Fortnightly Writing Competition: Robbie Burns Edition! RESULTS

Started by Baron, Mon 22/07/2013 06:03:26

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Baron

Pulitzer prize winning authors plagiarise their titles -it's a fact.  John Steinbeck stole Of Mice and Men from a line of Robbie Burns' poetry.  J.D. Salinger adapted Burn's Comin' Through the Rye to create Catcher in the Rye.  Now it's your turn.  Pick any line of Robbie (Robert) Burns' poetry and use it as inspiration for your story.  Robbie Burns' own words must be in the title of your story.  I don't care if it's in the original Scottish dialect or translated into modern standard English (or some hybrid, notably Auld Lang Syne).  There are no other restrictions: your story can be about anything at all.

Now if you're like me, you don't like to do a lot of research for your writing projects (except television tropes, of course ;)), so here are some resources for you, from simplest to complex:

Robbie Burns on WikiQuote: His most famous lines all on one site.

The complete works, in original Scottish!: For brave souls and Bravehearts only.

Good luck to all participants.  And here's a hand my trusty friend, now give us a hand of thine.... to write something with! I look forward to many a creative submission within the fortnight.  Have fun!


NOTE: All trophies will have kilts. ;-D

Adeel

Count me in. The topic looked intimidating at first but after few re-reads, I managed to get the grasp of it. To be honest, I had never heard of Robert Burns before this contest.

Anyways, here is my selected quote:

Quote from: Robert "Robbie" Burns
If naebody care for me,
I'll care for naebody.

I Hae a Wife o' my Ain (1788)

So, the title of my story will be: If Nobody Cares For Me, I'll Care For Nobody. Good luck everyone! :)

Atelier


Stupot


Baron

Quote from: Atelier on Mon 22/07/2013 19:52:58
What a great theme. What was your thought process Baron?

I came to this idea very indirectly.  See if you can follow:

1) I read somewhere that Japanese department stores play "Auld Lang Syne" at the end of the day to signal to the shoppers that the store is closing.  (I guess they borrowed the tune, which in the west is almost exclusively reserved for New Years Eve, since they understood it to signify closure, in a broad sense).

2) My infant son has the hardest time falling asleep (although now he is getting better).  One day in desperation I sang him Auld Lang Syne (or what I could remember of it), which has quite a calming melody and -magic!  It lulled him to sleep.

3) I memorized the whole song and sang it for many months at bedtime (I still do, sometimes).

4) If you repeat something so often you don't have to think about it any more, and my mind began to wander whenever I'd sing, and I got to thinking how unique some of the word combinations are and how catchy they'd be for a story title.  Examples: Seas between us broad have roared, Picked the daisies fine, From morning sun till dine, And never brought to mind.

5) My memory is jogged of what seemed like the trivial fact of why Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men was named thusly (The best laid plans of mice and men / often go awry -it's something virtually incomprehensible in the original Scots dialect).  So there was precedent.

6) It really bothers me that writers in the fortnightly writing competition often don't title their hard-wrought creations, thus making it difficult to discuss them by name afterwards.  So making a title mandatory was appealing.

7) I needed a theme, so.... ;-D

Any other takers?  Just read a bit of poetry, chose a line that resonates in your soul, and then ...free reign!

Atelier

http://www.robertburns.org.uk/Assets/Poems_Songs/tamoshanter.htm

Seeing the Scots and translation side by side, I think the English rendering does some injustice, it sort of corrupts the original feel and cadence in some places. It's all great stuff, especially liked 'Address to the Toothache'.

Anyway my entry will be based on part of a verse from Tam O' Shanter

"But pleasures are like poppies spread,
You sieze the flower, its bloom is shed;
Or like the snow falls in the river,
A moment white--then melts for ever"

Sinitrena

The social, friendly, honest man,
Whate'er he be,
'Tis he fulfills great Nature's plan,
And none but he!

    Robert Burns: Second Epistle to J. Lapraik, st. 15 (1786)

I tried to read the whole thing but gave up, so I have no idea in what context this quote was actually used. It did inspire me to a story, though - that is, the bold part did.

You know how some stories just get longer and longer? This one is 7188 words long. But then again, Baron said he wanted to read a whole series in the world I created for the second to last fortnightly writing competition. So here it is. (I don't think it's absolutely necessary to know the other story as this one stands alone aside from some of the same characters and some references but I would say it helps to understand some of the finer points a bit better)

Anyway, enjoy reading:




The social, friendly, honest man


1.

At first I thought it was my unborn daughter kicking me again that woke me up. I was sure my first child would be a daughter, even though the priests of the Feeling One said there was no doubt it would be a boy. It wouldn't be the first time they were mistaken and my brother, who was also a priest albeit of a different god, agreed with me. That was something I couldn't tell my husband because I wasn't supposed to have any contact with my brother.

It took me a few seconds to realise that it wasn't my daughter that woke me up, neither kicking nor wanting to leave my womb â€" even though it was nearly time. There were trumpets sounding on the battlement and shouting in front of our door. Something was seriously wrong.

Kaltim needed a bit more time to wake up, but when the door burst open he was wide awake.

“What is it?”, he asked his steward.

“There...”, he said. He was panting. “there was... thief... diadem... gone...”

“When? How?”

“Just... just now. Lord Adaben discovered it gone just minutes ago. He went to the throne room to start his shift protecting the diadem, found the diadem gone and Master Jokasen unconscious, violently stricken down...”

He was saying more, but I am pretty sure Kaltim blocked out the rest of the explanation and his thoughts drifted to the future rather than the past. The diadem gone was an absolute catastrophe should I really bear a girl. If it was a boy it wasn't that bad because the prince's crown apparently wasn't stolen. But the probable date for the parturition was this week and we had to crown the child four days after the birth at the latest, otherwise the child would not be eligible for our inheritance. But why steal the princess' diadem when everybody thought I bore a boy?

I realised that my thoughts were drifting when my husband said: “Stop the trumpets, stop all alarms. Send out our best guards and spies. Do everything you can to find the diadem as soon as you can but do it quietly. As few people as possible should know that the diadem is gone.”

“I doubt that's possible.”, I remarked.

“I'm aware. But the longer it takes for this news to reach the general public, the better.”, he sighed. “I'll join you in the throne room in just a moment.”

“Yes, my lord.” The steward said, bowed his head and left us alone.

As soon as he had closed the door behind himself, Kaltim shouted through gritted teeth: “Lomin!”

“He wouldn't do something like that. He wouldn't sabotage our child's future.” I tried to placate him.

“Yeah. That's why he stole the princess' diadem instead of the prince's crown.”

It took me a moment to understand what he meant.

“You're wrong.”, I said quietly. “Lo thinks it's a girl.”

“Why would he think...? How could you know...? You talked to him?”

“Of course I talked to him. He's my brother. In the name of the Silent One, you talk to him!”

“Not willingly. He just tends to show up when I am alone.”

“Yes, he does that!”

“Oh.”

“Yes. - Anyway, he thinks we'll have a girl and even if he only knew what the priests of the Feeling One proclaimed, he still wouldn't steal either the crown or the diadem because he could not be absolutely sure either way.”

“But he knows how to enter the palace unseen...”

“But he would never use violence. There's no need for him. He has other means to render someone unconscious.” That was probably not the best defence for my brother, but it was definitely true.

“Still... He does know how to enter the palace unseen.”, Kaltim said, pensive now instead of angry.

“Yes?”

“You have any way to contact him?”

“No!”. I knew that this answer came way too fast but I wasn't a skilled liar like my brother, who happened to be a priest of the God of Thieves and Liars. I smiled, trying to make it look reassuring, but my husband saw through my lie, of course.

“So you do now how to reach him!”

“More or less. It could take months for a massage to reach him and I think he'll hear about what has happened sooner or later anyway, but I'll write to him.”


2.

I was right. Two nights later I heard the rhythmic knocking on my window I was familiar with since I was 15, when my brother came back from his search for the temple of the Silent One. I was certain he hadn't read my massage yet. I had send it to our mutual friend who lived two days away, so there was no way he could already be here even if he was in his hideout when the message arrived.

