condensed into 30 seconds:

I was arrested for ordering the deaths of cult followers who tried to leave the order or rat on it. I was convicted guilty, and incarcerated here on death-row at ADX, Fremont County, Colorado. But it didn't matter. In fact, it drove my followers to complete the final objective.

*step-step-step*

Here they come! So, my followers drove a car up to the one place on Earth where a single nuclear detonation could destroy the world as we knew it: Yellowstone National Park, otherwise known as the shallowest super-volcano on the planet.

*step-stEP-STEP*

They-opened-the-boot-of-the-car-and-pushed-the-button-and-their-self-sacrifice-brought-about-the-chain-reaction-that-led-to-the-annihilation-of-civilization-ashes-and-fire-and-poison-rain-spread-around-the-globe-and-poured-down-from-the-darkened-skies-and-humanity-finally-had-to-ask-itself-the-same-question-I-have-asked-myself-every-single-fucking-day-since-I-even-could:

"WHY?"

*STEP-STEP-STEP*

They are here for me... Here endeth my memoir...

"Master, all was as you foretold. We are here to free you from this prison and ask you that which you asked us to ask of you: ... Why?"

"My faithful flock! The answer you seek is a simple quote from a favorite movie of mine:"

"Some men just want to watch the world burn."

Baron

I have to admire Mandle's incremental dedication to this competition.  For me, the theme feels quite appropriate for the Friday night deadline. (roll)

Mandle

#5
Quote from: Baron on Fri 12/05/2017 02:59:50
I have to admire Mandle's incremental dedication to this competition.

Well, it worked for Dickens...

(And if you thought the protagonist in my last story was despicable... Just get a load of this guy!)

Frodo

Quote from: kconan on Mon 08/05/2017 15:27:11

Rules:
-> Anything goes storywise as long as at least one character backstabs another character
-> Short story, not a sketch story, so at least 500 words



I'm almost half-way through my story, and I'm at 768 words. 
Is that too much?  Should I try and shorten it, or keep going as I am?   :confused:


Love those trophies, btw.    :grin:

kconan

Quote from: Frodo on Sat 13/05/2017 20:27:56
I'm almost half-way through my story, and I'm at 768 words. 
Is that too much?  Should I try and shorten it, or keep going as I am?   :confused:

Its up to you.  If you feel that the story deserves more, then give it more!  I say go for quality and quantity.

Baron

Be careful, Frodo!  Remember the value of free advice.  He might just be leading you down the garden path and then -BACKSTABBING!!!1!

Trust your own instincts.  It sometimes works for me! :=

Frodo

Hehe, good point Baron.  He might be trying to BACKSTAB me.    :=

Mandle

I'm having a great time writing my story a little at a time, and it's so much fun to think about my main character in my spare time and dream up worse and worse pranks to "wrap his head around" as he grows older...

I already know how the story ends. It came to me yesterday. But for the meanwhile I have another few fun-filled incidents he can get away with before then.

I guess writing the most despicable character I can imagine is such fun because I can shock myself by what I can come up with and hopefully shock the readers without going too far into the trap of just leaving a bad taste in their mouths.

Well... we'll see...

Baron

Would BACKSTABBING good taste really be so bad this time around?  ;)

Mandle

Quote from: Baron on Mon 15/05/2017 02:14:39
Would BACKSTABBING good taste really be so bad this time around?  ;)

Hahaha.... we'll see I guess...

Frodo

#13
I re-jigged my story, took out some less-important details, and tried to make it shorter cos it was getting too long.
So here's my entry.  Hope you like it.   :smiley:

BTW, what happened to the options for Bold, Italic etc, when making a post?   :confused:

**********************************

THE ONYX DRAGON


Anthony Lowell is your typical rich playboy.  His life revolves around parties, women, and fast cars.  Oh, and luxury holidays!  First-class flights and Five-Star accommodation, of course!  And after his father died, leaving Anthony (his only child) the entire multi-million estate, his spending became increasingly more indulgent. 

Now he's hosting a lavish party to celebrate his return home after a 6-week holiday in Hawaii.  He‘s also planning to make an important announcement, which he just KNOWS will shock his friends. 

Several hours later, the party is still going strong.  Anthony climbs up on a chair, clinks his champagne glass, and clears his throat



ANTHONY:   *Ahem*   Scuse me.  Scuse me everybody, can I have your attention please. 


Everyone turns to look at him


ANTHONY:  As you all know by now… I was in Hawaii recently… for 6 weeks.  Well, I brought back a very special souvenir with me, which I'd like to present to you all now. 


Anthony looks towards the doorway


ANTHONY:  Kalena, will you come in now?   


A beautiful Hawaiian woman enters the room, and makes her way over to Anthony.  She smiles shyly at the crowd


KALENA:  Hello.  Nice to meet you all. 


Despite being born and raised in Hawaii, her English is very good


ANTHONY:   Everybody… this is Kalena Mahelona… now Kalena Lowell… my wife. 


Loud gasps are heard all round the room.  Anthony  being married is the LAST thing anyone expected.  He's the type to have a different woman every night… not settle down with just one person.


ANTHONY:   Yes, the ultimate souvenir… all the way from Hawaii.  Can any of you beat that? 


