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[Mandle]

Oddest character: I must say, The Man who Drank all the Water on Earth embraced absurdity the absolute best. Absolutely Mandle here. None of the other characters stood out to me at all.
Weirdest plot: I think the line between a weird plot, and a disjointed/broken plot is a very fine one. Reiter manages to create a weird plot without going completely off the rails into something unreadable. The other entries were a bit too manic to follow easily.
Purplest Writing: Sinitrena's entry is the textbook definition of purple writing. Entire paragraphs to that effect owed primarily to the muse itself. Reiter's story had some great verse but was overall rather straightforward, and Mandle's was--by-design--dry and concise.
Funniest Larks: Reiter was the best here, illustrating a bloody war and the fall of an empire through ridiculous names and preposterous circumstances. Warmistress Foam sticks in my head due to her technical demise at the hands of a particularly charismatic toaster, and I'm still giggling at some of the other scenes. The other stories either had precious few tangents or tried to force them and in turn made them feel clunky and fall flat for me.
Best Absurd Story: Without a doubt, Reiter. The other entries had some good moments, but nothing felt as cohesive and easily absurd as Chronicles of Mandolin.

Great entries by all.

Thank you for your valuable consideration, Sinitrena. Your input is appreciated.

Now that voting is over, and the winners have received their deserved accolades (congrats again!) here is a companion piece to Dear Ben. This is what I envisioned but was in too much of a hurry to properly share.

Dear June:

Please see the attached diary entries in connection with the disappearances of Mr. Benjamin Lacey and Mr. James Corburn. These entries may shed some light on an investigation which still seems to harbor more questions than answers. As you are now current Lead Investigator in the wake of Mr. Darwish’s unexpected sabbatical, I require you report any new findings to me directly and immediately.

This is a weird one J. You know I’d work it myself if I didn’t need to be there for that political nonsense in D.C.

Be safe, and remember that you’re the only one in the field for this one, so if anyone claims to be us, you know what to do.

*TRANSCRIPTS FOLLOW*

*

August 8, 2008 (Day 1)
Stopped for the night. Had to. My feet are sore, I’m sunburnt, I have a headache, and I’m definitely right at the fuckin’ junction of “Nowhere in Particular” and “Where the Fuck am I”. I gotta tell ya Jimmy, I’m not sure why I’m out here in the first place, because if there is some sort of energy like you say, it feels like it’s pissed at me already. This desert is just hill after dusty hill of nothing. Dried up old dead weeds, thorns, rocks, smaller rocks…just…barren, dry bullshit as far as the eye can see. My eyes hurt because everything is overbright from the relentless bastard sun and this alien sky that feels like it’s as sunfaded as everything else. Watching the sun go over the nearby mountains, even they look angry. They aren’t like the Swiss Alps man, these are lower, rockier, with deep eroded canyons workin’ through the foothills. If they do have any plants growing on them, it’s just low, prickly shrubs, all dried out and waiting for the next random rainstorm. Mountains but desert. What will Mother Nature think of next, eh? I’m puttin’ pen to paper right here and now and declare that I haven’t the slightest fucking idea why people would want to come out here to camp or sightsee or whatever. Not trying to slight where you lived Jimmy, but…damn, talk about ass-end of nowhere.

I’m sorry, I’m venting. I just wish you could be here to explain all this shit to me, and maybe even guide me into this magical fucking place you described, because if your directions weren’t cryptic enough, leaving my condo in Malibu to traipse all over the devil’s asshole isn’t helping. Maybe if you’d found this place in a cave in Aspen, it would be one thing, hell, I have a time-share up there…go skiing right from the cave, whatever, but naw, it had to be this fucking desert.

But what do we do for friends who send a paper letter in the digital age, and then just stop responding to texts, calls, anything?

I guess we run our dumbass out into the desert and cook to death.

*

August 9, 2008
Thank Christ, I found the river fork and the boulder. Jim, it’s a good thing you made sure to use SUPER descriptive terms such as dry river and boulder. There’s certainly not THOUSANDS of those out here.

I did realize one thing though, when you said “until I don’t hear the chirping of birds”, I thought that was a place, but it isn’t, it’s a time of day…you clever bastard. I kept wondering how there could be no birds in the…you know…fuckin’ wilderness until about noon, when I didn’t hear anything…too fuckin’ hot. I looked, and the hills were dead ahead.
 
This place…grinds on you, the sandy ground is like a hot cheese grater, and feeling the rocks crunch under your shoes, it seems like your bones are doing the crunching, instead of the rocks. I stopped earlier than yesterday because this place is still just Mars with fuckin’ oxygen and the heat catches in your throat like a piece of dry bread, and I fucking hate it. The breeze out here is like a blast furnace and it just withers away any desire I have of moving forward. Call me soft, but at least I didn’t live in the fucking desert Jim. You say this place doesn’t impart any wealth, but if we’re being honest, aside from you, that’s pretty much the only reason I’m out here. If this place is anything like you said it is, I can at least get a finder’s fee for the archaeological find or get a little press out of it. And come on dude, not wanting to share it with the world? That’s insane, it’ll get found sooner or later, everything does. At least have the forethought to be the guy that gets his name on it.

If you aren’t going to get anything else out of this wasteland, at least get that. Corburn’s Cave would have had a nice ring to it, but if you don’t want it, Lacey’s Cave sounds just as good in my opinion.

