Burnt Flower
Horror Mistress
I'm really, really sorry for the wait guys, and I don't have any excuses. However, don't hesitate to drop me as a judge if I don't have the entries by Saturday.
-
Hi all. We have had reports of member's signatures being edited to include malicious content. You can rest assured this wasn't done by staff and we can find no indication that the forums themselves have been compromised.
However, remember to keep your passwords secure. If you use similar logins on multiple sites, people and even bots may be able to access your account.
We always recommend using unique passwords and enable two-factor authentication if possible. Make sure you are secure. -
Be sure to join the discussion on our discord at: Discord.gg/serebii
Trial of Terror - A Horror One-shot Contest
- Thread starter FloatingFlames
- Start date
I also am so sorry for being a unreliable sod. It's near impossible for me since I'm in America so the time zones are confusing, not to mention I don't have my own laptop, but I have sent my rankings to FF, so I plead you to go with what I wrote in those rankings so you don't have to worry about me getting on AIM.
I hope you got Sikes PM in time, because Sike proposed a new system that needs only rankings that would assign points to a fic based on the different rankings. Much better than my idea where all the judges get in a dinky room and dont get out until they have a ranking system XD If all went well, the results could be up tonight! Definetely in a few days though
Yeah, I got her PM...I had to reread it several times because I'm dim like that. 
Oh, and BTW, I saw your quote in Burnt Flower's message to me about me having to call in sick as a last resort...I've used up all my sick days to spend time with Rose. So you're outta luck. XD
Oh, and BTW, I saw your quote in Burnt Flower's message to me about me having to call in sick as a last resort...I've used up all my sick days to spend time with Rose. So you're outta luck. XD
FloatingFlames
Lovable Narcissist
Well, it's been more than two months, but we've got the results, so... Huzzah! Let us celebrate!
Before I begin, I'd like to give a special thanks to Fenit, better known as IceKing, who poked and prodded at Burnt Flower and myself to get this contest finished. Thanks, I appreciate it.
Let's get to it! Sike Saner came up with a simple system to rank these fics, and is as follows.
6th place: 5 pts.
5th place: 10 pts.
4th place: 20 pts.
3rd place: 30 pts.
2nd place: 40 pts.
1st place: 50 pts.
Each judge ranked them individually (individual rankings will be posted for each as well as final rankings) and the point were given out accordingly, and then added together. Reviews from the judges will be posted following each entry. Without any more blabbering, I'd like to get on with the results, since you guys have been starved of them for quite a while now. There will be one result per post, fifth place following this one.
Sixth Place: Mimori Kiryu - Forsaken 25 (Sike Saner: 5, Scrap: 10, Burnt Flower: 5, FloatingFlames: 5)
Death…what is the true meaning?
We all know that you’ll never live again…but what is forever? Does anybody truly know how long forever is? Time passes by slowly in life, sometimes fast. But when you’re near death…is it slow? Does life become pointless…or the most beautiful thing?
Well, hopefully many of us will not find out exactly how it feels for a very long time. Life is precious, the most precious things that we have and we must never forget that something of our own belief, whether it be a God or something else, did breath life into us and we must always treasure it.
Follow a young girl and her search for survival through the world war of the pokemon universe and her two companions, Peccadillo and Blunder.
~+~+~+~+~+~
People argue.
It’s a proven fact.
They’ll even argue about all the arguing that happens when they’re together.
I think it’s pointless. What is the point of living anyway? I just don’t get it. We’re all going to die someday, so why try so hard to live everyday and accomplish things that in about 100 years won’t make a difference?
I got my answer. It’s smacked me in the face a couple of years ago, during the war between Kanto, Johto, Hoenn and Orre. Also called…Pokemon End.
It was the day that I died.
~+~+~+~+~+~
Bereave.
Such an odd word for a female person, but that was what she was named. Walking along the sand beach of LilyCove, the grains so small they sifted quickly through her light tanned feet. She stepped so lightly, as if she was gliding on air, feeling a sense of lightness in her body.
Her tattered green-plaid skirt flowed in the wind, the rips rubbing against her thin legs. The matching shirt just as frayed, rising up in the air, showing her slender body, mostly just bones. Bereave stopped, looking out into the ocean…the beautiful sea crashing upon itself and sloshing onto the beach, consuming the girl’s feet in the cold, fresh water.
She decided that it wasn’t fair to allow herself to enjoy the beautiful world that she was for every living thing, so she brought out her elegant pokemon.
“Hello…my gorgeous friends…” she whispered, her older sounding voice not fitting her young appearance.
Her Poochyena, called Peccadillo, rubbed against its trainer’s leg. He almost seemed to be smiling up at her. Bereave’s other pokemon, a fierce Mightyena who was the Poochyena’s mother, stood on a rock near the ocean’s edge. It stared out with its deep purple colored eyes, full of troublesome worries and fears.
“Blunder…my dear, is something wrong?” Bereave called out to her friend.
The Mightyena turned to Bereave, shaking its head no.
Bereave only smiled and looked to the sun. “My dear pokemon, we have nothing to fear except fear itself. As long as we have the belief in ourselves, nothing will go wrong.”
Little did the young woman know that her life would be changed forever, in less than a day.
~+~+~+~+~+~
I ran.
I was terrified.
Bright, red and orange surrounded me and I was afraid. Running didn’t help, but I did it anyway. My paws burned with searing pain, as a red substance oozed from them slowly. I tried with all my might to ignore it, but it was impossible.
Small cuts along my body also seeped out the crimson too and I soon became afraid. When my mother took me hunting, I also saw this color coming from the prey my mother killed. The thing…that really scared me was that those pokemon never again opened their eyes.
They were gone forever.
I was terrified that if I also kept bleeding profusely, that I would die as well.
But….I don’t want to die. I want to stay with Bereave…and my mother.
Death is scary and I will stay away from it.
I stopped running, hearing my name being called by a familiar voice. I turned, eyes wide open, knowing it was my owner, Bereave. But when I saw her…
She was dying.
Her clothes were torn even more than usual, and the terrible red crimson seeping through her garments. I couldn’t stop myself….I ran to her and licked her wounds. Anything to stop her from vanishing from my life. Tears…salty small tears ran down my face as I continually washed her injuries.
“Peccadillo, my baby. Stop.” Bereave requested of me. Even though I could tell her body was in deep pain, she still smiled at me. Rubbing my head softly, she also let the tears fall from her face. “Blunder…is waiting for you back at the house. I have something to do, so go back to your mother.”
I screamed, not realizing I was. I knew where Bereave was going.
She was going into the fire. The dangerous…terrifying red and orange. I knew if she went, she would never come back. The blaze nipped at us as we stood there, and my injuries burned in my mind.
But I didn’t care.
Bereave was my owner. It was my distinct feeling to protect her.
A Pokemon was born and raised to defend their owners, no matter what the situation was. Life or death.
Even though I was terrified to my bones, I was going to protect my best friend from the dangers of this world as long as I could.
I knew my mother was calling for me to come to her, but I didn’t care. My mother couldn’t tell me what to do anymore. I planned to stay with Bereave forever and keep the promise I made when she chose to capture me in the wild with the pokeball.
Such was the destiny of a pokemon.
~+~+~+~+~+~
Burn.
Blaze.
Suffering.
Death…
Reincarnation…
Or not?
The defenders of the right
The stealthily of the night…
Protection, fortification and love…
Hate me, despise me, whatever you must…
For I’ll always be there…
To watch over you.
No matter what you say.
-
Sike Saner: Fairly clear language; I knew what was going on through most of the piece. The Lilycove scene was quite lovely (and reminded me that Lilycove has a beach; how could I have forgotten?). I liked the names that were used here, especially Bereave. (I am so naming something in one of the GBA games that; maybe a Misdreavus or something?) Another thing I liked was one of the last scenes, delivered through the POV of Peccadillo the Poochyena, with all the innocent fear and dread befitting a child present, especially in this:
Scrap: This was beautifully done for someone who doesn't think they're good at horror. ^^ I loved the imagery of the Poochyena desperately running towards her dying trainer, and the monologues at the end...bravo!
Burnt Flower: Hmm…I think it was very lacking in some parts, but yet I see a definite effort you put into it. The middle part (where the narration wonders what’s the point of living if everything would be pointless at the very end) is probably my favorite part since I could relate to that in some way. The contemplations about life is a topic no one will get tired of, I assure you. :3 It’s very hard to write another completely genre you’re not used to writing in, so I have to give you some brownie points for actually trying to write in a zone you’re not comfortable with. That being said, I find the ending needed a bit more beefing up, but the slightly poetic tone to it made me smile.
FloatingFlames: Interesting. First off, I think the line at the end of the introduction was a bit pointless. It’s not really necessary as the story can begin right after the second paragraph. Although the section itself was quite nice, I have to say.
Anyway, a couple things that caught my attention, good and bad…
This reminded me of the beginning of blackemerald’s prologue for “Deceiver”. Very nice touch.
I had to reread this line several times to fully understand it. Maybe it was just me.
This was a nice little piece; however I think it ended far too abruptly. I would’ve felt a lot more for Bereave and the Poochyena had you developed them a bit more and took time to flesh them; it gives the story a somewhat rushed feel to me.
It’s in no way bad, though, the description was pleasant to say the least, and I loved how you made the transition from narration to Bereave’s point of view to Peccadillo’s. It really took me by surprise. Also, the ending is nice, but the story just ends far too early, leaving me wanting more, which definitely shows you’ve done well pulling me in. The story also seems to be more drama than horror, I’d say, but either way, it’s pretty darn good, and with a little more time, it could be elevated to an exceptional level, because you have some very interesting ideas.
Before I begin, I'd like to give a special thanks to Fenit, better known as IceKing, who poked and prodded at Burnt Flower and myself to get this contest finished. Thanks, I appreciate it.
Let's get to it! Sike Saner came up with a simple system to rank these fics, and is as follows.
6th place: 5 pts.
5th place: 10 pts.
4th place: 20 pts.
3rd place: 30 pts.
2nd place: 40 pts.
1st place: 50 pts.
Each judge ranked them individually (individual rankings will be posted for each as well as final rankings) and the point were given out accordingly, and then added together. Reviews from the judges will be posted following each entry. Without any more blabbering, I'd like to get on with the results, since you guys have been starved of them for quite a while now. There will be one result per post, fifth place following this one.
Sixth Place: Mimori Kiryu - Forsaken 25 (Sike Saner: 5, Scrap: 10, Burnt Flower: 5, FloatingFlames: 5)
Death…what is the true meaning?
We all know that you’ll never live again…but what is forever? Does anybody truly know how long forever is? Time passes by slowly in life, sometimes fast. But when you’re near death…is it slow? Does life become pointless…or the most beautiful thing?
Well, hopefully many of us will not find out exactly how it feels for a very long time. Life is precious, the most precious things that we have and we must never forget that something of our own belief, whether it be a God or something else, did breath life into us and we must always treasure it.
Follow a young girl and her search for survival through the world war of the pokemon universe and her two companions, Peccadillo and Blunder.
~+~+~+~+~+~
People argue.
It’s a proven fact.
They’ll even argue about all the arguing that happens when they’re together.
I think it’s pointless. What is the point of living anyway? I just don’t get it. We’re all going to die someday, so why try so hard to live everyday and accomplish things that in about 100 years won’t make a difference?
I got my answer. It’s smacked me in the face a couple of years ago, during the war between Kanto, Johto, Hoenn and Orre. Also called…Pokemon End.
It was the day that I died.
~+~+~+~+~+~
Bereave.
Such an odd word for a female person, but that was what she was named. Walking along the sand beach of LilyCove, the grains so small they sifted quickly through her light tanned feet. She stepped so lightly, as if she was gliding on air, feeling a sense of lightness in her body.
Her tattered green-plaid skirt flowed in the wind, the rips rubbing against her thin legs. The matching shirt just as frayed, rising up in the air, showing her slender body, mostly just bones. Bereave stopped, looking out into the ocean…the beautiful sea crashing upon itself and sloshing onto the beach, consuming the girl’s feet in the cold, fresh water.
She decided that it wasn’t fair to allow herself to enjoy the beautiful world that she was for every living thing, so she brought out her elegant pokemon.
“Hello…my gorgeous friends…” she whispered, her older sounding voice not fitting her young appearance.
Her Poochyena, called Peccadillo, rubbed against its trainer’s leg. He almost seemed to be smiling up at her. Bereave’s other pokemon, a fierce Mightyena who was the Poochyena’s mother, stood on a rock near the ocean’s edge. It stared out with its deep purple colored eyes, full of troublesome worries and fears.
“Blunder…my dear, is something wrong?” Bereave called out to her friend.
The Mightyena turned to Bereave, shaking its head no.
Bereave only smiled and looked to the sun. “My dear pokemon, we have nothing to fear except fear itself. As long as we have the belief in ourselves, nothing will go wrong.”
Little did the young woman know that her life would be changed forever, in less than a day.
~+~+~+~+~+~
I ran.
I was terrified.
Bright, red and orange surrounded me and I was afraid. Running didn’t help, but I did it anyway. My paws burned with searing pain, as a red substance oozed from them slowly. I tried with all my might to ignore it, but it was impossible.
Small cuts along my body also seeped out the crimson too and I soon became afraid. When my mother took me hunting, I also saw this color coming from the prey my mother killed. The thing…that really scared me was that those pokemon never again opened their eyes.
They were gone forever.
I was terrified that if I also kept bleeding profusely, that I would die as well.
But….I don’t want to die. I want to stay with Bereave…and my mother.
Death is scary and I will stay away from it.
I stopped running, hearing my name being called by a familiar voice. I turned, eyes wide open, knowing it was my owner, Bereave. But when I saw her…
She was dying.
