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ZD Writing Competition Round 24: Voting Time

Which Story was your favorite?

  • Story 1

    Votes: 1 16.7%
  • Story 2

    Votes: 3 50.0%
  • Story 3

    Votes: 2 33.3%

  • Total voters
    6
  • Poll closed .

Jirohnagi

Braava Braava
Joined
Feb 18, 2010
Location
Soul Sanctum
Gender
Geosexual
Heya All and welcome to the voting period of the 24th ZD Writing Competition i'd like to Thank all Entrants for taking the time to write a story for this ^^

Voting will take place from today the 22nd to Saturday the 29th. Results will be revealed on the 30th.
There are for this month 3 stories available for your perusal and voting pleasure.

The Theme of this month was:

Cliffhangers


Good Luck to each who've submitted an entry.

A Dragir's Thoughts
At a young age, after learning much about the past and taking note of how the world and most of its societies worked, I realized that one day someone would have to go against the current, against the rising tide, against the established system. That someone, I could only envision it as being me and no other. That is why I chose to leave my homeland and my precious family behind, both who were a major disappoint to me. That's why I chose to build a guild. Not just any ordinary guild as the many that are out there doing business for the good of others, but, better said, that's why I chose to build a master guild, the guild of guilds, a place that could serve as home to the most elite warriors from all around the world, and also as a safe vault for those that would heed my warning. I couldn't have it any other way, not after I've discovered what's in store for the entire world in the near future. ~Artemys Primrose

A blood red sun descended upon the village for the summer solstice. It had been a day of festivities and celebration as graffiti lay strewn across the streets, music sounded off all around, and fat men lumbered home with their beer bellies.

The man with the red hat returned home to tell his wife the news. He opened the door to their quaint apartment and peeked inside. There she was sewing a scarf for their newly born son. It would be a present for him when he was a little older.

"The infirmary we usually attend was full. But I assure you that I took Alberto to the best place I could find."

Their son had been born premature and very underweight. After only seven and a half months of pregnancy, he barely came in at four pounds.

But he would be taken care of at the infirmary. The town was well known as one filled with medical specialists. And it was one where class barriers had slowly begun to disintegrate. Healthcare was vital to the wellbeing of the community and people were not discriminated against.

But there was one exception.

The royal family had their feet up their behinds, the common folk often whispered amongst themselves. Many thought it was time to abolish the monarchy. The parliament took care of most political affairs. The royals were little more than figureheads. It was these royals that looked down upon the rest.

***

Unbeknownst to those in the city, the royal family had recently given birth to a son. His name was Pedro. But he struggled to breathe at birth and needed to be placed in the infirmary. The royals failed to get to their preferred infirmary amidst the chaos of the celebration in the Central Plaza.

The Day of Liberation didn't matter to them. Who cared if the people lived in a sovereign state? They still had power regardless of whether they had to take the occasional order from a foreign entity.

Luis was a king without a shred of dignity. There were murmurs surrounding him about his constant craving for women. The royal family had long lost the meaning in their Coat of Arms. People often laughed that the figure king didn't know who to draw a real sword but knew all too well about another sword.

Marianne was the queen with a heart of ice. She bought all she wanted and ordered her servants to slave away carrying all her freshly bought clothing. She had been a beautiful woman in her younger years but the sloth of not having to do much gave way to her double chin and round belly.

A messenger from the royals arrived to bring home Pedro. The attending nurse gently handed the baby to him, and then the fellow proceeded to ride off on horseback towards the awaiting royal family.

***


-12 years later-
Alberto had grown into a fine young man. His mother watched on, red cap in hand, as he farmed the land. She had grown old and tired and could hardly do much around the house. Her husband had passed away three years ago, so it was up to Alberto to be the man of the family.

She was proud of the boy but also wished he had been able to pursue what he wanted. The boy displayed immense literary skill from a young age. He could read and write at an adult level by the time he was 8. Sadly, it was hard to find a job as a writer outside of being a translator of ancient and religious texts. And that kind of work wasn't necessarily stable. It couldn't keep the family afloat.

On the other side of town, Pedro had grown into a petulant brat. He was often too lazy to dress in more than his underwear and demanded the servants attend to his fine dining needs. He wanted the best meat in town every night with a helping of red wine and an exotic new vegetable that had been introduced to the area recently called a potato.