*

Aug. 10, 2008
Looks like I fuckin’ did it now Jimmy.

What started as some weekend fuckery is probably now going to cost me my life. I was working my way up the ravine, put my hand on a rock to steady myself and got bit by a rattler. Fuck me. Maybe it serves me right. Looking back through the last couple of pages, I haven’t been real fair to you or this place. Don’t get me wrong, getting bitten on the hand isn’t budging me much, but when you’re sitting alone with a sunset in front of you, and it might be one of the last ones you ever see, you force yourself to appreciate the beauty.

I’m sorry Jim, for a lot of things. Mostly for making you keep up the contact after college. I never was good at reaching out, but thinking back, I should have made more of an effort, maybe then, I’d know where you went, or what’s happened to you. It really sucks that you don’t take stock of your life until you might be staring death in the face. I did my best with the bite kit. Never thought I’d need it, but I’m glad as fuck the kid at the store pushed it on me. Best five dollar upsell ever.

But here’s the shit of it: I’ve gotten out as much venom as I could with the kit, and I put a tourniquet on my arm, but I’m three days in the wilderness and I’ve only bought myself a day or two at the absolute most; probably not even that.

I can’t make it out in time.

So I’m going in. I’m going to press on, so if this place is as real as you say, this trip won’t be for nothing and I can at least see it myself with my own eyes. Foolish? Maybe, but so was running out into the desert to find a magical cave and possibly an old friend. I’m a helluva lot closer to the cave than I am to civilization, so once I’m done writing this, I’m going to try and cover as much ground as I can, it’ll be less stressful moving at night now that I can just follow the ravine, and I’m racing against the clock. Good luck future-me…

*

Aug. 10??
Okay. Found rocks, found cave. Went inside and crawled through because crouching made my vision go dark. Slid on my butt for at least a half-mile while I dragged my bitten hand as low to the ground as possible. It hurts to breathe. I found the big antechamber though. High water marks on the cave walls and everything. Fuckin’ amazing. Erosion? Carved? Hard to tell, but still awesome. Have a splitting headache, but can’t take aspirin, they thin the blood. Going to rest and then I’m going to try to make my way down the hole.

*

“Day 1”
Here’s what I remember:

I barely remember sliding down the hole, along the path.

I remember hearing water and being thirstier than I’d ever been.

I remember washing my hand in the water and laying on my belly on the shore, knowing I was going to die but leaving my hand dangling in the water so I could keep it lower than my heart, just because it felt so good. I remember the tingling chill of the water on my skin as I blacked out.

I remember waking up here, and thinking I had died, and I was in heaven, or dreaming my last dream.

But I’m here now, and I’m reading back through, and it’s like some other man had been writing those things. My hand still hurts like I’ve never known, and I’m weak, hungry and sick, but for some incomprehensible reason, I’m still suckin’ air.

And I can say without a doubt that this trip was not a fucking waste.

Holy shit Jim, I thought you had a way with words, but even you couldn’t do justice to this thing. I’ve never seen anything like it, just the countertops on the buildings alone would sell for thousands of dollars. The carvings, the pillars, everything about this place is incredible. It’s so BIG. Once I figure out my situation and make sure I’m not still going to die, I want to see as much of this place as I can. Now I know why I didn’t hear from you for days or weeks at a time.

Also, thank God I scheduled a week for this, and prepared for as much. I packed in enough food to last me until I can think of what to do next, which will consist of getting my bearings. This comes with two challenges:

1. I don’t remember how I got in here. I see a number of paths leading into the surrounding wall, and I don’t know which one I came in from.

2. My phone’s battery is dead, the spare is damaged, and the Boy Scout-style compass I brought as a backup is literally trying to point up through the glass, so traditional bearings are useless.

Thanks to preventative planning, I do have a full first aid kit, a crank flashlight/radio thing the kid also sold me, some emergency calorie bars on top of the camping meals I packed in, a folding army surplus shovel, and my tent and bedroll. The backpack is also a fancy external-frame job…if worse comes to worse, I can tear it down for emergency wraps, splints and anything else I can think of. Listen to me…using all that fuckin’ Bear Grylls know-how…who says reality TV is useless?

*

“Day 2”
Spent the rest of yesterday and today resting up, eating, and tending to the bite on my hand. I’ve been feeling stronger and stronger, which is completely contrary to where I should be with a bite like that. Unless that old rattler was low on venom herself, by all accounts, I should have died without medical help, and yet here I am. I started writing in this thing as a lark, because I felt like some movie adventurer, searching for treasure. At this point, writing in this diary is important just so I don’t think I was dreaming whenâ€"if…this is all over. I know me from four days ago would tell me I was out of my fucking mind, but me from four days ago also hadn’t seen what I’ve seen.

I’ve seen my bite get less swollen and go from a deathly black to purple. I’ve seen my strength return much faster than it should if I’d gotten prompt medical attention, which I haven’t. I’ve seen…shadows moving between the buildings nearby, but that could just be tricks of the strange light, the snake venom doing whatever it’s doing, or the water here that seems to heal. A big part of me wonders how much a teaspoonful of this would go for on the open market. Unless I have big digestive problems coming down the pipe soon, the water here seems safe to drink and has a taste that is faintly sweet, but doesn’t at all seem rotten or tainted. You can almost feel a strange vigor run through you when you drink it, but that just might be my body reacting to the venom, exhaustion, or insanity of what I’m seeing down here.