He didn't wait for me to stand up or to even acknowledge him before he opened the small window and slipped through.

Charlohmit Fabite of Castle Dab, probably better known under his alias Lomin Tribent, was a handsome, dark haired man with twinkling eyes and usually a smile on his lips, even though it was seldom true. It is a bit strange for a sister to describe her brother as handsome, but I knew how other women reacted to his obvious charms, so I was pretty sure of the accurateness of this description. He was two years older than me and one of the best thieves in the world while I was the wife of a king.

“Good evening, Sarissia.” He sounded very serious and very far from his usual chipper self. . “How are you?”

“I'm good.”, I said, standing up and hugging him.

He put his hands on my shoulders and gently moved me back a bit, looking me up and down. “I'm glad you're still pregnant.”

That sounded a bit strange, but I knew what he meant.

“You still sure it's going to be a girl?”, I asked.

“Yes, unfortunately. Any lead on the thief?”

“No, none. - You should talk to Kaltim, though. He knows more of this than me. He tries to give me as much rest as possible.”

“So, he's a good husband, at least.”

I swatted him with my fan. “That's not funny!”

He didn't go further into our old argument of a suitable husband for me. “I can't talk to him. He'll know that we are in contact.”

“He already knows.”

“You told him? Sariss, I'm a wanted thief! It's not a good idea...”

“Stop right there, Lo! You are the one who visits him from time to time! You stole from him! You risk your freedom just to rile him!”

“Calm down, Siss. I know what I am doing.”

“So do I! You want to help me? You want to protect your niece? Then go and talk to him now, even though he is expecting you this time and you are less protected. He's not going to arrest you!”

“All right, all right, I'll talk to him. But he did assume I stole the diadem, didn't he?”

“Yes, he did. But he doesn't any more. - I'll go fetch my husband now.”; I said and stormed out, leaving him alone, before he could irritate me even more.


3.

I was surprised to find him still there when the king and I returned. He was sitting on the ground next to my dressing table, reading a book of poetry I had left there. He didn't look up when we entered, just murmured a line from one of the poems: “The social, friendly, honest man...”

“What?”, Kaltim asked.

“Nothing.”, Lomin answered, slamming the book shut and throwing it on the table. Then he stood up and bowed profusely and exaggeratedly before the king. It was obvious in his whole demeanour that he was mocking him and that he deeply respected him at the same time. “You majesty.”

“Lomin.”, Kaltim answered curtly.

I rolled my eyes. Even though it was the first time I saw these two interact with each other, I had talked to both of them about each other separately and knew that they respected and actually liked each other fairly well.

“You stole something recently?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. As you very well know.”

“So you confess? You stole the diadem?”

“Of course not. Sometimes you are particularly dense. I stole something. That's what I do. I did not steal the diadem.”

“How dare you talk to me like that? I am your king!”

“You are my sister's husband. I talk to you however I want.”

“I could have you arrested!”

“I could disappear before your guards are here. And you won't call them any way. You need me.”

“I don't need a thief and liar! I should never had you let go...”

“Stop it!”, I interjected loudly. “Are you always like that to each other? I'm surprised you're still both alive, damn it!” I sank down on my settee, exhausted.

They shut up and looked at me. “Sorry.”, they both murmured.

Kaltim took a deep breath, then he said: “The princess' diadem was in the throne room along with the prince's crown. Only the diadem was stolen. The thief was most likely interrupted by Lord Adaben Narite of Castle Lor when he entered the throne room because it was his turn protecting the jewellery. - You are probably the only person who can enter and leave my palace without anybody noticing. So tell me, how did the thief manage to steal the diadem?”

Lomin thought for a moment. “What happened to whoever was protecting the diadem before Lord Adaben?”

“Master Jokasen was found unconscious. He's all right, but he doesn't know who stole the diadem.”

“Doesn't know or doesn't remember? And how serious was his injury?”

“A lump on his head. And he says he doesn't remember anything.”

Lomin was quite for a few moments. He crossed his arms, walked to the window, looked out, walked back to the dressing table, picked the book back up, put it down again, looked up at the ceiling, out of the window again â€" all in all, he showed obvious signs of nervousness.

“Guards at the doors?”, he asked at last.

“Yes, two at the public entrance, two at the hidden entrance, but, as the tradition dictates, none in the throne room itself. There was just the ceremonial guard of a nobleman or a priest.”

“You could have had both with me.”, he said absent-mindedly. “I assume they didn't see anything?”

“No, nothing.”

“Hear anything?”

“Nothing either.”

“That's what I thought.” Lomin resumed his restless pacing.

“What do you think exactly?” I asked at last. Lomin looked at me as if he had forgotten I was here too.

“A social, friendly, honest man.”, he said. “You'll get the diadem back â€" just in time for the coronation, I would say.” With that, he jumped out of the window! Even though we were on the third floor and there was no balcony I was sure he wouldn't get hurt. That was just something he sometimes did to impress and to irritate.

“Was that a promise or a prophecy?”, Kaltim asked.

“Probably both.”, I said, just as someone knocked at our door. That at least explained why Lomin had disappeared do suddenly.

Sinitrena

4.

My daughter was born three days later. It was a relatively quick delivery of just six hours but I was still exhausted and cranky when Kaltim put the little girl in my arms for the first time and Master Jokasen, the high-priest of the Feeling One, the Goddess of Love and Fertility, spoke the words of welcome over the child. It was a strange atmosphere that morning. The servants and midwives were surprised because the priests of the Feeling One had prophesied a boy and it was a girl, the nobleman were nervous because the diadem was still missing, my husband, the king, was torn between nervous and angry because we had not heard back from our spies or from Lomin, I was, as I already said, exhausted and cranky but overjoyed at the birth of my little girl at the same time. All in all, I would say the first ceremony for the princess of our kingdom didn't feel like it should have.

The high-priest held a hand over the head of my little girl. “What shall she be named?”, he asked.

“Niroja.”, I answered.

“So be it.”, he intoned. “I proclaim the name of this girl to be Niroja. She shall be called Niroja Dabita for the house of her mother, her majesty queen Sarissia Fabita of Castle Dab, and she shall be of the house of his majesty, king Kaltim Zarite of Castle Rem, so she shall be known as Niroja Dabita of Castle Rem. I present to you: Niroja Dabita of Castle Rem!”

He put his hands on her forehead and stomach and spoke a quiet prayer to the Goddess to finish the welcoming and naming ceremony. Then he bowed before us and left us alone with our daughter. The servants followed soon after. This was a time for family, not for anybody else. I was a bit sad that my brother wasn't there.

The high-priest hadn't mentioned with a single word that he was wrong about the gender of my child. I thought that this was a bit strange but assumed he was a bit embarrassed about his mistake. The gender of a royal child was important and the priests of the Feeling One were supposed to be inspired by their Goddess when they foretold anything about an unborn child, but I guess you could never be absolutely sure and the divine inspiration wasn't always clear.

“How are you feeling?”, Kaltim asked, smiling now. However difficult the stolen diadem was for us, we still were happy to have a healthy child.

“Tired.”, I said.

“I can imagine.”, he said, cradling our daughter in his arms.

“I wish Lo were here.”

“So do I.”

“Really?”, I was surprised.

“Yes. When he comes back, he'll bring the diadem.”

“Oh that. I want him here because he is my brother and this is his niece!"

“Of course you do. Still, if we don't get the diadem back in the next four days...”

“I know. Still no news?”

Nothing. Although...”

“Yes?”

“I looked up the poem Lomin quoted while you were in labour. I first thought it was just one of his non sequiturs but maybe he actually thought of something.”

“And?”

“It was written during the reign of king Kajos III. It is an eulogy to the man who was high-priest to the Goddess of Love and Fertility then, written by the then lord of castle Lor.”

I thought for a moment, trying to somehow fit this in with our current situation. “You mean to say it's a poem written during the reign of a traitor for a priest of the Feeling One, while it was a priest of the Feeling One who was attacked in the robbery, written by an ancestor of the person who found out the diadem was stolen?”

“Yes.”

“You cannot be serious!”

“It's not me indirectly accusing two very high-ranking members of my council of treason, it's your brother. And I'm not sure why he would think that. I hadn't even mentioned to him yet who was attacked and who had found him! It just doesn't make sense!”

