Garo
Boy Wonder
Welcome to round 8 of the ZeldaDungeon Writing Community Competition, the place where Zelda Dungeon members get a chance to show off their writing chops each week by tackling a unique theme. Spectators will get to vote on the best piece and crown a winner for each round, and then we do it all over again! Before we get to new business, let's announce the winner of last week's competition. With six entries based on the theme "Farewell", spectators had a plethora of different styles to sample - but ultimately, voters chose Heroine of Time as the winner, with her piece highlighting a touching and tear-inducing farewell between the Ranch sisters, Romani and Cremia. Her piece will be featured on the ZD main page, and she'll receive an award for her postbit!
Now on to the current pieces. The theme this week was "A New Adventure", and while the turnout wasn't quite as good, we still had three entries this week - thanks and congratulations to all who entered! You can find their pieces, as always, in the spoiler tag below.
Make sure to leave a reply in the thread with your comments, as well as voting in the poll above for your favorite.
On to new business. Before we announce the theme, I'd like to bring to the attention of potential contestants a change in the contest. Rather than continue on a weekly basis, we will be moving to a two-week long round. Everything will run the same as before, but you'll have two weeks to get your entries in rather than a single week. To compensate, we are also bumping the word count up once again, allowing those who have already entered a bit more breathing room as well as encouraging new contestants to toss their hat in the ring.
Now, for the theme of Round 8, we're going to follow up the recent "Courage" theme with...
Entries will be due on Friday, August 24th, at 9:00 PM EST. Just send it to me in a PM!
Now on to the current pieces. The theme this week was "A New Adventure", and while the turnout wasn't quite as good, we still had three entries this week - thanks and congratulations to all who entered! You can find their pieces, as always, in the spoiler tag below.
A Link In Time
It was a place of filth and squalor, black and white, life and death.
The detention complex rose high above the ground. Had public officials known of its existence the area would have been closed long ago. And yet the secret had never been unveiled, locked away behind a curtain of deception. Everything changed when a record of the horrors was smuggled into the open. To this day the anonymous author remains unknown.
***
July 8, 1958
Beijing, China
His name was allegedly John but they never referred to him as that. To the brutal prison guards he was known as X3-88. He was of a fair complexion but hours of tedious work had worn him out to the point of developing purple spots under his eyebrows. A loud guffaw resonated from the guard bunker. As usual, the officers were slacking off, playing darts, and getting drunk. One of the inebriated men was his head officer, Dom.
“Get your rear end in here,” Dom barked. “Gentlemen, this is my main man, X3-88. He’s always outperforming those other lazy scoundrels. I thought we’d treat him to a toast tonight”.
The party lasted long into the night. Evening turned to dusk turned to dawn. John had avoided too much liquor for he knew he wouldn’t be able to accomplish his end today if he had succumbed to alcoholic toxins.
***
July 9, 1958
Beijing, China
Today was the day. The birds would finally chirp once more as they felt the cool air blowing across their backs. They had known nothing but the scum of their barracks and working quarters for months. If everything went according to plan a way out would be secured.
The girl was in charge of the operation. No one would suspect a plump 12 year old of smuggling covert secrets. And they certainly wouldn’t fathom for her to boast an intelligence quotient rivaling Einstein’s.
The elevators doors opened. The group dispersed. Little did they know they would never be reunited again.
***
February 28, 2001
San Francisco, California
The events that occurred that day solemn July I fail to comprehend. Sometimes I find myself sitting on the porch along after my nieces have gone to bed. I’ve grown to be an old man but was among the youngest when they attempted the break out. Forever I’ll be scarred like a Nazi hiding in South America afraid of retribution.
I’m not proud of assisting the operation and the brutal murder of the group was something I never expected. Affiliations and mercy melted into nothingness. The realm of ethereality consumed all in its path.
It still seemed like a dream. I had seen them get drunk. Never had I expected them to execute such harrowing repercussions. John, the girl, they were all murdered. Seeing the bloodshed I fled the scene and escaped to the outside vicinity in order to warn the police of the horrors burrowing inside the facility. Following the subsequent arrest of its primary officers I fled the country and assumed a second identity in order to live the rest of my years in peace.
