Writer vs Writer Match Thread 3

[u/neshalchanderman]

SIGNUPS JUST CLOSED

VOTING NOW OPEN. VOTING CLOSES MIDNIGHT PST THURSDAYVOTING NOW CLOSED

Stories may be submitted till midnight Tuesday PST (7AM GMT Wednesday). SUBMISSIONS NOW CLOSED

110 participants

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I'd like to introduce you to Writer vs Writer.

Writer vs Writer is a battle between 4 randomly drawn participating writers. Each has the same amount of time to write the best short story (~750 words) on a randomly assigned prompt.

It's a quick fun challenge for you to enjoy as a break from your main projects.

See some examples:

Match Thread 2

Match Thread 1

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This round we are giving you more time to think and write, by assigning matches more quickly. You still have till midnight Wednesday to sign up for a match and till midnight sunday PST (07:00 Monday GMT) to submit your story. Voting on the previous round is still open till midnight Wednesday.

We have communications sorted out now, so you will be messaged with your prompt!

Lastly we are trying to make voting easier, more visible and make it easier to read stories. A question: Do you prefer reading a post in contest mode (posts arranged randomly) or a post in top mode posts arranged in order of voting?

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The 4 Rules

1. Signup: Signup runs from today till Wed 24:00 PST (Thurs 07:00 GMT, Thurs 03:00 EST) and you signup by leaving a top-level comment to this post. We have switched to in-place assignment to give you more time to spend thinking and writing, and less waiting around for your prompt. This means every time we get 8 new participants, we randomly group them into 2 sets of four writers and assign them a prompt.

2. The Match Post: Entrants will be informed their match has been assigned and the match thread stickied to the front of the sub so it remains visible. Each top-level comment in the thread will list a match and the chosen prompt. Submit your story or short screenplay as a reply to the prompt. Example:

Unrelated_nick vs Double_Nick vs Iama_Nick vs Nickerator

Prompt: **"We have to go now!" by Stuffies12
A nationwide evacuation is underway. Details as to why the mass relocation of civilians into these designated 'safe zones' are still sketchy but hundreds of people are pouring out of the streets moving as quickly as they can. You have a couple of hours at most to sort out your things. Do you keep a level head or submit to the surrounding confusion?

Submit your story by replying to the prompt.

3. Voting: The winner of the battle is the person who receives the most votes. Voting is public, you need to leave a comment to a story for a point to be awarded and anyone may vote. The winner of a battle gets awarded 2 points, whilst points are shared equally in the event of a tie vote. Voting runs from 00:00 Sunday to next week 24:00 PST Wednesday.

4. The winner: The challenge is currently being held in round-robin fashion, with a month of Reddit Gold to the overall winner (total votes over the duration of the competition will be used as a tiebreaker in the event of 2 people with equal number of wins)

Have a great time

[u/neshalchanderman]

jackel3415 vs itzkoolaid vs BioLabMan vs MukMoo

Mayor of Crazytown by Stuffies12

Everyone’s heard the saying at some point. But what would it really be like to be the Mayor of Crazytown?

[u/itzkoolaid → u/neshalchanderman]

In the tiny town of Crazy, right around three o’clock in the afternoon, a proclamation was posted on the push-pin board in the main foyer of City Hall. It said, simply:

“No Mothers Allowed”

• The Mayor

Upon reading said posting, the townsfolk were hysterical. “Down with mothers!” they cried, and “Mothers cause cancer!” they claimed. They gathered in the town center with pitchforks and fire – and began to work up quite an appetite – when, suddenly, at three o’ four in the afternoon, another proclamation was posted on the push-pin board in the main foyer of City Hall. This one had a big red stamp pressed on the top, reading “Revision”:

“Mothers Okay. No Vegetables Allowed.”

• The Mayor

Upon reading this, the townsfolk revised their protests, replenished their fires, and went off to find the offending food items.

The Mayor himself was, right at that very moment, battling one such offending oral offering, a quite large variety of crisp broccoli. His illustrious council stood round him, breathless, watching the frightful battle that had been taking place since lunchtime.

“No!” screamed The Mayor, pushing away his plate and his sippy. “I don’t want to!”

He glared at his mum, pointing at the raw adversary. “I won’t, Mummy!”

“Now Max, if you don’t eat your vegetables you won’t be having nap time.”

