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Creative Production => Competitions & Activities => Topic started by: Ghost on Sat 28/06/2014 17:05:49

Title: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE (Winners Inside!)
Post by: Ghost on Sat 28/06/2014 17:05:49
Let's Have Another Fortnightly Writing Competition!
MUTATE!

According to a popular survey, 100% of all humans are 100% human. That's the way it is. But fiction likes to play with the idea of a human changing into something else, partially or completely. Mutation, Transformation, Evolution, Curses and Aliens are often to blame. There's many a reason to play with the theme- it can be disturbing, shocking, sad, but also a hilarious road trip. All up the the writer.

This is what this FWC is about. Write a story about a human who, for whatever reason, goes through a change of shape and play it out to your heart's content. Please note that this is not about writing a story merely featuring a "shape-shifter". The central element is the change as it takes place the first time.

Will it be a grisly body horror story? A light comedy featuring an unknown X-Man? A dramatic exploration of the first change into a werewolf? A tongue-in-cheek take on the "wizards made me a frog" thing? A finely written first-person musical based on Hellraiser?

All up to you, and you have two weeks to get your story in (we close this on Saturday 12th July).

Have fun (nod)

__
edit
Will put in trophies later. Gotta have trophies, right?
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE
Post by: miguel on Sun 29/06/2014 01:37:20
What about the story of a sales man that wakes up looking like an insect?
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE
Post by: Ghost on Sun 29/06/2014 01:59:09
Quote from: miguel on Sun 29/06/2014 01:37:20
What about the story of a sales man that wakes up looking like an insect?

That sounds familiar. I remember seeing a movie with that plot. I think it was based on a novel... by Stephanie Meyer or someone? The movie was directed by Michael Bay, that I know. It was pretty cool. He was a grasshopper or something but could transform into a bumblebee. His parents found him, trained him to ride a tiny tricycle, and then everything exploded.
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE
Post by: Baron on Sun 29/06/2014 03:29:44
Fortnightly what?  Are we still doing these things? ;)

Great topic.  I look forward to contributing. :)
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE
Post by: Ghost on Sun 29/06/2014 04:46:17
Quote from: Baron on Sun 29/06/2014 03:29:44
Fortnightly what?  Are we still doing these things? ;)

Hey, it takes time to come up with a theme! How often do I win these things? So when I get to host an FWC it's going to be glorious.

So please write something because that already is 12% more gloriousity.
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE
Post by: Fitz on Sun 29/06/2014 08:18:23
I'm in! An online mag that I draw comics and write for is having a superhero month -- with articles, comics, reviews and Top 50's -- so I'm very much in the mood. I hope to make up for my absence from the forums lately, been going through a little zombie phase.

Oh, and the movie you're thinking of is the upcoming Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles -- by Michael Bay, indeed -- where a scientist called Baxter Stockman mutates into a fly. It's a loose adaptation of the French autobiographical novel "Papillon", by Henri Charriere.
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE
Post by: Eric on Sun 29/06/2014 16:01:27
Quote from: Ghost on Sun 29/06/2014 01:59:09The movie was directed by Michael Bay

I thought it was Brendan Small (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8uaaF83eVig)?
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE
Post by: Adeel on Sun 29/06/2014 17:39:36
Interesting topic. Will try to come up with something!
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE
Post by: Stupot on Tue 01/07/2014 01:31:10
I've started on something. Should have something to submit before long. (nod)
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE
Post by: kconan on Wed 02/07/2014 15:52:05
Upon waking, I was greeted with a splitting headache and my friend/associate Jason Habscomb gawking at me through a window.  I shifted my weight to more comfortably adjust to what seems to be a lumpy hospital bed, and then squinted at a bright light being shined in my eyes by a doctor wearing a biohazard outfit.  He asked, “What do you remember?”

While looking directly into the doctors eyes I replied, ”I was on the platform examining the Earth auger, as it had been pulled out of the ground, and then I blacked out.”  The doctor replied, ”Mr. Cavares…John…We think some of the bacteria down there survived decontamination before the bit was fully extracted from the ground.”  I contemplated this development, and mulled over what I knew.

I've been working for Core Power Industries for the last ten years.  Basically my job as an “Exploratory Borehole Engineer Director, Igneous Division” is to drill deep into the Earth's crust and look for rare earth metals, and any oil or gas deposits that can be used for power.  Most of my crew was on vacation happily spending their large commission from the recent discovery and extraction of an absurdly large amount of lanthanum.  My auger was boring away into what I believed was a tungsten deposit when it abruptly stopped.  The Earth Auger, or “ole' twisty bits” as we sometimes call her, doesn't stop for anything.  I looked over at my number two, Jason, and he said, ”Depth is fifteen thousand meters, temperature at two hundred degrees centigrade, and sensors indicate what is probably tungsten among basalt rocks.”  I ordered, ”Bring up Twisty…After decon and cooling, we'll see why she stopped.”  The decontamination process kills off any of the strange organisms that can live at these depths.  The creepy and aptly named devil worms are the only creatures that we can see with the human eye, as everything else “way down below” is microscopic bacteria.  The bit takes at least two hours to fully extract and properly cool-down, so in the meantime I double-checked the sensors and then knocked out a solid routine of push-ups and pull-ups coupled with some bench-dips.   When the bit was up and ready for inspection, I walked over to it as I heard Jason say, ”Boss, the sensor shows living organic material on Twisty's business end…Don't go near it yet.”  I paused as he checked some readings and Jason added, ”Mineral content is consistent with a…meteorite?“  My second in command continued scanning readings and debating the situation, as I walked up to the Earth Auger for closer look.  The entire bottom quarter was coated in a green liquid and I noticed something glowing green at the tip of the giant drill bit…And then blackness.