I’ve had plenty of time to reflect on this place, and how you managed to find it, Jim, and I think for you to come all this way as a kid, you must have had some additional demons at home. Really, no kid in his right mind would trek all the way out into the desert just because his pops was into some drug shit. No way man. You downplayed how crazy getting here could possibly be, and I have a feeling there’s some more questions I’ll need to ask you before I can understand why you’d be lead all the way out here. I get that this is your home, and outsiders probably don’t understand it like you do, but for a kid to come this far out, maybe some of those walks weren’t ever supposed to end back at home…maybe you were hoping you would keep walking until…whatever. Maybe…perhaps, the cave…this Oasis, found you.

Or maybe there’s still a snakebite working its way through my system. Fuck, at this point who knows anymore.

*

“Day 3”
Honestly, no idea if it’s daytime or nighttime, I’m just basing this off my own sleep schedule now, which between the constant, low light in here or the effects of the snakebite, for all I know could be hours or minutes or days. I felt good enough to do a bit of walking around and found the obelisk you mentioned in your letter. I moved camp here because it’s one of the most well-lit areas, there’s a comfortable bit of a clearing to spread out camp, and the obelisk itself is interesting. I’m no scholar, but there’s languages on it that should not be there, and definitely do not belong in the southwestern US desert. I saw what appeared to be Hieroglyphs, Chinese characters, maybe Sanskrit, and all other kinds of pictograms and proto-writings. I’m really wishing my camera phone was working right about now. Jim, maybe you knew this, maybe you didn’t, but the significance of this thing is…immense. I’ve been working on any other clues, and I feel like the pictograms are the most familiar for some reason. One side is nothing but primitive pictures such as birds, spiders, cattle (maybe), even what appeared to be some primates.

If I had to guessâ€"and five days ago me would absolutely think I’m a loonâ€"I’d think this might actually be some sort of…worldwide marketplace. It sounds completely nutbag, but it all seems to point that way. Between the different languages on the obelisk, the open countertops in front of buildings, it just…feels like that’s what it is. If that’s true, this is truly one of the most important discoveries of the modern era! I wish I had more time and supplies to really look around! Unfortunately, I don’t have much of either and I need to come up with a plan of action.

I’ve decided I need to choose a direction and follow one of the paths to see if I can get out of here. I figure if I’m going to take a shot, I might as well do it while I’ve got plenty of food and aid in case things go sour. I’ve chosen a path that dives into the wall nearest the obelisk. I have no idea where it leads, but tomorrow I imagine I’ll find out. I’d wait one more day just for the snakebite, but almost all the swelling has already gone down and the color is closer to a mustard-colored bruise. One thing’s for fuckin’ sure, no matter what else happens, I’m taking a canteen full of the water from down here wherever I go.

*

“Day 4”
So, this might be a long entry.

I ate a full meal, cranked up the radiolight, and headed up the path. In minutes I was plodding up a stone staircase that was long enough to cause my ears to pop, not unlike what Jim described in his letter. I came into an antechamber that looked very similar to the one I originally came down, with high water marks and all, but once I continued up and made it out of the cave, I knew.

Pure, golden dunes, stretching out before me. I pulled out the small compass, which was finally working again. The dunes spanned out, relentlessly, infinitely to the west and south. They towered and dove into each other, creating a horizon of golden waves I’d only ever seen on television. The wind that hit me was hotter, the grit it carried was sharper. The earth had a wildly different scent here, a difference that helped drive home how real everything was. The clouds overhead were thin and pulled long across a gradient blue sky.

I’ve never been patently frightened in my whole life. When you grow up hearing your dad beat the shit out of your mom every day, you grow numb to the screams and the crying, and the loud thudding just fades into the background. The rest of life gets turned down. A drunken fratboy threatening you doesn’t mean shit when you’ve taken a full-face punch from your dad. A corporate merger is fuck-all compared to seeing your mom scrubbing her own blood out of the bathroom sink. Once you see the little horrors that can permeate a family, not a whole lot bothers you. Maybe why Jim and I seemed to get along so well, we both had a lot of strife growing up at home. Maybe Jim had a little more than I ever knew, maybe more than he ever let on. At any rate, speaking from experience, that kind of stuff hardens you, creates a thicker skin around your heart, and makes it harder to really shock or scare you. I guess all that to say, yeah, I’ve never been scared of much, and the snakebite was the new recent high, until this.

Magic isn’t scary until you experience it for yourself. Most people will never have to worry about that, because most people will never experience real magic. Real magic is an enormous thing; something so big you don’t realize it’s there until you feel it. I wasn’t standing in the southwest American desert I’d started out in…in fact, it wasn’t any desert I’d ever been in before. I felt like a rabbit who had been nibbling on grass in a field and who was suddenly dangling by their ears over a stage in front of a cheering crowd. I grabbed for the radiolight with numb hands and switched the radio receiver on. Static. I slowly cranked the dial, holding the gadget toward the sky like an offering to the fuckin’ sun-gods and slowly moved the needle down the range.

Nothing. Not even a whisper. I looked once again out over the arid expanse, trying to pick any details out of the undulating sand. Nothing but eyestrain. The horizon wavered sickeningly through the heat-shimmer, and with the bright, golden sand below, it looked like the whole world in front of me was gently ablaze. I called out, listening to my own voice die away over the open dunes, the sand eating my words. The wind once again whipped the heat into my face, and I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. I realized I wasn’t quite out of the woods yet with the snakebite as I felt the pulse of a headache beginning at my temples.