These two divergent paths had once not been so far apart. Despite being from different classes, the two boys had been taken care of at the same infirmary. The streets had been packed on the night of the Festival of Liberation 12 years ago, and this had been the only infirmary that was easy to access at the time.

At the beginning we all start as equal. We are all humans. Cast away our money, our possessions, our clothing, and we are all men and women that begin our journey the same way. But the flow of time, and the structure of society begin to take their toll and separate us from each other.

Perhaps the reality we ourselves live in is an illusion.

***

The doors opened wide.

Marianne turned around. She had not been expecting a visitor currently. She continued to pluck dark red grapes from the gold plate in front of her.

It was the messenger from 12 years ago and a nurse.

The nurse, voice shaking, stammered, "I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding. The boy you've been raising as your son for all these years isn't your son. He's a commoner. Your son must be off being raised by some lower-class family."

The gold plate fell to the ground.

Reality had broken.

The Scent of Blood
ZD Writing Competition: Round 24
Theme: Cliffhangers

I thought this night was oddly cold for deep summer. Then again, perhaps it was fitting for what I’d set out to do. The aching bruises on my back drove me forward with a purpose that couldn’t be swayed. The pain that had tormented me for so long was about to be my salvation. I was going to do this, and I wasn’t turning back. I’d already prepared a knife, taken from my kitchen at home. I had wrapped it safely in cloth and hidden it on my belt. I wouldn’t need anything else.

The streetlamps in this part of the neighborhood flickered weakly. They wouldn’t be much use. The cracked streets and sidewalks had weeds sprouting from them. The houses seemed to become more dilapidated as I continued down the road.

At last, I reached the cul-de-sac. At the far end was a thick brush of trees and tall grass. The roof of my destination could barely be seen peeking over them. I quickly hurried across the street to this spot. It was deathly silent. Even the insects, which had been singing and chirping my entire walk up to this point, avoided this area. This gave me a little hope, as well as an icy chill down my spine. Perhaps the stories were real, after all.

Even though the moon was full, it didn’t provide much visibility. The trees were like a canopy. I took out my cell phone and turned on the screen for some light. I saw that I had six missed calls, all from him. A feeling like acid reflux stung my throat, and I quickly put my phone away. I didn’t even want to look at those wretched notifications. I decided that I’d be fine without a light, and pressed on through the grass.

I had to shove a lot of branches out of my path, and the grass tickled at my elbows. The path was so overgrown, it could have swallowed me right up. I began to feel like that was going to be inevitable. I stubbed my toe on something hard and tripped, falling flat on my face.

For a split second, it felt like something was going to pounce on my fallen body, and I laid still for a moment. When nothing of the sort happened, that chill went away. I rose up on my arms, spat some dirt off my lips, and saw it.

The house was so run-down, it only qualified as a house in the literal sense; it had something like a roof, at least three and a half walls, and some broken windows that looked like they could be watchful eyes. I didn’t even want to imagine who could have possibly lived in a place like this. It looked like it had been deserted for a century. For good reason, if the rumors were true.

I fully rose to my feet and brushed some dirt off my jeans. I crept toward the house as silently as I could, afraid that something or someone might hear me. I placed a nervous hand on the knife at my waist, wondering if I might need to use it sooner than intended. The dirt path was overgrown with dead dandelions and what could have been the remains of a garden. I gulped down a knot in my throat as I approached the front porch.

The floorboards groaned under my shoes. The doorknob was so rusty I almost didn’t want to touch it with my bare hands. I drew my knife and removed the cloth. I was going to need it in a minute, anyway. As I reached out with a cloth-guarded hand, I heard something that made my skin twist up.

Voices were coming from inside. I couldn't make them out very well. Someone was here, and there were at least two of them. This house was supposed to be abandoned. Who could be in there? Criminals? Drug dealers? Prostitutes? Police? I didn’t want to stick around and find out.

I almost made a complete turn on my heel, and then I stopped. I took out my phone again. My missed calls had increased to fifteen. It was 11:46 at night. I knew what was waiting for me if I were to go home like this. I decided whatever was waiting for me in this house was better to deal with than that. This was the whole reason I had come here to begin with. No drugged up criminals or police prostitutes were gonna scare me into backing down.