The doctor continued his evaluation, even pulling out what appeared to be a Geiger-Müller counter at one point.  He asked, ”Do you feel any different?”  I replied, ”I'm very cold and my eyes seem sensitive to light, but otherwise feel normal.  My headache is subsiding.  Why are you acting as if I have the Bubonic Plague?”  The doc sighed, and answered, ”Your crew says that some kind of green gloop (their term not mine) shot out from your drill bit and covered you head to toe.  We believe that you were contaminated with some kind of foreign, and everything down there should be foreign to the human body, organism that is different from the usual nematodes and other worms found at those depths.  Especially baffling is how this semi-organic substance survived decontamination.”  I shook my head, and the doctor said, ”Your wife has been notified.  I'm sorry John, but for now you will remain in quarantine at Core Power Company Hospital until we figure out what is going on.”

I had passed out, and suddenly woke up to what sounded like a speaker squawking.  Jason was standing outside a window to my room, and through the speaker he said, ”Boss, how you feeling?”  After getting up and slowly walking over to the window, I pressed the button and said, ”Tired…Very tired…The room seems to be getting colder and brighter.”  Jason replied, ”The green stuff has the digit-heads in the lab both excited and scared…It seems to be alive, but that goop doesn't have any of its own DNA or RNA.  Right now they think it could be of Alien origin.  I wish you were wearing one of those protective suits we used to use, but sadly we all got lazy after the decontamination process was added to the mix a few years back.”  I nodded and queried, ”What day is it?”  Jason replied, “Friday.  You have been asleep forty-eight hours.  By the way…What's up with your skin?”  Looking down at my arm I could see it was red and appeared to have faint conical wrinkles.  I sighed and said. ”Man, I don't know…Look what else do you know?  And…please tell the doctors and lab stooges that I need to talk to my wife.”  Jason answered, ”I've told them.  Look, about that stuff Boss…The lab techs say it is some kind of primordial ooze that genetically bonds other organisms together at the…ummm…cellular level I think they said.  They are running tests as we speak.”  I was listening intently to my old friend, but my eyelids were heavy and I collapsed to the floor.

Shooting up out of bed I immediately noticed that my skin was now red and very wrinkly, and I could feel tingling sensations in my arms and legs.  It seems that the lights had been dimmed per my request, but I still had to squint to see clearly.  I saw Jason pacing back and forth in front of the speaker window, and when he noticed me sitting up, my old pal bolted down the hall presumably to get a doctor.  I shambled over to the window, and sat on the chair that had been recently placed there.  My hands felt numb, and as I looked them over I noticed my fingernails had fallen off.  The speaker crackled to life and the doctor, now standing in front of the window, said, ”John, you've been out cold for three days.  I've got some news and I don't know how to say this…Let me preface with our lab rat results.  We introduced just the primordial substance alone to one of the mice, and nothing happened.  Then we mixed DNA from a guinea pig and the green ooze, and then slathered it onto another mouse.  This mouse began transforming into a hybrid version of both animals.  It was like some kind of, I don't know, real-time gene splicing.”  I could see Jason off in the background; his shoulders were pumping up and down as if he was crying.  The doctor looked closely at my skin through the window and continued, ” So naturally we wondered what would happen if we took another ooze sample, mixed mouse DNA with it, and reintroduced that to the mouse that is currently undergoing transformation.  The hypothesis is that it may reverse the process.  John…The mouse died, but it appeared to be changing back shortly before passing.  We think it died from shock.  We have another test subject currently transforming, and this time we will try introducing the ooze again with the mouse DNA AFTER transformation.   John, it appears that the ooze that you came in contact with contained devil worm DNA.  You are…oh God I'm so sorry…becoming a homo sapien and halicephalobus mephisto hybrid.”  Jason was slumped against a wall, and had dark circles under his eyes.  I curled my numb hands into tingling fists and stared off into the distance.  ”So based on what you are saying…Put my human DNA in a bathtub full of ooze, I'll in a splash around a bit, and then eventually I'll be back to normal,” I offered in a phlegmy voice.  The doctor countered, ”You may die from shock like our lab rat.  The best chance you have, and I hate to say this, is to fully transform into the hybrid before we do that.”  I said, ”Now that I think about it, hold off on getting my wife to fly out here…I don't want her to see me like this.  Just tell her I'm recuperating from a minor accident.”  The doctor nodded and walked away.  I told Jason to go home and rest, and he walked slumped shouldered away from the room.  On the way back to the bed, I collapsed in a heap thinking how tiring it is to be metamorphosing.

