Third Place: Tie between...
Typhlogirl -
Irony Of Life 110 (Sike Saner: 30, Scrap: 40,Burnt Flower: 20, FloatingFlames: 20)
and...
Katiekitten -
The Ultimate Price 110 (Sike Saner: 10, Scrap: 20, Burnt Flower: 50, Floating Flames: 30)
Typhlogirl's will be posted first, with Katiekitten's in the following post.
The night was dark. Lonely blackness stretched across the sky, devoid of any stars to break the gloomy monotony. Naked trees clawed upwards in a silent plea for freedom. Shadows were everywhere, quietly lurking. The moon hid her shining face in cloud, as if afraid to show her light to the pokemon dwelling below. Any sort of illumination would have been a welcome mercy to me as I ran through the jagged underbrush of the barren forest, my friend Chel the only other being I was conscious of.
Apart from the hunters.
They followed us without exhaustion, trailed us with infinite enthusiasm and drove us to the end of our wits. We could not escape them. Even now, in the sullen silence of the woods, I could sense their measured approach. Beings of darkness. They lived for nights such as this. We were simply toys that they used to entertain their sadistic minds. No matter how hard we tried, we could not free ourselves from their tightening grasp. They were wherever the darkness touched.
I could smell Chel’s fear; he reeked of it. We had been running for hours; both at the end of our flailing endurance. The only thing driving us onward was our fear. The terrible emotion clasped itself around our minds poisoning our consciences and clouding whatever spasmodic judgement we had left in our possession. It was a disease, one from which we couldn’t find a cure. It was a mental ailment, but its nightmarish effects took their toll on us physically. Our bodies weakened, but the mental anguish our terror laced upon kept us going robotically through the skeletal forest.
I could sense the predators following us. I could feel their presence nearby. Their dark, disturbing presence. They loved the smell of pure, unmasked fear; it was a drug to them. A beautiful, addictive and (to them) an easily obtainable high. I got the feeling they were not pursuing us for food, as opposed to a source from where they could receive their addiction. After all, how nutritious would two Rattata be? We were minute pokemon, with little flesh left on our bones after the harsh winter prior. Hardly a decent meal for ones of their size. But the true objectives for their sick game of hide and seek terrified me more. I would have preferred it if they were pursuing us for food. At least then they would want the hunt to end quickly. But a game of fear…anything could happen. It could last for hours, days even. And we neared the end of our strength.
I could not run much further, but Chel was in a worst state than I. His breathing was laborious; every gasp of oxygen he inhaled was a trial in its own right. He was close to collapse. We stopped momentarily to regain a small amount of energy. Quiet reigned. Suddenly, a howl broke through the delicate silence of the night like a rock through glass, sending a sudden spark of shock through my system, and destroying whatever momentous feeling of empty sanctuary I had within my grasp. A brutal reminder of our futile position in this game. They still pursued us with tireless energy, waiting patiently for our fear to reach its peak.
And then they would strike.
We got back to our feet and continued our dash through the clawing branches of the undergrowth. Twigs whipped across my face, opening tiny cuts and making me squeak in pain. I got my paw caught in an above ground root and was sent crashing face first into the ground of a small clearing. I gave a muffled groan as I felt dirt entering the fresh wounds on my face. I forced myself to my feet, and looked around for Chel, expecting to hear his ragged breathing beside me.
I was answered by silence.
“Chel?” I whispered. “Chel, where are you?” No answer.
“Chel!” I hissed, my voice getting louder in panic. “Chel!!” I cried, succumbing to the panic threatening to burst out of my chest. “Where are you?!” I screamed loudly and belted into the undergrowth again, ripping at the plants and screeching Chel’s name in a fit of hysteria. The stress of the past hours was exploding out of my mouth in a steady stream of panic as I searched desperately for my missing friend. I saw imaginary shadows everywhere, which would normally have badly frightened me. But my unsuppressed horror over Chel’s sudden disappearance was the only thing on my mind at that moment as I retraced my steps at a breakneck pace I would have thought impossible for my exhausted body. Suddenly, I noticed a purple tail sticking out from behind a tree. I screeched to a stop. Relief flooding through me, I jogged up to the tail and peered around the tree.
My shriek of terror echoed through the unforgiving night.