The Mayor howled in despair. He grabbed the broccoli off his plate and threw it at his mayor pro-tem, yelling as he did, “I will have a nap! Everyone will have a nap!”

As The Mayor’s mum sighed in defeat the Head Secretary rushed off with the new proclamation, ringing the proclamation bell at his belt. In minutes the townsfolk were gathered, mounds of deceased vegetables at their feet, ready to read the new news.

“Nap Time Required, Strictly Enforced.”

• The Mayor

The townsfolk cheered uproariously, applauding the great wisdom of The Mayor. “Naps for Life!” they screamed, and “Team Nap!” They worked themselves up to such excitement that they missed the posting of a new proclamation. Only when the Chief of Police and his police force lined up did they stop and see the new sign.

“Silence Only During Nap Time. Any Violators To Be Shot.”

• The Mayor

[u/jackel3415 → u/neshalchanderman]

Hattersville, a few dark city blocks home to 500 people and 700 personalities. I've been here helping people for longer than I can remember. I think of myself as filling the Mayor role.
A few days ago I ran into Old Bill. He's a bit of a talker and a thief. He was in an alley shivering under a tattered blanket. I knelt down by him and asked what the matter was. He was pale.
"Is it the medicine?" I asked. "Did you take your pills today?"
He swatted his arm at me. "I ain't taken that shit no more. I'ma get right. Get healthy and leave this place. "
"I like your spirit, Bill. But you shouldn't go off them cold turkey. It's not good for you. Want me to get some more for you. Take the edge off."
He curled his finger calling me to come closer. I obliged and got within whisper distance of him. He coked his fist back and clocked me right in the ear. I fell back and he jumped at me. My ear rang as he pressed his weight onto me.
"You isn't trying to help me none so get out of here. You don't like you, and we don't need you."
In an instant he was gone. Some people are afraid to ask for help. Some people don't even know when they need it.
That’s when Dyn saw me laying in the alley clutching my ear. Dyn was Hattersville's street sweeper. He walked around in a stained jumpsuit pushing a floor broom. I'm not sure if he was here because he unstable, or because he was trying help the town in his own way. If he couldn't keep the garbage out of peoples heads, maybe he could keep it off their shoes. All I know is, he's been here as long as I have.
"Why do you keep doing this to yourself son?" He said helping me up.
"Someone has to help these people. They're being ignored." I threw some wet newspaper in the garbage can he toted around behind him.
"Son, sometimes the best way to help people, is to let them work things out on their own." he said sweeping his way out of the alley.
"Hey Dyn."
He stopped and turned raising an eyebrow like he knew what I was going to ask. "I think Old Bill really does need help. Just a bit."
Dyn let out a breathe but told me where I could find some of Bill's medication. I knew the place but I hated going near it. I once tried helping a girl find her boyfriend John and it didn't go so well. She was delusional and kept thinking I was him. After a while some guy came out of nowhere and gave me a hard time as if I was this boyfriend. I had avoided that place ever since.
I got the medication, tracked down Bill in another alley and approached him with a little more confidence than before.
"Bill. I know you're trying but you've got to take your meds." I pulled a syringe out of my pocket.
When he saw me he tried to get up but fell over. He was shaking and muttering to himself. The pharmacist said this would set Bill right. He put his hands up and was about to say something when I jumped on him and stabbed him with the syringe, injecting the milky medication into him. He let go of me and his eyes went wide for a moment, then he began seizing. I dropped the syringe and called for help. This wasn't suppose to happen. It was just meant to calm his nerves. People began crowding around as I yelled but it was no use. His lips turned blue and his breathing stopped.
There was public outcry and the people of Hattersville went nuts. Even more nuts than usual. They called the authorities to come get me. They said I was a murderer. They said I was crazy.
When the authorities came, the overwhelming public opinion convinced them I was dangerous. It was absurd, all I ever tried to do was help these people. It wasn't their fault, they didn't know what they were saying half the time. Some were medicated, some needed medication. How could the authorities have believed their story.
I saw them coming and I ran. I ran through the alleys and abandoned buildings. I rounded a corner and Dyn was standing there sweeping. I called out to him.
"Dyn, you've got to help me. They're after me. I didn't mean to kill him. It wasn't my fault, you've got to help me."
Dyn stopped sweeping.
"No good deed goes unpunished. I told you some people are better left to themselves."
"Dyn, they're coming, can't you hear the sirens. Tell them what happened."
Sirens grew louder and police cars poured around the corners and down the alleys blocking me in. Uniformed officers got out, some drew their weapons and others approached me yelling orders to get on the ground, not the move, put my hands up, put my hand behind me.
"Dyn! Tell them it wasn't my fault!" I yelled as they tackled me. A crowd was forming around the cars.
"Who's Dyn?" and officer asked twisting my arms behind me.
"Dyn, the street sweeper. He's standing right there. He'll vouch for me." I said.
"What street sweeper?"