It seems I had already physically been up and out of bed, but my consciousness took a while to catch up.  I was lying on the floor; the fancy alarm clock on the nightstand revealed that I had been out for five days.  The floor was covered in blood, hair, and toenails.  What passed for my torso had been elongated and was encircled with conical ridges.  My hands and feet were both scaly, wormy nubs.  I lifted one up to my head and noticed that my ears were nearly gone, which explained why I couldn't hear anything.  I could feel someone walking towards the room, or sense vibrations much like a worm.  Initially I thought my pulse was racing, but then I sensed several heartbeats coming from different parts of my body.  My eyes seem to function ok, so I looked outside the window after the vibrations had ceased and saw the doctor surrounded by a team of soldiers.  Glancing to my left, I could see the beginnings of a hole bored into the granite floor.  I looked back to the window and the doctor held up a sign that read “CAN YOU HEAR ME?”  I shook my head, or whatever it had transformed into.  Next, he held up another sign that read, “YOU SEEM TO HAVE A MOUTH, CAN YOU TALK”?  I felt short spiky teeth in whatever my mouth had become, and then tried to say my full name.  The vibrations didn't feel right, and the doctor shook his head.  The doctor held up a third sign which proclaimed “I BELIEVE YOU ARE THE HYBRID, SO WE CAN NOW TRY TO REVERSE THE PROCESS”.  I tried to ignore ravenous hunger pangs as I processed what this means, and then collapsed.

I awoke in a dank, moist environment.  I'd retained some kind of taste buds, and whatever I was currently eating tasted like mushrooms.  It is bad enough to be trapped in some strange version of your body, and even worse to only have intermittent control of it.  Looking down revealed that I was lying on top of what appeared to be a rotting compost pile.  I started to get excited, and then become disgusted at the notion that this was in any way exciting.  Nearby small white grubs were working themselves into the moist dirt, and I wondered how scrumptious they would taste as I again lost consciousness.

My consciousness returned and I found myself confined in a small space surrounded by dirt, with no room to comfortably maneuver.  A feeling of claustrophobia kicked in just as I felt vibrations which seemed to have a consistency.  Someone was trying to communicate in Morse code, which was something I knew during my time drilling on a naval platform.  The message was “J-O-H-N RETURN”.  I felt my consciousness slip away as I started…digging?

Yet again I returned to consciousness in an odd location.  It was late dusk, and I was mid-chomp on a mouthful of cabbage when I saw a crazed man dressed like farmer come running out of a shed with a hoe raised above his head.  I said, ”Hey man calm down!” but it didn't come out like that with my now limited speech capability.  I looked around and could see that I was obviously in a cabbage patch at his farm.  He hollered something, which I sensed through vibration was some insult towards rabbits, and then as he got closer his eyes widened and he dropped the hoe.  My mind started to slip away as I dove into the loose dirt…

I was up.  This time I was half-in and half-out of the ground.  I could still feel the Morse code vibrations, and they seemed to be even stronger.  Glancing about I could see that I was in someone's fenced in backyard.  I wiggled out of the hole and sat up.  Well, I sat up about as well as someone with wrinkled, wormy appendages can sit up.  My mind was focused on getting back to CP hospital, though I needed to somehow cheer myself up.  I chuckled wondering if I could now finally be an expert at doing my favorite breakdance move, the worm.  My attention was distracted by growling-esque vibrations coming from a huge doghouse, from which an equally humongous dog trotted out.  It appeared to be a Saint Bernard and Husky mix.  The monstrous animal lumbered over to me while emitting a low growl which felt like small tremors through my vibration sense.  I sat defeated, and refused to escape into the hole while my human brain was in control.  As the gigantic dog moved closer, I could see his name-tag which announced his name as “Colossus Jones” along with rabies vaccination information.  I chuckled again, content to know that I won't catch rabies while I'm being devoured.  It stopped in front of me, sniffed, and ceased growling.  The big mutt whined a bit, and then playfully licked me.  Colossus Jones just sat there with what passed for a big dumb doggy grin while I gently pet him with my wormy nub-hand.  At some point during his rub, I zoned out to blackness.


I awoke strapped to a hospital bed; soldiers in biohazard outfits surrounded me.  Jason was there in an outfit as well.  I could talk, but was feeling pretty groggy so I simply smiled and groaned at him.  He said, ”Welcome back!  Let me catch you up since your wormy alter ego seemed to be in control for so long…You bored your way out of here, killed a few small trees â€" roots and all â€" and were probably halfway to China when we nearly started an earthquake with the machine we used to tap Morse code in efforts to track you down.  Miraculously, you showed up on the front lawn munching leaves.  We hauled you back inside to this containment room.  Luckily due to your size it wouldn't have been possible to tunnel to the depths of a real devil worm…More importantly, praise Zeus that the doctor was able to reverse the process.  One thing though, instead of using your DNA we had to use mine.  So this should help make you less of an ugly bastard.”  I chuckled and Jason sported a huge grin after this remark.  He continued, “Anyway, all of the green stuff not safely stored in the lab has been incinerated, and the hole at the job site has been plugged up.”  I looked out of the small containment room window and could see my wife smiling at me.
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE
Post by: Ghost on Wed 02/07/2014 17:51:02
Ah, first (virtual) ink!
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE
Post by: Baron on Sun 06/07/2014 02:05:38
I think at last I have a workable idea for this.  Stay tuned!
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE
Post by: kconan on Thu 10/07/2014 15:00:18
  Ten submissions for the sci-fi writing comp, and so far only one for the MUTATE writing comp.  C'mon folks, crank something out! 
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE
Post by: Ghost on Thu 10/07/2014 15:59:54
Ghost gently pours ooze over his pet turtle...
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE
Post by: Sinitrena on Thu 10/07/2014 19:54:04
Drowned Park

Three weeks ago, this was a park: a nice bench next to an idyllic lake, some willows rocking in a fresh breeze, squirrels running over grass and up the tree trunks. Today, there is still a lake, though it is bigger, only the crowns of the trees look over the water and the waterfall in the south, the drainage of the lake, that purled before thunders now.