Her clothes were torn even more than usual, and the terrible red crimson seeping through her garments. I couldn’t stop myself….I ran to her and licked her wounds. Anything to stop her from vanishing from my life. Tears…salty small tears ran down my face as I continually washed her injuries.
“Peccadillo, my baby. Stop.” Bereave requested of me. Even though I could tell her body was in deep pain, she still smiled at me. Rubbing my head softly, she also let the tears fall from her face. “Blunder…is waiting for you back at the house. I have something to do, so go back to your mother.”
I screamed, not realizing I was. I knew where Bereave was going.
She was going into the fire. The dangerous…terrifying red and orange. I knew if she went, she would never come back. The blaze nipped at us as we stood there, and my injuries burned in my mind.
But I didn’t care.
Bereave was my owner. It was my distinct feeling to protect her.
A Pokemon was born and raised to defend their owners, no matter what the situation was. Life or death.
Even though I was terrified to my bones, I was going to protect my best friend from the dangers of this world as long as I could.
I knew my mother was calling for me to come to her, but I didn’t care. My mother couldn’t tell me what to do anymore. I planned to stay with Bereave forever and keep the promise I made when she chose to capture me in the wild with the pokeball.
Such was the destiny of a pokemon.
~+~+~+~+~+~
Burn.
Blaze.
Suffering.
Death…
Reincarnation…
Or not?
The defenders of the right
The stealthily of the night…
Protection, fortification and love…
Hate me, despise me, whatever you must…
For I’ll always be there…
To watch over you.
No matter what you say.
-
Sike Saner: Fairly clear language; I knew what was going on through most of the piece. The Lilycove scene was quite lovely (and reminded me that Lilycove has a beach; how could I have forgotten?). I liked the names that were used here, especially Bereave. (I am so naming something in one of the GBA games that; maybe a Misdreavus or something?) Another thing I liked was one of the last scenes, delivered through the POV of Peccadillo the Poochyena, with all the innocent fear and dread befitting a child present, especially in this:
Scrap: This was beautifully done for someone who doesn't think they're good at horror. ^^ I loved the imagery of the Poochyena desperately running towards her dying trainer, and the monologues at the end...bravo!
Burnt Flower: Hmm…I think it was very lacking in some parts, but yet I see a definite effort you put into it. The middle part (where the narration wonders what’s the point of living if everything would be pointless at the very end) is probably my favorite part since I could relate to that in some way.
The contemplations about life is a topic no one will get tired of, I assure you. :3 It’s very hard to write another completely genre you’re not used to writing in, so I have to give you some brownie points for actually trying to write in a zone you’re not comfortable with. That being said, I find the ending needed a bit more beefing up, but the slightly poetic tone to it made me smile.FloatingFlames: Interesting. First off, I think the line at the end of the introduction was a bit pointless. It’s not really necessary as the story can begin right after the second paragraph. Although the section itself was quite nice, I have to say.
Anyway, a couple things that caught my attention, good and bad…
This reminded me of the beginning of blackemerald’s prologue for “Deceiver”. Very nice touch.
I had to reread this line several times to fully understand it. Maybe it was just me.
This was a nice little piece; however I think it ended far too abruptly. I would’ve felt a lot more for Bereave and the Poochyena had you developed them a bit more and took time to flesh them; it gives the story a somewhat rushed feel to me.
It’s in no way bad, though, the description was pleasant to say the least, and I loved how you made the transition from narration to Bereave’s point of view to Peccadillo’s. It really took me by surprise. Also, the ending is nice, but the story just ends far too early, leaving me wanting more, which definitely shows you’ve done well pulling me in. The story also seems to be more drama than horror, I’d say, but either way, it’s pretty darn good, and with a little more time, it could be elevated to an exceptional level, because you have some very interesting ideas.
FloatingFlames
Lovable Narcissist
Fifth Place: Elemental Charizam - The Twisted Wood 45 (Sike Saner: 20, Scrap: 5, Burnt Flower: 10, FloatingFlames: 10)
The tiny, brown-clad boy sped through the meadow fields, his dirty blonde hair disguising him perfectly. He followed the steady, pounding sounds of soldier’s footsteps ahead, grinning wistfully as he followed them. When they’d tramped through the village yesterday, he’d wanted more than anything to join them, but his mother insisted he was too young. Typically, or so the boy thought, his older brother had joined up with a score of other village men.
The army marched under the famed general Dhakra, who had led the country’s army to many glorious victories over the demon interlopers. And this would be his greatest deed of all, to cleanse the Twisted Wood itself of their corruption, and bring peace to the land. The boy remembered what the recruiters said; that any man involved would be celebrated in song and story for countless generations. But cursed though he was with youth, he was determined to at least see the battle. Even if no one would remember the name of Rae, he could remember the warriors with vivid images, instead of vague tales.
As he leapt across a stile, the boy glimpsed the forest itself; shadowy leaves that spewed from sickly white branches warped beyond comprehension. The trees looked like thorns from this far, tangling together in masses of prickled branches that split the soil with a stench of sulphur that permeated the air all around the child. He gave an involuntary shiver as the Twisted Wood was veiled once more in the golden grass.
Just as the boy’s muscles began prickling with the effort of sustained running, the footsteps stopped with one last resonant stamp. His cover abruptly ended, as the roots of the cursed forest encroached on the farmland. The stench of bog water and sulphur was now overpowering, and the boy had to struggle to keep himself from crying out. He took a mad dash towards a hawthorn bush, landing painfully in a cloud of black blossoms. Tentatively, he looked through its dying branches.
Luckily, none of the soldiers had noticed the commotion he had caused, for they all stared forwards, some eagerly and others with grim determination. In front, a huge score of Hoplites stood, round shields waving and spears splintering the sky as a chant rose up in the ranks. Behind them, Hypasists pounded their massive shields with gleaming swords, carrying a rhythmical beat over to the boy that sent his heart racing. At the very back, the Toxotes strung their bows, filling their ranks with bristling arrows.
The boy watched in awe as a single figure of horseback broke from the ranks. His armour was fine, inlaid with gilt and etched with silver. His helm was a soaring steel eagle, beak caught in mid screech by the artist, wings rising at either side in a symbol of majestic power. He commanded utter attention from the gleaming cohorts before him, their chanting fading into the wind. His deep blue eyes smouldered with anger as he eyed the tangled mass of foliage before him, snorting derisively as he looked on.
“Soldiers!” he cried, lifting his keenly edged sword high. “You have all seen the damage of these demons. They massacre entire towns, and then feast on the cooling flesh of our relatives with the flies and the maggots. Even now, their monstrosity of a forest, encroaches on our rightful lands and blights our crops. If they aren’t stopped now, how many more lives will the beasts claim? For the Empire! For glory! ONWARDS!”
As his last word was spoken, the ranks of soldiery burst into fanatical clamouring. Steadily, the lines of hoplites lowered their spears, tramping slowly forwards with sunlight raining shafts of light upon their backs. A volley of arrows soared ahead, burning pitch dancing across the bronze heads. The forest screamed a terrible hiss of hatred as sizzling shafts struck deep into its boughs, sending up clouds of putrid smoke.
Shadows blurred in the depths of the forest, drawing ever closer to the soldiers. Finally, a massive orange dog loped from between the trees; dark black stripes cutting across his lithe body, his eyes blazing like furnaces. Ignoring the arrows that shot towards him he leapt up to a high rock, surveying his foes with malice. He lip curled back, revealing row upon row of pointed yellow teeth. With a shrug of his grubby mane, he opened his mouth and emitted a cavernous roar that made every hair on the young boy’s back raise.
Others like him soon emerged from the forest; clouds of tiny bats that flowed like smog, herds of horses alight with blazing hellfire that stroked the air with its painful touch, and dark serpents slithering purposely forwards with poison dripping from drawn fangs. Those that flew dropped in clumps of bloodied fur as arrow shafts splintered through their soft hides, but their charge held. They fell up on the archers quickly, nibbling at their flesh and tearing out their writhing eyes with a thousand pairs of teeth before spitting the stripped corpses to the floor. At the front, the frenzied charge met a wall of sharpened steel spears, blood spraying upwards as the demon’s bodies were impaled with their own strength. Screams of agony pierced the tense air, and Rae cried with them in shock and fright.
The line broke under the weight of a huge bear, oblivious to the spears sheathed in his blood-matted fur. A huge swipe of his right paw snapped a man’s neck like a twig, and another threw one of his comrades flying into the mass of men. His expression remained one of fierce determination as he was finally brought down with a cut throat, his own heart beating his life from his body, with every pulse hammering his blood from his veins. But it was two late for the spearmen, who broke as they were mercilessly hewn down, their lives harvested in the hundreds by terrible unnatural weaponry.
Massive bursts of fire exploded around the charging swordsmen, baking them alive within their armour. Ashes streamed in a river of dust as the demons charged forth over mounds of bloodied, mangled corpses, other unearthly powers now tearing into the valiant men, a maelstrom of the elements that sundered the very earth itself. Any in its path were shredded, their remains swallowed up greedily by the huge gashes that scarred the soil. Rae closed his eyes at this, unable to take any more, though images still wheeled in his head, screams echoing in his hollow skull. He had searched in vain for the splendours of battle, but all he could remember was the blood soaked ground, and the cold, empty eyes of the dead staring at his hidden face. He forced his eyes open again with a whimper of fright. There was little point in hiding now, for surely he had seen all the bad things there were to see.
His new opened eyes looked straight up into the hungry face of one of the striped dog beasts he had seen before. The stench was overpowering, and the teeth terrifying. Rae longed to flee, but his body would not obey. He sat there, pressed against thorns he could no longer feel, petrified. Flame flowed into the predator’s mouth, shadows of pointed teeth dancing across the boyish skin of its victim. Nostrils flared expansively, feeding the demon’s element until it grew into a monstrous ball of glowing fire. Trembling, the boy closed his eyes once more. A bright light burst into life all around, blasting his eyes with dancing shapes of red and blue. A searing pain struck him all over his tender body, every cell bursting with anguish. His tears sizzled on his face, scorching his eyes with steam. When his mouth opened to scream, his tongue blackened with heat, the muscle burning slowly and agonisingly away. Slowly, the pain faded, his soul sailing to the underworld on the stench of burning flesh.
-
Sike Saner:A good, solid piece with one hell of a tasty battle scene. Rae makes for an interesting character: indignantly envious of the warrior’s glory that is denied him due to his being too young, trying to at least partake of it from the sidelines and experience it vicariously through the soldiers as he observes them. Again, I really enjoyed that battle; it was nice and bloody, and it flowed quite well. Good atmospheric elements, too; I could practically smell the bog water, yuck. XP
Delectably described agony there. Very nice.
Scrap: You have splendid description that remains constant throughout the entire story, but I was rather disappointed that it cut off so abruptly after some lovely description of the human dying a deliciously gory death. There were several moments that had me smiling in awe, such as the image of the vast bear roaring as he plows through the line of soliders, breaking ranks. I know Saber would love that. XD
Burnt Flower: Let’s see…one thing is for certain and that’s the fantastic quality of the description. I’ll say you’ve really outdone yourself with it; incredibly vivid and I could picture everything perfectly in my mind’s eye. Without exaggerating or sweet-coating the truth, this one-shot had probably one of the best writing. No grammar or spelling errors I could find, so everything’s alright in those aspects. The only drawback would be the ending; it was a bit of a disappointment, but I can’t really say it was bad – I guess I just expected more about it, but hey, in a way it works since I felt satisfied with the last line. I don’t know… it was nice and I wasn’t bored with it, but I think you could’ve lengthened and drawn out some parts so its true potential could shine.
FloatingFlames: First of all, WTF is a Hypasist? And a Toxote? Apparently a Hoplite is a Greek soldier but... I have no clue what those two are. You kind of lost me >_> Well, might as well get the irritating things out of the way first, since I’m on that subject.
The following are a bunch of minor things, but let me just get them out of the way.
I saw a little bit of repetition in the first part – you used prickling several times in consecutive paragraph, but that wasn’t major, but I didn’t like how you used the phrase “the cursed forest encroached on the farmland” in the narrative and than several paragraph’s later have the general use nearly the exact same phrase. Things like that just get on my nerves, even though it’s nothing major. Another thing, you use the word “shaft” in two consecutive sentences. Also, you capitalized Hoplites earlier in the piece and later you typed it in lower case.
Terrific imagery here, but you used the semi-colon incorrectly, so look over that.
The highlights of the fic were the imagery and the plot; the description was astounding, and the final paragraph was especially good, although I agree with Scrap, you had that immaculate description and then you were like “LOL then he died” and it was kind of disappointing. I would’ve enjoyed it if there was a little more.
Onto the plot, this was the star of the fic. I thought it was really cool how you referred to pokemon as demons – a story about the first human contact with pokemon (I assume that’s what this was, but I have a tough time deciphering even the simplest of plots at times >_>) is really neat concept, so props to you for that. I just think it could’ve been extended a bit, since I got hooked at the end, and was disappointed at the story’s abrupt closure.
All in all, this is a fiction portrayed exceptionally with terrific description, although held down by its short length and occasionally irritating grammar mistakes.
The tiny, brown-clad boy sped through the meadow fields, his dirty blonde hair disguising him perfectly. He followed the steady, pounding sounds of soldier’s footsteps ahead, grinning wistfully as he followed them. When they’d tramped through the village yesterday, he’d wanted more than anything to join them, but his mother insisted he was too young. Typically, or so the boy thought, his older brother had joined up with a score of other village men.
The army marched under the famed general Dhakra, who had led the country’s army to many glorious victories over the demon interlopers. And this would be his greatest deed of all, to cleanse the Twisted Wood itself of their corruption, and bring peace to the land. The boy remembered what the recruiters said; that any man involved would be celebrated in song and story for countless generations. But cursed though he was with youth, he was determined to at least see the battle. Even if no one would remember the name of Rae, he could remember the warriors with vivid images, instead of vague tales.