On rubbery legs and still not believing my senses, I chanced a walk towards the north where the jagged seam between the sandy dunes and low, rocky hills stretched on over the horizon. I clambered to the top of a hill and looked across the entire panorama, noting to my dismay no signs of civilization at all. I began my climb down and--like a dumbshit--slipped and twisted my ankle. Thank fuck I didn’t break it, although with how things have been going, I wouldn’t have been surprised. I figured that was enough fun for one day and hobbled my ass back down to camp, but not before I learned the compass had been broken during my fall. Damn my bad luck, but at least it wasn’t another snake. So here we are, a bit wiser for our troubles, and licking fresh wounds. I also came back to find some things in camp not quite where I’d left them. I’m torn between harmless critters, wind that doesn’t exist down here, or something else. Hopefully if they’re critters or something else, they’re nice, because dumbass me only brought a shovel.

*

“Day 5”
Another question for you Jim, did you ever take any of these paths? Is that where you got off to? Do you know where they lead? I took another one today, and now I know for sure.

Nazca. Some of the pictograms on the obelisk are Nazca lines.

The hummingbird, the spider, the monkey…The Peruvian desert. I saw it all with my own eyes when I came out of the cave.

It wasn’t easy, I was limping a bit from yesterday’s escapade, but again, this water seems to get you back on your feet much quicker than normal. The folding shovel, along with some pieces of the frame from the backpack gave me a shitty kind of a cane that didn’t look pretty, but got me up that path a lot easier and helped with the pain that was still there. It also helped me pry away the very, very old and thankfully rusted grate that had been crudely hammered into the opening leading out of the antechamber. I was forced to stop and rest a few times on the way up to the surface, not only from my lingering ankle injury, but also because I ain’t no young buck these days, and I’m really not used to this kind of exertion.

When I finally emerged topside, and my eyes adjusted to the glare, I was struck once again by that giant magic washing over me.

The barren, rocky plains spread away from where I stood, partway up a hillside. A short distance down the slope, the desert floor took on a dull brown color and stretched away to meet the sky somewhere far in the distance. I could just make out two giant converging lines traversing toward the horizon, spreading out as they went. As I followed them back from the horizon with my gaze, I saw they joined in a perfect point below the cave I’d come out of. I once again clambered up to higher ground (a lot more carefully this time) and that’s when I saw it, the hummingbird, nestled in the circular valley below. My brain struggled with what was entering my eyes.

I pulled out the radio and started tuning. Almost immediately I got a burst of music, a lively marimba beat that felt completely alien. Urging trumpets and a Latin chorus pierced the silence, startling me and sounding like broken glass after days of nothing. I twisted the volume knob down so hard I nearly broke it off, but it had served its purpose. I had my bearings. Over some hills behind me, I saw a glimmer, a highway maybe, or a small town. I marveled at how these caves had stayed hidden for so long, then thought about it; perhaps, with everything else going on about this place, the caves staying secret wasn’t so hard to believe. Once you’ve felt that real magic, you might believe a bit of anything.

This really was The Oasis. The Oasis. A travel and trading hub connecting what seemed all the deserts of the world, hidden from modern eyes. Goddamnit Jim, I’m sitting here now, looking over the obelisk, feeling the fading heat on my skin from the harsh Peruvian sun, and I’m sure as shit you knew. You had to have known after a while. Hell, I’m still dealing with my first visit and my mind is bursting with new knowledge. There’s no way you didn’t know. Fuckin’ asshole, wherever you are…If you hadn’t been so cagey, I probably would have been back to work already instead of nursing life-threatening wounds and being lost. I wonder if you’re still out there, down one of these paths and out into one of these godforsaken deserts…somewhere I can come kick your ass then give you a hug…and not necessarily in that order.

*

“Day 6”
Good news and bad news.

First the good news: I’m pretty sure the way the languages are laid out on the obelisk, it serves as a “signpost” of sorts. If that’s right, then I’m pretty sure I know which path I need to take to get home.

Bad news: The path that I’m sure leads back home is currently vomiting rainwater, I’m almost out of food, and I want to save trekking home from Peru as a last resort. I mean, I’m not exactly poor, but I’m not “fuck off, I vanished and reappeared in Peru” rich either.

I have one meal and the calorie bars remaining, which will last me another couple days if I’m careful. I’ve searched around the market and haven’t found anything useful, the plants here aren’t edible, and there’s no other good sources of food. The fish and stuff in the water are too small to really make a meal out of, and the whole glowing thing doesn’t make me want to eat them, but push comes to shove, who knows. My ankle still hurts a bit but I’ve been drinking plenty of the water.

I still see the shadows in between the buildings here and there, so it isn’t the snake venom, although that could be the water somehow now that I think about it. No way to tell since I don’t have any other water source right now, so probably best not to think about it too hard. The shadows themselves, they don’t seem threatening, just…curious. Still, I have a feeling it’s not the best idea to try and make contact.