They say we angered the gods and that is why the water came. I'm not so sure. I'm not really sure the gods even exist. There was a lot of rain, as is normal in autumn, and the rivers rose and overflowed, but how is it this year any different than any other year? Yes, I see the destruction. Yes, I know countless people drowned this year. Yes, it was more water, yes, more people died but this doesn't meant anything, does it? Besides, what do they think we actually did to incur the wrath of the gods? No idea. They only told me that the gods were angry and apparently the oracle told them I should do this. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Well, at least this means I get to change my form to something that can live under water because apparently the gods reside at the ground of the ocean. Who would have thought? This information comes from the oracle as well. Somehow I think I angered her personally and that she wants to get rid of me and all this is an elaborate ploy to do so. It would make sense. After all, dear auntie is a priestess and I am the most vocal member of a group that preaches to use your mind and not trust or believe in any gods. But, demons! I'm not a magician and so I would never get a chance to do something like that, so why not? At least I'm relatively sure those eight magicians that came here with me really believe I'll be able to talk to the gods and won't simply kill me. After all, the oracle proclaimed my destiny publicly. It would make for really bad publicity if I died.

So that is why I'm standing here, waiting for these eight guys to finish some kind of ritual I know nothing about to do something I don't believe in. Oh, and not to forget, I'm slightly crazy, I think â€" not sure about that part. But I can't explain why else I agreed. At least I know for a fact that magic is real. There a people who doubt that but there is enough evidence. On the other hand, most people say there is enough evidence for the existence of the gods as well, like the flood for example. Oh, well, it doesn't matter, because I get to change my form!

I didn't pay attention to the magicians so I'm not sure what to expect when they beckon me over now. They put candles in a semicircle on a patch of grass. The circle is cut off because the other half would be in the water. The candles alternate between white and the blue of the ocean. Some of them burn, some don't. There is no system or rhythm to the lights, at least none that I could see. I'm sure the magicians know what they are doing. I hope so. One of them, I'm not sure about his name, they introduced themselves but I didn't listen, tells me to step into the circle and to strip. Well, that would be more fun if the magicians were female or even better if the oracle were here as well. What better way o embarrass family? But auntie probably knew about this part. Well, this way, it is just awkward. But who am I to complain? Better I get naked than the old guys watching.

Anyway, I do as I am told. I step into the circle and remove my clothes. The men than instruct me to lie down and put half of everything in the water. That is, not simply stand hip-deep in the water so that half my body is covered, but one arm in and one out, one leg in, one out and half my nose in. How am I to do this? Apparently, the water is shallow here and I am to lie on my stomach. I'm sure it looks ridiculous and if any of my dignity is left by this point â€" I left most behind when I argued with my aunt in the middle of the temple four days ago â€" it is gone now. At least arguing was slightly funny. It's just great to see this always composed woman fuming and screeching. I laughed my ass off later. She probably did too. She won this argument, after all, although she didn't change my opinion. The gods don't exist but I am up for a nice little harmless adventure. I hope so. I even prayed â€" and then smacked my hand against my forehead for my own stupidity.

Anyway, so I lie in the water, which sloshes gently against my body and tickles my dick, while eight men stand around me and chant something in a language I neither understand nor recognize. I can't see what they are doing other than waving their hands around. After all, one of my eyes is in the water and other than that I'm not in a particularly good position to observe. This goes on for a while. It feels like hours but it's probably not that long but I'm not exactly in a comfortable position and the entertainment is a bit lacking.

At first I think nothing is happening. The magicians chant, the water sloshes, I feel like drowning whenever I try to breathe... How can you properly breathe with one nostril in the water as well as half of your mouth? And I'm not allowed to move. This was a stupid idea. Besides, I'm starting to get cold. It's autumn! Fucking demons, it is autumn! Can't we do this in the summer? Yeah, yeah, I know, we angered the gods, got to be now. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

After a while, I start feeling different, not just uncomfortable, more like I'm not myself anymore. I can't really put my finger on it. But I'm sure this is when the rhythm and cadence of the chant changes. I feel sick, probably because I inhaled way too much water, or, equally likely, because I'm irritated. How long does it take to transform me anyway?

And now it gets really strange. I suddenly can't feel my legs anymore, though it probably wasn't that sudden. I just wasn't paying attention to my legs, what with the fucking water in my lungs! But now I realize that I can't move them properly. They are heavy and somewhat flabby and, though I'm not entirely sure, I think there's the smell of fish in the air. But it gets more and more difficult to breathe, though the uncomfortable isn't in my nose now. I think it move to somewhere between my throat and my nape. It's really difficult not to move now, not to panic. I feel light-headed and dizzy. I see stars in front of my eyes. No, it's more like multicolored lines and words written in the sky. And maybe someone dancing? Yeah, there's definitely someone dancing slightly behind me. One of the magicians? No, smaller, greener. Red-haired? Dancing and now jumping over my dead body. No, no, no. That doesn't make sense...