As he leapt across a stile, the boy glimpsed the forest itself; shadowy leaves that spewed from sickly white branches warped beyond comprehension. The trees looked like thorns from this far, tangling together in masses of prickled branches that split the soil with a stench of sulphur that permeated the air all around the child. He gave an involuntary shiver as the Twisted Wood was veiled once more in the golden grass.
Just as the boy’s muscles began prickling with the effort of sustained running, the footsteps stopped with one last resonant stamp. His cover abruptly ended, as the roots of the cursed forest encroached on the farmland. The stench of bog water and sulphur was now overpowering, and the boy had to struggle to keep himself from crying out. He took a mad dash towards a hawthorn bush, landing painfully in a cloud of black blossoms. Tentatively, he looked through its dying branches.
Luckily, none of the soldiers had noticed the commotion he had caused, for they all stared forwards, some eagerly and others with grim determination. In front, a huge score of Hoplites stood, round shields waving and spears splintering the sky as a chant rose up in the ranks. Behind them, Hypasists pounded their massive shields with gleaming swords, carrying a rhythmical beat over to the boy that sent his heart racing. At the very back, the Toxotes strung their bows, filling their ranks with bristling arrows.
The boy watched in awe as a single figure of horseback broke from the ranks. His armour was fine, inlaid with gilt and etched with silver. His helm was a soaring steel eagle, beak caught in mid screech by the artist, wings rising at either side in a symbol of majestic power. He commanded utter attention from the gleaming cohorts before him, their chanting fading into the wind. His deep blue eyes smouldered with anger as he eyed the tangled mass of foliage before him, snorting derisively as he looked on.
“Soldiers!” he cried, lifting his keenly edged sword high. “You have all seen the damage of these demons. They massacre entire towns, and then feast on the cooling flesh of our relatives with the flies and the maggots. Even now, their monstrosity of a forest, encroaches on our rightful lands and blights our crops. If they aren’t stopped now, how many more lives will the beasts claim? For the Empire! For glory! ONWARDS!”
As his last word was spoken, the ranks of soldiery burst into fanatical clamouring. Steadily, the lines of hoplites lowered their spears, tramping slowly forwards with sunlight raining shafts of light upon their backs. A volley of arrows soared ahead, burning pitch dancing across the bronze heads. The forest screamed a terrible hiss of hatred as sizzling shafts struck deep into its boughs, sending up clouds of putrid smoke.
Shadows blurred in the depths of the forest, drawing ever closer to the soldiers. Finally, a massive orange dog loped from between the trees; dark black stripes cutting across his lithe body, his eyes blazing like furnaces. Ignoring the arrows that shot towards him he leapt up to a high rock, surveying his foes with malice. He lip curled back, revealing row upon row of pointed yellow teeth. With a shrug of his grubby mane, he opened his mouth and emitted a cavernous roar that made every hair on the young boy’s back raise.
Others like him soon emerged from the forest; clouds of tiny bats that flowed like smog, herds of horses alight with blazing hellfire that stroked the air with its painful touch, and dark serpents slithering purposely forwards with poison dripping from drawn fangs. Those that flew dropped in clumps of bloodied fur as arrow shafts splintered through their soft hides, but their charge held. They fell up on the archers quickly, nibbling at their flesh and tearing out their writhing eyes with a thousand pairs of teeth before spitting the stripped corpses to the floor. At the front, the frenzied charge met a wall of sharpened steel spears, blood spraying upwards as the demon’s bodies were impaled with their own strength. Screams of agony pierced the tense air, and Rae cried with them in shock and fright.
The line broke under the weight of a huge bear, oblivious to the spears sheathed in his blood-matted fur. A huge swipe of his right paw snapped a man’s neck like a twig, and another threw one of his comrades flying into the mass of men. His expression remained one of fierce determination as he was finally brought down with a cut throat, his own heart beating his life from his body, with every pulse hammering his blood from his veins. But it was two late for the spearmen, who broke as they were mercilessly hewn down, their lives harvested in the hundreds by terrible unnatural weaponry.
Massive bursts of fire exploded around the charging swordsmen, baking them alive within their armour. Ashes streamed in a river of dust as the demons charged forth over mounds of bloodied, mangled corpses, other unearthly powers now tearing into the valiant men, a maelstrom of the elements that sundered the very earth itself. Any in its path were shredded, their remains swallowed up greedily by the huge gashes that scarred the soil. Rae closed his eyes at this, unable to take any more, though images still wheeled in his head, screams echoing in his hollow skull. He had searched in vain for the splendours of battle, but all he could remember was the blood soaked ground, and the cold, empty eyes of the dead staring at his hidden face. He forced his eyes open again with a whimper of fright. There was little point in hiding now, for surely he had seen all the bad things there were to see.
His new opened eyes looked straight up into the hungry face of one of the striped dog beasts he had seen before. The stench was overpowering, and the teeth terrifying. Rae longed to flee, but his body would not obey. He sat there, pressed against thorns he could no longer feel, petrified. Flame flowed into the predator’s mouth, shadows of pointed teeth dancing across the boyish skin of its victim. Nostrils flared expansively, feeding the demon’s element until it grew into a monstrous ball of glowing fire. Trembling, the boy closed his eyes once more. A bright light burst into life all around, blasting his eyes with dancing shapes of red and blue. A searing pain struck him all over his tender body, every cell bursting with anguish. His tears sizzled on his face, scorching his eyes with steam. When his mouth opened to scream, his tongue blackened with heat, the muscle burning slowly and agonisingly away. Slowly, the pain faded, his soul sailing to the underworld on the stench of burning flesh.
-
Sike Saner:A good, solid piece with one hell of a tasty battle scene. Rae makes for an interesting character: indignantly envious of the warrior’s glory that is denied him due to his being too young, trying to at least partake of it from the sidelines and experience it vicariously through the soldiers as he observes them. Again, I really enjoyed that battle; it was nice and bloody, and it flowed quite well. Good atmospheric elements, too; I could practically smell the bog water, yuck. XP
Delectably described agony there. Very nice.
Scrap: You have splendid description that remains constant throughout the entire story, but I was rather disappointed that it cut off so abruptly after some lovely description of the human dying a deliciously gory death. There were several moments that had me smiling in awe, such as the image of the vast bear roaring as he plows through the line of soliders, breaking ranks. I know Saber would love that. XD
Burnt Flower: Let’s see…one thing is for certain and that’s the fantastic quality of the description. I’ll say you’ve really outdone yourself with it; incredibly vivid and I could picture everything perfectly in my mind’s eye. Without exaggerating or sweet-coating the truth, this one-shot had probably one of the best writing. No grammar or spelling errors I could find, so everything’s alright in those aspects. The only drawback would be the ending; it was a bit of a disappointment, but I can’t really say it was bad – I guess I just expected more about it, but hey, in a way it works since I felt satisfied with the last line. I don’t know… it was nice and I wasn’t bored with it, but I think you could’ve lengthened and drawn out some parts so its true potential could shine.
FloatingFlames: First of all, WTF is a Hypasist? And a Toxote? Apparently a Hoplite is a Greek soldier but... I have no clue what those two are. You kind of lost me >_> Well, might as well get the irritating things out of the way first, since I’m on that subject.
The following are a bunch of minor things, but let me just get them out of the way.
I saw a little bit of repetition in the first part – you used prickling several times in consecutive paragraph, but that wasn’t major, but I didn’t like how you used the phrase “the cursed forest encroached on the farmland” in the narrative and than several paragraph’s later have the general use nearly the exact same phrase. Things like that just get on my nerves, even though it’s nothing major. Another thing, you use the word “shaft” in two consecutive sentences. Also, you capitalized Hoplites earlier in the piece and later you typed it in lower case.
Terrific imagery here, but you used the semi-colon incorrectly, so look over that.
The highlights of the fic were the imagery and the plot; the description was astounding, and the final paragraph was especially good, although I agree with Scrap, you had that immaculate description and then you were like “LOL then he died” and it was kind of disappointing. I would’ve enjoyed it if there was a little more.
Onto the plot, this was the star of the fic. I thought it was really cool how you referred to pokemon as demons – a story about the first human contact with pokemon (I assume that’s what this was, but I have a tough time deciphering even the simplest of plots at times >_>) is really neat concept, so props to you for that. I just think it could’ve been extended a bit, since I got hooked at the end, and was disappointed at the story’s abrupt closure.
All in all, this is a fiction portrayed exceptionally with terrific description, although held down by its short length and occasionally irritating grammar mistakes.
FloatingFlames
Lovable Narcissist
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.
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.
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.
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.
Last edited:
FloatingFlames
Lovable Narcissist
Third Place (continued)
A wind rustled through the trees, brushing by oak and birch as it pursued its quarry, twittering with excitement. It slipped past the swaying boughs, diving through the roving masses of leaves into the thriving undergrowth, alive with the movement and calls of those of the night.
A crashing sound, a black shadow stumbles by, tripping over its own feet in its hurry to escape. Thorn bushes drag his tangled, midnight-black fur, their bright fruits dripping off his gnashing maw as he snapped at the bushes that held him tight. He could hear the eager snuffling of those who followed his path, see the flickering amber light that speared towards him in the gathering gloom.
Coiling shaking muscles he leapt free and was off again, stealing through the night. A twisting tendril of fog oozed behind him, whipping up to veil the ever-watchful eye of the full moon, her serene gaze casting the woods a ghostly hue.
A break in the leaves, soft moonlight poured down, gliding off bowed leaves to pool silently on the ground. He lunges forward, light blazing off silver stripes that lay across the broad expanse of his back, twinkling briefly before he was gone, a mere shadow in the silent forest.
He thundered up a high rise, cloaked in darkness that hid him well. He had the slim figure of a greyhound, paws pattering on the leaf-strewn floor. His eyes were alight with a terrible flame; it fed upon his fear, pushing him into madness. He had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
He trembled with terror as he tripped on a hidden rabbit hole, his face mashing into the wet earth. He had to get up, they were coming for him. But he couldn’t. He gave a small moan as a wave of pain spiked up from his forepaw, burning with an unforgiving fire. He struggled to his feet and stared at it, dangling uselessly in the predawn light.
They would find him now, he could run no longer. He dragged himself to the shelter of a draping willow, whining as his foot throbbed agonisingly. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He must pay for what he did, pay with his blood.
A distant rustling, they were coming closer. He curled himself into a ball, tucking his nose under his tail for comfort, trying to become as small as possible. Wishing for them to leave. Begging them.
His eyes rolled, the whites showing as he bit his tongue to prevent himself from crying out. He must not make a sound, or they would be on him in seconds. His consciousness began to drift, darkness creeping steadily onwards at the edges of his vision. He shook his head to clear it, then stopping in the middle of the motion, head cocked and listening. They were here.
A large creature blundered out of the undergrowth, head turning this way and that as it sniffed the wind, hunting for its prey. He closed his eyes, knowing that this is the end. A growl confirms his thoughts, and the doglike creature gradually approaches.
Thud.
Thud.
The sound of heavy footsteps trailing towards him, filling him with dread.
Thud.
Thud.
Arrogant steps, filled with confidence, knowing its prey was helpless, coming slowly towards his hiding place.
Thud.
It paused outside, the putrid smell of rotten meat rolling towards him, borne by the creatures breath. It was lingering on the outskirts, prolonging his agony.
He heard it laugh maliciously, before thrusting its head and powerful shoulders between the bars of his willow prison. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The yells of the humans echoed behind it, bringing with it the harsh light of torches, illuminating the face of his death. It was an Arcanine.
A memory surged, overriding his consciousness and throwing him deep into the bowels of the past, eyes closing as it appeared before his eyes…
***
The Pit. An iron cage, restraining him, the reek of fresh blood overwhelming his senses, igniting an adrenalin rush as he prowled backwards and forwards in his cage, every once in a while throwing himself against the bars. He was hungry. So hungry.
Around him, he heard the mocking voice of the one who had condemned him to this hell, the one who forced him to bow to his will. Filthy scum. How could he think he could rule me! Alas, I cannot reach him.
Cannot go near him. He is high, to high for me to jump, no matter how much I try. A rumbling growl rose up his throat as he spat angrily in the direction of the voice. There was a burst of laughter.
“Ganni’s a feisty one, isn’t he?” His jailer remarked.
A spark of light, Ganni pressed his nose against the bars of the cage. He was in a dingy cellar, far below ground. An echoing passage way led to the outside world, he was placed against the cavernous opening. But he could not get out. No matter how hard he tried.
A single torch was placed on a far wall; a silhouetted figure raised a strange device with flames erupting from the top. He lit the torch, revealing more of the room. Rows of cages lined the wall, all chained to the other and firmly attached. Their inhabitants, pokemon of all shapes and sizes, hissed as the light struck their vulnerable eyes, so used to the dark that even a hint of light was unbearable.
Ganni barked sharply, throwing himself against one side of his cage in an attempt to knock it over. But to no avail. The man laughed, raising the fire device and lighting a strange stick that was clamped tightly in those weak jaws.
He growled menacingly, a ball of fire began to form in the bottom of his throat, the familiar warmth comforting him. His eyes glinted angrily as he released his attack, sending it soaring across the room, towards the human.
Fool, he thought, a smile of satisfaction curved up the sides of his lips.
He’s defenceless. In a couple of seconds he will be a pile of smouldering ash. A warning to all humans not to mess with me.
He watched his creation with glee, eyes lighting up with hope. The small inferno was half way across the room when it stopped in its tracks, slamming in to a previously invisible wall.
He snarled in surprise. A translucent barrier spanned across the room, chopping it in half. He could not touch his tormentor, not without going through this wall. The human laughed once more, walking to the edge and staring into his eyes. Ganni glared back, hackles rising as he spat at the human in defiance.