“No, it doesn't. “Maybe it really was just a non sequitur.”

“Or maybe not. Think about it: Nobody searched either of them for the stolen diadem because they were beyond suspicion and the guards neither saw nor heard anything and Jokasen claims he doesn't remember anything. - And these are exactly the things Lomin asked about. So, even if he is wrong, I do think he might believe this to be true.”

“But why didn't he say more? Why didn't he...”

I was interrupted by a knock on the door and we aborted our discussion immediately.

“Enter!”, the king ordered.

Lord Adaben entered the room. He was a tall man with blond hair and a moustache that was nearly impossible to see due to his fair hair. He was well known for his charms and success with women and especially for the fact that even his former mistresses spoke well of him. Most of the time he seemed like an ordinary womaniser, but he was also famous for his diplomatic skills and good contacts to most of the noble houses. All in all, he was a valuable asset of the king's council and rather influential.

“Your majesties.”, he said, kneeling down.

“Lord Adaben. What is it?”

“Your majesties.”, he began haltingly. “May I first congratulate you on the birth of your daughter?”

“Thank you, my lord.”, I said courteously. However important and trustworthy he seemed, the hidden warning in Lomin's cryptic reference was very fresh in my head and I was a bit cautious.

“May I also apologise again that I wasn't able to stop the theft of the diadem?”

“Of course, my lord. We know that it wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done.”

“Actually, my queen”, he said, haltingly again, “there was something I could do, and I did.” With these words he opened a small bag on his belt and presented the lost diadem to me.

“How...?”, Kaltim asked.

“If I may explain?”

“Of course. Go ahead!”, the king said overjoyed while I took the diadem with shaky hands.

“As you may imagine, I was very embarrassed, angry and also quite motivated to get it back when the diadem was stolen more or less right in front of me. I knew there weren't many people who were able to break into your palace, my king. I had heard rumours that the infamous thief, Lomin Tribent, once broke into the palace, allegedly to bring something back he stole beforehand. But I don't doubt that he actually just wanted to mock our sovereign. It is obvious that this thief is a dangerous individual who would do anything to undermine the realm. He had the means and the will to do something as traitorous as stealing one of the most important symbols of our kingdom. He had already done this once, if I am not mistaken.”

Kal and I looked at each other. Adaben made a fairly solid case that it could have been Lomin, but he didn't know that he was my brother. Nobody knew this and we weren't likely to say anything to that effect. But I'm sure it made Kaltim doubt his story at least a little bit just like me.

“Anyway”, Adaben continued, “I don't want to bore you with tedious details. It was a difficult task, but I found this thief after a few days in one of the taverns in the lower part of town near the harbour. He was bragging about his skills and about all his thefts. I paid for his drinks, made him drunk. When he wasn't sober any more and the tavern was nearly empty, I confronted him about the diadem. He had the nerve to brag about this, too! I ordered him to give the diadem back. He laughed at me! The nerve of him! We fought. He cut me!”

With this, Adaben removed his scarf in a, I would say, rather dramatic fashion and showed us a red streak at his throat.

“He escaped, but I got the diadem back. I just hope this corrects my mistake and earlier failure.” He bowed his head deeply as if to apologise.

“How exactly were you wounded?”, Kaltim asked. I think I heard a slight hint of suspicion in his voice but I couldn't be sure it was really there.

“The thief showed me the diadem to brag, your majesties. I took it out of his hands. When he realised that I wouldn't let him keep it and that I was about to arrest him, he drew the dagger that was hidden in a scabbard at his wrist â€" unfortunately I hadn't noticed it before â€" and went for my throat. He disappeared, leaving me behind wounded. He didn't bother with the diadem. I'm terribly sorry that I didn't manage to catch him. I know what a nuisance this thief is.”

“It is all right, my lord.”, I said. “We thank you for your services.” I tried to get rid of him as soon as possible. I needed to talk to the king alone, because I had no doubt now that lord Adaben was lying.

“Thank you, my queen.”, Adaben said. “If you would excuse me...”

“Of course.”

“He's a liar.”, I said when I was absolutely certain we were alone again.

“Maybe, maybe not. Could be Lomin really stole the diadem. After all, his god is a god of liars.”

“He doesn't keep a dagger at his wrist, though. And he wouldn't leave behind something he stole when he has the upper hand in a fight.”

“But he would boast about his thefts.”

“Yes, he would. But I don't trust Adaben, not any more.”

“Neither do I.”


5.

The palace was full of people. There were servants everywhere, distributing food and wine on all the tables in the four rooms that would be used for the feast. Noblemen and noblewomen, who had arrived in the last two days to celebrate with us, started to fill the ballroom, comparing their outfits. All the women tried to be the most beautiful and still wear a less elegant dress than me. It was tradition that the mother wore the prettiest gown for the crowning of her child.

I didn't feel like squeezing into an exorbitant dress with rich embroidery just three days after giving birth, wearing heavy jewellery, making polite conversation and listening to fake compliments. No woman looked good and fully recovered such a short time after delivery. At least, no-one expected me to dance or even stand up. I was to enter the throne room with my child, sit down on the queen's throne and wait there for the queue of congratulators to pass me, while my husband circled the room and made polite conversation. After all guests had congratulated me, the high-priest of the Seeing One, the God of Law and Justice, would come forward and start the ceremony, while the other priests spoke their blessings from the sides. It was going to be a tedious and annoying evening.

We still hadn't heard back from Lomin. I'm sure he was aware my daughter was born and that we had the diadem back, because our bell men had announced the crowning of our daughter in the whole town, nearby villages and as far as they could ride in such a short time. It made Kaltim suspicious that he hadn't send any news. He was of the opinion that the only explanation was that Lomin really was the thief, that Adaben's story was true and that Lomin did not return for fear of arrest. I wasn't so sure. There were just too many inconsistencies in what Adaben had told us and I also didn't want to believe that Lomin would do something like that to me.

Our family had lost a lot of influence before we were born and Charlohmit had promised to secure my future. He had done that. He had set me up with a king. It just didn't make sense that he would sabotage me now.

I tried to glide as elegantly as possible into the throne room. To be honest, it's really difficult to seem even slightly elegant with a crying child in your arms, having one arm linked to your husband, while you are tired and worried. Our guest still fall all over themselves in enthusiasm and praise.

I sat down on the throne and a long queue of congratulators formed. The grand marshal started to read names and titles of the lords and ladies in front of me whenever the next one stepped up to the throne. It was as tedious as I had expected and my mind began to wander.


6.

When I was about halfway through the line of well-wishers I noticed a slight change of atmosphere in the room. I couldn't put my finger on it at first. I couldn't even say whether something was wrong or just different but it took me out of my aimless musings and back to the reality of the festival.

It felt like a commotion near the pedestal where the diadem was shown, but I couldn't say exactly what was going on. When I looked over there I didn't see anything out of the ordinary: The guards we had stationed there were undisturbed, the guests milling about looked at the diadem from time to time but not as if anything strange was going on, just like they were curious, the hight-priest of the Seeing One stood near the pedestal but that was to be expected as he would be the one to take the diadem later and put it on my daughter's head. Kaltim wasn't far away either, which I attributed to the same nervousness I felt myself. It was stolen once. We just didn't want to risk anything. All in all, everything seemed perfectly normal.

Then I realised that I had seen another familiar face next to the display. It wasn't unusual to see a familiar face. I knew everybody here at least a little bit, but something was different with this person. It wasn't so much that I knew him, but that I was sure he was supposed to look different. His hair was supposed to be darker and worn open instead of combed back and in a tight ponytail, his clothes should have been dark too instead of colourful and flamboyant â€" and he certainly never wore a goatee before! Tarted like that, I nearly didn't recognise my own brother.

That's when I realised what else was wrong with the whole scene and what had probably called my attention to the pedestal in the first place. While the guards were standing guard and the guests were strolling around, as soon as anyone got near the diadem their eyes glazed over and there seemed to be something like a change in light over there like a small mist. It was such a slight difference in the air that I wasn't surprised nobody, who didn't pay particular attention to the diadem from afar â€" everyone near it was probably drugged â€" noticed it.