And then I panic. There's no way any of this is real. I'm suffocating. I need to get up, I need to breathe. It doesn't work anyway. All of this is stupid. I'm crazy, I'm cold. What normal person would willingly lie in the water like that, surrounded by men he doesn't know and doesn't trust and...

I can't stand up. I can't move. My legs, they are gone. I try to move them but there is just a fishtail flopping. I scream. I try. I can't. There's no sound. None at all. Not even the chanting. But they are still moving their mouths. I can see it, I think. I try to rob out of the water but this only makes it worse. I suck air in through my nose, my mouth, but there's nothing. It doesn't work. Nothing works.

And then one of the magicians walks up to me, his hands outstretched. He says something but I can't hear him. He pushes me with his legs, rolling me into the water. He's killing me! I was wrong, I was so wrong. Auntie wants me dead. It's so easy to say that an accident happened. I scream, I fight but there's no air left to scream, no energy left to fight. I'm flopping in the shallow water and then my head plunges under water. I'm drowning, I'm dying.

And then my lungs fill with cooling water and the burning stops, the panic stops, everything stops for a few seconds. I can breathe again. I won't die. And now my legs â€" my tail doesn't feel weak or flabby anymore but perfect â€" just perfect. Though it does take a moment to get used to it. At first I am slow and uncertain. I'm not sure how to move, what I should do to move faster or to the right. Although I knew how to swim before I started on this adventure, it is different now. Easier but odd, unfamiliar and unusual.

I start to swim through the lake. I don't feel ready to go to the waterfall and the ocean yet. I'm not sure I ever want to. What if the gods really exist and live there? Come to think of it, I probably don't want to know. And it's just great to dive the whole time. It's strange. My memory seems to change. I remember the spell and my mission, I remember that I should remember and I forget. I'm not sure. I can still think about it, still talk about it but it's also gone. No, not gone, just not really important â€" if it ever was. I don't believe in angered gods, after all.

It's dark in the lake but I can see without problems, though I see everything through a green veil. I find the bench I know from former visits to the park and I sit down. I can still sit. It's not different at all. Everything is just as it was and everything is different. I don't know. I don't think I can describe it. You need to see it through my eyes but you never will. It's not the same as diving My eyes have changed as well, I realize. Everything changed.

I try to remember why I am here. Why everything is different. Different then what? What was before? What isn't as it should be? Why do I remember walking when it is so easy to swim and so impossible to walk? The ground is slippery. Who would want to walk there? It is there to lie down and to sleep and the water is there for me to swim in. No, that is not right. I walked once, didn't I? I walked to this lake and then... No, that's not possible. I can't walk. Walking is for those bound to the shore, those that come to visit but never stay, those that panic when water enters through their noses. Why do I have a nose? Humans need noses to breathe, I know this, but I have gills to breathe water. I don't need a nose, but I have one. Why? Well, it's a part of me. I don't care. That's just who I am-

The water level drop. I don't like it when it drops. My home gets smaller. Soon the lake will freeze and I will see the world through a veil of ice. I'm not afraid of the cold. My body is used to it. I just feel lonely when I can't watch the humans anymore while they stroll along the banks of my lake. And it gets difficult to play. I can't jump out of the water when it is covered in ice.

Sometimes people come to the lake and I think I should remember the but I can't. I think they try to talk to me but I can't hear them when my head is out of the water and I can't understand them when they put their heads in my lake. And I think it is difficult for them. In the end, I don't really care.

But sometimes I wonder why I am so lonely. Where the other people of my kind are. Maybe I should swim over the waterfall and look for them in the ocean but I know I won't be able to get up again and this is my home. Though for some reason I also think it once was important to reach the ocean. I just can't remember why...
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE
Post by: Ghost on Thu 10/07/2014 23:10:09
I just learned that I will be away the whole weekend. As in, I will return on Monday. Take it as an extension and do as Sinitrena did: Make awesome stories while I am not looking :=
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE
Post by: Stupot on Fri 11/07/2014 01:25:33
Quote from: Ghost on Thu 10/07/2014 23:10:09
I just learned that I will be away the whole weekend. As in, I will return on Monday. Take it as an extension and do as Sinitrena did: Make awesome stories while I am not looking :=

Ahh good. I'm also busy this weekend and really wanted to finish my story. Hope I can finish it on Monday.
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE
Post by: Ghost on Fri 11/07/2014 02:24:21
Then let's make that official- Monday 14th LATE AT night we close this. I need to finish the tropies, too, so that should do the trick.
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE
Post by: Baron on Fri 11/07/2014 03:04:37
Niiiiiiiice!  This extension is just what I need right now. ;-D
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE
Post by: Baron on Mon 14/07/2014 06:14:23
EAT YOUR GREENS

   Arnold Arkwright fumed like an old steam engine, with a boiler glowing orange with the heat of his anger and steam shooting out his funnel high into the sky.  Or maybe he raged red like a trolley?  No, the steam engine analogy was better.  Stronger, smoother, unstoppable.  Unless it missed a coaling station: if an old steam engine didn't refuel every twelve miles it would, well, run out of steam....  Was that purple broccoli?