The longer you’re down here, the more you learn to act on feeling. The more you learn to just kind of…accept things the way they are. Maybe I’ll write a book when I get back; 10 Survival Tips for the World Oasis…

*

7
A land of plenty…
A crossroads for all…
Something eternal…
The sounds of feet scraping across cobble, the sound of voices, of trading, of children…

The first time I’ve dreamt since I’ve been down here, and I can’t say I’m a fan. Camp was a little shuffled when I woke, and while my path is still a waterfall, someone or something has brought me a gift. Next to my pack this morning was a tied cloth, and inside was a cake made of dates and honey. Again, I wonder if Jim made friends during his time down here or if I’m just special.

Still, gifts are gifts, and it will come in very handy since I’ll be working into the last camp meal today and the path is only just letting up. If it clears enough by tonight I might make a run for it. If not, I’ll have to start seriously rationing my food because I’ve still got to hike out of the middle of nowhere before I can say I’m in the clear.

Reading back again, I came down here because I honestly thought it would be the last thing I ever saw, now I’m scared this place will become my tomb no matter what miracles I’m privy to. I guess a lot has changed in the last few days, including myself. Maybe it was the dream last night, but…Like you said in your letter Jim, this place isn’t dead, and I’m feeling that other thing planted inside me that you mentioned. Maybe it’s having seen for myself that there’s still magic in this world, maybe it’s from having just been down here and…absorbed the energy from this place. Having tasted the water, and touched the stones. I look around and I feel like I’m not alone, or if I am, that I just missed whoever else. I feel…timeless down here.

*

No go on tonight, the water has slowed to a trickle, but path is too slick. My kingdom for some rope and climbing bolts. Wish my food supply was as timeless as this place…

*

8
Woke up to realize yesterday wasn’t a gift, it was a trade. My radiolight is gone, and with it any chance of me navigating my way back up through the cave to the surface. I finished the camp meal today and I’m getting into the calorie bars. The water coming out of the path has finally stopped completely. I tested the path as far as the cave light reached and it’s slippery, but getting better. Using the makeshift cane helps, also, I bunched up some of the ferns and found I can use them as a sort of broom to brush away the dried sand and sediment. Still the wetter, muddier areas are too difficult for me to pass. Peru is starting to look better all the time.

I will say one thing Jim, you were absolutely right. This place gives you something really different. It’s something inside, and it’s pretty damn great. There’s something about this place that is…priceless. No one should know about this place, it’s…too special, too perfect. Spoiling that would be some kind of sacrilege, and I don’t want that on my hands.

All the same, I’d kill for a hamburger right about now, and a shower, and a proper bed. Oh, and a flashlight.

*

Well, I’ll give this place another thing, it gives you time to think. I scooped up a few of those little fish and a handful of them is almost enough to read by. If I can get enough of them in one of the old camp meal bags, I might have enough light to get myself out of here. I’ve also devised a plan to grab sediment sand from the drier parts of the path in some of the meal bags and using it to clear some of the wetter, slicker parts of the path, like salting a driveway. I can then use my fern-broom to sweep a walkable path. It’s slow, and it sounds stupid, but it beats the shit out of starving to death.

*

9
All I have left is the honey cake and one calorie bar. I’m packing out, whether I make it or fall and break my neck, I’m getting out today. I need to get back to my life and my contacts so I can make sense of this place and figure out what to do next. I feel like I’m going to see this place again soon.

*

August 20, 2008
Home. I can’t believe I’m home. I can’t believe the comfort, the cool air puffing out of little vents in the ceiling. The cushy, sinking feeling of an overstuffed couch. The smell of freshly-delivered pizza lingering in the room. The number and urgency of all the messages and voicemails that were waiting for me to charge my phone back up again.

Reading back over this is like being transported to a dream, and I feel this ripping urge to go back, even now, not more than a day back home. It pulls at me, tugging on my mind with invisible hooks.

I feel like I traded more than just my time or a radio down there. In that old, dusty expanse, I traded a piece of myself. I feel him back there, old me, sitting next to that obelisk, working out his place, maybe even sitting next to a piece of Jim.

Jim. I know you’re out there. I could feel your presence down there like it was pressed into the strange stones of those buildings, like you were one of those very shadows that moved at the edge of my vision. I think you use that oasis now to move freely around this world. A new man, with a new life…or perhaps an old one.

These pages will go into a safe deposit box, where they’ll be secure, and I’m going to find you Jim, I owe you a hug and an ass-kicking.

See you on the other side.

****

I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. See you all in the next Fortnightly!

I, too hate going back and rewriting, and I think it's been one of my own greatest weaknesses. With that in mind, fleshing out what was in my head didn't involve a rewrite. I may not have addressed all the points made in the votes, but I didn't feel like anyone really got to share in the world that I got to enjoy in my head, and I wanted to expand on a lot of points I left unsatisfied in my first little scribble.

So, in reading the reviews, I'm realizing that I had a much clearer "mental map" of the story than I ever gave to the reader, and reading back, I rushed my story because I was so enchanted with myself I didn't stop to lay it out or describe it properly.

Given that do-overs aren't a thing, I may wait until voting's done to post a little surprise.

[Baron]

Wow! Some tough contenders and beautifully crafted stories, it's been very difficult to pick my favorites, but here goes!

In two-way decisions, I like to give some constructive criticism to the piece I didn't choose and why, in the spirit of collaboration and constructive discussion. I hope I don't offend anyone, and everything is meant in the most respectful and hopefully helpful way.

Character: I have to give this one to Baron; the personalities of the three brothers were excellently varied, believable, and interplayed nicely. I think in particular, the characters here helped facilitate the story greatly. Sinitrena's character felt less defined, and other than her reactions and panic-stricken choices, I didn't feel like I knew anything about her.