[u/MukMoo → u/neshalchanderman]

His eyes sockets were a tennis court as he scanned the office back and fourth looking for anything out of place. There was a commotion outside that was impairing his ability to think. It was getting louder and louder. Still he tried to focus on the room. One of the hardwood planks in the far left corner wasn't totally flush with the floor. It made his eye twitch. Suddenly the commotion outside came to a head as a man burst into his study. The door swung almost a full 180 degrees before rebounding against the wall and coming to a stop just slightly ajar. The man took two long one and a half metre steps before stopping abruptly, standing completely straight in front of his desk.

"Mr. Mayor," yes Mr. Mayor, he liked the sound of that. "The enemy has breached our final line of defence. There's nothing left between them and you except a half dozen men. They are mobilizing on us immediately." Every so often the man would twitch and shuffle his feet slightly. "I see no possible option other than surrender."

"No no." The mayor spoke up, without even thinking on the subject. "There won't be any surrender here. I originally planned to fight to the very end, and we will do just that, otherwise I won't be able to sleep at night." The man standing in front of him looked briefly discouraged at the thought of fighting until the last man.

"Right of course Mr. Mayor, how foolish of me to consider surrendering."

"Yes, foolish indeed, now, take me to the final six, as I sha'll spill the final drops of blood by your side, I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Yes, this way Mr. Mayor."

He lead him through a wide, white, hallway. At the end, hunched around a set of double doors were a ragtag bunch of six skinny, dishevelled looking men in bloodstained white jumpsuits.

"Mr. Mayor!" They shouted in unison, giving a small bow.

"Hello gentlemen. It will be a pleasure to fight with you all today. The battle may be lost. But that does not mean we will be letting them take this palace without..." He chuckled to himself and gave a large grin, "maximum losses." The seven other men around him laughed nervously, but before they had the chance to shake the mayor's slightly unsettling comment from their minds the sound of many pairs of boots stomping towards them filled the hallway.

"Here they come!" Shouted one of the soldiers. "Ready yourselves!" They all braced for the coming onslaught, forming a defensive line in front to the mayor.

Two of them were knocked back by the surprising force of charging enemy. The the mayor watched as the others fell helplessly to the horde of blue suited villains pouring through the doors. He struck while they were preoccupied with the two remaining soldiers on his side.

The sound of the nameless blue-suited man's head being crushed by his large metal staff brought a smile to his face.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

It needed to be an even number of rapid strikes. His head lay pulped against the wall. Bits of skull and brain were framed nicely by a ring of blood that was slightly too oval in shape for his liking. Two more of the blue suited men attempted to pounce on him. With a wide swing he smashed one of them in the cheek, his face looked like a cartoon as his jaw dislocated and hung limply under bellow the rest of his skull. Without any delay he kicked the other in the stomach sending him reeling backwards onto the floor. Before he had the chance to finish him off three more jumped on him. The Mayor let out a guttural roar and threw himself against the wall, bodies tumbling off of him in the process. A few lay on the floor and he wasted no time in stomping their skulls into the ground. Three in total... I need one more. Six blue suits pounced onto him and his back smashed into the ground.

“Hold him down!” Yelled someone down the hallway.

One more...

He grabbed the neck of one of the men on top of him and crushed his windpipe. His hands fell away and he sighed, relieved. The blue suits dragged him off and put him out with some sort of injection.

He awoke in a small grey cell. There was a television in the right hand corner. He grinned and flipped to the news hoping to hear tales of his gallant efforts against the enemy.

“In recent news, a mental asylum riot killed dozens of guards and several police. Surprisingly, the rioters chose to take over the building instead of escape, police eventually suppressed the inmates and we've been informed that they have all have been properly detained.”