I gritted my teeth and pushed the door open. I didn’t even need to turn the knob, it creaked right on open for me, like it was inviting me inside. My skin clammed up and my blood starting running cold. Something about this place made me feel like it really could be done. I brandished my knife, and took my first steps inside.

My eyes covered the whole room quickly. Moonbeams made lines through the broken roof, cutting through the dark and illuminating the dust that danced all around the ruined furniture. A staircase without any steps sat uselessly on the right. A torn up armchair and broken tea table hung around on the left. And straight ahead, in front of what could have been a door to the basement, were three kids, staring at me in the light of their cell phones.

“Oh, great, another one.” said a boy with dusty hair. He looked annoyed.

“Man, it feels good to not be the only one this desperate.” said the boy next to him. His eyes were covered by his bangs, so I couldn’t tell what he thought when he looked at me.

“I guess I didn’t think about it... That there are others who would depend on something like this.” said a girl on the other side of the dusty kid. She looked too girly to be in a place this creepy.

“Something like this?” I asked.

“You’re here for it, too, aren’t you? Why else would you be here?” the bangs kid asked.

“The legend of the Grimmheart. That if you come here on the night of a full moon in the dead of summer and offer your blood, the grisly demon will rise from the cursed basement of this old haunted house and grant you a favor if you sell him your soul.” the dusty kid announced.

“His arrival is marked by the scent of blood. That’s what your knife is for, isn’t it?” the girly girl said, pointing to mine with a knife of her own. “We’re all here for the same reason. And we can’t decide who should be the one to call the Grimmheart.”

* * *

The four of us sat on the floor of the house in a circle, all giving wary glances back and forth. There were lots of broken glass shards, rusty nails, and loose floorboards all over the place, and we had to clear some of it away before we could sit. I observed each of them, wondering what could have brought them here. If they wanted to call upon the Grimmheart like me, it must be bad.

The dusty kid cleared his throat. “Well, I guess we should start by introducing ourselves, at least. I’m Ali.” He had brown skin and black hair, like me. He was wearing a ripped hoodie and skinny jeans. He looked kind of like a jock.

“I’m Jake.” said the bangs kid next. His brown hair covered his eyes so much I was surprised he could see us at all. I wondered what color his eyes were. He looked like the kind of kid who played guitar.

“Ella.” the girly girl said. She even had a prissy-sounding name. Most of her clothes were pink to match, and with that blonde hair and pale skin, she looked like a doll. It was a little jarring to see her holding a knife while looking so delicate.

“I’m Kiran.” I introduced myself. I couldn’t help but wonder how they all saw me. All four of us looked to be about the same age. I didn’t recognize any of them from my high school, though. I felt uncomfortable. This whole situation was awkward.

“So, now that we all got each others’ names, what the hell are we gonna do?” Ali said. He looked at all of us with accusation in his eyes. “I’m telling you now, I need this favor from the demon.”

“Do you think he’d be gracious enough to grant all four of our favors? I mean, that is four souls in one night. If I were a demon, I’d be pretty happy.” Jake said.

“I don’t think it works that way...” Ella sighed.

“Well, I know I can’t afford to go home without this favor. I’m dead meat if I do.” I said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ali asked, rather rudely.

My skin prickled up, and the bruises on my back began aching worse. His angry voice and his eyes started burning through my head again. I tried my best to look normal. I didn’t want to talk about it, especially not with kids I didn’t even know.

“Well, why do you need it?” I asked him to deflect it.

“None of your business.” he said, breaking eye contact.

“Hey, maybe that’s it!” Jake said. “Maybe we can decide which of us needs it most by telling each other why we’re all here. I’ll go first.”

“Huh? I’m not really comfortable with that...” Ella said. She looked like she was shrinking into herself. I could relate to the feeling.

After a bit of silence, Ali spoke. “... Maybe that is the best way. Alright, you go first.”

“Hey, don’t just decide without us like that! Boys, I tell you...” I sighed.

Ella laughed a little at that. Having another girl here was a little comforting, now that I was thinking about it.

“Well, if it’s all the same, I’m just gonna come out and say it.” Jake said. “My dad keeps getting drunk and beating my mom senseless, every night.”