And then I saw Lomin steal for the first time. It took him less than a second to approach the pedestal, put the diadem in his pocket and slip something else â€" I was too far away to see what â€" back on the platform. I nearly shouted for the guards, had actually slightly risen from my seat, but I stopped myself in time. Whatever I had seen, whatever I feared, I had to trust my brother.

I had looked away for a moment and when I tried to see what Lomin did next, he was gone, at least for a moment. I next saw him when he lined up to congratulate me, the last in a now rather short line. The fumes of his poison had drifted away by now.

“Charlohmit Fabite of Castle Dab, brother to her majesty, the queen.”, the grand marshal announced. I nearly fainted. Had he completely lost his mind? There were people about who could recognise him as Lomin Tribent, people who had seen him the only time he was ever caught, like the high-priest of the Seeing One, for example. It would be bad enough for someone to identify him as Lomin Tribent, but for anybody to make the connection that Lomin Tribent, the infamous thief, was my brother...

I was seething when he finally came up the few steps to the throne and bowed down to kiss my hand.

“It's strange to be announced as you brother â€" as if I don't have a personality of my own...”, he said quietly so nobody close-by would hear. He raised his head and whispered the next words in my ear. “I'm Lomin Tribent, the famous thief!”

I guess it wasn't that unusual and didn't attract any unwanted attention that brother and sister were having a private conversation.

“Infamous.”, I whispered. “Would you prefer to be announced like that? The guards would arrest you immediately.”

“If I wanted them to call me that I would tell them.  - then laugh at this whole farce and disappear.” He paused for a moment. “Don't worry, Sariss, I walked past a few people who could know me before I drugged the guards. Nobody recognised me. It would be really stupid if I couldn't come here as your brother any more â€" even though I look slightly different.”

“You admit you stole the diadem!”, I hissed.

“Not steal, exchange. Everything's all right now. You can go through with the ceremony now.”

And he was gone. He had the tendency to disappear in the middle of a discussion. On the other hand, this moment wasn't the best time for this dispute. I just hoped I could find him later so that he would explain a few things â€" and that everything really was all right now and that he hadn't put a fake diadem on the pedestal. The diadem was supposed to contain divine powers and priests were supposed to feel this power. If a fake diadem was put on my daughter's head, she wouldn't be protected by the gods and she wouldn't be entitled to the throne. If the priest said anything to the effect that the diadem was fake now, it would be disastrous for us and a bad omen for the whole kingdom; if he didn't say anything but someone threatened to reveal it later... Simply put, the only good outcome was for the diadem to be real. I prayed to the Silent One that this once Lomin acted as my brother and not as a thief and liar.

Everybody had congratulated me by now. Kaltim slowly made his way over to me. He seemed a bit absent and I assumed he had inhaled some of Lomin's drug and didn't know anything of what had just happened.

It would still be a few minutes before the actual ceremony started and I let my eyes sweep over the crowd, looking for Lomin and also for Lord Adaben. I couldn't find Lomin, which didn't surprise me much, but my eyes found lord Adaben without any problem. He was being his usual social self, surrounded by a flock of women, who were chatting and eyeing him as if he was the most handsome man ever born. He was friendly to them, not brushing them off or laughing at them, even though it was obvious he probably wasn't really interested in any of them. They didn't seem to mind his flirting, though. I think he was at least honest with them  and didn't usually lie about his faithfulness.

I realised with some exasperation that I had just used the same words to describe him that Lomin had used when quoting the poem.

There wasn't anything unusual in his demeanour. He looked away from his admirers from time to time and seemed to watch me, but I would say everybody else did this too. Nevertheless, his gaze made me nervous while I didn't mind being watched by anybody else. It was a strange feeling and I cursed Lomin and his cryptic warning inwardly.


7.

The ceremony proceeded without any problems. Nothing went wrong. The high-priest of the Seeing One didn't mention that the diadem might be fake, nobody said anything about a thief near the diadem just a short time before the ceremony started. Kaltim smiled, my daughter even stopped crying. Everything was perfect.

...Except for this suspicious feeling in the back of my mind. Even though we had the diadem back â€" probably â€" even though the ceremony ended without any further incident, we still weren't sure who had stolen the diadem, or how or why, I still didn't know why Lomin had exchanged it in the middle of a room full of people, or even if the high-priest had sat the real one on my daughter's head.

Kaltim and I were glad to be alone again. The feast hadn't finished. The musicians were still playing, the guests were still dancing, but the king and queen weren't required to stay until the early hours of the morning. We left as soon as it was polite. I'm sure the little girl preferred this too. Niroja was finally falling asleep in my arms when we arrived back in our private chambers.

“I'm glad everything went well.”, Lomin said, frightening me. He had waited for us in the dressing room, hidden behind a small table, sitting on the ground.

“No thanks to you!”, Kaltim said.

“What do you mean?”

“You didn't do anything to help!”

“I did a lot. I risked my life for you!”, Lomin said angrily.

“You didn't do anything. Lord Adaben brought the diadem back.”

“Couldn't have been difficult. He was the one who stole it in the first place. And he didn't even manage to bring the real thing back.”

“If it was a fake, the high-priest would have mentioned it.”

“No, because I exchanged it for the right one before he got it in his hands. And besides, he wouldn't notice a forgery even if you put it on his head!”

“Liar!”

“Well yes, I am...”

“Stop it!”, I interjected. I knew that the conversation wasn't going anywhere like that. “Kaltim, Lomin did exchange the diadem before the ceremony. I saw him do it. Other than that, I don't know what is going on. So, Lo, would you please explain?”

Lomin took a deep breath, calming himself down. “You're going to listen?”, he asked the king.

Kaltim nodded and indicated for Lomin to continue but Lomin was quiet for a moment as if to organise his thoughts. I left them alone for a second to lay my daughter down for the night. When I returned, Lomin had stood up and was starring out of the window and Kaltim had taken his position on the ground. I sat down on the only chair in the room.

Lomin began. “It was obvious from the very beginning that Adaben was the thief and that Jokasen was in on it, wasn't it?”

We both shook our head. Even though Lomin couldn't see us the way he was looking out the window, he still explained his reasoning.

“The guards heard nothing. There's no easy way to enter the throne room or the palace. A member of my order could do it, but we don't do politics, usually. I knew from the start that someone from the inside had done it. Only Adaben and Jokasen were there. Jokasen had been struck down. That left Adaben â€" But Jokasen was still in on it. He told you your child  would be a boy. There are things all priests can do, no matter what god they worship but they are usually better in theses things that fall in the competence of their God. He wasn't simply mistaken. He was lying. I felt the gender of your child right away. So should he. It's a bit different with the high-priest of the Seeing One. He should have noticed that the diadem was fake but he's an idiot and doesn't really believe in his God... He's just overambitious. The gods never gave him any skills. That's a well known rumour among all priests of all gods. Jokasen and Adaben counted on this. They wanted your child to be crowned with a fake diadem.”

“That sounds like an elaborate plan. And I don't really see what their goal would have been, if they really did this.”, I said doubtfully.

“Yes, very elaborate. Mainly because they had more than one goal. They wanted to put Adaben in your good graces, even more than before, they wanted to give themselves a way to extort you later, they wanted to undermine your standing with your subjects by having a child of the wrong gender born â€" it's subtle, but when you listen to the people carefully you realise that they are disappointed â€" and they tried to frame me for this, maybe because they are aware of a certain prophecy of my order. But that part is hardly important right now.”

“And how would you know any of this?”

“As I said, it was obvious who was the thief and it was obvious that Jokasen had lied about the gender. That I already knew when I came to talk to you that night. My next step was to have a little talk with Adaben in his villa. Granted, I was primarily looking for the diadem. That seemed more important than finding his motive.”

“He surprised you?”

“No, I surprised him when I couldn't find the diadem. I usually know exactly where the things I want are, I don't have to search. Anyway, I sat down in his library and waited for him. It's always nice to see the face of someone when you sit in the most private part of his house. - Did you know that no servants are allowed in his library and that he doesn't bring any women there either?”