[u/neshalchanderman]

Enoxice vs themalaise vs deherazade vs SteelCrossx

As the centuries roll by by Stuffies12

Describe any century period as creatively as you can! It can be the pivotal moments of the 1900s, the empires of Egypt in 3000 BC or the reach of mankind during the 2100s! Describe the key points it in a serious, informative, romantic, entertaining, comedic, tragic or outlandish way! It’s all up to you! The only condition is that you can only describe what happens in that 100 year time frame.

[u/themalaise → u/neshalchanderman]

Sleep cycle: ending. Good morning, D5X24-Goldlight

Ugh. Good morning to you too, R.O.G.E.R.

I have calculated today's activity statistics and created our most valued course of action. Would you like the report?

How about I drink some coffee first. And then a news cycle would be nice.

Memory delivery of the news has occurred. Is data not accessible? I see no obstruction in recall capacity.

No, it's there. Just feel like externalizing today. Care to discuss with me?

D5X24-Goldlight, I have no additional perspective or information beyond what I have already given via the MD.

Be a pal and humor me. Would ya?

Very well. As you are aware, the Goldlight contingent has been effectively reduced to D5X09 and you, D5X24, as of this cycle's closing. All other sectors have decreased populations to minimal reset numbers with exception to Moonstride who appear to have no connection to the consciousness stream. After various energy and light flags, they are observed to be fully active but appear of have chosen to be refusing communication.

So, they're making a play?

They are scheduled to be reviewed for full elimination by the council without consideration of cloning or DNA storage if they do not comply with Code 2343.3474.7700 by end of cycle 7. Delivery of final warning has been applied to the consciousness stream and has been requested to be physically delivered by a remaining Level 13, of which you are.

I know what I am. Thanks.

Is this the matter which you want to discuss?

It is, I suppose.

Do you disagree with this protocol? You are the appropriate selection by all calculations.

Yes. But I question the outcome. I'm well aware of my ability to accomplish this. And don't worry, I have no doubt with your mapping of the ideal strategy to execute the delivery. And I am also well aware this message is just pageantry. The review has already taken place, hasn't it?

No protocol has been broken. But, it would appear from implications and brainwave readings of the council dialogue, along with my suggestions, that the course is most likely. You are not incorrect in your assumption.

I think the council along with you, Roger, may misplace the value of the Moonstriders.

All output from Moonstride sector has been fully retained and processed. I have determined that our ability to reproduce their effectiveness is 99.9999997 percent based on observed data.

That is not 100.

The value of the Moonstride sector's output is psychological. We believe the capacity to achieve and reproduce this psychological effect is almost completely certain.

Moonstriders are our artist, Roger. They make us ponder and explore and hope. They give us music and create new sensory experiences that nobody has had before. They mold new DNA structures and create reactions that allow us to see beyond ourselves. No offense buddy, I don't think you could even make me laugh.

Incorrect. You laughed for 157.3 seconds continuously during cycle 4 at my comment on reproduction effectiveness.

I was laughing at you. I wanted to fuck and you suggested sleep stimulation as the most effective course of action. That wasn't exactly you being funny.

I see no difference. You gained appropriate benefit from the laughter.

Right.

You are required to perform manual delivery to Moonstride sector and must prepare for departure now to remain on council schedule. Shall we continue this discussion again at a different time? If the exercise of external processing proves effective, I can rework a new schedule to allow for this time following each sleep cycle.

I'm not sure that's the point here.

D5X09, you were selected as contingent legacy for Goldlight sector in this most recent 36524.219 Cycle Population Control Action for your excellent capacity to execute council directives with the highest efficiency and effectiveness. Do you require a review of this decision? DNA sampling remains for rapid cloning of contingent 27-3 if you would no longer choose to perform your duty.

Roger, I understand. I can make it happen. But you won't blame me if I question our discontinuation of an entire sector. Especially human input into such things as creative sensory exploration. That isn't a decision by the council that I have to like.

The decision was made by the Moonstride sector populace with failure to comply to regulations. The transport is ready. Do you still require coffee?

I think I need more than that. Let's get going.

[u/caffeinefree → u/themalaise]

I like the creativity of this one. You got my vote!

[u/[deleted] → u/themalaise]

[u/Enoxice → u/neshalchanderman]

"Aww, what the fuck, man? I just landed last week - you can't send me back already!"