The Human lowered himself carefully to the floor, allowing the flickering flame of the fireball to reveal his features. He had a small, squashed face, with a pig nose and squinty eyes that watered ceaselessly. His face was grotty, his unshaven cheeks coloured the dirty yellow of ground in dirt. A wave of greasy brown hair tumbled down his face, slightly covering his eyes that shone a startling crystal blue in the flickering light. He grinned at the captive, gold fillings glinting amongst the motley group of greying teeth.
“It’ll be your turn soon, my sweetie,” He cooed, a manic light dancing in his eyes.
“You better be good, or you will end up like them,”
He pointed to a heap of rags in the corner. Ganni peered closer, turning his face to the side for the best angle. On top of a rapidly decomposing blanket was a group of huddled forms, tossed together unceremoniously.
A crimson liquid dripped off of the nearest one, which twitched and began to whimper. The human cursed, heaving himself up and marching over to the prone forms. He picked up the torch on his way over, and held it over the pile.
Ganni stared at them in horror, bile rising in his throat. It was a pile of corpses, a set of mangled bodies that had been savagely torn apart. It was a growlithe who had whimpered, it was silenced with a harsh kick. Ganni could not tear his eyes off of the horrific scene, frozen in place like a dear in the headlights.
The Growlithe was barely holding onto life, bleeding from a dozen cuts dotted over its whole body. Where its tail had been was now a bleeding stump, bone protruding up from the grizzly wound. It had been literally torn off, no trace of it remained.
The man grimaced, reaching down and hauling up the Growlithe by its leg. It cried out in pain, writhing, reaching out and trying to snag the man with his claws, attempting to escape.
“You see?” Asked the man calmly, turning towards Ganni. With his face wreathed in shadows, he looked wild, a feral light gleaming in his eyes.
“This is what will happen to you if you lose,” With a flex of his biceps, the man swung the Growlithe savagely into the wall. There was a sickening crunch. The pathetic creature screamed in agony, half its side caved in, blood spurting on to the walls and floors of the cavern.
Its ribs had punctured its skin, dimly reflecting in the grimy light of the torch. The man grinned, lifting his arm back. On and on, the man beat the Growlithe on the wall until it cried no more, the spark of life leaving its eyes.
He tossed it back on the stack with disgust, blood dribbling down his elbow, before marching out past Ganni, down the corridor. Gannis’ eyes flicked to the wall where the gore glistened in the flickering red light, a terrible message of the punishment he would receive if he did not please.
He shuffled uncomfortably, having been forced to soil himself in a corner of the cage. Padding silently to the other end, he lay down and curled himself up, resting his head on his tail and closing his eyes, where nightmares awaited him of the Growlithes empty eyes, staring sightlessly at him, eyes accusing him of not preventing his murder.
The next day, they came for him. He had had a sleepless night, tossing and whimpering at odd intervals, coat slippery with sweat. He woke up with a start as something rattled his cage, blinking blearily at the source of the disturbance.
The man was back, kneeling a mere foot away behind the cage walls. Ganni growled, struggling to get to his feet and lunging at the side of the cage, eyes locked on the ruthless killer. The man chuckled, standing up and walking away.
“He’ll do well,” He called to some unknown person behind the cage.
Ganni suddenly lost his footing, slipping to his knees. He was moving, the cage scooting along the ground into the dark tunnel. He got one last glimpse of the cavern, the walls still stained maroon and the man, standing there, waving a sarcastic goodbye, before a sharp turn placed a barrier of hard packed soil in the way, blocking his view.
He crushed himself on the bottom bars, claws unsheathed and digging into the floor for stability. The floor rocked and bounced, the constant movement causing his empty stomach to roll, making him feel dizzy and woozy. After about ten minutes, he came to an abrupt stop. He lifted his head, cautiously sniffing the air. It bore tidings of fear. Lots of fear.
He shuddered, feet scrambling to push him farther back into the depths of the cage. The sound of brisk movement, a hidden grate was thrown open, leaving the way free. He stared at it suspiciously; preparing himself to move when the cage tilted and a huge force threw him forwards. He flew through the air, soaring out of the cage and landing with a smack on a sandy floor.
He raised his head, whimpering. The stench of sweat and excitement flooded his nose, causing it to twitch. A rush of adrenalin entered his veins, reinvigorating him and reawakening the long lost urge to kill.
He had never needed it before, being safely raised with a caring trainer. He had no clue how he even got here, except that suddenly his Pokeball was opened and he was thrust in this cage.
He opened his eyes and sprang up, a fire burning inside of him of untameable rage. He looked around him, searching for the ones that had brought him here. But there was no one, a strong grating blocking off the only exit.
He was in a large pit, looking up he could see a gaggle of spectators, humans, leaning over the edge and jeering. He growled and sent a tongue of fire to lick their grasping hands, wanting to see the fear in their faces.
But instead they laughed, much as the man had did as his fire struck yet another invisible wall.
A soft coo dragged his eyes down, directing him to a ragged lump in the center of the floor. He glared at it, watching as it moved, revealing itself as a pidgey, shaking, staring at him with wide fear filled eyes. He would never forget what happened next.
A voice called from the back of his mind, now surfacing, and directing his actions. He crouched low, hackles rising. The bird screeched in fright, flapping its wings weakly, trying to take flight.
He growled menacingly, a deep-throated sound that rumbled through out the cavern. The catcalls from overhead stopped, the excitement in the atmosphere increased as they all craned their skinny necks to see what was going to happen.
Silence.
Now, Instructed his brain, goading him into action. Attack now… He obeyed.
Bunching up his strong leg muscles, he lunged forward, jaws opening wide to reveal razor sharp blades. The pidgey screamed as his teeth sunk into its thigh, a warm liquid spurting out and running down his throat, refreshing him and urging him on. Droplets of blood flew from his jaws as he arched his head away, taking the pidgey with it.
On and on the pidgey shrieked, a terrible high pitched sound that wrent through the silence, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine as he tore the pidgey apart. Clouds of feathers billowed out as the cries stopped, ending in a finalising gurgle.
Grinning he raised his blood stained muzzle and threw his head back, howling his triumph, weaving a chilling song that spoke of the glories of life and death, echoing hollowly around the room. He retreated to a corner, slumping down and idly licking the blood of his paws, unconcerned.
A screech of metal alerted him to the presence of another, entering what he now considered his domain. With a clang, a gate that had briefly been opened was swung shut, the sounds of hurried footsteps retreating the only sound.
The spectators began to murmur to each other, keeping a close eye on the action below. He bared his teeth, saliva dripping from his open jaws as he panted hard. Adrenalin continued to pump through out his body, silencing the cries of his aching muscles and pricking up his senses.
There was something out there; something hidden in the shadows by the gate. A soft hiss, a padding sound, and his new opponent emerged into the moonlight that streamed down from above, filtered by the scorched glass.
It was the size and shape of a grown wolf, curved fangs protruding from its grizzled maw, its grey hide mud streaked and dirty, and somewhat pungent. It smelt off unwashed body, sweat and mothballs, the exquisite scent tickling his sensitive nose.
He ignored it, stepping forward and warning it off with a low growl. It answered with a growl of its own, crouching low, hackles raised. He responded in the same manner, calling upon the fire that lurked deep within and storing the power at the base of his throat.
His enemy noticed and took the offensive, darting in close and swiping his dark pelt with ivory claws. He snarled as it cut through his skin, swiping it away and releasing the flame. It reached forward eagerly, splaying onto the spot where the Mightyena had once been. But it was gone, melted into the shadows.
A flicker of movement to the right, he turned in time to see the wolf lunging at him, snapping wildly. He whimpered as it crushed him, instincts kicking in. He rolled onto his back and kicked upwards with all his might, watching as the Mightyena flew into the air with a surprised look on its face, landing with a soft oof as the breath rushed out of its body.
He was up in a flash, leaping onto his fallen enemy, back feet scraping its tender under belly with razor sharp claws as he fixed his jaws around the beasts neck. In cried out in pain as he slowly tightened his grasp, slowly cutting off its air supply.
With a savage growl he ripped his head backwards, tearing out the Mightyenas’ throat. Its eyes widened in shock as it jerked madly, pupils dilating. Blood seeped out of its wound, spilling on to the floor, dying the sand a deep crimson. It continued to spasm a few seconds after its death, before silence returned once more.
He stared at the grizzled bodies that lay spread-eagled on the floor. He was panting hard, the thrill of the kill still with him, filling him with jubilant joy. HE had done it. By himself. No one messes with him and gets away with it.
A sullen creak of the gate cut through the air, he whipped his head around, ready this time. Getting up, he sped towards the grating, slipping through the gap as the person manning it desperately tried to close it. He snarled, leaping up and knocking the human over, examining his face.
It wasn’t him. He growled, briefly scratching deep into the mans cheek, cutting into the bone, enjoying the mans shriek of pain before he was off again, running through the passage.
It wasn’t long before he found him. He was still in the cage room, idly kicking at the mound of dead bodies. Hearing Gannis’ warning growl, he looked up, fear stark on his stupid face. He began to back up, putting his hands behind him that writhed around, searching for a weapon. Coming across the torch he removed it from its bracket and hid it behind his back. As if it would do him any good.
“Good doggy,” He cooed, keeping a close eye on Ganni and steadily backing up. “I didn’t mean you no harm,”
Gannis’ growl dropped an octave and he began to stalk forward, teeth bared, crouched low to the ground, muscles ready to move in a split second. He backed the man into the corner, the look of sheer terror on the mans face when he discovered he was trapped sending another shiver of pleasure down his spine.
“Good boy…”
Why did he keep up his useless mutterings? Ganni thought, snapping suddenly, causing the man to flinch. When he was less than a foot away he coiled his back legs muscles, and lunged.
The man was ready. With a yell he ducked, holding up his torch and pushing it against Gannis’ soft under belly. The cave was filled with Gannis’ out raged yelps of pain as he tumbled to the ground, snarling. The man dropped the torch, it went out. He held up his hands, waiting for the inevitable. He got it.
Ganni fell on him as a Cheater a gazelle, ripping him to shreds. Blood splattered everywhere, once more staining the floor and walls. The mans screams cut out suddenly as Ganni ended his life with a single snap.
He looked up. The Pokemon stared at him from their numerous cages, some whimpering slightly. He took no notice of them, hearing the concerned cries of humans who were coming to seek their comrade.
One stumbled in and stared in gob smacked horror at the scene before him. A Houndoom with a mad fire raging in his eyes and blood dripping from his crimson jaws standing over the shattered corpse of the man...
***
A sharp bark brought him back to consciousness. The Arcanine stood over him, her eyes glinting in triumph. He knew it was useless to fight, but he was determined to try, staggering to his feet.
This is not the way. He whispered to the Arcanine, sorrow and pity emanating from him.
She faltered for a brief second, a confused look in her eye. She cocked her head, thinking. A spark of hope bloomed in his heart. But it was lost when she grinned, eyes glinting with delight at her trick.
Your last words. She commented, thoughtful. Pity.
But then she grinned wider and stepped forward, ending his life in a single stroke. He fell to the ground; pupils dilating and staring sightlessly up at the full moon, poking through the leaves of his hovel, a smile twisting up the corners of his lips for the last time…
-
Sike Saner: Good and bloody, with some potent settings in the form of the dogfighting arena and the squalid holding cages behind the scenes. Ganni delivers strong, savage action throughout the story. There’s nice attention to the gory little details, with one scene in particular that was especially memorable for its great, disturbing impact:
Scrap: I loved the beginning of this, with the foreboding thud...thud...thud...of pawprints....excellent descriptive sensory information. ^^ The ending was quite chilling, as the Arcanine looks down upon him and prepares to end his life. During the entire story, the description added quite a bit to the horror factor.
Burnt Flower: …..Wow. I was almost blown away. The description was outright brilliant and I was actually giggling when I was reading about all the horrific scenarios. ;D Hmm, the plot was okay for me though I didn’t find anything ‘wow’ about it; don’t worry about that though since what’s really important is how you present that story, and how entertaining it is to read it, which you achieved magnificently. I feel you should definitely concentrate on writing horror stories since I think you have what it takes to write even more horrific stories. Seriously, and once again I repeat myself: Awesome job, I was very well impressed.
FloatingFlames: First of all, the description at the beginning and all throughout the piece is simply phenomenal. I love the figurative language here, since I’m someone who enjoys using it a lot, although I have to say I’m nowhere near as talented with it as you. So I have to commend you on this, fantastic job.
Grammar was well done too, although there were several little mishaps here and there that I spotted (leaving a letter off the end of a word or an added letter – I recognized “wrent” instead of “went”, sentences that could’ve been combined, etc.), but for the most part, the piece flowed nicely.
I really enjoyed the story, and the Growlithe that was killed near the beginning reminded me of a fic of mine (you and I seem to have a lot in common XD). The fight with the Mighytena was nothing short of superb, you write terrific action.
I was slightly disappointed in the ending though, it seemed a little short. I would’ve loved to see it extended a bit, since you really fleshed out the plot. It doesn’t take away from the overall work too much, but I ended the story somewhat unsatisfied after reading that lengthy, meaty plot. Well done though.
A wind rustled through the trees, brushing by oak and birch as it pursued its quarry, twittering with excitement. It slipped past the swaying boughs, diving through the roving masses of leaves into the thriving undergrowth, alive with the movement and calls of those of the night.
A crashing sound, a black shadow stumbles by, tripping over its own feet in its hurry to escape. Thorn bushes drag his tangled, midnight-black fur, their bright fruits dripping off his gnashing maw as he snapped at the bushes that held him tight. He could hear the eager snuffling of those who followed his path, see the flickering amber light that speared towards him in the gathering gloom.