Plot: Again, Baron takes the nomination with a plot that was at once cryptic, interesting, and grounded. The development is steady, from the spark of hope with the annuity, to the crash of disappointment with the salt water, to the triumph of the youngest brother's discovery, the story kept me well engaged throughout. Sundancer had some lush descriptions, but was fairly straightforward and quite dark. The snapshot we get is unfortunately too short to really get a sense of the people we are just beginning to learn about. The ending was best taken with a shot of hard liquor.

Writing Style: Baron juuuust eeks into first for me here. The writing is very accessible while still communicating a foreign world and family to us, and the in-culture phrasing was organically conveyed to the reader. The fairly simple phrasing coupled with the very well crafted dialogue made this a treat to read. Sinitrena's writing was lush and almost poetic at times, but at others seemed disjointedly elementary, which pulled me out of the story. The names of the characters being so symbolic was awesome though, amazing touch, and the sense of doom was impeccable.

Atmosphere: Sinitrena manages to knock this one out of the park for me, and by the time I got done reading, I had chills. The sense of ever-approaching doom was all too palpable, and the crushing feel of the desert and the inevitability of the horrors was well communicated. The constant reminder of the starving baby was a jarring reality check that kept the atmosphere dark and urgent at all times. Baron's story also had a great atmosphere, and communicated the feel of the world terrifically, but simply couldn't hold up to the absolute curtain of darkness that Sinitrena managed to weave.

Theme: A true toss-up here, but I think I like Baron's interpretation and connection to the theme. The water-debt, varying attitudes to the viability of the desert from the brothers, and the theme of ingenuity and survival were all well served by the dire environment. Sinitrena's held many of the same survival themes, and explored some interesting lore, and ultimately felt the most tribal and raw. This was the toughest choice out of all, and the only reason Baron got this one is because his was a bit more upbeat, and I've been needing some more upbeat stuff in my life. :/

Fantastic stories all the way around!

What can I say? I was itching for a new Fortnightly. I also live in the desert, so as soon as I saw the topic, my wheels started turning and I was writing before I even knew half of what was in my head!

I loved Sinitrena's entry and can't wait to see what else we get!

Can't wait to see what others come up with! I don't want to win by default!

I'll take a crack!

Dear Ben

It isn't easy living in the middle of nowhere.

The biggest store is Wally World, half the roads out here are little more than clear-cut strips of sand, all the bushes have spines or spikes that want to poke your eyes out, and under every single one of 'em, there's something venomous that wants to take you to a dusty grave.

And that's just talking about the townsfolk, we got some nasty critters too.

At times, it can get a little heavy, especially with how hot it gets up here. The desert's hard, and it attracts some hard people. Go too far off the main track, you'll likely run into our little area's rough and tumble drug trade, and the shifty characters behind it. It's one of the double-edged charms of the desert, there's literally millions of beautiful, strange, unique and even magical places hidden in the wild expanse. It's the place where millions come to look at funny trees, and where Hollyweird once chose to spend their free time. It's said that some rap star built a mansion out of shipping containers somewhere out here. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised. That's just the kind of place this is. Once you get away from the city, and find yourself here, you're struck by how...otherworldly it seems. From the "Seussian" trees to the loose sandy soil, to the miles and miles of rocky, craggy hills I guess it should come as no surprise that a place so strange should hide a few secrets.

And boy, did I ever find a doozy.

I found it back as a kid, exploring alone in the hills, and I've never told anyone about it, it was just too special. I don't think anyone has ever found it, although I think a few have come close. Over the years I came to consider myself a sort of guardian of this place, and before I pass on someday, I want to make sure it's in good hands to guarantee it endures long after we are gone. "Okay, fine, shut up Jim, get to the point." I can hear your voice in my head saying it. So here ya go.

I found an oasis. The...Oasis.

I remember the first time I stumbled on it. Dad and his friends were in the living room, doing "business" that I now know was drug-related, which meant I was ordered out of the house. Fine by me, I'd recently started riding my bike a few miles down the road toward the low hills. We lived on the very edge of what was already a very remote town due to my dad's activities, and in under an hour, I could find myself on the edge of the dusty wilderness. With nothing at home to interest me, this was my sanctuary; a place where the earth turned freely and man scarcely tread. During my routine visits to the area, I'd found and mentally plotted all the off-road tracks and party-spots. Signs of man were easy to find and follow in the vast expanse, the bright desert grit throwing into stark relief anything that didn't belong; the relentless, overbright sun glinting off anything artificial. Bottles, broken parts, cigarette butts, discarded shoes...at times I fancied myself a modern archaeologist, deciphering the remnants of humanity and guessing at the origins of the "artifacts" I'd unearthed. After a time though, sifting through the garbage of what I'd come to mentally refer to as "disenchanted souls" stopped holding my interest, and so I pointed my exploration away into the wild.