“Would you please just go on with your story?”, Kaltim asked, “I take it you really wounded him?”

“I did. First we talked. I assume he was curious, maybe he even thought he could use me as a resource for any future schemes of his. You know, we're not that different in some aspects of our character. He boasted about his plan, about how clever he was. Unfortunately he didn't tell me where the diadem was. I slipped a drug in his drink so he wouldn't remember this night. I guess, he realised in the end that I wasn't willing to help him and he attacked me. I wasn't fast enough to completely avoid his knife but I managed to draw his second dagger out of his belt while I turned away and struck his throat. The cut wasn't deep or dangerous. It was just superficial. I didn't want him to die. That would have meant even more complications  in this whole affair, so I just disappeared. I guess he wondered  what had happened to him the next morning and he decided to use it in the story he fed you about the alleged thief.”

It made me shudder how matter of fact Lomin described this whole encounter. I've never seen him like that before. But, to be honest, I didn't know him very well. We seldom spoke and it had been about ten years since we lived in the same house.

“Why should I trust you? Why should I believe any of this?”, Kaltim asked, talking more to himself, and interrupting Lomin's report. “Your god is a God of liars.”

“Yes, he is.”, Lomin said quietly. “But that just means that he doesn't condemn lying. He never demands that we lie. It's the decision of the liar whether he wants to lie or not. And right now I don't want to lie.”

“I'll take that as face value for now. What happened next?”

“My meeting with Adaben was the same night your daughter was born. I was wounded and couldn't do much for a bit. Then I searched other likely places for the original diadem. After all, I knew Adaben's plan and was therefore sure you did not have the right one back. I only managed to find it tonight in Adaben's study here in your palace. The feast had already started. There was no way to inform you without causing an incident and your situation was already precarious enough, so I simply exchanged the diadem in the middle of the ball. It's all pretty easy, really.”

Kaltim was shaking his head. “Actually, that sounds as far from easy as possible. - Can you prove any of this? Can you prove that Adaben is a traitor?”

“Prove? No. There's no way to do this. You could arrest him and have him tortured, I guess, but the other noblemen probably wouldn't agree to that. Other than that, you have just my word.”

“And why should that be enough? Why should I trust you? What's your angle?”

“My angle? Kal, ten years ago I swore to avenge the injustice that was done to my family and make us powerful again. I did this and I did not even need to become a traitor. Now my niece is heir to the throne. Protecting my family now means protecting the kingdom and the royal family. And that's what I do.”

He sounded so earnest. I wasn't sure whether Kaltim had heard him talk like that before. He thought for a moment, stood up and started to pace. Lomin did not look at him, or at me. He was still starring out of the window, watching the sky slowly turn red of the morning sun. I couldn't read his expression. It looked bland, but I was sure he had schooled himself to not show any feelings. There might have been something like sadness there.

“All right.”, Kaltim said at last. “I think I trust you. That still leaves the problem that Adaben is a trusted member of my council â€" and apparently a traitor. And he's well liked, known as a social, friendly, honest man, to quote a certain poem.”

Lomin actually laughed at that. “Just as social and friendly and honest as me.”

You're probably as far from honest as someone can be.”, Kaltim teased.

“So is Adaben.”, Lomin answered.

“Lomin's honest to us... I think.”, I said, smiling.

“I can help you with Adaben.”, Lomin said, serious again.

“How?”

“I can't prove what he did, but I can destroy him. I can do this without killing him or aggravating the other noblemen. I could probably even do this without him knowing what is going on. It would take time, a year maybe, and you would have to pretend you trust him and aren't suspicious of him.   - But...” He stopped talking.

“But?”

“But I won't do it for nothing. That's more than I would usually do, maybe more than necessary â€" and there is this prophecy I mentioned earlier I have to think of.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to make my order legal.”

Kaltim thought for a moment. “Even if I did this, what you do would still be illegal. You steal, after all!”

“Yes, I do. And a thief is exactly what you need right now.”

“All right. Destroy Adaben â€" and this conspiracy and I make your order legal.”

Lomin nodded once and left the room â€" unusual for him â€" through the door.

“Do you trust him?”, I asked when we were alone again.

“I'm not sure. Do you?”


The End


Sorry about the double post. The forum did not accept my story in a single one.

Baron

Quote from: Sinitrena on Sun 28/07/2013 19:16:03
But then again, Baron said he wanted to read a whole series in the world I created for the second to last fortnightly writing competition. So here it is.

Awesome!  But.... strategically speaking, you do realise my vote doesn't count unless there's a tie, right?  ;)

Let's see some more entries, guys and ....gals (it's actually hard to tell you apart when you are all wearing kilts in support of the theme)!  Get ye quills in the bonnie ink and scribble me a yarn!  Where are the rest of our regular contributors, anyway?  Somebody walk on Ghost's grave and somebody else ring the dinner bell for Chef!; yet another someone needs to sound the Godzilla alarm for Stupot+ and someone else again needs to activate the Ponch-signal.  Ah, that last one's easy so I'll do it:



Let's get those entries together -one week left!  Write right!  Write now!  RIGHT NOW!

:-*

Ponch

I've been summoned! :cheesy:



I'll pick out a quote tonight and see what I can do with the few days left to me...

Also, Ghost is moving to a new apartment and doesn't have reliable interweb service (last I heard, anyway).

kconan

  The boob signal is serious business, so I'll toss some Robert Burns around in the ole noggin' and see what happens.

Ponch

Quote from: kconan on Tue 30/07/2013 08:30:43
  The boob signal is serious business, so I'll toss some Robert Burns around in the ole noggin' and see what happens.
Like moths to a flame! :=

kconan

Title: Lay the proud usurpers low!
Some Robert Burns references are mere cameo appearances, some are inelegantly shoe-horned with either literal or figurative meanings, and a few are actually smoothly worked into the story

“…and days o' auld lang syne?!”  the group of coworkers finished, toasted each other with Cutty Sarks held high, and retreated into smaller groups of friends.  John Anderson scratched his bald head, and quietly contemplated his assembled group of work colleagues, bosses, and in most cases, rivals from Dominion Bank.  A coworker, whom John didn't recognize, drunkenly stumbled up to him and said, “Man your wife really knows how to throw a party!”  John grinned and replied, ” She is a winsome wee thing, this sweet wee wife o' mine.” and then muttered under his breath “lo'esome wee thing at times to…”.  John patted the stranger's shoulder as he walked away and headed towards the bathroom.

John's petite and much younger wife, Jean Anderson, was downing a neat scotch in the bathroom as John walked in and closed the door.  John said, “Happy 1970 my bonnie lass.  Whatcha doing?”  Jean looked up and said, ”All joyous and unthinking, debauchery and drinking.”  John smiled, sighed, and asked, ”Is our best laid scheme laid?”  Jean moved close to her husband, smiled devilishly, and whispered in John's ear ”Man's inhumanity to man, makes thousands mourn.“

Miss Mary Oswald has abstained from both food and drink, much to the annoyance of her friends and colleagues.  She swiveled her head around the room silently judging everyone, and their ulterior motives for coming to John Anderson's party.  She didn't much like the host and his lush of a wife.  Both of them had fancy literature degrees from Ivy League schools, and spoke condescendingly to everyone in olde English riddles.  Mary recalled John Anderson being passed over for promotions many times, perhaps in part because of his degree not being in finance and partly due to his complete lack of brownnosing skill.  It also didn't help that his wife attempted to seduce the CEO (perhaps to help her husband's career or perhaps simply for fun), only to be rebuffed and the incident had been gossiped about to no end since.  She once heard in passing that Jean Anderson referred to her husband as being “usurped” by his work rivals.

John looked at his watch and proclaimed, “It is the wished, the trysted hour!”  He and his wife locked arms and walked from the bathroom to the living room, where the majority of the partygoers had been congregating.