Chel looked up at me through glassy eyes, features frozen in a scream that would never be heard. His fur, usually a deep violet, was stained red with his own blood, spewed everywhere from the staggering wound in his stomach, from which his guts laid spread across the ground in a grotesque pattern. His body had been completely mutilated, deep gashes covering every part of his torso. One of his arms laid a metre from his body. His head was the only part of him that was still intact. A shriek forced its way out of my throat. I stood and howled, emotion ripping out of my soul to decorate the silence. Tears dribbled down my cheeks as I wailed. I disregarded the fact that the hunters would hear me, that they would still be lurking amongst the trees after massacring my friend. Oh, I knew it was them. It was their handiwork. Only they would kill a pokemon yet not take a bite of meat from the corpse. Only they would remove a pokemon’s insides and spread them out on the ground.
Only they would rip out a pokemon’s throat so he could not scream.
Pure terror built up inside me with these thoughts, along with lashings of fury. Fury at knowing that they had killed my only friend, yet I could do nothing in the ways of avenging his untimely death. A pokemon of my minute stature stood a snowball’s chance in hell of defeating one of them, let along a whole pack. Nothing could be done. At least, not by me. I collapsed onto the ground, my tears falling into the blood that painted the grass it’s sick colour. It was impossible. Chel had been so close to me. Yet I heard no sound of him leaving. Only one scenario seemed possible, and the mere thought of it filled me with unspeakable dread.
They had been right behind us. So close they could have reached out and grabbed us. Realisation of what I had just thought made me giggle in a morose, demented way. Of course. They had grabbed one of us. I rolled around on the ground, chuckling insanely, not really knowing why I was laughing. My anxiety seemed to have reached a point where is escaped from my body in a series of demented laughs, along with my bitter tears. I was laughing and crying at the same time. I continued this way for many minutes.
Until I heard it. A strange harmony of hoarse voices, the sounds weaving around each other into a strange symphonic material.
“Run mouse…run mouse…the fun has truly begun…now…”
The chant rose up around me, reigniting the fear that had momentarily relaxed in my body. They were still here. Around me. Terror began to infect my blood, and I gave a wail of horror, regardless of the fact that it would betray my position. They would already know it anyway. With gasping breaths, I dashed away from Chel’s pitiful remains in a random direction. Any direction would do. Just to get away. The chant was slowly increasing in volume around me. I could hear cackling filtering through the air. Triumphant cackling. They were laughing at me. Laughing at how easily they had frightened me. I could visualise them, laughing while they ran through the woods and hid in the shadows. To them, it was all a game. We were simply dispensable toys. Toys that had no feelings.
To them, murder meant nothing if it was for the game. We were nothing. Our deaths meant nothing. Our blood meant nothing. Because we were nothing. We, Rattata, the most disregarded of all pokemon. The most ignored pokemon in existence. Over-looked by everyone, in power and intelligence. They think that just because we are common, ‘weak’ pokemon, that we have no hearts or souls. It is because of these factors that we are the main or a sub prey of every carnivorous pokemon in existence. Couldn’t catch your desired target? Just grab a Rattata, they were made to be hunted and eaten by everyone! It’s their only purpose for living! They say to be born a Rattata is a curse of Ho-oh, the divine creator. It means that the legends frown on your soul.
It means they want you to be punished.
I continued my dash through the woods, always on the lookout for an escape route. But nothing appeared. Terror drove my thoughts of Chel from my mind. I could feel my heart beating painfully in my chest as I desperately searched for a route off the main path. Desperate, I weaved my way through the thorns of a rosebush, collecting a variety of scratches along my back as I bit and tore through the shrubbery. I emerged out into another clearing. A hole in the canopy revealed the uncaring ebony sky above me. I shivered.
Suddenly, I heard a stick cracking somewhere behind me. I whirled around, my chest heaving. Nothing. I gritted my teeth, trembling in both fear and anger. I was sick of this disgusting game. I was nearly vomiting from the terror building up inside me. Wasn’t that enough for them?
Apparently not.
A massive roar erupted behind me. I could not bring myself to turn around. My heart, it felt like it would explode! I released another shriek of horror, my vocal chords raw from constant usage. I scrabbled through the dirt, trying to flee the scene. I gasped for air as I ran for my life through the forest. Flashes of brown and dull green flew past me as branches ripped across my face, enlarging the wounds already inflicted on my features. Blindly fleeing with no direction in mind, I failed to notice the warning signs flashing past. Believing the disappearing trees to be good fortune for me, as I could increase my speed without worrying about a collision, I raced ahead as fast as my fatigued legs could carry me.
And before I knew it, the ground was disappearing from under me.
To me, there are many different forms of fear. The most common is shock-fear, experienced when something sudden happens that startles the receiver. Another is acceptance fear, when you start to realise that something dreadful is going to happen to you, and the fear builds up from there. Right now, I was experiencing a combination of the two.