   Arnold tried to focus, which wasn't easy for a man of his age.  At ninety-six he was about as well adapted to this crazy modern techno-world as a pair of fuzzy slippers were to D-Day.  Everywhere he turned there seemed to be a ringing this or a blinking that, and not any of it made a lick of sense.  Bunch of annoying power leeches was as best as he could figure.  Still, it wasn't just the newfangledness of today that confounded him: his arch-nemesis these days were stairs six-inches or higher.  With his cane and his bum knee, he walked much like a marionette on its last strings.  He'd tried to outflank stairs by taking the wheel-chair ramps, but more than once he'd had to flee for life and limb from an overweight “invalid” half his age recklessly driving a Rascal cart.

   Why back in his day, people had respect for their elders....

   But now he was angry with his son, some hotshot biomolecular agri-food scientist.  The boy was sixty and still wore his tired grey locks in a ponytail like some sort of giggly school girl.  And that little whiff of a goatee or “soul patch” as he called it: it looked like someone had snagged him by the chin with a fly-fishing lure!  Appearances aside, however, it was the boy's obsession with playing god with society's food supply that made old Arnold truly nauseous.  Or was that his medication conflict that tended to crop up on Tuesdays....  What day was it, anyway?   

   â€œThis frankenfood business has just got to stop, Terrance!  What would your mother say, god rest her soul?  Carrots the size of artillery shells?  Spinach that tastes like pumpkin, and -bizarrely- vice versa?  Layerless onions?!?  For the love of humanity, you've got to pull yourself back from the brink!”  Arnold teetered on his cane and spun around for dramatic effect, but all he achieved was to knock his lunch pail and a strange canister off of the counter.  It seemed as if Terrance had left a while ago, because the lights in the rest of the lab were turned low.  Row upon row of microscopes, centrifuges, and weird mutant vegetables lay abandoned for the night.  Had he fallen asleep in some corner without realizing it?  Or had his son tip-toed out mid-rant and let him carry on without an audience for several hours??

   Arnold shook his head and tried to shrug off the indignity of losing his faculties as well as his health.  If only he had had the benefit of wisdom when he was still young and strong....  He painfully eased himself down onto one knee to pick up the contents of his lunch pail, which had spilled everywhere.  It was dark, and he had to squint to make out the vegetables where they had rolled.  A radish here, a brussel sprout there; what's this?  It seemed to glow slightly in his hand.  It had what looked like a tiny turnip tuber on one end, and a broccoli flower on the other.  Arnold shook his head again: he was going crazy!  Thinking no more about it, for he assumed that it was just the tricks of an old man's eyes and mind that were confusing him, and feeling more than just a little hungry for the day had seemed to fly by without him eating anything at all, he decided then and there to take a big juicy bite.  His dentures sliced through the surprisingly tender and slightly peppery vegetable, and he chewed its succulent pulp with great relish.  It was tasty, whatever it was!

   And then there was a slight burning sensation in his throat.  Damned inflammation again!  He'd probably forgotten to take his pills again.  Arnold stared hard at the vegetable in his hand, but his limbs began to tremble such that he couldn't get a clean look at it.  Sweat beaded on his brow and he reached up with his handkerchief to wipe it, but in a spasm of muscle he knocked his glasses off by accident.  His throat was raw now, and when he attempted feebly to call for help nothing came out but a sickly wheeze.  His good knee failed him, and Arnold collapsed the rest of the way to the floor.  Shit.  I've probably gone and broken my pelvis, he thought, before he began to convulse violently and uncontrollably on the floor.  Then he blacked out.

*     *     *     *

   Arnold Arkwright came to.  The blurry light of dawn was creeping gently through the lab windows.  He squinted at the blob in front of him, and to his surprise it came directly into focus.  EXPERIMENTAL SUPERVEG TX1207  read the label on the side of a broken canister.  DO NOT CONSUME.  CONTAINS RADIOACTIVE AGENTS.  MAY CONTAIN NUTS.  Arnold blinked in confusion, then sat up.  It was... easier than he remembered.  He carefully raised himself to his feet, and felt around for broken limbs or bruising.  He felt surprisingly good!  He clearly spied his broken glasses on the floor, and was momentarily angered by the expense it would take to replace them, but then realized that since he could see them so clearly he probably didn't need them anyway.  In fact, he could see the whole room in crisp, sharp detail, as if he'd eaten a life-time's worth of carrots in just one night.

   He saw his cane lying nearby and stooped to retrieve it, realizing as he did so that there was no pain in his back nor in his knees either.  In fact, he felt very light of foot.  As if he could dance a pirouette right here in the lab!  He dared not, for fear of falling and breaking something.  What would his HMO say?  But the lightness was irrepressible, and the devil in him made him try.  Success!  Arnold left the cane, and the glasses, and his day bag with the hated pillbox.  He left it all, springing spryly into the world as if he were a young buck in the meadow.