It wasn’t easy accustoming myself to the traditional and liberties of a democratic nation. I pondered over the fate of my fellow countrymen under Mao and his successors. They trudged forward in damnation while I was free…
The diary was found upon scavenging the man’s files following his suicide. His wallet contained solely forged documents and they never recovered his true identity. The corpse was transported to the local morgue, a smile on its face, bliss after a life of misery.
Hero of Time
Although not a very social man, Bruce Wayne always appeared pensive. The mellow, almost depressed aura that emanated from his brown eyes gave the impression that he was constantly consuming that which the world had to present to him. This comprehensiveness gave way to uncanny judgment in a diverse array of scenarios, but it also made the echoes of tragedy reverberate louder in his ears than those of any other. But despite this internal sadness, or perhaps existing as a direct result of it, there was a fire; the man had a perpetual appetite for justice and insisted on delivering it. Bruce Wayne craved vengeance.
Not only did he have the drive for righteousness, but he had the proper resources imperative in order to execute his will thoroughly. The lone child of the deceased founder of Wayne Enterprises, Bruce had inherited both the wealth and ownership of the corporation. His first-hand man within the company, Lucius Fox, supplied him with the technology to extract evil from the black hearts of the corrupt.
Bruce drove home to Wayne Manor after one such meeting with Lucius, this time receiving the penultimate piece of the suit he was fabricating; the last part he would be constructing by himself. The streets of Gotham were rather empty, save an SUV here and there, and they were illuminated only by street lamps twenty feet apart, so that Bruce's image transformed from sharp, rigid facial features caped by slightly tousled jet-black hair to a mere shadow of the night. Bruce kept his ears perked, persistently listening for the siren of a distant police car but hearing not.
Upon arriving home, he was welcomed modestly by his butler, Alfred: "Good evening, Master Wayne."
Alfred appeared every bit as modest as he spoke. He wore a simple suit of black and white garnished with a bow-tie and accompanied by well-groomed salt-and-pepper hair. The butler had very faint facial hair, like snowflakes sprinkled upon his worn, wrinkled face. From his eyes dispersed the same mellowness as Bruce Wayne's, but Alfred's inner fire had long since burned out.
Bruce forced a subtle nod in reply. But because of his aforementioned lack of talkativeness, Alfred could hear what others would deem inaudible.
"What is it, sir?"
"I'm ready, Alfred. The suit, the bat - I'm ready. I can't let these criminals keep on tarnishing Gotham."
Bruce showed Alfred the suit he had carried inside. It was an elaborately-constructed, obsidian-black suit of armor with a bat logo on the chest and a cape at the back. The shut was complete, except for the mask.
"Very well, Master Wayne. I'm still not too sure about all these vigilante antics, but I am rather sure that there is no changing your mind."
Alfred spoke these last words gravely, as if he knew this would ultimately culminate in his master's death.
******
Bruce held his masterpiece up in the dismal light of the Batcave. It was a matte-black mask that would cover all but his mouth and eyes, and had small bat ears atop it. The mask was not a symbol of who he was, but who he had become. It would induce fear in the fear-inducing and inspire hope in the hopeless. It would conceal him and those he loved as he took the responsibility of Gotham's protector. Because the citizens did not need to know who he was, but what he stood for: justice.
Bruce Wayne was no longer himself; he was the Batman.
octorok74
“Take this and stay away!”
Devin was now alone in the dark street with nothing but his Grandfather’s combat knife on the ground. He thought about how disrespectful his mother was by throwing it on the ground. Not wanting to be seen by his father, Devin picked up the knife and started walking. Devin didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he had to get away from his home. But first he had to find a place to stay the night.
House by house, Devin started asking if the owners could spare a room for the night. Out of the thirty people he asked, only one said yes. “Don’t make yourself too comfortable, because you are only staying for the night.” Said Mr. Shasta.
“I know sir and thank you for housing me.” replied Devin.
“No problem, but if you wouldn’t mind could you read my daughter her bedtime story?”
“I could do that. How old is she sir?”
