Match One

[James]

The Beginning

The first light of day glimmered between the concrete towers of glass and steel that dominated the skyline. Slowly, it peaked over one tower, bathing the parking lot below in sunlight. A man laid there, not in a pool of his own blood as most men that lay down are in this city, but wrapped in a blanket. As the sun touches his eyelids, he twitches once, before opening them. He wears a business suit, wrinkled from his night's rest, but any other day it would be laboriously wrinkled. His red tie, slightly off center, is quickly straightened as he crawls out of his temporary sleeping arrangements. A black comb is pulled from his pocket; he quickly straightens his brown hair, straightening it meticulously before wrapping up his blanket. Blanket rolled up and stuck under arm, he shoves his hands in his pockets and walks down the street.

Thirst and hunger drives him south. There's a soup kitchen there, or so he was told, and there he would join his fellow tired and unwashed masses. His black shoes dance lightly across the sidewalk before stopping momentarily. A bright, neon green sign stuck in a store window across the street catches the man's attention. The light of the new day touches this sign, illuminating it brightly as it displays its message:

[James]

Entry One

The first light of day glimmered between the concrete towers of glass and steel that dominated the skyline. Slowly, it peaked over one tower, bathing the parking lot below in sunlight. A man laid there, not in a pool of his own blood as most men that lay down are in this city, but wrapped in a blanket. As the sun touches his eyelids, he twitches once, before opening them. He wears a business suit, wrinkled from his night's rest, but any other day it would be laboriously wrinkled. His red tie, slightly off center, is quickly straightened as he crawls out of his temporary sleeping arrangements. A black comb is pulled from his pocket; he quickly straightens his brown hair, straightening it meticulously before wrapping up his blanket. Blanket rolled up and stuck under arm, he shoves his hands in his pockets and walks down the street.

Thirst and hunger drives him south. There's a soup kitchen there, or so he was told, and there he would join his fellow tired and unwashed masses. His black shoes dance lightly across the sidewalk before stopping momentarily. A bright, neon green sign stuck in a store window across the street catches the man's attention. The light of the new day touches this sign, illuminating it brightly as it displays its message:

Behind You.

The man looked behind him, if only out of paranoia. Instantly, his head was smacked off at eighty miles an hour upwards into a high-story window, leaving his decrepit body to drown in a pool of blood. The gullible little fool.

"And Antinious the Avenger wracks up yet another stylish kill!" boomed the voice from the loudspeaker. The mighty, club-wielding black knight smiled as the crowd hovering over the city in zeppelins chanted his name as his score went up another five points, one for the kill itself, three for luring the victim into a vulnerable position, and another one for the head that ended up smashing twenty-five thousand dollars worth of glass. "And with just five people left in the entire city, the only contenders with a shot at victory now are Antinious the Avenger and Lucid the Vile! Antinious is currently in the lead with exactly sixty five thousand points, while Lucid is trailing behind with fifty nine thousand nine hundred ninety five! At the very least, Lucid needs to find and simply execute the last five citizens in order to tie the Depopulation Match up! But, should Antinious but score one more kill, it's game over!"

Like that would happen. Antinious had this whole thing in the bag. He'd been playing these kinds of games for years now. No way in hell was some upstart newbie going to beat him at it.

As if Lady Luck had been reading this thoughts, another man popped out from a nearby building. Now was his chance to end this whole silly debacle. The behemoth that was the mighty black knight jumped up fifty feet into the air. The man below was panicked out of his mind, and started to run as quick as his puny legs could carry him. But not living mortal had yet to outrun the mighty Antinious. This man would be no exception.

Yet, suddenly, without warning, the man was snatched out from beneath him. Without any direction, the black knight came crashing into the ground, forming a small crater where he'd landed. Confused, the knight looked around. It was none another than Lucid who'd snatched the man, and was now eating the poor sod's trachea out from his neck.

"Stealing a kill, and brutally murdering the victim?! Seven points for Lucid the Vile!" boomed the announcer. While some zeppelins cheered out in joy, most of the fans were shouting boos at the top of their lungs. They were thinking the exact same thing Antinious was.

He was not going to lose his Champion’s title to some fresh little upstart.

[James]

Entry Two

The first light of day glimmered between the concrete towers of glass and steel that dominated the skyline. Slowly, it peaked over one tower, bathing the parking lot below in sunlight. A man laid there, not in a pool of his own blood as most men that lay down are in this city, but wrapped in a blanket. As the sun touches his eyelids, he twitches once, before opening them. He wears a business suit, wrinkled from his night's rest, but any other day it would be laboriously wrinkled. His red tie, slightly off center, is quickly straightened as he crawls out of his temporary sleeping arrangements. A black comb is pulled from his pocket; he quickly straightens his brown hair, straightening it meticulously before wrapping up his blanket. Blanket rolled up and stuck under arm, he shoves his hands in his pockets and walks down the street.