I screamed as air rushed by me as my tiny body sailed down the cliff face. I was airborne, the ground rushing up to meet my fragile form with a sickening crack. I felt my bones shatter, my skin tear, my blood explode out of my veins in a deluge of agony. My head was bent back at a strange angle; it felt like it had been severed from my body, yet I could sense that it was still attached, however delicately. I gave a low moan. How careless I had been, that I could forget the cliff in the forest. My terror appeared to have clouded not only my judgement, but my memory as well. I had practically killed myself. I laid in a tattered heap, in a carpet of my own blood, my life slowly slipping away from my feeble grasp.
And then I heard the hunters. They were coming for me.
I now understood their intentions for me. Strange how enlightenment is achieved on the point of death. Ho-oh and his legends have obviously wanted to punish my soul for past sins. Well, they’ve done their job with remarkable precision. I’ve never been in so much pain. They sent their army of devil pokemon to drive me to my own death. Maybe now they will show pity on me. Maybe now I will be shown mercy, and given a different species of pokemon to harbour my tainted soul. Why else would I have been born a Rattata?
Others would have said that. Me? I disagree with the myths. I believe being a Rattata is not a curse, but a gift. It’s a test. It’s to make you strong. It’s a difficult existence, that’s true. But I could handle it. But my life ends now. Ironic is the existence we dwell in.
The shadows lining the clearing are approaching me. Ah, they are here. Well, sorry to disappoint you, but my fear of you has gone. You can’t hurt me any more than I am now. So try.
….
The Houndoom slunk over to the body of the Rattata, and examined it.
“The scum breathes!” it said, excited. The others gathered around.
“Aw…poor little rat has a boo-boo…” crooned the leader, digging his paw into the exposed stomach. “Poor little rat…”
“I wants the liver!” cried a member.
“I calls the brains!”
“Silence! I wants to play with this toy a bit more before we kills it.” The leader hissed. Suddenly, a roar broke through the forest.
“What be that?” yowled one of the pack members, whirling around.
“It’s the cliff monster!” cried another.
“Run!”
The group of Houndoom fled from the shredded Rattata, their howls echoing into the ebony sky. The Aggron slowly emerged from its cave in the cliff, looking at the Rattata lying in front of its home. The titan walked over.
The tiny pokemon lay broken on the ground, but it was clear it still had life in it. The pokemon’s eyes lit up, hoping for a mercy killing from this sudden helper. But the Aggron didn’t care. It bent down and took a bite out of the intestines, ripping them out from the live pokemon’s belly. One final gurgle emitted from the traumatised Rattata’s throat.
Such is the irony of life.
-
Sike Saner: Very nice atmosphere and description, with a harrowing and thoroughly entertaining emotional rollercoaster offered through the main character. The language here is effective, and quite elegant and artful in places, yet manages to avoid being superfluous. The usage of gore is powerful and satisfying, yet tasteful.
“Run mouse…run mouse…the fun has truly begun…now…”
Now that is an “Oh my God…” moment, right there.
Scrap: Dear god, woman, you never cease to amaze me! As a fan of Rattata, that quite touched me...in a saddening way, but the evil part of me giggled at the end where the Aggron came out and munched upon that little rat. Beautifully done point of view!
Burnt Flower: I really, really liked your one-shot for various reasons, though it mainly was because I felt you put a lot of energy and time into it. Even though I thought there were some awkward phrasing here and there and the occasional short sentence that could’ve been lengthened or joined another one, the grammar and spelling were done pretty nicely. I really felt bad for those poor Rattata (especially Chel), and it’s remarkable the way how you bring out the inner Pokemon’s feelings and make them three-dimensional characters. I feel as though you put your whole heart into it, despite the fact you haven’t written too many horror stories. I commend you on a job well done.
FloatingFlames: This was really good writing, I can easily say that. Description was fluid and precise, I imagined everything perfectly. Wording was terrific and there were little to no mistakes, and your style is fantastic to say the least.
You created a brilliant sense of fear in this piece, and I liked how you described the hunters and killing as their ‘drug’, that was a cool touch. What makes this story so interesting is that it’s done from the point of view of the prey, which was well done. At times, the figurative language is a little drawn out (I’m guilty of that, as IceKing can tell you), but it’s fine for the most part. First person is also a plus.
And I enjoyed the ending as well. The plot itself was relatively simple, but you explored the state of fear and death so terrifically that it really can’t be considered negatively. For someone who writes comedy, I’m really surprised that you have this kind of talent. You should write more of these sorts of stories; I’d love to read them.