“She’s ten, but it’s tradition in our family to read a story when one wants it.”
So before Devin went to sleep he went to go read Allison Shasta her story. Instead of the book she had chosen though, he decided to tell her the stories his Grandfather told him. Stories of war and honour. “Can you tell me some more of your Grandpa’s stories?” Allison asked.
“I could, but I need to get some sleep before I leave tomorrow. Good night Allison.” Devin said as he tucked her in.
Devin slept well through the night and awoke early in the morning. He tried to sneak out the door when he heard someone walk down the stairs. “Why are you leaving so early? You haven’t had breakfast and you didn’t say goodbye.” Devin turned around to find Allison standing at the bottom of the stairs with a piece of paper in her hands.
“I just didn’t want to cause any ruckus when I left, so I thought I’d leave early. I’m sorry for not saying goodbye to you. Thank your parents for me please.” answered Devin with a nervous look in his eyes.
Allison ran up and gave him a hug. “Take this. I made it for you last night after you went to bed.” She said handing Devin the paper. It was a picture of Devin, his Grandfather and Allison with the words ‘The Honour Adventurers’ at the top. Devin folded it and placed it in his wallet.
“Thank you very much. Hopefully we can see each other again.” He said as he kissed the girl on her forehead and exited the house. An adventurer. Devin liked the sound of that. So he finally set off to the West, in the hopes of finding a place to stay.
Months went by as Devin travelled closer and closer to Arizona, where he hoped to settle down. He met and stayed with wonderful people during the nights and hunted the local animals for food during the days. He even made a routine of looking at Allison’s picture every morning before he left a house. Usually he would cry a bit since he missed her so much. Despite being ten years older than her, he cared about her a lot. Devin wanted to hold her just one last time.
An entire year went by before Devin got to Arizona. Once there he found a job at a local gas station. It wasn’t much but it kept him busy. After making enough money, Devin decided to go on another adventure. When more money was made, he bought a building and incorporated. After hiring several employees and running the company for 17 years, Devin wanted to settle down with a woman.
“I want to have the best adventure of my life, but I want someone by my side. To experience all the wonderful things with. Someone who will love me for my personality over my wealth.” Devin said to his bedroom ceiling. The next day while reading the newspaper, he spotted an article that made him cry with happiness. It said how Allison Shasta was opening up a small shop in the same town as him. Devin immediately looked at the picture she gave him on the wall. He took the picture with him as he drove to her shop. When he arrived and she saw the picture she cried. He immediately proposed by picking up a random rock. She happily accepted and the two went on to have amazing adventures together.
It was a place of filth and squalor, black and white, life and death.
The detention complex rose high above the ground. Had public officials known of its existence the area would have been closed long ago. And yet the secret had never been unveiled, locked away behind a curtain of deception. Everything changed when a record of the horrors was smuggled into the open. To this day the anonymous author remains unknown.
***
July 8, 1958
Beijing, China
His name was allegedly John but they never referred to him as that. To the brutal prison guards he was known as X3-88. He was of a fair complexion but hours of tedious work had worn him out to the point of developing purple spots under his eyebrows. A loud guffaw resonated from the guard bunker. As usual, the officers were slacking off, playing darts, and getting drunk. One of the inebriated men was his head officer, Dom.
“Get your rear end in here,” Dom barked. “Gentlemen, this is my main man, X3-88. He’s always outperforming those other lazy scoundrels. I thought we’d treat him to a toast tonight”.
The party lasted long into the night. Evening turned to dusk turned to dawn. John had avoided too much liquor for he knew he wouldn’t be able to accomplish his end today if he had succumbed to alcoholic toxins.
***
July 9, 1958
Beijing, China
Today was the day. The birds would finally chirp once more as they felt the cool air blowing across their backs. They had known nothing but the scum of their barracks and working quarters for months. If everything went according to plan a way out would be secured.
The girl was in charge of the operation. No one would suspect a plump 12 year old of smuggling covert secrets. And they certainly wouldn’t fathom for her to boast an intelligence quotient rivaling Einstein’s.
The elevators doors opened. The group dispersed. Little did they know they would never be reunited again.