It wasn't long before my curiosity took me further into the desert, to places I'd never been. As I'd expected and hoped, there was no sign of man out here and while exploring a small ravine at the base of some hills, I found a narrow cave leading under the mountain. The small entrance was partially hidden behind a rock outcropping, and quickly became pitch black as I descended. A couple of months earlier, in preparation of going out into the wild, I'd taken my savings and bought a cheap "survival kit", which included a flashlight, some inexpensive nylon rope, and some basic first-aid. I dug out the small pen-light, switched it on, and illuminated my way. The path lead steadily down and at times was uncomfortably tight, but finally opened into a larger chamber, easily roomy enough for a crowd of people. There was standing water in low spots, and several water marks along the base of the chamber. At the other side of the cave, I could make out another inky black hole continuing down into the earth and picked my way around the debris that had washed down here in previous desert downpours. As I approached the opening, I noticed what appeared to be a crude, upside-down "T" etched into the rock. As I entered this lower passage I could feel a sort of pressure change in my ears, and inwardly wondered how far down I'd gone.

As I continued, the echoing sound of my shoes scuffing on the dusty rock gave way to a constant rushing noise, at first what sounded like wind blowing through treetops, but was actually the sound of running water. As I clambered down one last dip in the path, I realized my flashlight was becoming less and less essential as the light in the cave began to get stronger. As I came around a long corner, I noticed a form of stairway had been carved into the floor, and as I descended, what I saw was beyond anything I could ever have imagined.

The stone stairs led me down into a cave larger than anything I'd ever seen, with a gently arched ceiling high above me. Enormous stone pillars spanned from the ceiling all the way down to the cave floor, which stretched into the distance amid what looked like a vast stone marketplace. As I walked past a stone pillar, its base as big as a redwood tree, I saw a tangled maze of open-front stone buildings and cobble pathways sprawl out in front of me. To my right, and feeding into the pathways and structures was a large rushing river of water, being fed by several waterfalls that tumbled out of various places far up on the cave walls. As I peered around, I noticed some of the falls were deluges, while others were little more than trickles. Still other holes showed old, dried water stains, indicating they had once contributed to the rapids below. As I looked into the water, I noticed it was lit with a strong, steady glow, providing the light for the cavern I was standing in. The small, man-made waterways built into the streets of the marketplace also glowed serenely, casting a clean turquoise tint on all the structures from below. In between cobble stones and at the corners of buildings, delicate ferns sprouted, their lacy leaves turned downward instead of up to capture the unique light of this world. As I walked, I could see the maze of cobble paths lead into various passageways that dove into the walls of the chamber, leading to unknown places. I could feel the thousands or even millions of feet that had fallen on that path before me. But while I saw no souls, the place felt very much alive. To be sure, it was no tomb, and even in disuse, it felt, somehow...cared for, like a school during summer break. I reached out and touched the stone counter of a nearby building. The rock was smooth as if by erosion and had an unnatural warmth. The pale-reddish flecks in the black rock was unlike anything I'd ever seen in my previous desert exploration. As I ran my fingers along the finely-hewn edge, I could almost see the exotic fruits and vegetables laid out for display.

As I explored, I came into what appeared to be a plaza, with an onyx obelisk at the center. The obelisk was covered on all sides with different writing, none of which I could read. The cobbles in the plaza square were arranged in an ornate pattern, with what appeared to be a sun with rays of light striking out in all directions. Here, light seemed to be streaming in from the cave ceiling overhead, but it was impossible to tell if it was natural sunlight, or some source similar to the light in the water. At one point, I also found what appeared to be the remnants of a stone dock, although the rushing water had erased any traces of boats or goods. The dock itself had long ago fallen into ruin and tumbled into the water, creating tide pools and a small lagoon where some strange water plants had taken root and overgrown much of the rubble. I peered into the softly undulating water and found at least a partial solution to the water-based glow, small fish and insects in the water that radiated a steady bluish hue. I didn't find much else in the densely packed scree of buildings. Most seemed to be shops of some sort, with large open fronts and wide counters. Other places seemed to be storage or areas where work could be done. I felt like I'd been down there ages and so took one more long look and made my way back out the way I'd come.

I've since been back there hundreds, if not thousands of times. Once, I found a couple of college-age hikers not far from the ravine, and warned them off, telling them the ravine had a population of coyotes and was considered dangerous. Another time, I found a couple of guys looking for a place to do some drugs just outside the cave entrance. Goodness knows how they managed to get that far out in the desert, but I gave them an earful, telling them they were lucky they hadn't been bitten by something, or that a ranger hadn't come along and found them already. By that time I was already well in my thirties, and intimidating enough I never saw them again.

It's kind of like a second home down there, and when dad...died..or disappeared, or whatever happened, I spent a couple weeks down there, with some groceries I took with me. I always packed out what I packed in, and I never disturbed the natural order. It's quiet down there, with a real air of something that came before, so it's good to clear your head. It...puts a lot into perspective. It also affords seemingly endless time to pursue one's inner self. I spent a long time trying to read the obelisk, and while I'm pretty sure I'll never translate that thing myself in a thousand lifetimes, it somehow feels wrong to turn this place over to some agency or group of diggers who'll come here and excavate the beauty and history out of it, even if they do figure out what it says. No, this place is mine, handed to me by whoever came before and had the care to leave it as it was for me to find. Moreover, I feel something uniquely special about the place, something that dances on the border of magic, a kind of energy that would be forever ruined by an outsider's touch.

And so it is that I've kept this place near to my heart, and I now share it only with you, to watch over and preserve as I have. Sure, it isn't easy to live in the middle of nowhere, but this place has kept me here long after I would have left on my own, it is like no other place in the world, and it is the only reason I ask you to stay after I'm gone. It will bring you no wealth or gold, but I have found it plants something within you, an inner wealth that can not be put into words.