Dr. John Barleycorn - the company CFO at Dominion Bank - suddenly stood up from couch and announced, ”I have a surprise!”  To which John Anderson replied, ”Hold on Dr. Barleycorn…I just want to say to everyone here who works with me, if nobody will care for me…” and then in a sinister tone finished with, ”…then I'll care for nobody.”  The crowd started murmuring amongst themselves in confusion when Jean said in a creepy voice, ”Man's dominion, has broken Nature's social union.”  The Dominion Bank CEO, Earl Man, was passed out on the floor with a huge stogie drooping from a corner of his mouth and could not respond.   Dr. Barleycorn, obviously confused, said ”Suspense is worse than disappointment.  What-“ and was cut off by a vicious backhand slap from Jean Anderson who said through a toothy grin, ”You misunderstood and mistreated my John!  Which means all of you should be felled by death's untimely frost!  This house is now locked down.  All food and drinks were laced with dimethyl mercury, so prepare for your flowers to be nipt early in a gory bed!” Gasps were heard amongst the crowd, and hapless party goers rushed to doors that couldn't open and bashed windows that couldn't break.  Others began self-inducing vomiting, and a few stood in shock and silently debated if their mercury poisoning symptoms were masked by the symptoms of drunkenness.

Dr. Barleycorn reached into a hidden vest pocket and retrieved a small 4-shot .38 caliber pepperbox derringer with a manually rotating barrel, just as John Anderson and his wife rushed out of the room while managing to evade several angry (and presumably poisoned) attacking party goers.  Dr. Barleycorn rushed over to the other guests and asked, “Is anyone feeling sick or light-headed beyond the usual alcohol poisoning?”  Some people shook their heads and others verbally replied “no” as they unsuccessfully tried door latches and basically searched for some kind of way out of the living room.  A few partygoers made their way down the hall to the bathroom, which was also locked up tight.  Dr. Barleycorn then attempted to slap his boss awake, but Earl Man was not waking from his stupor/slumber.  A scared partygoer looked at Dr. Barleycorn and said, ” We can't find anything; man those fruitcakes must have known we would look for hammers and other heavy tools to try to bust out of here so they removed everything except plastic ware and alcohol.  Shoot a lock or a window with that hideaway piece…Or maybe worst case we could try to burn our way out.”

Mary Oswald silently patted herself on the back for not partaking of the food or drink, and so she was of sound mind and body.  Mary tried ramming, and then kicking, the front door with only a sore foot to show for it.  She paced the living room as the other party goers stumbled around half-drunkenly trying to find a way to escape.

Dr. Barleycorn cursed himself.  He was just about to announce a big promotion for John Anderson when he had been interrupted by him and his crazy wife, who really did the grunt work for John's career advancement by performing various sexual acts of depravity and degradation for him.  One thing that now stands out from their wild tryst; Jean did mention that she was “Nursing wrath to keep it warm“, which he had errantly written off as nutty bedroom talk.  Dr. Barleycorn shook his head remembering the circus-like madness that was sex with Jean Anderson, checked the action on the derringer, and waited for the Anderson wrath â€" he didn't know what that entailed â€" but something was coming and the Dominion Bank CFO was not about to waste a previous bullet on a door that would likely require more rounds than his small gun could deliver.

Mary Oswald stopped pacing.  She overturned a small table, ripped off a leg, and walked over to Dr. Barleycorn to stand by him for whatever he has planned.  Mary didn't much like him, but she knew that he was a survivor.  Mary and Dr. Barleycorn exchanged glances and nodded.  This wild war's deadly blast was yet to be blown.

Static, feedback, and finally a hissing noise emanated from the Bowers & Wilkins DM70 speakers attached to mounts on the Anderson living room wall.  Then the speakers came to life with Jean Anderson's voice, which said, ”Tyrants fall in every foe!  Liberty's in every blow…Let us do or die!”

One guest, who had been trying to pick the front door lock with a pocket knife, stopped to listen while others continued sleeping, vomiting, or trying to find an escape route.  Mary Oswald waited to hear more riddles and/or instructions, and Dr. Barleycorn played a hunch by loudly exclaiming, “Know this cruel Andersons:  I ne'er did wrong to thine or thee!  Thou art a galling load, along a rough, weary road, to wretches such as I!“  He was fully aware that this response was a gamble, and more importantly, if Dr. Barleycorn really had been poisoned with mercury then he needed to begin chelation therapy as soon as possible.

The response from the speakers was silence, though the party goer turned lock picker at the front door proudly announced, “I got it!“, and opened the front door only to be stopped by a second door with bars similar to that of a jailroom entrance.  The lock picker shook the iron bars, signed, and walked over to the back door to try his luck with it.  While working on the lock he muttered, “We are just dwellers in yon dungeon dark…”

The speakers crackled to life with, “Inspiring bold John Barleycorn!  What dangers though canst make us scorn!  His locked, lettered, braw brass collar…Showed him the gentleman an' scholar.”  Mary glanced down on the dining table which was littered with half eaten snacks and drinks, and noticed a brightly polished brass collar with a lock on it.  Mary quietly pointed this out to Dr. Barleycorn, who replied, ”That mad woman is taunting me, as she put it on me when… “ and he trailed off while blushing.  Mary shook her head, and started bashing the walls with her table leg and declared, “ Let me out of here you sick freaks!  I've done nothing to you, at work or otherwise, I'm innocent!“  Mary stopped her attack on the walls, and had just begun flattening the wrinkles in her showy and extravagant (to the point of tastelessness) party gown when a loud release of air could be heard; Mary was knocked out cold.  Dr. Barleycorn looked down at Mary, and could see what appeared to be a tranquillizer dart sticking out of her chest.  Jean Anderson, via speakers, explained, “A gaudy dress and gentle air, may slightly touch the heart; But it's innocence and modesty that polished the dart.”

Dr. Barleycorn pointed his derringer at the window and fired; which cracked but did not break.  He then manually rotated the barrel on his old gun and shot the bathroom door, which was apparently also bulletproof.  After another barrel rotation, Dr. Barleycorn shouted, ” Ye Hypocrites, are these your pranks, to murder men and gie God thanks.  Desist for shame, proceed no further as God won't accept your thanks for murder!  Your bonie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snaw-“ and was cut off by a loud banging on the iron bars which blocked the front door.  Dr. Barleycorn rushed over and could see a lady through the bars with a confused look on her face.  She yelled, ”I'm Tammie the landlord, what the hell is going on?”  Dr. Barleycorn quietly replied, “ As Tammie glow'red, amazed, and curious…The mirth and fun grew fast and furious. “ Tammie snapped, ”What in the blue hell are you rambling about?”  To this John Barleycorn appeared to snap out of a daze and said, ”Oh sorry, uhhh, please call the police!  We are trapped!”


The police captain, Will Sodger, looked at both John and Jean Anderson.  They were in strait jackets strapped to their chairs in a dimly lit interrogation room.  Captain Sodger had a bad career year, and was pleased that in this particular case the events which had transpired were obvious and easy to wrap up - yet no one was seriously hurt.  Despite their threats, the crazy couple hadn't actually poisoned anyone.  He started the old reel-to-reel recorder and asked, ”Now please in modern English, tell me why you kidnapped and terrorized your coworkers?”  Jean Anderson, with a wild grin on her face, said, ”Why?  Oh, Glory is the Sodger's prize.“ and then she nodded towards her husband and said, “I've serv'd my king and country, take pity-“ and was cut off by Captain Sodger slamming a clipboard down.  He pointed his finger at the Andersons and said, ”Look I've got a bunch of witnesses and basic motive: Your both nuts and felt cheated by everyone at Dominion Bank who, you claim, held back John's career.  Just give me something concrete from both of you that I can write up in a report.”

Jean sang, ”What can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie,
What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man?
Bad luck on the penny that tempted my minnie
To sell her puir Jenny for siller an' lan'.
Bad luck on the penny that tempted my minnie
To sell her puir Jenny for siller an' lan'!

He's always compleenin' frae mornin' to e'enin',
He hoasts and he hirples the weary day lang;
He's doylt and he's dozin, his blude it is frozen, -
O, dreary's the night wi' a crazy auld man!
He's doylt and he's dozin, his blude it is frozen,
O, dreary's the night wi' a crazy auld man.

He hums and he hankers, he frets and he cankers,
I never can please him do a' that I can;
He's peevish an' jealous o' a' the young fellows, -
O, dool on the day I met wi' an auld man!
He's peevish an' jealous o' a' the young fellows,
O, dool on the day I met wi' an auld man.