Coiling shaking muscles he leapt free and was off again, stealing through the night. A twisting tendril of fog oozed behind him, whipping up to veil the ever-watchful eye of the full moon, her serene gaze casting the woods a ghostly hue.
A break in the leaves, soft moonlight poured down, gliding off bowed leaves to pool silently on the ground. He lunges forward, light blazing off silver stripes that lay across the broad expanse of his back, twinkling briefly before he was gone, a mere shadow in the silent forest.
He thundered up a high rise, cloaked in darkness that hid him well. He had the slim figure of a greyhound, paws pattering on the leaf-strewn floor. His eyes were alight with a terrible flame; it fed upon his fear, pushing him into madness. He had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
He trembled with terror as he tripped on a hidden rabbit hole, his face mashing into the wet earth. He had to get up, they were coming for him. But he couldn’t. He gave a small moan as a wave of pain spiked up from his forepaw, burning with an unforgiving fire. He struggled to his feet and stared at it, dangling uselessly in the predawn light.
They would find him now, he could run no longer. He dragged himself to the shelter of a draping willow, whining as his foot throbbed agonisingly. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He must pay for what he did, pay with his blood.
A distant rustling, they were coming closer. He curled himself into a ball, tucking his nose under his tail for comfort, trying to become as small as possible. Wishing for them to leave. Begging them.
His eyes rolled, the whites showing as he bit his tongue to prevent himself from crying out. He must not make a sound, or they would be on him in seconds. His consciousness began to drift, darkness creeping steadily onwards at the edges of his vision. He shook his head to clear it, then stopping in the middle of the motion, head cocked and listening. They were here.
A large creature blundered out of the undergrowth, head turning this way and that as it sniffed the wind, hunting for its prey. He closed his eyes, knowing that this is the end. A growl confirms his thoughts, and the doglike creature gradually approaches.
Thud.
Thud.
The sound of heavy footsteps trailing towards him, filling him with dread.
Thud.
Thud.
Arrogant steps, filled with confidence, knowing its prey was helpless, coming slowly towards his hiding place.
Thud.
It paused outside, the putrid smell of rotten meat rolling towards him, borne by the creatures breath. It was lingering on the outskirts, prolonging his agony.
He heard it laugh maliciously, before thrusting its head and powerful shoulders between the bars of his willow prison. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The yells of the humans echoed behind it, bringing with it the harsh light of torches, illuminating the face of his death. It was an Arcanine.
A memory surged, overriding his consciousness and throwing him deep into the bowels of the past, eyes closing as it appeared before his eyes…
***
The Pit. An iron cage, restraining him, the reek of fresh blood overwhelming his senses, igniting an adrenalin rush as he prowled backwards and forwards in his cage, every once in a while throwing himself against the bars. He was hungry. So hungry.
Around him, he heard the mocking voice of the one who had condemned him to this hell, the one who forced him to bow to his will. Filthy scum. How could he think he could rule me! Alas, I cannot reach him.
Cannot go near him. He is high, to high for me to jump, no matter how much I try. A rumbling growl rose up his throat as he spat angrily in the direction of the voice. There was a burst of laughter.
“Ganni’s a feisty one, isn’t he?” His jailer remarked.
A spark of light, Ganni pressed his nose against the bars of the cage. He was in a dingy cellar, far below ground. An echoing passage way led to the outside world, he was placed against the cavernous opening. But he could not get out. No matter how hard he tried.
A single torch was placed on a far wall; a silhouetted figure raised a strange device with flames erupting from the top. He lit the torch, revealing more of the room. Rows of cages lined the wall, all chained to the other and firmly attached. Their inhabitants, pokemon of all shapes and sizes, hissed as the light struck their vulnerable eyes, so used to the dark that even a hint of light was unbearable.
Ganni barked sharply, throwing himself against one side of his cage in an attempt to knock it over. But to no avail. The man laughed, raising the fire device and lighting a strange stick that was clamped tightly in those weak jaws.
He growled menacingly, a ball of fire began to form in the bottom of his throat, the familiar warmth comforting him. His eyes glinted angrily as he released his attack, sending it soaring across the room, towards the human.
Fool, he thought, a smile of satisfaction curved up the sides of his lips.
He’s defenceless. In a couple of seconds he will be a pile of smouldering ash. A warning to all humans not to mess with me.
He watched his creation with glee, eyes lighting up with hope. The small inferno was half way across the room when it stopped in its tracks, slamming in to a previously invisible wall.
He snarled in surprise. A translucent barrier spanned across the room, chopping it in half. He could not touch his tormentor, not without going through this wall. The human laughed once more, walking to the edge and staring into his eyes. Ganni glared back, hackles rising as he spat at the human in defiance.
The Human lowered himself carefully to the floor, allowing the flickering flame of the fireball to reveal his features. He had a small, squashed face, with a pig nose and squinty eyes that watered ceaselessly. His face was grotty, his unshaven cheeks coloured the dirty yellow of ground in dirt. A wave of greasy brown hair tumbled down his face, slightly covering his eyes that shone a startling crystal blue in the flickering light. He grinned at the captive, gold fillings glinting amongst the motley group of greying teeth.
“It’ll be your turn soon, my sweetie,” He cooed, a manic light dancing in his eyes.
“You better be good, or you will end up like them,”
He pointed to a heap of rags in the corner. Ganni peered closer, turning his face to the side for the best angle. On top of a rapidly decomposing blanket was a group of huddled forms, tossed together unceremoniously.
A crimson liquid dripped off of the nearest one, which twitched and began to whimper. The human cursed, heaving himself up and marching over to the prone forms. He picked up the torch on his way over, and held it over the pile.
Ganni stared at them in horror, bile rising in his throat. It was a pile of corpses, a set of mangled bodies that had been savagely torn apart. It was a growlithe who had whimpered, it was silenced with a harsh kick. Ganni could not tear his eyes off of the horrific scene, frozen in place like a dear in the headlights.
The Growlithe was barely holding onto life, bleeding from a dozen cuts dotted over its whole body. Where its tail had been was now a bleeding stump, bone protruding up from the grizzly wound. It had been literally torn off, no trace of it remained.
The man grimaced, reaching down and hauling up the Growlithe by its leg. It cried out in pain, writhing, reaching out and trying to snag the man with his claws, attempting to escape.
“You see?” Asked the man calmly, turning towards Ganni. With his face wreathed in shadows, he looked wild, a feral light gleaming in his eyes.
“This is what will happen to you if you lose,” With a flex of his biceps, the man swung the Growlithe savagely into the wall. There was a sickening crunch. The pathetic creature screamed in agony, half its side caved in, blood spurting on to the walls and floors of the cavern.
Its ribs had punctured its skin, dimly reflecting in the grimy light of the torch. The man grinned, lifting his arm back. On and on, the man beat the Growlithe on the wall until it cried no more, the spark of life leaving its eyes.
He tossed it back on the stack with disgust, blood dribbling down his elbow, before marching out past Ganni, down the corridor. Gannis’ eyes flicked to the wall where the gore glistened in the flickering red light, a terrible message of the punishment he would receive if he did not please.
He shuffled uncomfortably, having been forced to soil himself in a corner of the cage. Padding silently to the other end, he lay down and curled himself up, resting his head on his tail and closing his eyes, where nightmares awaited him of the Growlithes empty eyes, staring sightlessly at him, eyes accusing him of not preventing his murder.
The next day, they came for him. He had had a sleepless night, tossing and whimpering at odd intervals, coat slippery with sweat. He woke up with a start as something rattled his cage, blinking blearily at the source of the disturbance.
The man was back, kneeling a mere foot away behind the cage walls. Ganni growled, struggling to get to his feet and lunging at the side of the cage, eyes locked on the ruthless killer. The man chuckled, standing up and walking away.
“He’ll do well,” He called to some unknown person behind the cage.
Ganni suddenly lost his footing, slipping to his knees. He was moving, the cage scooting along the ground into the dark tunnel. He got one last glimpse of the cavern, the walls still stained maroon and the man, standing there, waving a sarcastic goodbye, before a sharp turn placed a barrier of hard packed soil in the way, blocking his view.
He crushed himself on the bottom bars, claws unsheathed and digging into the floor for stability. The floor rocked and bounced, the constant movement causing his empty stomach to roll, making him feel dizzy and woozy. After about ten minutes, he came to an abrupt stop. He lifted his head, cautiously sniffing the air. It bore tidings of fear. Lots of fear.
He shuddered, feet scrambling to push him farther back into the depths of the cage. The sound of brisk movement, a hidden grate was thrown open, leaving the way free. He stared at it suspiciously; preparing himself to move when the cage tilted and a huge force threw him forwards. He flew through the air, soaring out of the cage and landing with a smack on a sandy floor.
He raised his head, whimpering. The stench of sweat and excitement flooded his nose, causing it to twitch. A rush of adrenalin entered his veins, reinvigorating him and reawakening the long lost urge to kill.
He had never needed it before, being safely raised with a caring trainer. He had no clue how he even got here, except that suddenly his Pokeball was opened and he was thrust in this cage.
He opened his eyes and sprang up, a fire burning inside of him of untameable rage. He looked around him, searching for the ones that had brought him here. But there was no one, a strong grating blocking off the only exit.
He was in a large pit, looking up he could see a gaggle of spectators, humans, leaning over the edge and jeering. He growled and sent a tongue of fire to lick their grasping hands, wanting to see the fear in their faces.
But instead they laughed, much as the man had did as his fire struck yet another invisible wall.
A soft coo dragged his eyes down, directing him to a ragged lump in the center of the floor. He glared at it, watching as it moved, revealing itself as a pidgey, shaking, staring at him with wide fear filled eyes. He would never forget what happened next.
A voice called from the back of his mind, now surfacing, and directing his actions. He crouched low, hackles rising. The bird screeched in fright, flapping its wings weakly, trying to take flight.
He growled menacingly, a deep-throated sound that rumbled through out the cavern. The catcalls from overhead stopped, the excitement in the atmosphere increased as they all craned their skinny necks to see what was going to happen.
Silence.
Now, Instructed his brain, goading him into action. Attack now… He obeyed.
Bunching up his strong leg muscles, he lunged forward, jaws opening wide to reveal razor sharp blades. The pidgey screamed as his teeth sunk into its thigh, a warm liquid spurting out and running down his throat, refreshing him and urging him on. Droplets of blood flew from his jaws as he arched his head away, taking the pidgey with it.
On and on the pidgey shrieked, a terrible high pitched sound that wrent through the silence, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine as he tore the pidgey apart. Clouds of feathers billowed out as the cries stopped, ending in a finalising gurgle.
Grinning he raised his blood stained muzzle and threw his head back, howling his triumph, weaving a chilling song that spoke of the glories of life and death, echoing hollowly around the room. He retreated to a corner, slumping down and idly licking the blood of his paws, unconcerned.
A screech of metal alerted him to the presence of another, entering what he now considered his domain. With a clang, a gate that had briefly been opened was swung shut, the sounds of hurried footsteps retreating the only sound.
The spectators began to murmur to each other, keeping a close eye on the action below. He bared his teeth, saliva dripping from his open jaws as he panted hard. Adrenalin continued to pump through out his body, silencing the cries of his aching muscles and pricking up his senses.
There was something out there; something hidden in the shadows by the gate. A soft hiss, a padding sound, and his new opponent emerged into the moonlight that streamed down from above, filtered by the scorched glass.
It was the size and shape of a grown wolf, curved fangs protruding from its grizzled maw, its grey hide mud streaked and dirty, and somewhat pungent. It smelt off unwashed body, sweat and mothballs, the exquisite scent tickling his sensitive nose.
He ignored it, stepping forward and warning it off with a low growl. It answered with a growl of its own, crouching low, hackles raised. He responded in the same manner, calling upon the fire that lurked deep within and storing the power at the base of his throat.
His enemy noticed and took the offensive, darting in close and swiping his dark pelt with ivory claws. He snarled as it cut through his skin, swiping it away and releasing the flame. It reached forward eagerly, splaying onto the spot where the Mightyena had once been. But it was gone, melted into the shadows.
A flicker of movement to the right, he turned in time to see the wolf lunging at him, snapping wildly. He whimpered as it crushed him, instincts kicking in. He rolled onto his back and kicked upwards with all his might, watching as the Mightyena flew into the air with a surprised look on its face, landing with a soft oof as the breath rushed out of its body.
He was up in a flash, leaping onto his fallen enemy, back feet scraping its tender under belly with razor sharp claws as he fixed his jaws around the beasts neck. In cried out in pain as he slowly tightened his grasp, slowly cutting off its air supply.
With a savage growl he ripped his head backwards, tearing out the Mightyenas’ throat. Its eyes widened in shock as it jerked madly, pupils dilating. Blood seeped out of its wound, spilling on to the floor, dying the sand a deep crimson. It continued to spasm a few seconds after its death, before silence returned once more.
He stared at the grizzled bodies that lay spread-eagled on the floor. He was panting hard, the thrill of the kill still with him, filling him with jubilant joy. HE had done it. By himself. No one messes with him and gets away with it.
A sullen creak of the gate cut through the air, he whipped his head around, ready this time. Getting up, he sped towards the grating, slipping through the gap as the person manning it desperately tried to close it. He snarled, leaping up and knocking the human over, examining his face.
It wasn’t him. He growled, briefly scratching deep into the mans cheek, cutting into the bone, enjoying the mans shriek of pain before he was off again, running through the passage.
It wasn’t long before he found him. He was still in the cage room, idly kicking at the mound of dead bodies. Hearing Gannis’ warning growl, he looked up, fear stark on his stupid face. He began to back up, putting his hands behind him that writhed around, searching for a weapon. Coming across the torch he removed it from its bracket and hid it behind his back. As if it would do him any good.