***
February 28, 2001
San Francisco, California
The events that occurred that day solemn July I fail to comprehend. Sometimes I find myself sitting on the porch along after my nieces have gone to bed. I’ve grown to be an old man but was among the youngest when they attempted the break out. Forever I’ll be scarred like a Nazi hiding in South America afraid of retribution.
I’m not proud of assisting the operation and the brutal murder of the group was something I never expected. Affiliations and mercy melted into nothingness. The realm of ethereality consumed all in its path.
It still seemed like a dream. I had seen them get drunk. Never had I expected them to execute such harrowing repercussions. John, the girl, they were all murdered. Seeing the bloodshed I fled the scene and escaped to the outside vicinity in order to warn the police of the horrors burrowing inside the facility. Following the subsequent arrest of its primary officers I fled the country and assumed a second identity in order to live the rest of my years in peace.
It wasn’t easy accustoming myself to the traditional and liberties of a democratic nation. I pondered over the fate of my fellow countrymen under Mao and his successors. They trudged forward in damnation while I was free…
The diary was found upon scavenging the man’s files following his suicide. His wallet contained solely forged documents and they never recovered his true identity. The corpse was transported to the local morgue, a smile on its face, bliss after a life of misery.
Hero of Time
Although not a very social man, Bruce Wayne always appeared pensive. The mellow, almost depressed aura that emanated from his brown eyes gave the impression that he was constantly consuming that which the world had to present to him. This comprehensiveness gave way to uncanny judgment in a diverse array of scenarios, but it also made the echoes of tragedy reverberate louder in his ears than those of any other. But despite this internal sadness, or perhaps existing as a direct result of it, there was a fire; the man had a perpetual appetite for justice and insisted on delivering it. Bruce Wayne craved vengeance.
Not only did he have the drive for righteousness, but he had the proper resources imperative in order to execute his will thoroughly. The lone child of the deceased founder of Wayne Enterprises, Bruce had inherited both the wealth and ownership of the corporation. His first-hand man within the company, Lucius Fox, supplied him with the technology to extract evil from the black hearts of the corrupt.
Bruce drove home to Wayne Manor after one such meeting with Lucius, this time receiving the penultimate piece of the suit he was fabricating; the last part he would be constructing by himself. The streets of Gotham were rather empty, save an SUV here and there, and they were illuminated only by street lamps twenty feet apart, so that Bruce's image transformed from sharp, rigid facial features caped by slightly tousled jet-black hair to a mere shadow of the night. Bruce kept his ears perked, persistently listening for the siren of a distant police car but hearing not.
Upon arriving home, he was welcomed modestly by his butler, Alfred: "Good evening, Master Wayne."
Alfred appeared every bit as modest as he spoke. He wore a simple suit of black and white garnished with a bow-tie and accompanied by well-groomed salt-and-pepper hair. The butler had very faint facial hair, like snowflakes sprinkled upon his worn, wrinkled face. From his eyes dispersed the same mellowness as Bruce Wayne's, but Alfred's inner fire had long since burned out.
Bruce forced a subtle nod in reply. But because of his aforementioned lack of talkativeness, Alfred could hear what others would deem inaudible.
"What is it, sir?"
"I'm ready, Alfred. The suit, the bat - I'm ready. I can't let these criminals keep on tarnishing Gotham."
Bruce showed Alfred the suit he had carried inside. It was an elaborately-constructed, obsidian-black suit of armor with a bat logo on the chest and a cape at the back. The shut was complete, except for the mask.
"Very well, Master Wayne. I'm still not too sure about all these vigilante antics, but I am rather sure that there is no changing your mind."
Alfred spoke these last words gravely, as if he knew this would ultimately culminate in his master's death.
******
Bruce held his masterpiece up in the dismal light of the Batcave. It was a matte-black mask that would cover all but his mouth and eyes, and had small bat ears atop it. The mask was not a symbol of who he was, but who he had become. It would induce fear in the fear-inducing and inspire hope in the hopeless. It would conceal him and those he loved as he took the responsibility of Gotham's protector. Because the citizens did not need to know who he was, but what he stood for: justice.