Thirst and hunger drives him south. There's a soup kitchen there, or so he was told, and there he would join his fellow tired and unwashed masses. His black shoes dance lightly across the sidewalk before stopping momentarily. A bright, neon green sign stuck in a store window across the street catches the man's attention. The light of the new day touches this sign, illuminating it brightly as it displays its message:
Open from 6 AM to 7 PM

The man checked his watch. It was already 8 in the morning, and the store was not open.

It won't be opening again anytime soon, the man thought to himself. He continued along his way, passing a huge pile of corpses on the center of what once was a busy street. People went about the task of piling them up and then burnt them. The smell of charred flesh filled the air, though the man hardly noticed by now.

He continued to walk, passing several more piles like this. The people going about the tasks were solemn-faced, but at this point, this process had become a part of their daily routines. Every morning, the skies above the city would fill with smoke and the smell of death. This had been happening for as long as the man could remember.

And he wasn't sure how long that was.

The survivors left in the city were still slightly confused as to how so many people had died. There must have been some catastrophe or apocalypse, but no one could remember what. People had given up trying to solve the mystery a week ago, and people had started trying to make a living again. Everyone remembered bits of their former lives, but not enough to piece together fully who they were, who they were related to, or how old they were. They knew there was something horribly wrong, but most people had stopped trying to figure out what.

He reached the soup kitchen after several hours of walking, located inside a small church's basement. He ordered a soup-which really turned out to be old, left over cabage with water and grass-and began to eat. The chef was convinced that he remembered how to cook and make food. Many were like that. They had convinced themselves that they -did- know about their past lives, but in reality, they were as lost as the others.

There was another such man in the soup kitchen. Dressed in white robes, a balding man, hunched over his cane, was shouting words and sentences with no meaning. The man remembered something about religion and priests from his former life. They had used churches like these, hadn't they? The “priest” continued ranting, but it didn't sound like what he said was making any sense. The man let the priest's words fall into the background, ignoring it just as he did the sight of burning corpses.

He finished his “soup”, and began to leave the basement when someone came in hollering.

“I DID IT!!!” he cried. “I REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED!!!”

Immediately, everyone rushed to him, asking question after question. He silenced them all, and they listened intently, even the man in the business suit.

“I figured it out!” he said. “And I'm here to bring the news to everyone!”

“Tell us,” another man spoke. “What is it that caused us to forget so much?”

“Yes, please!” cried out another woman, almost in tears.

“I'll tell you!” the man exclaimed proudly. “It was aliens!”

This news was met with silence. No one remembered what an alien was. The man continued. “See, I found this old video, right? They're these things that you use to watch movies people make.” Most everyone knew what a video was, and those who didn't had their companions explaining what they did to them, as best they could. “Anyways, in it, there were these things called aliens who hail from outer space and have all this amazing technology...and then I remembered! It was aliens who did this to us! They used one of their weapons to almost annihilate the human race!”

The crowd contemplated this news. Finally, one woman spoke. “I don't remember.”

“It'll come to you in time, I'm sure,” the man assured her. “Think on what I have said, my friends, for I must deliver the news to everyone. There will be a meeting tonight, in this very church, where we shall discuss the future and how to get back at these aliens!” And with that, he was gone.

The crowd talked about what had been said for several minutes, and they all seemed to agree that the man had been correct; they did recall aliens using some special weapon to destroy half the human population. People started to “remember” things at an alarming rate now. The man in the business suit was almost sure that half the stories being told were, in fact, not true.

He didn't recall anything about aliens, no matter how hard he tried. He started to realize that the man had just made stuff up, and these people were now making themselves believe in his words because they wanted to.

The man in the business suit would continue searching for the real answers, and not make up fake ones. He would find out why no one could remember anything, what had killed more than half the population of humans, and what his name was.

He started to have hope for the future. The man, smiling, walked out of the church, a goal and purpose in his new life.

[James]

Entry One's Reviews

Kudos for adopting the rather ham-fisted narration of the entry provided. Big points off for making exactly zero effort to correct it. There was very little story here, no characters, no real plot to speak of, and no conclusion to what little plot there was.

Why are sociopathic superhumans (maybe?) competing in a Depopulation competition? Why are they being scored? Who is scoring them? Who is this audience? Basicly, WTF?

I get the impression that very little effort was made here.

***

The decapitation was extremely quick and out of the blue. I liked the suddenness but it could have used a little more description. A little something extra to make it vivid and “more real.” I had to reread that sentence just to make sure I had gotten it right since it happened so quickly.

Nice range of vocabulary but I think you could have used a lot more description with this story. I didn’t really have anything pulling me into it. At the end I’m just left with really nothing that stood out; which is a shame because it had possibility! I could not connect with anything that happened.