“Good doggy,” He cooed, keeping a close eye on Ganni and steadily backing up. “I didn’t mean you no harm,”
Gannis’ growl dropped an octave and he began to stalk forward, teeth bared, crouched low to the ground, muscles ready to move in a split second. He backed the man into the corner, the look of sheer terror on the mans face when he discovered he was trapped sending another shiver of pleasure down his spine.
“Good boy…”
Why did he keep up his useless mutterings? Ganni thought, snapping suddenly, causing the man to flinch. When he was less than a foot away he coiled his back legs muscles, and lunged.
The man was ready. With a yell he ducked, holding up his torch and pushing it against Gannis’ soft under belly. The cave was filled with Gannis’ out raged yelps of pain as he tumbled to the ground, snarling. The man dropped the torch, it went out. He held up his hands, waiting for the inevitable. He got it.
Ganni fell on him as a Cheater a gazelle, ripping him to shreds. Blood splattered everywhere, once more staining the floor and walls. The mans screams cut out suddenly as Ganni ended his life with a single snap.
He looked up. The Pokemon stared at him from their numerous cages, some whimpering slightly. He took no notice of them, hearing the concerned cries of humans who were coming to seek their comrade.
One stumbled in and stared in gob smacked horror at the scene before him. A Houndoom with a mad fire raging in his eyes and blood dripping from his crimson jaws standing over the shattered corpse of the man...
***
A sharp bark brought him back to consciousness. The Arcanine stood over him, her eyes glinting in triumph. He knew it was useless to fight, but he was determined to try, staggering to his feet.
This is not the way. He whispered to the Arcanine, sorrow and pity emanating from him.
She faltered for a brief second, a confused look in her eye. She cocked her head, thinking. A spark of hope bloomed in his heart. But it was lost when she grinned, eyes glinting with delight at her trick.
Your last words. She commented, thoughtful. Pity.
But then she grinned wider and stepped forward, ending his life in a single stroke. He fell to the ground; pupils dilating and staring sightlessly up at the full moon, poking through the leaves of his hovel, a smile twisting up the corners of his lips for the last time…
-
Sike Saner: Good and bloody, with some potent settings in the form of the dogfighting arena and the squalid holding cages behind the scenes. Ganni delivers strong, savage action throughout the story. There’s nice attention to the gory little details, with one scene in particular that was especially memorable for its great, disturbing impact:
Scrap: I loved the beginning of this, with the foreboding thud...thud...thud...of pawprints....excellent descriptive sensory information. ^^ The ending was quite chilling, as the Arcanine looks down upon him and prepares to end his life. During the entire story, the description added quite a bit to the horror factor.
Burnt Flower: …..Wow. I was almost blown away. The description was outright brilliant and I was actually giggling when I was reading about all the horrific scenarios. ;D Hmm, the plot was okay for me though I didn’t find anything ‘wow’ about it; don’t worry about that though since what’s really important is how you present that story, and how entertaining it is to read it, which you achieved magnificently. I feel you should definitely concentrate on writing horror stories since I think you have what it takes to write even more horrific stories. Seriously, and once again I repeat myself: Awesome job, I was very well impressed.
FloatingFlames: First of all, the description at the beginning and all throughout the piece is simply phenomenal. I love the figurative language here, since I’m someone who enjoys using it a lot, although I have to say I’m nowhere near as talented with it as you. So I have to commend you on this, fantastic job.
Grammar was well done too, although there were several little mishaps here and there that I spotted (leaving a letter off the end of a word or an added letter – I recognized “wrent” instead of “went”, sentences that could’ve been combined, etc.), but for the most part, the piece flowed nicely.
I really enjoyed the story, and the Growlithe that was killed near the beginning reminded me of a fic of mine (you and I seem to have a lot in common XD). The fight with the Mighytena was nothing short of superb, you write terrific action.
I was slightly disappointed in the ending though, it seemed a little short. I would’ve loved to see it extended a bit, since you really fleshed out the plot. It doesn’t take away from the overall work too much, but I ended the story somewhat unsatisfied after reading that lengthy, meaty plot. Well done though.
Last edited:
FloatingFlames
Lovable Narcissist
Second Place: IceKing - A Scarlet Christmas 150 (Sike Saner: 40, Scrap: 30, Burnt Flower: 40, FloatingFlames: 40)
For the sake of keeping my sanity and not revising all the italics, asterisks and censor bypassing, I'll be linking to where the entry was originally posted:
http://www.pokecommunity.com/showthread.php?t=59685&highlight=scarlet+christmas
-
Sike Saner: An absolutely wonderful story that combines with madness and bloodshed with a touch of whimsy and fantasy to create an enjoyable and memorable experience. Great characters, especially Andromeda herself, who also has the distinct honor of delivering some absolutely classic dialogue. The closing scenes is ripe with surprises, making a worthy ending to a truly terrific story.
Scrap: Mixing Santa Claus with horror.
Fenit, you *******.
You BRILLIANT, DEVIOUS *******.
XD
Burnt Flower: This was one lovely, ironic, yet bittersweet one-shot, that held me captivated from the very beginning to that brilliant ending. A very minor error I had with the fic was the mention of the ‘purple gloves’ the Jynx had; that’s actually their real hands (the white part. The description and grammar improved drastically, and it was very easy to read; it wasn’t something utterly phenomenal, but it made for a very entertaining and captivating read. I LOVED that poor little Smoochum and I actually got teary-eyed when she died (dammit, you almost made me cry XD). I didn’t like Andromeda’s mother too much, mostly because of her manipulative personality but that’s what made her so great in the first place. Andromeda was just plain awesome, though I also hated her; I felt pity for her at the beginning and I was pleased how you broke and utterly destroyed any sympathy I had for her… Loved this fic, and it might just be my favorite of your works.
FloatingFlames: Wow. This was great, the concept seems silly at first but the way you wrote it made it seem so cool. Only you could take a story about Christmas and change it into a horror fic XD. It was extremely well executed; when I first began to read I was a little skeptical but you did a very good job. The humor at the beginning was a warm welcome, and I knew you wouldn’t do a fic without throwing at least a little comedy in there (I cracked up when “fat *******” was first used, but then the funniness wore off after it was repeated throughout the piece =/) This was kind of a fic where if it wasn’t done right, it would’ve fallen on its face miserably, but I have to say it was not only immersive, but really satisfying after I got into it.
There were many grammatical mistakes that I spotted, and all those asterisks at the middle annoyed the hell out of me >_>. I’m not going to pick it apart, but I highly suggest you reread it. There was also a point where the word “horror” was used repetitively, but it wasn’t that disruptively (the phrase “scarlet horror” was really cool, by the way). Oh, another tiny thing I thought I’d mention: the part where Andromeda punches Cassandra in the face as hard as she could… for thirty seconds?! And than she talked? Her jaw would’ve been demolished by then, count to thirty and see how long that is.
These things were minor though – the only thing that ticked me off to a large extent was the ending. It seemed to come out of nowhere almost; you could’ve done a lot more with that ending. If you had built upon it, I could’ve seen that as a really good ending.
Other than that, this is a really good piece, and I have to say that I was very surprised. I’m even more shocked that a comedy writer can do something like this. Twenty-two pages long, yes, but although it starts somewhat slow, when the revolt began I was intrigued by this kickass plot that only you would’ve thought up, a plot that was done justice by the terrific writing. I’ve got to say you’ve written a successful story here that just needs a minor tweaking to make it even better.
For the sake of keeping my sanity and not revising all the italics, asterisks and censor bypassing, I'll be linking to where the entry was originally posted:
http://www.pokecommunity.com/showthread.php?t=59685&highlight=scarlet+christmas
-
Sike Saner: An absolutely wonderful story that combines with madness and bloodshed with a touch of whimsy and fantasy to create an enjoyable and memorable experience. Great characters, especially Andromeda herself, who also has the distinct honor of delivering some absolutely classic dialogue. The closing scenes is ripe with surprises, making a worthy ending to a truly terrific story.
Scrap: Mixing Santa Claus with horror.
Fenit, you *******.
You BRILLIANT, DEVIOUS *******.
XD
Burnt Flower: This was one lovely, ironic, yet bittersweet one-shot, that held me captivated from the very beginning to that brilliant ending. A very minor error I had with the fic was the mention of the ‘purple gloves’ the Jynx had; that’s actually their real hands (the white part. The description and grammar improved drastically, and it was very easy to read; it wasn’t something utterly phenomenal, but it made for a very entertaining and captivating read. I LOVED that poor little Smoochum and I actually got teary-eyed when she died (dammit, you almost made me cry XD). I didn’t like Andromeda’s mother too much, mostly because of her manipulative personality but that’s what made her so great in the first place. Andromeda was just plain awesome, though I also hated her; I felt pity for her at the beginning and I was pleased how you broke and utterly destroyed any sympathy I had for her… Loved this fic, and it might just be my favorite of your works.
FloatingFlames: Wow. This was great, the concept seems silly at first but the way you wrote it made it seem so cool. Only you could take a story about Christmas and change it into a horror fic XD. It was extremely well executed; when I first began to read I was a little skeptical but you did a very good job. The humor at the beginning was a warm welcome, and I knew you wouldn’t do a fic without throwing at least a little comedy in there (I cracked up when “fat *******” was first used, but then the funniness wore off after it was repeated throughout the piece =/) This was kind of a fic where if it wasn’t done right, it would’ve fallen on its face miserably, but I have to say it was not only immersive, but really satisfying after I got into it.
There were many grammatical mistakes that I spotted, and all those asterisks at the middle annoyed the hell out of me >_>. I’m not going to pick it apart, but I highly suggest you reread it. There was also a point where the word “horror” was used repetitively, but it wasn’t that disruptively (the phrase “scarlet horror” was really cool, by the way). Oh, another tiny thing I thought I’d mention: the part where Andromeda punches Cassandra in the face as hard as she could… for thirty seconds?! And than she talked? Her jaw would’ve been demolished by then, count to thirty and see how long that is.
These things were minor though – the only thing that ticked me off to a large extent was the ending. It seemed to come out of nowhere almost; you could’ve done a lot more with that ending. If you had built upon it, I could’ve seen that as a really good ending.
Other than that, this is a really good piece, and I have to say that I was very surprised. I’m even more shocked that a comedy writer can do something like this. Twenty-two pages long, yes, but although it starts somewhat slow, when the revolt began I was intrigued by this kickass plot that only you would’ve thought up, a plot that was done justice by the terrific writing. I’ve got to say you’ve written a successful story here that just needs a minor tweaking to make it even better.
FloatingFlames
Lovable Narcissist
First Place: Negrek - Pyrite 180 (Sike Saner: 50, Scrap: 50, Burnt Flower: 30, FloatingFlames, 50)
Aaron sobbed for breath as he threw himself forward, shoving his way through the patch of thick brush. He ignored the grasping branches that clung pleadingly to him, wrenching himself away from their plaintive caress and heedless of the bloody streaks that they tore across his face and arms as they reluctantly relinquished their grasp. At last emerging from the ensnaring thicket, he stumbled on. He knew that They would not be hindered by the clutching plants.
It had seemed like such an amazing discovery at first: a colony of wild gardevoir, absolutely unheard of in the scientific community. Most researchers believed that ralts could not evolve properly without the aid of human emotions on which to feed and grow, but clearly, this group proved such theories wrong. Aaron had eagerly signed on with the expedition that planned to set out in search of the gardevoir and study them in their natural habitat. In fact, he had turned down a job investigating the complex social structure of slowpoke in favor of the mission. Now he couldn’t think of what he wouldn’t give to be sitting upon a damp bank somewhere, delightfully bored as he waited for his subject of observation to move another inch.
His breathing sounded ragged in his ears and his footsteps were heavy and stumbling; he had been running for a long time already, putting the camp far behind him as he fled. Still They followed, apparently untroubled by fatigue, the only sound that they made the whisper of their cloaks dragging across dead leaves.
A whisper was enough.
The expedition had gone so well at first, too. Though initially disappointing, as they had not been able to discover the whereabouts of the gardevoir, it had led them to stumble upon something even more fantastic. It was a cave, an ancient shrine carved out in the side of the nearby mountain range. The walls were covered in unown script, which the team had immediately set to work on translating, and ancient religious artifacts crowded the small temple. Everything was in wonderful condition, including the true centerpiece of the find, a life-size golden sculpture of Mew that sat upon a central platform, staring serenely out across the remains of some dead religion as though expecting to see one of Her worshippers come and kneel before Her.
It was an inspiring piece, the golden Mew; the creator goddess of many older cultures, She was depicted here as a much more stern and commanding figure. She stood in a regal pose, contrary to the kind, welcoming one that she was usually portrayed as adopting, and Her normally soft eyes held a hint of coldness. Behind Her hung a golden sunburst, its long radiating points casting glimmering motes of golden light throughout the room.
Aaron staggered and almost fell as he stepped into a hidden streambed. The land’s cold blood rushed against his legs, soaking his shoes and socks. He paid it no heed as he plowed on, ascending the far bank and setting off again, not daring to look behind. Not again.
He wished that They were not so beautiful. When Death came for a man with slavering jaws and bloodied talons, a gibbering, shambling horror of a demise, it was easy to deny it. You could stand up in defiance of such a death, rail and rankle at the injustice that you could ever be brought low by something so vile and feral, so despicable in comparison to your refinement and wisdom. You could die with rebellion in your eyes and a curse on your lips, defiant to the end as you spit in Death’s face.
But when Death came to you on gossamer wings, possessed of such an unearthly beauty and grace that nothing you had ever seen could match, you could not keep your pride. When Death stealthily stole up on you enwrapped in fragrant perfumes and shining robes, eyes full of wisdom and a faint loathing, as though you were nothing but an irritating insect that had to be swatted, your nerve started to fail. It was a cruel way to go, pursued by these pristine beasts, all the while feeling grubby and mean beside their alabaster forms. You felt you deserved death for even daring to be in their very vicinity, never mind that They were the ones forcing Their presence upon you.