Bruce Wayne was no longer himself; he was the Batman.
octorok74
“Take this and stay away!”
Devin was now alone in the dark street with nothing but his Grandfather’s combat knife on the ground. He thought about how disrespectful his mother was by throwing it on the ground. Not wanting to be seen by his father, Devin picked up the knife and started walking. Devin didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he had to get away from his home. But first he had to find a place to stay the night.
House by house, Devin started asking if the owners could spare a room for the night. Out of the thirty people he asked, only one said yes. “Don’t make yourself too comfortable, because you are only staying for the night.” Said Mr. Shasta.
“I know sir and thank you for housing me.” replied Devin.
“No problem, but if you wouldn’t mind could you read my daughter her bedtime story?”
“I could do that. How old is she sir?”
“She’s ten, but it’s tradition in our family to read a story when one wants it.”
So before Devin went to sleep he went to go read Allison Shasta her story. Instead of the book she had chosen though, he decided to tell her the stories his Grandfather told him. Stories of war and honour. “Can you tell me some more of your Grandpa’s stories?” Allison asked.
“I could, but I need to get some sleep before I leave tomorrow. Good night Allison.” Devin said as he tucked her in.
Devin slept well through the night and awoke early in the morning. He tried to sneak out the door when he heard someone walk down the stairs. “Why are you leaving so early? You haven’t had breakfast and you didn’t say goodbye.” Devin turned around to find Allison standing at the bottom of the stairs with a piece of paper in her hands.
“I just didn’t want to cause any ruckus when I left, so I thought I’d leave early. I’m sorry for not saying goodbye to you. Thank your parents for me please.” answered Devin with a nervous look in his eyes.
Allison ran up and gave him a hug. “Take this. I made it for you last night after you went to bed.” She said handing Devin the paper. It was a picture of Devin, his Grandfather and Allison with the words ‘The Honour Adventurers’ at the top. Devin folded it and placed it in his wallet.
“Thank you very much. Hopefully we can see each other again.” He said as he kissed the girl on her forehead and exited the house. An adventurer. Devin liked the sound of that. So he finally set off to the West, in the hopes of finding a place to stay.
Months went by as Devin travelled closer and closer to Arizona, where he hoped to settle down. He met and stayed with wonderful people during the nights and hunted the local animals for food during the days. He even made a routine of looking at Allison’s picture every morning before he left a house. Usually he would cry a bit since he missed her so much. Despite being ten years older than her, he cared about her a lot. Devin wanted to hold her just one last time.
An entire year went by before Devin got to Arizona. Once there he found a job at a local gas station. It wasn’t much but it kept him busy. After making enough money, Devin decided to go on another adventure. When more money was made, he bought a building and incorporated. After hiring several employees and running the company for 17 years, Devin wanted to settle down with a woman.
“I want to have the best adventure of my life, but I want someone by my side. To experience all the wonderful things with. Someone who will love me for my personality over my wealth.” Devin said to his bedroom ceiling. The next day while reading the newspaper, he spotted an article that made him cry with happiness. It said how Allison Shasta was opening up a small shop in the same town as him. Devin immediately looked at the picture she gave him on the wall. He took the picture with him as he drove to her shop. When he arrived and she saw the picture she cried. He immediately proposed by picking up a random rock. She happily accepted and the two went on to have amazing adventures together.
Make sure to leave a reply in the thread with your comments, as well as voting in the poll above for your favorite.
On to new business. Before we announce the theme, I'd like to bring to the attention of potential contestants a change in the contest. Rather than continue on a weekly basis, we will be moving to a two-week long round. Everything will run the same as before, but you'll have two weeks to get your entries in rather than a single week. To compensate, we are also bumping the word count up once again, allowing those who have already entered a bit more breathing room as well as encouraging new contestants to toss their hat in the ring.
Now, for the theme of Round 8, we're going to follow up the recent "Courage" theme with...
Wisdom
Max. 1000 words
Max. 1000 words
Entries will be due on Friday, August 24th, at 9:00 PM EST. Just send it to me in a PM!