   He emerged onto the street, and marvelled at how suddenly all the traffic seemed to be moving so slowly whereas before it always seemed like such a confusing rush.  Suddenly there was a slight knocking sensation at his flank, and he turned to see a pudgy baby-boomer on a Rascal cart trying to barge past him.  Far from knocking him down, the poor blob was confounded as if he were knocking into a brick wall over and over again.  Holy Creepers!  I've got super powers! Arnold thought.

   Just then, there was a commotion down the street.  Women screamed and a tide of people was running towards him, away from ....something!  He tried to stop someone to ask what was going on, but no one would give him the time of day.  Finally he put his hand out and grabbed what looked like a football player, six feet and then some, weighing easily 20 stone.  He stopped the man dead in his tracks, which surprised both of them.  The football player grabbed Arnold back and tried to throw him out of his way, but Arnold remained firmly planted where he stood.

   â€œAre you rooted in there, Gramps?!?” the football player gasped at the effort.

   â€œJust tell me what's going on down there,” Arnold replied.

   â€œOK, OK, just don't hurt me!  It's a giant lizard.  Actually more of a dinosaur.  Actually, I don't know what it is.  All I know is it's hungry, and all it wants to eat is meat.  It's got to be four storeys tall and the police bullets don't seem to have the slightest effect!  Also it speaks perfect English, and called itself the Carnivator before starting a rant about the establishment and then eating everyone that came within reach!”

   Arnold looked at the footballer squirming in his grasp, and then down the street at the giant lizard that was grasping a couple of fatty-forty-somethings in each claw like a kid at a fair with two really round lollypops.  “I voted for that establishment!” he grumbled, releasing the fearful footballer to his flight.  Arnold grabbed hold of the building wall next to him and scaled it like a beanstalk climbs a trellis.

   â€œHey you!” he called down to the lizard.  “Hey Carnivator!”

   The dinosaur stopped mid-rampage, and looked around to see who was calling him so authoritatively.  It seemed more than just a little surprised to see a little old man clinging to the side of a wall six storeys up in the air.   

   â€œWho are you?!?” the Carnivator bellowed.

   Arnold sprayed him with a powerful burst of cabbage-breath, causing the Carnivator to list nauseously against the building on the opposite side of the street.  Arnold thought about it for a bit before heroically asserting:  “I am Veggie Man!”     
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE
Post by: Stupot on Tue 15/07/2014 12:04:04
Sorry, it's not gonna happen. I realized a glaring plot hole and to fix it would mean starting a new story from scratch. I'm out. :-(
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE (Voting)
Post by: Ghost on Tue 15/07/2014 14:48:35
Quote from: Stupot+ on Tue 15/07/2014 12:04:04
Sorry, it's not gonna happen. ... I'm out. :-(
Aw man, sorry to hear that. But well, I think we're all done with the extension, and can head over to the voting bit. Thanks to everyone who submitted a story:

* "Untitled", by Kconan
* "Drowned Park", by Sinitrena
* "Eat Your Greens", by Baron

As has become standard, you are allowed to cast up to three votes. Think of it as "Gold, Silver, Bronze". Gold is worth 3 points, Bronze 1 point. Silver is worth
2.211242 points and a bagle.
Here are the categories:
Mutation - Who had the most interesting, gut-wrenching, funny or scientifically possible change of... things?
Atmosphere - Who managed to best create a sense of whatever you expect when you read "someone mutates"?
Style - who wrote best, had the most awesome words, and generally managed to NOT spell the "teh"?
Character - who introduced the most interesting, likable, relatable, or awesomely rejectable character?

Whoever gets the most overall votes wins and gets to feel like a winner (nod) Should we get a tie I'll cast a vote myself.
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE (Voting)
Post by: selmiak on Tue 15/07/2014 19:56:29
Mutation - Sinitrena
Atmosphere - Sinitrena
Style - Sinitrena
Character - Sinitrena

yeah, all 3 stories are interesting but Sinitrena easily wrote the best of the 3.
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE (Voting)
Post by: Sinitrena on Tue 15/07/2014 21:17:17
Mutation: kconan - The devil worm mutation sounds scary. It's all in all a good description. What I didn't like so much is that the main character basically passes out at the and of half of the paragraphs. A different transition to the next step would be good, I think.
Atmosphere: Baron - Classic superhero transformation here but with an unusual hero. It works because it's mainly a comedic story, though at the same time the hardship of getting old comes across too. What I missed was at least a pseudo explanation for where the Carnivator come from at exactly the same time as the Veggie Man. (I just hate coincidences like that - personal taste, I guess. I realize that it really wasn't an improtant detail for this kind of story.)
Style: Baron
Character: kconan

I thouroughly enjoyed both stories and can't say I like one more then the other. I think they would both benefit from being longer, though.
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE (Voting)
Post by: kconan on Thu 17/07/2014 03:25:30
Mutation: Sinitrena - Unpredictable and unique mutation
Atmosphere: Baron - Bringin' the funny
Style: Baron - Great exposition and setup had me wanting more...
Character: Baron - For Arnold Arkwright
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE (Voting)
Post by: Baron on Thu 17/07/2014 03:53:22
Quote from: Ghost on Tue 15/07/2014 14:48:35
As has become standard, you are allowed to cast up to three votes. Think of it as "Gold, Silver, Bronze". Gold is worth 3 points, Bronze 1 point. Silver is worth
2.211242 points and a bagle.