The room ran cold after he said that, as if it were possible to be any colder in here. He continued. “She won’t do anything about it. She keeps saying he’ll change and he’ll stop drinking, but I seriously think he’s gonna kill her before that happens. I really couldn’t stomach doing the job myself, so I thought I’d ask the Grimmheart.”

The rest of us were quiet as we processed his words. I felt myself beginning to empathize with him a bit. My own reasons for seeking a favor were similar. In retrospect it was obvious, but it didn’t really occur to me at the time that maybe I wasn’t the only one dealing with this kind of pain.

Ali looked a little confused. “So you just go straight for selling your soul to a demon that may or may not exist?” I noticed Ella give him the same curious glance I did upon his hypocritical remark. “Haven’t you tried to stand up to him and defend her?”

Jake hesitated a moment. “This is what I got last time I tried that.” he said, lifting up his bangs.

The first thing I noticed were his lovely brown eyes. My gaze was then drawn to the massive, swelling bruise on his forehead. It looked a concerning shade of purple. It may have even been infected.

“My mom told me not to go to the hospital for it. Said they wouldn’t understand. Said they might take him away from her.” he said in a low voice, letting his bangs fall again. “Well, I understand. He has to go. He’s despicable. I don’t want him anywhere near my mom ever again.”

It wasn’t just desperation that made him seek the Grimmheart, it was rage. His dad deserved whatever hell the demon would mete out. Once again, I empathized. I was almost tempted to let him have the favor, but then I remembered what would happen to me if I went home without it.

“If you show that bruise to the police and explain what happened, wouldn’t that solve it? Do you really need the Grimmheart?” Ella asked.

“You could even take a video for evidence or something.” Ali added.

I felt a bad taste in my mouth at their words. “I doubt the police would do much good.” I spat.

“Oh yeah? What’s your story, then?” Ali said sharply. He seemed to take everything I said to him as a challenge.

I involuntarily gulped. I really did not want to discuss it, but after Jake put himself out there like that, I felt like it was only fair that I do the same. I swallowed some fear and let the words fall out of my mouth.

“Well... My mom died last year, and my dad... He’s been angry ever since. He started getting super controlling over me, and lately he’s started beating me to get his anger out.” My back stung from the words. The others’ eyes on me had the same effect. “That’s why I’m here. And I don’t know about the rest of you, but I can’t go to the police because... he is the police.”

“... Oh.” was all that Ali could say. He looked a little ashamed of himself.

“I guess if your dad is an officer, he’d know about you telling on him. Might even be able to cover it up.” said Jake. My heart sank as he said exactly what I had been thinking.

“I guess that explains why you said you couldn’t go home without the favor...” Ella said. “But, you know... Police have body cams and stuff now, right? Could you secretly film him beating you?”

“Hey, yeah. Post it online so that the world can see it. He can’t cover that up easily.” Ali said as if a light had struck him.

Exposing myself and my pain for the whole world did not seem ideal to me. However, I had to admit that even he couldn’t hide it in that case. What’s more, he did have spare body cams I could easily take without him knowing. This whole Grimmheart thing started to seem a little silly to me, now that these guys had framed things this way.

“Okay, how about you, Ella?” Ali asked.

Ella shuffled in her seat anxiously. Now that our eyes were all on her, she looked ready to crawl under a rock. But, I saw a flash of courage in her eyes after she looked at me and Jake. She cleared her throat and began to speak.

“My mom is sick, so my uncle’s been helping to take care of me. And lately, he’s been... He’s been trying to force himself on me.” The rest of us tensed up. I felt a pit in my gut that reminded me of being harassed on the street. Such unwanted attention was an unfortunate shared pain. I really felt for this girl.

She continued. ”He’s been groping me a lot, and he keeps trying to push things further. He says he’ll hurt my mom if I don’t let him have his way. I just don’t know what to do anymore. So, I came here...”

I had thoughts of going home with Ella and using my knife on that uncle of hers. I could definitely see why she came here. That’s not an easy thing to talk about with anyone, and with the discouraging statistics on female victims, it’s no wonder she’s seeking a demon’s favor.

Jake spoke next. “Guys like that are cowards. He’s targeting you because you look easy to him. Show him that you’re not. Next time he tries anything, take that knife you’ve got and...” He made a slashing motion through the air with his own blade. “... And tell him if he doesn’t back off, you’ll CHOP IT OFF!”