His legs burned as he topped yet another low rise. The hills were becoming steeper as they shifted slowly into mountains. Aaron took heart, for he knew his destination was close, now. If only he could outrun Them for a little longer, he would be safe. Though oddly enough, They did not really seem to be trying to catch him; They floated leisurely along behind, blood-red eyes always fixed on his running form.
Yes, everything had been going well until about four days after they had set up camp. There had been talk of moving it after the discovery of the cave, as it was nowhere near what was now their most promising research site, but there were few actually willing to pack up all of the heavy scientific equipment and haul it off through the hills.
There was more talk of moving it after Tom was found. The man had gone off for a solitary walk early in the morning and not returned. A search party had found him only a couple hundred yards away, his head twisted a complete one hundred and eighty degrees around on his neck. His face bore an expression of almost manic glee, mouth contorted into a sickly smile that showed many gleaming teeth. Tom had always had nice teeth.
Dusk was falling, but Aaron did not fear the dark. They slept at night, didn’t they? Just like humans? Yes, just like humans.
The dusky mountains loomed before him, their long, jagged shadows stretched out across the bare, windswept hills as their craggy peaks pierced the setting sun, its light running in red-orange rivulets down their sides.
Tom was only the first. The next morning, Josh had not reported to breakfast, and his friends, barging into his tent to chide him for being lazy, had found him a bloody mess. His face was unrecognizable, torn apart by some creature’s foul claws, his eyes gouged out, a puzzling circumstance for an animal attack.
That was what they had thought it was, until they had realized the blood and shreds of flesh beneath Josh’s fingernails were his own.
For a wild moment he thought that he had missed it, that he would not be able to see the entrance to the shrine in the rapidly fading light. But no, there it was, a darker pit of shadows against the dusky mountainside. His flagging muscles rallied and pushed him on to greater speeds as he sprinted for salvation. Surely They were growing tired now, too?
He wished that They would make some sound, shriek or howl or gnash their teeth as they bore down on him. He longed that They should show some passion for the chase, act as though They honestly cared whether he lived or died. But no, it was strictly business, Their faces blank and impassive as They soared along behind him, accompanied only by that same faint whisper of Their robes.
A whisper was enough.
They had begun falling faster after that. Ashley, who had driven a stake through her own heart; Megan, found still smoldering after having set herself on fire; Mark, who had choked on one of his own fingers after gnawing it off. The madness swept through camp, striking scientists down even as they fled from it. He was the last, now, of that he was sure. He had seen Jack go down, surrounded by Them, as he threw himself from a high ledge, a look of rapture on his face. And now he was the last.
Suddenly his foot pounded against solid rock instead of firm earth. His labored breathing echoed and rebounded from the shadowy walls, a welcome noise after the unearthly silence of his pursuers. Aaron sped on, to the heart of the sanctum. Though the unown-covered walls were cloaked in darkness now, he could still remember their message, the words playing in his head and underscoring his relief:
They say Mew once sundered the void,
Not much longer now. He was passing the neatly arranged pews, long empty and musty-smelling, for all that they were in miraculously good repair.
releasing chaos upon the stars,
And there She was: a spiky, glimmering shape at the far end of the room. He sprinted faster, his heart pounding as though it might burst. He bounded up the steps to the great plinth, a prayer forming on his lips.
and the last of the ancient bans destroyed,
He couldn’t fathom why She still seemed to shine despite the fact that the room was dark, Her golden hide glittering as though the metal sun behind her really did shed light. Aaron took it as a good sign as he collapsed before Her, reaching up and wrapping his arms around Her as tightly as he could, babbling out praises and begging for mercy, for deliverance from the quiet horror that prowled quietly up the aisle.
heedless as she covered Time itself with scars.
Mew’s face smiled on his, surrounded by a beautiful scarlet aura. Aaron smiled back as he felt the warmth of Her power spread across him, the dreadful room fading from his vision as She delivered him from his horrifying pursuers.
And from these sprung her vile creations,
The trio of gardevoir spread out around the statue, savoring the last delicious strains of the human’s elation, like a sweet dessert after the rich, satisfying meal of his fear. He clung to the statue of the Mother with a properly fanatical devotion; he hugged her likeness so tightly that the sharp points of the rising sun behind her poked straight through his arms, and her razor-edged tail protruded from his back, gleaming a sticky sort of red.
spreading across the world, to all its climes
As one, the three psychic-types bowed to their goddess, pressing their green-crested foreheads to the cold stone floor.
born to serve and worship her might,
The last for you, Mother, as it was agreed long ago, one of the pokémon intoned, not looking up from the floor. Thank you for the nourishment that you bring us, for the power you share with us, for the world you molded for us. May we kneel forever in the glow of your mercy.
reminding us all that, sometimes,
The statue smiled down at them, blood trickling down its front and dripping slowly from its tail, spilling down over the slab of rock that it stood upon and disappearing down discreet drains to some repository beneath. Before they left, the gardevoir would remove the human and carefully wash away the blood, not to leave their Mother coated in the foul excretion of the lesser creature. But for now, at least, She seemed to revel in it.
the blackest hearts shed greatest light.
-
Sike Saner: The level of quality here is downright staggering. This piece delivers very rich, yet equally well-organized language, flowing fluidly with not a single lull in its pace, plus a story that is both accessible and also genuinely deep and realized. Paticularly noteworthy is the nature of the danger that threatens the characters in this story – the fanatical suicides to people are being driven here display very potently the supreme fear that is being consumed and destroyed by something from within. This story offers quite an abundance of moments that packed a good, strong punch; more than once, I found myself uttering a “Whoa…” or a “Dude!” of shock or surprise, with the pinnacle of these moments being this, hands down:
Scrap: Negrek, I am astounded. I was aware of your talent, but dear Lord, this blew me away. It brought to mind memories of many beloved horror movies I'd seen as a child...the regal stone idol of exotic cultures that demands sacrifice, the silent angelic beings bringing death, and the pulse-pounding fear of being pursued by a foe that can control your midn at will....bravo! Bravo, Negrek. ^^
Burnt Flower: *nods approvingly* I think the plot was one of the strong parts of the story; the insane Gardevoir tribe was an excellent addition and I can’t really say I’ve seen another work quite like yours in that aspect. But my favorite part definitely were the metaphors and the underlying subtle messages that were throughout the story that weaved into the deep narration. I was a bit iffy with the inclusion of Mew into the story since I’ve seen her way too many times for my liking, but it was actually pretty well done, though I would’ve preferred some other Pokemon alternative. But you know, that’s actually a bit superficial of me at the same time, since the writing, the plot, the description…that’s what really matters, and you pulled it off. This one-shot is definitely one of my favorite ones! =)
FloatingFlames: Wow. There were so many quotable lines in this fic, the extraordinary language you used and your talent with vivid imagery is admirable. I bet I could fill up a page with quotes (the paragraphs on Death were especially nice), but I’ll pick out several that really caught my interest:
I LOVED that bit, especially the last line. I don’t know what it is about it, but I thought it was a great touch.
Thank you for that. I think I’ve become addicted to this now. I had some problems with pronoun association at first with the next paragraph, but it wasn’t a big issue.
I really liked how you flashed from the chase in the night to the expedition and the suicides, it was really the best way to tackle this type of story, I think. And that ending was exceptional, shiver-inducing even. Fantastic piece, and fantastic ideas, and fantastic language; I think this truly deserves first place.
Aaron sobbed for breath as he threw himself forward, shoving his way through the patch of thick brush. He ignored the grasping branches that clung pleadingly to him, wrenching himself away from their plaintive caress and heedless of the bloody streaks that they tore across his face and arms as they reluctantly relinquished their grasp. At last emerging from the ensnaring thicket, he stumbled on. He knew that They would not be hindered by the clutching plants.
It had seemed like such an amazing discovery at first: a colony of wild gardevoir, absolutely unheard of in the scientific community. Most researchers believed that ralts could not evolve properly without the aid of human emotions on which to feed and grow, but clearly, this group proved such theories wrong. Aaron had eagerly signed on with the expedition that planned to set out in search of the gardevoir and study them in their natural habitat. In fact, he had turned down a job investigating the complex social structure of slowpoke in favor of the mission. Now he couldn’t think of what he wouldn’t give to be sitting upon a damp bank somewhere, delightfully bored as he waited for his subject of observation to move another inch.
His breathing sounded ragged in his ears and his footsteps were heavy and stumbling; he had been running for a long time already, putting the camp far behind him as he fled. Still They followed, apparently untroubled by fatigue, the only sound that they made the whisper of their cloaks dragging across dead leaves.
A whisper was enough.
The expedition had gone so well at first, too. Though initially disappointing, as they had not been able to discover the whereabouts of the gardevoir, it had led them to stumble upon something even more fantastic. It was a cave, an ancient shrine carved out in the side of the nearby mountain range. The walls were covered in unown script, which the team had immediately set to work on translating, and ancient religious artifacts crowded the small temple. Everything was in wonderful condition, including the true centerpiece of the find, a life-size golden sculpture of Mew that sat upon a central platform, staring serenely out across the remains of some dead religion as though expecting to see one of Her worshippers come and kneel before Her.
It was an inspiring piece, the golden Mew; the creator goddess of many older cultures, She was depicted here as a much more stern and commanding figure. She stood in a regal pose, contrary to the kind, welcoming one that she was usually portrayed as adopting, and Her normally soft eyes held a hint of coldness. Behind Her hung a golden sunburst, its long radiating points casting glimmering motes of golden light throughout the room.
Aaron staggered and almost fell as he stepped into a hidden streambed. The land’s cold blood rushed against his legs, soaking his shoes and socks. He paid it no heed as he plowed on, ascending the far bank and setting off again, not daring to look behind. Not again.
He wished that They were not so beautiful. When Death came for a man with slavering jaws and bloodied talons, a gibbering, shambling horror of a demise, it was easy to deny it. You could stand up in defiance of such a death, rail and rankle at the injustice that you could ever be brought low by something so vile and feral, so despicable in comparison to your refinement and wisdom. You could die with rebellion in your eyes and a curse on your lips, defiant to the end as you spit in Death’s face.
But when Death came to you on gossamer wings, possessed of such an unearthly beauty and grace that nothing you had ever seen could match, you could not keep your pride. When Death stealthily stole up on you enwrapped in fragrant perfumes and shining robes, eyes full of wisdom and a faint loathing, as though you were nothing but an irritating insect that had to be swatted, your nerve started to fail. It was a cruel way to go, pursued by these pristine beasts, all the while feeling grubby and mean beside their alabaster forms. You felt you deserved death for even daring to be in their very vicinity, never mind that They were the ones forcing Their presence upon you.
His legs burned as he topped yet another low rise. The hills were becoming steeper as they shifted slowly into mountains. Aaron took heart, for he knew his destination was close, now. If only he could outrun Them for a little longer, he would be safe. Though oddly enough, They did not really seem to be trying to catch him; They floated leisurely along behind, blood-red eyes always fixed on his running form.
Yes, everything had been going well until about four days after they had set up camp. There had been talk of moving it after the discovery of the cave, as it was nowhere near what was now their most promising research site, but there were few actually willing to pack up all of the heavy scientific equipment and haul it off through the hills.
There was more talk of moving it after Tom was found. The man had gone off for a solitary walk early in the morning and not returned. A search party had found him only a couple hundred yards away, his head twisted a complete one hundred and eighty degrees around on his neck. His face bore an expression of almost manic glee, mouth contorted into a sickly smile that showed many gleaming teeth. Tom had always had nice teeth.
Dusk was falling, but Aaron did not fear the dark. They slept at night, didn’t they? Just like humans? Yes, just like humans.
The dusky mountains loomed before him, their long, jagged shadows stretched out across the bare, windswept hills as their craggy peaks pierced the setting sun, its light running in red-orange rivulets down their sides.
Tom was only the first. The next morning, Josh had not reported to breakfast, and his friends, barging into his tent to chide him for being lazy, had found him a bloody mess. His face was unrecognizable, torn apart by some creature’s foul claws, his eyes gouged out, a puzzling circumstance for an animal attack.
That was what they had thought it was, until they had realized the blood and shreds of flesh beneath Josh’s fingernails were his own.
For a wild moment he thought that he had missed it, that he would not be able to see the entrance to the shrine in the rapidly fading light. But no, there it was, a darker pit of shadows against the dusky mountainside. His flagging muscles rallied and pushed him on to greater speeds as he sprinted for salvation. Surely They were growing tired now, too?
He wished that They would make some sound, shriek or howl or gnash their teeth as they bore down on him. He longed that They should show some passion for the chase, act as though They honestly cared whether he lived or died. But no, it was strictly business, Their faces blank and impassive as They soared along behind him, accompanied only by that same faint whisper of Their robes.
A whisper was enough.
They had begun falling faster after that. Ashley, who had driven a stake through her own heart; Megan, found still smoldering after having set herself on fire; Mark, who had choked on one of his own fingers after gnawing it off. The madness swept through camp, striking scientists down even as they fled from it. He was the last, now, of that he was sure. He had seen Jack go down, surrounded by Them, as he threw himself from a high ledge, a look of rapture on his face. And now he was the last.