Er.... OK. ;-D

Mutation kconan: I thought his slow transition into a human-devil worm hybrid was thorough and gritty.  I don't know about the scientific possibilities, but it was hilarious to consider a man-sized quasi-worm with half appendages worming itself through the subsoil! ;-D

Atmosphere Sinitrena: For "gold", since her take on a disbeliever's perspective of the mystical ceremony and metamorphic process was very insightful
kconan: for "Silver/Bagel", for the classic mutation atmosphere of medical quarantine with gadgets and guys in lab-coats.

Style - kconan: The lingo of the job site really sold it for me: "digit-heads", "ol' twisty", impressive sounding corporate divisions.  Also Sinitrena forgot to proof read this time.   ;)

Character Sinitrena: I don't think he was ever named, but I could certainly empathize with her main character's train of thought.  The complexities of the character's outlook (believing in magic but not in gods, for example) made for some really interesting contradictions within his mind.  Kconan's characters were more straight up, which is understandable given his plot (smart-witted adventurers don't really go for roughneck drilling jobs), but it hurt his chances in this category.

Great stories, folks!  As always, a pleasure to read.  I especially liked the closure that I got from kconan's piece -he's going to make it!  For Sinitrena's I have to wonder: will he ever be more than just a one pond fish?

Quote from: Sinitrena on Tue 15/07/2014 21:17:17
What I missed was at least a pseudo explanation for where the Carnivator come from at exactly the same time as the Veggie Man. (I just hate coincidences like that - personal taste, I guess. I realize that it really wasn't an improtant detail for this kind of story.)

Yeah, you got me!  I ran out of time to make a longer piece explaining more, and didn't want to stretch the story over too many time intervals (I find it reads more like a history than a story if I have to list events over weeks and months).  So I needed a device to show off Veggie Man's power, and I just picked the most polar opposite thing I could to a gentle nonogenarian vegetable lover: a wrathful domineering 4 storey ultimate carnivore!  Where this enigmatic and horrible villain emerged from in the story universe will, unfortunately, have to remain a mystery until the next exciting instalment of Veggie Man!
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE (Voting)
Post by: kconan on Thu 17/07/2014 05:11:58
Quote from: Baron on Thu 17/07/2014 03:53:22
I especially liked the closure that I got from kconan's piece -he's going to make it!

I forced myself to deviate from my norm of violence that culminates into an unhappy or cliffhanger ending.  So yep, first time I can remember writing a happy ending.
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE (Voting)
Post by: Baron on Sat 19/07/2014 03:11:20
Like a palm tree in a typhoon, kconan's always turning over new leaves. ;-D  What?  Is it too late to win you all over with flowery (or at least vegetative... ) metaphors? (roll)
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE (Voting)
Post by: kconan on Tue 22/07/2014 05:58:52
...Anyone else voting?

Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE (Voting)
Post by: Ghost on Tue 22/07/2014 06:39:11
Don't think so... and hells, the votes are clear! While each and every story got at least one vote, only one writer got a bagle!

First place goes to KConan
Second place goes to Baron
Third place (and a bagle) goes to Sinitrena

I apologize for the absence of trophies this time. I can't explain how they got lost, but they did.

Annnnnnyway, Kconan, you're next- amaze us!


Holy miscountings, Batman! To the RECOUNT CAVE!
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE (Winners Inside!)
Post by: kconan on Tue 22/07/2014 07:06:44
  Cool!!  But wait...did you count Selmiak's votes?  I thought I had lost this one!?  Or maybe I am totally misunderstanding the voting system.

  I'll gladly take it, however, if the recount proves me victorious (http://www.vanwijst.com/games/smileys/baron_cup.gif)
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE (Winners Inside!)
Post by: Baron on Tue 22/07/2014 14:01:01
Recount!  Recount!  ;-D
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE (Winners Inside!)
Post by: Ghost on Tue 22/07/2014 16:26:04
Yeah now this IS awkward. I should clearly NOT post that early in the mornings after not sleeping and stuff.
SORRY!

1st place: Sinistrena
2nd place: Baron
3rd place: Kconan
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE (Winners Inside!)
Post by: Sinitrena on Tue 22/07/2014 17:02:08
Quote from: Ghost on Tue 22/07/2014 16:26:04
Yeah now this IS awkward. I should clearly NOT post that early in the mornings after not sleeping and stuff.
SORRY!

1st place: Sinistrena
2nd place: Baron
3rd place: Kconan

And then you get the voting right and spell my name wrong (laugh) (laugh) (laugh)

Thanks for your votes, guys.
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE (Winners Inside!)
Post by: Ghost on Tue 22/07/2014 17:49:08
Quote from: Sinitrena on Tue 22/07/2014 17:02:08
And then you get the voting right and spell my name wrong (laugh) (laugh) (laugh)

So fail. Very faults. Oooouch.
Title: Re: Fortnightly Writing Competition: MUTATE (Winners Inside!)
Post by: Baron on Wed 23/07/2014 02:31:31
I want one more recount, just to be sure.... :=

Congratulations Sinistrena (or whoever you are... ;) )!  A well-deserved victory snatched from the jaws of fatigue.  Look forward to reading everyone again next round!