The party lasts well into the night.  Next morning finally arrives.  Anthony wakes with a loud snort, face down in the bed.  He groans - he has the hangover from hell

Someone kisses his cheek.  He opens one eye, and looks at whoever is lying next to him.  Of course - it's Kalena!  He's married now!


ANTHONY:  I've got this killer headache.  But after breakfast, I'm gonna show you something really special. 

KALENA:   *smiles*   Poor baby.  Let me get you some painkillers for your headache.  And how would you like some orange juice? 


Tony grunts his approval, so Kalena heads down to the kitchen.   

A few hours later, Anthony's hangover is starting to lift.  He smiles at Kalena, takes her hand, and leads her through his mansion, to a large room at the back.  In the room, amongst other ‘treasures', lies a large glass display case, with a black dragon statue sitting proudly inside.  The dragon statue must mean a lot to Anthony - several security systems, including lasers and alarms, are set up to protect it



ANTHONY:  I brought you here, cos I wanted to show you this.    *points to the dragon statue*   Remember I told you about this in Hawaii? 


Kalena looks at the statue, and nods.  She watches, as Anthony disables the various security systems.  Finally, he‘s able to lift the statue from it‘s place inside the glass case


ANTHONY:  You're the only living soul that knows about this.   *proud*   THIS… is The Onyx Dragon! 

KALENA:   *stares blankly*   The Onyx Dragon? 

ANTHONY:  Yep.  Carved from a block of purest onyx.  This statue is worth a small fortune, baby.  Only one in existence… estimated at £3.4 million… and it's MINE!   

KALENA:   *looks at it*   But it's black.  It's boring!  Why isn't it a pretty colour, like… pink?  Pink is MUCH prettier than black.

ANTHONY:  Onyx isn't pink, baby. 

KALENA:  Well it SHOULD be!   *thinks*   Can I colour it pink?  Please Tony?

ANTHONY:  No baby, you can‘t colour it pink. 

KALENA:  Meany! 


Anthony sighs.  He had tried to impress her by showing her this, but it's gone right over her head.  He resets all the security systems then takes her back to the front room. 


The next day arrives, and Kalena bounds into the room. 



KALENA:  Tony, Tony... I made these paper hats.  Well, paper crowns, really.  Which colour do you like best?  Pink, Red, Blue, Green, or Purple?  *holds up all her paper hats*

ANTHONY: *puzzled* Why on earth have you made paper hats.    *takes one, to study it*   Very small paper hats, at that.  They won't fit on our heads.

KALENA:  They're not for US, silly.  They're for your dragon toy in the other room.  Black is such a dreary colour... I thought these hats would brighten it up a little.


Tony can't help but chuckle at Kalena wanting to put coloured paper hats on his priceless Onyx Dragon statue... AND calling it a toy.


ANTHONY:  *smiles*   There will be no hats, paper or otherwise, for the Onyx Dragon, baby.  It's fine as it is. 

KALENA:  Double-Meany! 


Kalena pouts, and then leaves the room. 


Two weeks pass, and The Onyx Dragon isn't mentioned again. 

The next day, Kalena creeps into the room, and hugs Anthony from behind
.


KALENA:  Tony… do you know what today is? 

ANTHONY:  No.  What day is it?

KALENA:  It's our anniversary.  We've been married a whole month!  And to celebrate, I‘ve cooked you a special meal.


Anthony turns to look at her.  She may have started out as just a ‘souvenir', but the past few weeks, he's really enjoyed her company. 


As he eats the anniversary meal, he begins to feel dizzy.  VERY dizzy.  He tries to stand up… but collapses to the floor.

Several hours later, he jerks awake.  As he struggles to his feet, he sees a note on the table.  It reads:



Quote‘Thanks for the souvenir.'


ANTHONY:  No!  NO!  NO!!!  I DON‘T BELIEVE IT!  She CAN'T have!  That BITCH drugged me!  After ALL I've done for her... she steals my Onyx Dragon right from under my nose.  That 2-faced. backstabbing little BITCH! 


He runs through to his ‘Treasure Room'.  But his precious Onyx Dragon is gone!



On a plane, somewhere between here and Hawaii… sits a passenger.  A beautiful Hawaiian woman.  She opens her hand luggage, and carefully takes out a well wrapped ornament.  It‘s the Onyx Dragon



KALENA:  *laughs to herself*   Hahaha.  Oh, Tony, Tony, Tony!  You took me for an innocent young Hawaiian woman, too gullible to know the ways of the world.  You even tried to impress me by showing off your wealth.  But I knew, as soon as you described it to me in Hawaii, you had the infamous Onyx Dragon.  I just played dumb, and your stupid ego did all the rest.  You really should learn not to spill secrets when you‘re drunk.  *looks at the statue in her hands*   Â£3.4 million you say?  I could easily get £5 million for this on the black market.  And then I'll be RICH!  Stupid Fool! 

Mandle

Quote from: Frodo on Wed 17/05/2017 04:09:46
BTW, what happened to the options for Bold, Italic etc, when making a post?   :confused:

They're right there where they always were for me.

Frodo



Blondbraid

I do have an idea, but I'm still working on it...


Frodo

Can't wait to see your idea Blondbraid    :smiley:

Mandle

Updated my story tonight...

Not great writing really, but given the rushed circumstances of the protagonist I hope it's forgivable...

Last chapter coming soon!

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