Ali grimaced at the mental image. Ella, surprisingly, laughed. “I don’t know about that...” she said, trying to hide her face.

“Well, that just leaves you, Ali.” I said.

His grimace turned into a scowl, but he knew he couldn’t keep quiet after how brave the rest of us had been in opening up. He shook his head for a moment and looked at each of us squarely.

“Okay, here it is. My mom’s got a boyfriend. A real scumbag. The bastard got her addicted to heroin. He takes her money, too. She lets him do whatever he wants just to get more dope off him. He won’t let me try and get her into rehab.” He looked over at me next. “I can’t go to the police either, because she’ll get arrested, too. She needs help, and they’re just gonna throw her in jail where she’ll suffer from withdrawal. That’s why I want the Grimmheart to get rid of him.”

I found myself agreeing with his thinking. Knowing the people my dad worked with, that was a very likely outcome. However, thinking about them also gave me an idea.

“You know... Have you considered taking some of his dope and planting it in his car, and then calling the cops anonymously on him?” I suggested. “That way he gets arrested and your mom won’t even be a factor in the situation.”

Ali appeared to take this in for a moment. “... There’s no telling he won’t try and get my mom involved, but... That’s actually not a bad idea.”

All of us got quiet now. None of us were looking at each other anymore. At least, it didn’t feel like we were. I was too deep in thought. We had each bared our souls to each other and confessed our troubles. We each came here wanting a favor from the Grimmheart, and yet each of us gave the other a perspective we hadn’t considered. Our hopeless situations seemed less hopeless after being looked at through glasses of a different tint. So now what were we going to do?

“You know...” Jake began. “Maybe let’s just forget the whole Grimmheart thing.” All of us whipped around to face him in shock as he rose to his feet. “I came here prepared to sell my soul for my mom’s sake, but you know... I don’t wanna take myself away from her. She’d be all alone. And like you guys said, there are other ways of handling this. Even if he deserves to die.”

Ella spoke next. “... You’re right. I hate my uncle, and he deserves whatever the Grimmheart would give him, but... The Grimmheart probably doesn’t even exist. I came here because I was desperate, but if I’m desperate enough to sell my soul to a demon, then I should be able to stand up to my disgusting uncle.” She sharpened her knife with those words as she stood up.

Ali was the next to stand tall. “Yeah. Heck, even I wasn’t sure about all this demon business in the first place. But thanks to you guys, I feel a little more confident in myself now. This is my mother we’re talking about here. I can’t let this scumbag treat her this way.” He and Jake exchanged a fist bump. “I’m gonna handle this myself. No dumb legend is gonna solve my problems for me.”

I was a little amazed by their energy. One minute they’re ready to give away everything to a probably non-existent demon, and the next they’re prepared to face their own demons like a couple of champs. I pulled out my phone and checked the screen again. Thirty-six missed calls. I was in for the beating of my life if I went home without the Grimmheart’s favor. However...

I stood up, too. I joined in their energy. “I’m with you guys. My dad deserves to suffer, but I’d rather he suffer at my own hands than some demon’s. That would be way more satisfying. I’ll handle this myself. I’m gonna get through this on my own two feet!”

“Yeah!” the three said in unison.

We each threw our arms up and shouted. We danced around the room in a circle. We weren’t going to be held back by fear or apprehension anymore. Who needs a demon of legend when we have our own personal demons to conquer? Now it felt like coming here at all was completely ridiculous. I wondered why I ever bothered with this legend in the first place. For the first time, despite what I knew was waiting for me, I was excited to go home. This was going to be the start of a new chapter in my life, and this chapter would be about leaving the pain and abuse behind. I was going to make it that way. Each of us felt the same thing in that moment.

And then Ella tripped over a loose floorboard. Her hand broke her fall on some shards of glass. She yelped as she stumbled over. The rest of us stopped dancing and stared at her hand.

A drop of blood dripped from the fresh wound and splattered to the creaky, dusty floor. Another fell beside it, and another still fell through a small hole in the floor. Down into the basement.

The whole house shuddered and moaned. A deep and hungry growl echoed from beneath the floor. Heavy footsteps pounded their way, slowly, up the stairs to the door we could see in this room.

The air was thick with the scent of blood.
 
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Each one seemed very interesting! Some hooked me more easily than others, and it was a close call to make!
 

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