Northwest of the dry river fork, atop a rise past a lone boulder, go straight until you no longer hear the chirping of birds. Put the hills to your right and follow the ravine. When you reach the dead-end, climb a small pile of rocks and then look to the left. Bring a flashlight.

And it goes without saying of course, but tell no one. I think it would make the energy down there...angry.

Your Lifelong Friend,
Jim

[Sinitrena]

Thank you for the insight Judas, it's very much appreciated!

Now, onto the awards!

Though our contest this time around was a bit lean on participants, we still got two high-quality stories from Sinitrena and Baron.

Sinitrena offered up a chilling story about the secret lives of some very familiar companions.

Baron created something that both Douglas Adams and H.G. Wells could have been proud of.

Soooooooo...Due to how the votes fell out, I took the liberty of casting my tiebreaker vote, and the results are as follows!

Sinitrena wins the gold with her story When They Dance...! Great job Sinitrena, here's your well-deserved gold!


Baron takes second place with his excellent entry A Little Crazy! Congratulations on winning the silver!


A homeless cat came in from the rain to take a nap in 3rd place!


Everyone gets a trophy for voting and participating! Thank you!!


Thanks to everyone who participated, voted, and special thanks to those who wrote stories! Sinitrena, it's up to you now! See you in the next contest!!

[Character]

Oh My, a two-way tie...

Character: Baron with Dr. Bazaar. His rantings made me think of a bit-part Douglas Adams character that has happened to get their own story. Though insane, the dialogue kept me engaged and amused, with Dr Bazaar having the stage most often.
Plot: Sinitrena. Unexpected but beautifully wrought, I found myself wanting more of that world, and I really wanted to know how everything was going to get fixed, if at all. Great concept.
Writing Style: Again, Sinitrena takes the lead on this one. While Baron's story was energetic and amusing, it was also a bit blustery and all the characters were yelling in my head. Warranted, likely given the situation, but it also took away from the sense of place whereas Sinitrena's writing was simply the translation layer between that world and ours.
Atmosphere: This was a tough one, but I have to give it to Sinitrena. While Baron took the "world within" concept to the utmost, I never got the sense that I was inside Mrs. Dr. Bellerophan's colon like I had wished. Sinitrena fleshed out her world the best, and I truly felt a sense of anxiety at the end.

Much appreciated kind person!

We really need some votes here folks...

If it's allowed, I would vote, though I'm not sure that's acceptable considering I'm administering the contest and must remain impartial.

If you have just a moment of time, please help the contest from being a complete sweep (or a deadlock in case Baron comes and votes the only way he really can :/).

Good call Baron!

[When They Dance...]

So, I think I've given it as much time as I could. We have two wonderful entries, and I'm eager to give out trophies!

The stories we got are:

When They Dance... by Sinitrina

and

A Little Crazy by Baron



Everyone is invited to read, enjoy and consider the stories and cast one vote per category:

Character: Which characters stood out with their own personality or interesting development?
Plot: What happens in the story? Is it logical, surprising, exciting, etc?
Writing Style: The technical aspect of writing, including but not limited to turns of phrases, spelling, ...
Atmosphere: The story that dragged you into a world of its own, that creates emotions, vivid images...especially one that truly reveals the "within" nature of the world..

Voting ends on 6th March.

Any further entries? I'm wanting to extend it at least one or two more days to at least have a 3rd place to award.

[Blur]

Concept: Blur - Multiple senses of scale gave this one a clever feel, but the lack of detail kept it from really sucking me in. Even some scattered stars in the backdrop or some further detail on the moon or floor would have improved the overall picture. Great concept, but left me wanting more, particularly with the level of detail given the earth.
Playability: Stylez75 - The layout and art style instantly transported me to an old x86-era adventure game, and I could see a fun scene where you had to get from the station to the rover on the cliff, and your sprite was only a couple pixels. Made me smile.
Artistic Execution: Racoon - The art style was perfect for the scene, and only didn't also take playability due to the very compact feel (and thus few walkable areas). The feel of the scene is wonderfully tiny and quaint, and the finer details such as smoke from the chimney and clothes on the line that really bring it alive and give it a life the other entries lack.

Great entries from everyone all around!

Gonna let this contest extend juuuuust a little bit, since we only have one entry in and one pending.

LAST CHANCE!! Show everyone what you've got!!

Hi everyone! Just a friendly reminder we are ONE week out from the deadline!

I can't wait to see what you wizards have crafted up!

[Sinitrena]

Hi everyone! This is my very first time handing out a topic for a writing competition here, so let's get started!

The World Within

This time around, I'd like to explore the concept of a world hidden under, beside, or somehow woven within another world. I'm sure it's been done before, but I'd like to see new takes on the idea and perhaps new ways of exploring or illustrating this hidden place.

Bonus points (maybe, depends on how fickle voters are) for subverting obvious tropes or taking us somewhere unimaginable. Entries are open until Monday, February 24th.

Best of luck!

RESULTS
Sinitrena wins the gold with her story When They Dance...! Great job Sinitrena, here's your well-deserved gold!


Baron takes second place with his excellent entry A Little Crazy! Congratulations on winning the silver!


A homeless cat came in from the rain to take a nap in 3rd place!


Everyone gets a trophy for voting and participating! Thank you!!


Thanks to everyone who participated, voted, and special thanks to those who wrote stories! Sinitrena, it's up to you now! See you in the next contest!