***

Interesting idea, but confusing and offered no real explanation as to the state of the world and the people in it. Certainly a surprise the moment the shared beginning ended however, and I liked that. If your story was longer, you may have been able to flesh out some parts and bring the whole story more depth.

***

I suppose this review will be almost as brief as the entry. There was virtually no description of the “black knight” or his opponent – or really, any descriptions at all, beyond the detailed killings of the last of “the city’s” citizens? I was utterly lost as to what kind of world this was (Post-apocalyptic? Alternate universe? Prison planet?)

And at the very end, I was left wondering if the author even bothered to finish writing the story?

***

Not bad... kind of strange. I like the concept, which is pretty badass, but we only get a vague glimpse of it and it seems to have not really bothered using the beginning fully. Definitely something that could have been made into its own story, sort of a dark comedy, but as it is? Needs a lot.

***

Grammatically, I found nothing wrong with it. Story wise, it was okay; a little short for me to form an opinion, but it looked like it had potential to be interesting. Depopulation matches? Lol’d. Awesome.

[James]

Entry's Two Reviews

Very good stuff. Very interesting scenario that I actually think a whole story could probably be made out of. How they start to make up their own memories might have been a more satisfactory ending, but I don't mind the way it concluded as is.

***

This was definitely an interesting concept. This world, though, and the plight of its amnesiac people would have been more compelling, if it was lengthened a bit, expounded on. We know there are many dead – but how did they die? Or why? The paragraph where the main character realizes the “preacher” has made everything up – it seemed almost too pat, too trite.

The reader is also left to wonder, if these people are as blighted with forgetfulness as they seem – how could anyone even know the number of human dead in this world? How do they even know the “whole world” is affected by this? Just a few too many unanswered questions that, with a little more writing, might have rounded out this story far more satisfactorily.

***

Grammatically, I found nothing wrong with it. Maybe spruce it up a bit with some more imagery? Story wise, it was easier to form an opinion on and it was interesting, but nothing I’d want to really…read.

***

I liked the mystery of the whole story, how even from the character's point of view he didn't even have a name. That'd be a very interesting world, and scary world to envision. The whole piece could have been improved with some more description though. I had a hard time envisioning what everything looked like without those descriptions. It definitely would have added more color and improved the story as a whole.

***

I was immediately pulled in by the note of the burning corpses and how the man no longer noticed. Excellent descriptive factor – which thankfully continued for the rest of the piece. I did fell connected to the main-character. I wanted to know what he was thinking at all times. Unfortunately the ending was let down on this point. I lost the connected feeling because of the rush and lack of his reasoning.

I think there were a few punctuation faults. Nothing major though!

I liked the plot of the story right up until the end, which is a pity. The “aliens” rumor was clever. Hysteria would be rife at that time. However, you jam-packed a lot into the end. It felt rushed. There weren’t nearly enough questions. Also, why did the main-character not believe the rumor? A bit of inside thought would have made the ending a lot better. Why did he come to such a quick conclusion about the rumor being unreal?

***

This is the aftermath of the first submission, right?
It was definitely a more interesting read and the construction of sentences and clarity of description were certainly more concise than the first entry. But it was similarly disappointing in its resolution. What new purpose had the main character found? What hope? Had he realized that he could dupe everyone around him by making up a story like the other guy?

Or had he found purpose in the search for answers? That doesn’t make a lot of sense, since -everyone- is searching for answers. That’s everybody’s purpose.

Both entries could have used a lot more. . . not work, just consideration. Neither felt particularly thought out or planned, and both gave me the feeling of reading something that was being made up as it went along. I’m really hoping that whoever advances from this round puts a little more effort into the next.

[The Drall]

I claim Entry Two in the name of Dranada!

Originally, I was going to set this in a Plane of Hell, but when I wasn't even halfway through the story and had only a night left, I changed it. Meh, not too proud of it, but whatever.

[ASGetty ((Zovo))]

You. . .

[The Drall]

Wait...was it my story you were suspicious of? Why?

[ASGetty ((Zovo))]

Parts of it were very familiar.
It was an overreaction, don't worry about it.

[The Drall]

Jul 8, 2010 15:32:51 GMT -5 ASGetty ((Zovo)) said:

Parts of it were very familiar.
It was an overreaction, don't worry about it.

A story you had written?

[ASGetty ((Zovo))]

Jul 8, 2010 15:32:51 GMT -5 ASGetty ((Zovo)) said:

It was an overreaction, don't worry about it.

[The Drall]

Now you've gotten me curious, damn it!

[ASGetty ((Zovo))]

The fact that you don't know confirms that my suspicions were unwarranted.
So don't worry about it.

[The Drall]

Fine, fine.