Suddenly his foot pounded against solid rock instead of firm earth. His labored breathing echoed and rebounded from the shadowy walls, a welcome noise after the unearthly silence of his pursuers. Aaron sped on, to the heart of the sanctum. Though the unown-covered walls were cloaked in darkness now, he could still remember their message, the words playing in his head and underscoring his relief:
They say Mew once sundered the void,
Not much longer now. He was passing the neatly arranged pews, long empty and musty-smelling, for all that they were in miraculously good repair.
releasing chaos upon the stars,
And there She was: a spiky, glimmering shape at the far end of the room. He sprinted faster, his heart pounding as though it might burst. He bounded up the steps to the great plinth, a prayer forming on his lips.
and the last of the ancient bans destroyed,
He couldn’t fathom why She still seemed to shine despite the fact that the room was dark, Her golden hide glittering as though the metal sun behind her really did shed light. Aaron took it as a good sign as he collapsed before Her, reaching up and wrapping his arms around Her as tightly as he could, babbling out praises and begging for mercy, for deliverance from the quiet horror that prowled quietly up the aisle.
heedless as she covered Time itself with scars.
Mew’s face smiled on his, surrounded by a beautiful scarlet aura. Aaron smiled back as he felt the warmth of Her power spread across him, the dreadful room fading from his vision as She delivered him from his horrifying pursuers.
And from these sprung her vile creations,
The trio of gardevoir spread out around the statue, savoring the last delicious strains of the human’s elation, like a sweet dessert after the rich, satisfying meal of his fear. He clung to the statue of the Mother with a properly fanatical devotion; he hugged her likeness so tightly that the sharp points of the rising sun behind her poked straight through his arms, and her razor-edged tail protruded from his back, gleaming a sticky sort of red.
spreading across the world, to all its climes
As one, the three psychic-types bowed to their goddess, pressing their green-crested foreheads to the cold stone floor.
born to serve and worship her might,
The last for you, Mother, as it was agreed long ago, one of the pokémon intoned, not looking up from the floor. Thank you for the nourishment that you bring us, for the power you share with us, for the world you molded for us. May we kneel forever in the glow of your mercy.
reminding us all that, sometimes,
The statue smiled down at them, blood trickling down its front and dripping slowly from its tail, spilling down over the slab of rock that it stood upon and disappearing down discreet drains to some repository beneath. Before they left, the gardevoir would remove the human and carefully wash away the blood, not to leave their Mother coated in the foul excretion of the lesser creature. But for now, at least, She seemed to revel in it.
the blackest hearts shed greatest light.
-
Sike Saner: The level of quality here is downright staggering. This piece delivers very rich, yet equally well-organized language, flowing fluidly with not a single lull in its pace, plus a story that is both accessible and also genuinely deep and realized. Paticularly noteworthy is the nature of the danger that threatens the characters in this story – the fanatical suicides to people are being driven here display very potently the supreme fear that is being consumed and destroyed by something from within. This story offers quite an abundance of moments that packed a good, strong punch; more than once, I found myself uttering a “Whoa…” or a “Dude!” of shock or surprise, with the pinnacle of these moments being this, hands down:
Scrap: Negrek, I am astounded. I was aware of your talent, but dear Lord, this blew me away. It brought to mind memories of many beloved horror movies I'd seen as a child...the regal stone idol of exotic cultures that demands sacrifice, the silent angelic beings bringing death, and the pulse-pounding fear of being pursued by a foe that can control your midn at will....bravo! Bravo, Negrek. ^^
Burnt Flower: *nods approvingly* I think the plot was one of the strong parts of the story; the insane Gardevoir tribe was an excellent addition and I can’t really say I’ve seen another work quite like yours in that aspect. But my favorite part definitely were the metaphors and the underlying subtle messages that were throughout the story that weaved into the deep narration. I was a bit iffy with the inclusion of Mew into the story since I’ve seen her way too many times for my liking, but it was actually pretty well done, though I would’ve preferred some other Pokemon alternative. But you know, that’s actually a bit superficial of me at the same time, since the writing, the plot, the description…that’s what really matters, and you pulled it off. This one-shot is definitely one of my favorite ones! =)
FloatingFlames: Wow. There were so many quotable lines in this fic, the extraordinary language you used and your talent with vivid imagery is admirable. I bet I could fill up a page with quotes (the paragraphs on Death were especially nice), but I’ll pick out several that really caught my interest:
I LOVED that bit, especially the last line. I don’t know what it is about it, but I thought it was a great touch.
Thank you for that. I think I’ve become addicted to this now. I had some problems with pronoun association at first with the next paragraph, but it wasn’t a big issue.
I really liked how you flashed from the chase in the night to the expedition and the suicides, it was really the best way to tackle this type of story, I think. And that ending was exceptional, shiver-inducing even. Fantastic piece, and fantastic ideas, and fantastic language; I think this truly deserves first place.
FloatingFlames
Lovable Narcissist
Thank you to everyone who participated, and anyone who wants to review or comment on one or any of the fics, feel free to do so. Sorry for the delays once again.
Typhlogirl
keep battling on!
O_O...Third Place? OMFG! I GOT THIRD PLACE! *swings katiekitten around in a spastic 3rd place Dance of DOOM*
Ahem. *composed* Wow. This really was a fabulous idea, FloatingFlames. We should do more of these, like Comedy and Romance and Fantasy and the like! ^_^ I really appreciate the comments on my story, it all helps.
I'll probably review the other fics another time, because I'm late for a maths class at school >_>;;, but again, this was great! Thankyou all!
Bye now! And congrats to everyone!
-;157;
Ahem. *composed* Wow. This really was a fabulous idea, FloatingFlames. We should do more of these, like Comedy and Romance and Fantasy and the like! ^_^ I really appreciate the comments on my story, it all helps.
I'll probably review the other fics another time, because I'm late for a maths class at school >_>;;, but again, this was great! Thankyou all!
Bye now! And congrats to everyone!
-;157;
Mimori Kiryu
Well-Known Member
6th? That better then I thought. I didn't even think that I was going to place at all. Thanks for the comments though. Now that I go back and read it, it's like 'my description is non existant...' But yeah. -_-; Just goes to say that I can't really write horror.
But thanks for all the comments. Tells me what I need to improve on...
But thanks for all the comments. Tells me what I need to improve on...
katiekitten
The Compromise
3rd Place? *falls over* I can't believe my tense error dotted, misworded oneshot got 3rd place? *dances with Typhlogirl* Hurray!
I have read the first three stories, which are all brilliant, and am currently reading IceKings. So... Long... XD It's very good though.
I can't believe I tied with Typhogirl... With my first attempt at horror as well... *dies*
Mimori, yours was a little short, but nice.
Charizam, also nice, but a little abrupt ending. Lovely description, and I learned some new words to... *jots them down* XD
Typhogirl, lovely. Nice ending! XD I really liked it. Some twisty sentences, but that is fine.
Will read Icekings and Negreks tomorrow...
I have read the first three stories, which are all brilliant, and am currently reading IceKings. So... Long... XD It's very good though.
I can't believe I tied with Typhogirl... With my first attempt at horror as well... *dies*
Mimori, yours was a little short, but nice.
Charizam, also nice, but a little abrupt ending. Lovely description, and I learned some new words to... *jots them down* XD
Typhogirl, lovely. Nice ending! XD I really liked it. Some twisty sentences, but that is fine.
Will read Icekings and Negreks tomorrow...
Last edited:
FINALLY!!1!!! XD
First off,
That is an incredible understatement and no where does portray the incredible stressful time I had forcing you two to judge damn it X Guilt tripping Patty and then just flat out cussing out Flamer..I think I rose my blood pressure...
But thankfully, the results are out. And Burnt Flower doesn't have to drop out, AND she saw about fitty videos of me Shakira hipdancing.
I must say I was very shocked to be in second place, I was seriously expecting to be one of those tied to third XD I feel the one shot I wrote here was one of my all time favorite written works, I felt so good afterward, but I'm still going to tweak it a bit for when I post it at SPPf. KK, I suggest you read the SPPf version =P
0_0 What a brilliantly written review XD That was like something you read at the back of a book, thanks!
ROFLMAO!!!!!! Wow, that made me laugh for a good hour XD The idiot flamer accidently said that your review consisted of five words summary and 8 words calling me a *******, so I was expecting quite the opposite XD
...
...
...
It wasn't utterly phenomanal? Thanks Patty, yeah I think all my joy just went away. Thanks a lot.
XD, anyways, I am very grateful to see your review! Your my favorite horror author (other three are great as well :3). I chose to interpret her hands as gloves simply just to add a symbol of her work XD I was worried that Smoochum scene was too cheesy, but you apparently liked it so XD Its one of me favorites as well, thanks a billion
Flamer, as punishment for taking so long, I'm not responding to your review for another three months =P I know you spent so long on it and wanted to hear some sort of feedback, but I'm not granting you that right!
Congratulations to everyone else, I haven't read the one shots yet but from what I've skimmed they are ALL good. I have no idea how I could have chosen rankings 0_0 I'll read em sometime this weekend, how many people are posting theres at SPPf? And big congrats on Negrek for winning, I knew you would take the cheese and from what I've seen, you sure did deserve that cake.
Nice contest, next time you do one though, please make sure Flamer has a Saw-esque contraption that will shatter his face if he doesn't judge in time =)
Now that would be a good horror one shot...
First off,
That is an incredible understatement and no where does portray the incredible stressful time I had forcing you two to judge damn it X Guilt tripping Patty and then just flat out cussing out Flamer..I think I rose my blood pressure...
But thankfully, the results are out. And Burnt Flower doesn't have to drop out, AND she saw about fitty videos of me Shakira hipdancing.
I must say I was very shocked to be in second place, I was seriously expecting to be one of those tied to third XD I feel the one shot I wrote here was one of my all time favorite written works, I felt so good afterward, but I'm still going to tweak it a bit for when I post it at SPPf. KK, I suggest you read the SPPf version =P
0_0 What a brilliantly written review XD That was like something you read at the back of a book, thanks!
ROFLMAO!!!!!! Wow, that made me laugh for a good hour XD The idiot flamer accidently said that your review consisted of five words summary and 8 words calling me a *******, so I was expecting quite the opposite XD
...
...
...
It wasn't utterly phenomanal? Thanks Patty, yeah I think all my joy just went away. Thanks a lot.
XD, anyways, I am very grateful to see your review! Your my favorite horror author (other three are great as well :3). I chose to interpret her hands as gloves simply just to add a symbol of her work XD I was worried that Smoochum scene was too cheesy, but you apparently liked it so XD Its one of me favorites as well, thanks a billion
Flamer, as punishment for taking so long, I'm not responding to your review for another three months =P I know you spent so long on it and wanted to hear some sort of feedback, but I'm not granting you that right!
Congratulations to everyone else, I haven't read the one shots yet but from what I've skimmed they are ALL good. I have no idea how I could have chosen rankings 0_0 I'll read em sometime this weekend, how many people are posting theres at SPPf? And big congrats on Negrek for winning, I knew you would take the cheese and from what I've seen, you sure did deserve that cake.
Nice contest, next time you do one though, please make sure Flamer has a Saw-esque contraption that will shatter his face if he doesn't judge in time =)
Now that would be a good horror one shot...
S
Shadowcat
Guest
OMG! MY TRIPLET AND SISTER TIED!?
Anyways, loved those pieces, but I can only skim through them now... XD. Reading them soon.
Anyways, loved those pieces, but I can only skim through them now... XD. Reading them soon.
Elemental Charizam
Sudden Genre Shift
Yeah, I admit it, I threw my entry together on a whim and ended it when I ran out of time. And didn't really revise properly XD So no suprise there.
To make Flames a little less ignorant (just kidding), a Toxote is a kind of Greek short bowman, and a Hypasist is another kind of Greek soldier. Bit of a greek theme going on there.
Nice entries all! I paticularly liked 'a Scarlet Christmas', which is a bit like the animé christmas episodes sans 'the gang' and plus an unhealthy dose of twistage (not a real word), awesomeness and violence. Should come with a 'don't renact this at home' label for kids brainwashed by the greatness. Or the length...
Negrek's was awesome too, lots of disturbing imagery that was only slightly marred by occasional awkward sentences. Congrats on the win!
And to all the erest of you, too. I'd say more, but I've ruin out of time again XP
To make Flames a little less ignorant (just kidding
), a Toxote is a kind of Greek short bowman, and a Hypasist is another kind of Greek soldier. Bit of a greek theme going on there.Nice entries all! I paticularly liked 'a Scarlet Christmas', which is a bit like the animé christmas episodes sans 'the gang' and plus an unhealthy dose of twistage (not a real word), awesomeness and violence. Should come with a 'don't renact this at home' label for kids brainwashed by the greatness. Or the length...
Negrek's was awesome too, lots of disturbing imagery that was only slightly marred by occasional awkward sentences. Congrats on the win!
And to all the erest of you, too. I'd say more, but I've ruin out of time again XP
Negrek
Lost but Seeking
Fwee ~
I guess I don't really know what to say, aside from perhaps "Yay! I won! Thanks so much!" I have to admit to being very disappointed with my entry myself, but I'm glad that other people seem to like it.
Late reply because I wanted to read the other entries, and I had started reviews of them, but they got eaten by my computer as usual. So I'll redo them later. For now, congratulations to all of the other participants, as it's obvious people put a lot of effort into the competition. And special thanks to IceKing to his "encouragement" of the judges to get the scoring done.
And Scrap, it just so happens that I've recently come into a situation where I'm going to need a banner, and I'd love it if you could make one for me, if you really feel like it...
I guess I don't really know what to say, aside from perhaps "Yay! I won! Thanks so much!" I have to admit to being very disappointed with my entry myself, but I'm glad that other people seem to like it.
Late reply because I wanted to read the other entries, and I had started reviews of them, but they got eaten by my computer as usual. So I'll redo them later. For now, congratulations to all of the other participants, as it's obvious people put a lot of effort into the competition. And special thanks to IceKing to his "encouragement" of the judges to get the scoring done.
And Scrap, it just so happens that I've recently come into a situation where I'm going to need a banner, and I'd love it if you could make one for me, if you really feel like it...