My auld auntie Katie upon me taks pity,
I'll do my endeavour to follow her plan;
I'll cross him an' wrack him, until I heartbreak him
And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan,
I'll cross him an' wrack him, until I heartbreak him,
And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan.“


Captain Sodger said, ”Since I don't have a translator readily available who speaks both old school English and crazy, I have no choice but to decode this myself.  So you were forced to marry an older guy…I think for money…So what, you are now saying this is really your husband's fault?

John Anderson briefly tested his restraints, and then recited, ”But to see her was to love her,
Love but her, and love forever.
Had we never lou'd sae kindly,
Had we never lou'd sae blindly,
Never met - or never parted -
We had ne'er been broken hearted“


Captain Sodger stopped the tape recorder, glanced wearily at his coworkers behind the one-way mirror, and walked out of the room shaking his head.

Chef!

My topic is "If there is another world he lives in bliss; If there is none, he made the most of this."  And to keep with this fortnights theme I tried my hand at poetry.

Too awkward in style
Too honest in guile.
A scorned first kiss;
a thorn dismissed.

A will that was strong
A word that was bond
The path set upon
Was a map to be drawn.

Fresh and free
Like a bird in the sea
A field not grazed
A black sheep unfazed.

The mountain first seen was first climbed
And more glorious mountains the find
The sash once hollow
was a path now fallowed

A trail that held true for the tame
For it held no great riches or fame.
Still the friends were content
That their time was well spent

The friendship grew strengthened
The nights grew lengthened
Followed soon by a screaming new voice
Though demanding there was much to rejoice

Though only themselves to command.
They still had children and land
And the time to understand and to plan.
And each other to stand hand in hand.

Through thick and through thin
Through the whiskey and gin
They reminisce with their kin
As the world had its spin

Though a life may seem small
The wise may have it all
And greet death without regret
Or a care for whats next.

Baron

Three entries so far, four if you count Sinitrena twice.... ;)  Not bad, not bad....  But we've got two-ish more days to round out the field.  Looking forward to more entries!


Atelier

The more I thought about my quote, the harder it got to write about. I'll probably choose a different one with a more uplifting subject anyway.

Ponch

LIGHT FROM HEAVEN

The smell of gunpowder hung thick in the air. The acrid smoke burned the eyes of Professor Ludwig. He regretted shooting his assistant, but it had been necessary.

"I can't believe you shot me, you batty old fool!"

Ludwig regretted that had only brought one bullet for the antique dueling pistol -- the only gun he owned.

"I'm going to limp for a month after they pull this bullet out of my leg, you know!"

Ludwig also regretted that he had forgot to bring his glasses.

Still, the plan had been a success. Long years of secretly positioning pieces behind the scenes had at last paid off. Designing a circuit board here, writing telecom software there. A few subtle hacks of certain databases. The occasional semester spent lecturing students at MIT or CalTech, planting seeds of thought that would sprout where and when the time was right. All these clever strands were at last being pulled together to suddenly and unexpectedly form a lovely homemade sweater of genius and deceit.

"Es ist wunderbar," Professor Ludwig sighed and was glad that his life's goal was coalescing in front of him, indisputable proof of the near-flawless nature of his intricate plan -- that one semester spent lecturing to a Beginner's Knitting class due to a misreading of the job application notwithstanding.

He flexed his toes, snug inside the luxurious hand-knitted socks and considered it time well spent.

The lab's large display screen informed him that high above this secret New Mexico facility, suspended in orbit around the Earth, a group of otherwise innocuous satellites that had slowly altered their orbits over the last several months were now aligning themselves into their heretofore secret "death ray" configuration. None of the parties involved with building or launching those devices could have guessed at their true purpose... until now.

"Why the hell are they stacking up like that?" came the voice of his assistant from across the room.

"I will tell you, Dave."

"Dan."

"Because when I was fourteen, the pretty young mädchen who lived across the street from me broke my heart when she left me for an older boy." Ludwig sighed deeply at the recalled memory. "Naturally, I vowed to commit suicide. But my father owned only a safety razor and my mother hid her sleeping pills too well for me to find. So I did the only thing I could..."

The old man sighed deeply... Germanly... taking a moment before continuing.

"I undertook a sixty year plan to secretly build a multi-part death ray in space and use it to vaporize myself from orbit."

"Why not just get over it and find another girl?"

"Oh, I did that. I was a horny teenager, after all. And eventually, I had a chance encounter with that girl while standing in line at Der Wienerschnitzel. We had both wound up in America, as it turned out. I suppose we were both homesick and wanted a taste of the Fatherland." He smiled at the thought.

"So what happened?" the assistant asked, managing to sound genuinely interested, despite the bullet in his leg.

"We married. And had children! Oh, it was wonderful." He sighed again, wistfully. "Sadly, I had already committed to this plan. There was no turning back. I am German, after all. We Germans take our commitments very seriously, you know."

Indicators began to flash. Lights blinked. A klaxon sounded. At last, all was ready.

I hope the grandchildren will enjoy the Christmas sweaters I knitted for them, Ludwig thought to himself, knowing they wouldn't. Children only cared for the video games these days.

He leaned into the microphone and spoke the activation phrase:

"Meine socken sind erstaunlich."

Above, the tightly packed cluster of satellites discharged their power packs into carefully arranged lenses, sending a narrow beam of tightly focused white-hot particle beam death hurtling down to a three feet wide circle on the roof of a laboratory in the middle of the New Mexico desert. It instantly disintegrated the roof of the building and atomized the person standing expectantly underneath it.

Bathed in the light he had made, old Dr. Ludwig smiled as he painlessly effervesced away into nothingness. He would have preferred to live out his last days with his wonderful wife, but a promise made must be kept. For a moment, he hoped the drawer filled with small handmade socks made just for her feet would ease her grief. And then, in a wink, he was no more.

The screen displayed that the sequence was complete. It showed the satellites drifting apart, on their way to burn up in re-entry. A printer spat out a single page as the program shut down and deleted itself. The assistant limped over and took it from the tray. He fanned the billowing cloud of Ludwig smoke away and read it.

    Misled by fancy's meteor ray,
    By passion driven,
    But yet the light that led astray
    Was light from Heaven.

"This is why angsty teenagers should never be allowed to ready poetry," said the assistant to no one at all.

The bullet in his calf ached terribly and his store bought socks offered him no comfort.

THE END

________________________
(Edited to comply with "The Man" and his "rules".)
Spoiler
(Fight The Power! :P)
[close]

Adeel

Here's my story. It was written in bit of a rush since I were mostly busy with my MAGS game, so I apologize in advance for any grammatical / typing mistake.




IF NOBODY CARES FOR ME, I'LL CARE FOR NOBODY

The grandchildren were surrounding their grandmother. They were too keen to hear her story. Her stories mostly consisted of fables and in the end; they always used to contain a moral or two. Joseph and Joan in particular were annoyed by these stories. But they couldn't do anything since their parents were forcing them to stay with their grandparents during the summer vacation. The parents thought that it was excellent plan since all the brothers and sisters of the family living in different areas would meet at weekends and their children would get away from technology and know better their cousins.
 
   The idea was excellent but children are, after all, children. They thought that it was a bad idea. The very idea of leaving behind their computers and / or mobile phones was haunting them. What they were expecting was true. They couldn't find a way to pass the time. Each day was passing so slowly that it seemed like forever. Other children get accustomed to it but Joseph and Joan were unable to do so, as they were older than the rest of the children.

   â€œAll righty, right peeps!”, Grandma said with her weak but cheerful voice. “It's time for our story”. “What will be the theme of this story, Grandma?”, asked little May with innocence. “Awww sweeto, I'm glad you asked.”, Grandma said to May with affection. Continuing, she said: “This time, the theme is: If Nobody Cares For Me, I'll Care For Nobody. So, the story -”.   â€œLike I already care before!”, Joseph said with obvious sarcasm. Grandma didn't say a word. Instead, she continued her story but with little frown. Joseph got the hint and didn't interrupt further, mumbling a few words very faintly. Grandma began, “So the story is:”

“Once upon a time: a man and his son were walking alongside the road to sell their donkey. So, all three of them continued to walk alongside the road. After sometime, a passerby saw them and said to the man: ‘Why are you walking, when you already have a ride?'. The man thought that the passerby was right. So he, along with his son, climbed the donkey and began to travel again.”

“After sometime, an another passerby who considered himself to be the animals' rights activist, said to them: ‘O man! Why are you being so cruel on this innocent animal? One of you must get off so as to ease him.'. The man thought that this passerby was right too and got off the donkey, leaving his son on its back and began to walk alongside with donkey.”

“Few miles they had traveled, when another passerby saw them and said to the son: ‘Boy, why you are so shameless? Your father is walking on foot yet you're enjoying the comfort of ride. Remember, when you were young he bore hardships for you. You must get down and give your father some comfort.' The boy thought that this passerby was right, so he proceeded to follow what that passerby had advised.”

“They had gone not so long when they encountered yet another passerby who said to the man: ‘Selfish man. Why are you letting your child walk when you're man enough to walk and let your children ride with comfort.' The man got furious by hearing all these suggestions. He got off the donkey and said to his son, ‘Son, we are going to carry the donkey on our shoulders. Maybe that way, we'll be able to make everyone happy.' So they lifted the donkey up their shoulders and began to walk whilst carrying it.”

“Sometime afterwards, another passerby saw them. No matter how hard he tried to control his laughter, yet he couldn't. With difficulty, he said: ‘You are the most foolish people I've ever seen. Instead of riding on the back donkey, you are carrying it on your own back. You two just went full retard, never go full retard you know' â€"“

“Hey Grandma! Where did you hear that line? I mean, we use it on facebook â€"“, Joan interrupted Grandma and was herself interrupted by Grandma, who said: “ You technological peeps think that using face cream â€"“, “- facebook, grandma”, interrupted Jospeh. “-yeah, whatever it's called. What was I saying? Oh yes, you technological peeps think that just by using “facebook” you'll get wiser. You have to need experience for that wimps, experience!”, Grandma finished rather coldly.
   
“So, peeps the moral of the story is: Don't blindly ever listen to whatever someone says to you. Always make sure to ponder upon the advice before following. Because it may not be correct always, use your brains.” Grandma said wisely. “But that doesn't include the theme if nobody cares for me, I'll care for nobody.”, said Joseph skeptically.


“Oh yes, it does. It means that people giving your random suggestions don't care much about you. So you should continue with your life and remembering to never ever listen to them.” Grandma said. “Okay peeps; it's time that you go to your beds and sleep.


While everyone was leaving, grandma asked Joseph and Joan to stay and when they inquired the reason, she replied: “Remember children, you MUST care about your special ones, even though they don't seem to care about you much. Always keep faith that they love you deep down and if needed, they may even sacrifice their life to you.” After saying this, she quietly walked away with the smile on her face, knowing that she had made them understand her point.

Joseph and Joan were astonished, what they thought to be merely a children's tale was more sophisticated that it seemed before. They had just learnt the best code for the life. Giving each other a look, they both decided to go to their grandmother's room to apologize to her for their rude behavior. Because they had now realized that even if nobody in the entire world cared for them, their grandmother will still do.

The End

Baron

Well Lady and Gentlemen, I'm afraid the hour is nigh and I must close the competition.  Now is the time to nestle in with a couple of extra printer ink-cartridges and enjoy the sweet fruits of our labour.  The following is the roster of contenders for the caber toss writing competition:

Sinitrena: The Social, Friendly Honest Man
kconan: Lay the Proud Usurpers Low
Chef!: If There is Another World He Lives in Bliss, If There's None, He Made the Most of This
Ponch: UNTITLED: Disqualified for not conforming to the competition rule Light From Heaven
Adeel S. Ahmed: If Nobody Cares for Me, I'll Care for Nobody

VOTING PROCEDURE

We're going to try something a little different this time around.  I'm a big fan of the Six-Point Apportionment Method (6PAM) we've been using lately, but I think besides merely determining a winner our dedicated voters have the ability and opportunity to give a little more thorough feedback, which would help us all improve as writers.  The background competition is a good example of this: contestants receive votes based on numerous criteria, with the understanding that art can be appreciated from many different angles.  So this time we're going to try what I call the Criteria-Based Meritorious Mention Method (CBMMM).  I ask you to declare which work or works stood out, resonated, or otherwise seemed above the other submissions in the following categories:

Character: You find one or several characters really believable/captivating/magnetic/unique, etc.
Plot: The story arc was well-organized, coherent, and well-executed with appropriate pacing
Atmosphere: This is all about feeling: did the story evoke strong feelings due to excitement/humour/intrigue/wonder/emotional intensity?
Background World: The best setting or milieu for a story; a place brought to life.
Word Choice/Style: The technical art of combining words in clever or gripping ways
Message: Deep thoughts, philosophical insights or lessons conveyed.  Did you learn something?  Did the author communicate anything memorable?

You are encouraged to name two authors for each category, but anywhere from 1-3 is acceptable provided you feel the author has earned mention.  Each mention garners that author one point, regardless of order mentioned, and the author with the most points will win (if there is a tie, I will cast the deciding ballot).  So for example:

Character: Whedon, Lee
Plot: Disney
Atmosphere: Spielburg, King
Background World: Eddings, Williams, Robinson
Word Choice: Shakespeare, Wilde, Tolkien
Message: Aesop, Robinson

So in this case Robinson would be ahead with 2 points, and everyone else would be tied with one.

I hope I've explained the CBMMM to everyone's satisfaction.  If you have any questions or complaints just PM Ponch and vent.  ;)

VOTING RUNS UNTIL MIDNIGHT AUGUST 8.  Good luck to all entrants!



Sinitrena

The voting system for this competition gets progressively more complecated, but all right, let's try this.

Character: Ponch and kconan In both stories the characters are a bit over the top and unrealistic and to be honest I don't normally like such characters. But they have backstories, goals and reasons for what they do albeit strange ones. Still, there's some kind of development, even though the stories are short. As for Chef!'s poem, there's not much of a character there (it's a bit difficult to compare poetry to prose, in my opinion) Adeel's character development seems a bit artificial. (You could say that the same holds true for Ponch's and kconan's characters, but they are in a different kind of story, so I think I'm just expect something else)

Plot: Ponch and Adeel Ponch: The idea of a character planning for years to commit suicide in a very complicated (unnecessaryly complicated) way was just enjoyable. Adeel: I didn't like the framing story of the children listening to their grandmother that much, but the fable the grandmother tells was good, even though I knew where it was going from the beginning - and I think I heard a very similar story somewhere before. It felt a lot like a parable from the bible (that's a compliment, just in case that wasn't clear.)

Atmosphere: Chef! According to Baron this is all about feeling and so I didn't think much about this category and just went with what felt good / right / whatever. In this category, poetry has a distinct advantage over prose, at least for me.

Background World: No vote in this category. I didn't feel that any story had more or less of a background to it than the others, so they all deserve a vote, but Baron limited the votes per category to 3 and there are 4 to choose from, so...

Word Choice / Style: kconan and Chef! I love the way kconan woves in all these different quotes of Burns. Very clever, even though they not always fit perfectly and were sometimes even jarring and took me out of the story, it still was a good effort. As for Chef!, the rhythm and rhyming isn't always perfect, I would say, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. Special mention to Ponch for his gramatically correct german, but that is not enough to earn you a point in this category. (As a side note and for future reference: Nouns are capitalized in german: "Meine Socken sind erstaunlich.")

Message: Adeel There's not much of a moral in the other stories unless you count Ponch's "angsty teenangers should never be allowed to read poetry", which I don't. Adeel's moral seems a bit heavy-handed and maybe even far fetched, but it was certainly there and, first and foremost, it was the point of his story. But I have to note that this is a difficult category, as not all stories are supposed to have any message and sometimes they have kind of an "anti-moral".

I tried to stay positive in my reviews; I hope I succeeded.
All in all, good work all around.

Edit: I just realized that I gave everyone two votes and tied you all. That was not intentional, it just ended up like that.

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