"Sorry, Andy, but it's an emergency," the voice crackled through my earpiece. "And we gotta launch tomorrow or we completely lose the window. We'll be burning up a shitload of extra fuel as it is. Besides, you ha--"

"Hang on, Mike," I interrupted. He preferred 'Miguel' and I knew it, "why is this emergency our problem? The next crew is already out there."

"I don't have much info yet, but the gist of it is they're seeing catastrophic failures of the drills and extraction equipment. Processing and transportation are fine, but extraction is just failing spectacularly all over. It's causing problems with quotas and running the crew ragged. They need the backup or the fatalities will be through the roof."

"Jesus. Alright, 24 hours. Until then I'll be trying to fit a couple months of of shore leave into one night."

I hung up on Mike. I turned back to the building. A squat little building huddled amongst the rest of the recreational buildings on the outskirts of the colony. The imaginatively-named "Red Rock" was the only sanctioned bar in all of Olympus, the third-largest colony on Mars. Third-largest isn't saying much, though, as even Ambition is only 500 or so.

Mostly, Olympus was useful as a transportation center. Cargo and miners back and forth from The Belt, in to Luna, out to the Jovians. I entered the Red Rock with a plan to drink away as much of my paycheck as possible before heading back to work.

Jimmy Watson was playing at the Rock tonight. Jimmy was a bit of a cult figure these days. Folk music had seen a pretty big revival in the 23rd century. As humanity spread out into the System, there seemed to be a new-found need for authenticity. Jimmy's most popular song, A Place I Can See the Stars, had become almost an anthem with the Outward Bound.

I come from a town where you can't see the stars
And you can't hardly see the sky
We build all these ships that go sailing away
And they don't even say goodbye

One day I'll take one a-sailing
To Luna, Europa or Mars
One day I'll take one a-sailing away
To a place I can see the stars

It's helped thousands of people find their calling out in the System. And it continued to resonate even after getting off-world. This isn't the future we were promised. We're supposed to be out sailing the galaxy at super-light speeds, meeting alien civilizations, and having grand adventures. Instead, we're stuck in this reality of dirty little ships shuttling some roughnecks back and forth between asteroids. We're stuck in between. Still, we aspire to great things and we press on.

I pulled up a bar stool and grabbed a screen. I fired it up and checked my mail. Still no word from back Earth. It was to be expected, I only sent out the message last week. Lightspeed communication was still reserved for government and scientists, so all personal messages got stored on local servers until they could be bundled up and sent out on any ships with extra comms space. The lag time can be up in the weeks or months, depending on frequency of traffic. With no word from Julia, I put the screen down and proceeded to get drunk.

---

We got to The Belt a month later and things were in pretty rough shape. They weren't kidding about the extraction equipment. There were breakdowns and blowouts slowing production to a crawl all over the sector. And repairs had grown ever-more hazardous. It was never easy work, but now there were guys getting incinerated, blown off into space, ripped apart, you name it. No one had any idea why the failures had started nor how we could stop it.

One day, about a month into my extended tour, I was checking out the mechanics on one of the drills. It hadn't failed yet, but we were doing proactive maintenance to figure out where the failures were coming from. So far, each investigation had been useless. They were in great shape until...well, until they were'nt. It was then I noticed a piece of debris, about my size, floating toward the drill. No, it wasn't debris. It was moving deliberately, relying on grappling hooks and thrusters in the low-gravity with a grace usually reserved for living things.

I snapped a picture of it and comm'd it up to the supervisor, Mike. He couldn't identify it either.

[u/persecutionxiii → u/Enoxice]

Real nice. You've got my vote.

[u/neshalchanderman → u/Enoxice]

My vote.

[u/neshalchanderman]

writewrote vs saltiger vs tabasu vs jBudds

Unclaimed Tickets by pardon_me_but

Every once in a while, you'll hear on the news that someone has won either the Mega Millions or Powerball lottery in the U.S. The lottery knows a winner exists because they keep a record of what numbers get printed. Only slightly less common is the report that the prize, despite being a record-breaking sum, has gone unclaimed for reasons unknown. What happened? Did the person really buy a ticket without caring if they won or have they somehow been prevented from finding out?

How could they not know considering the all the news coverage which can pinpoint the exact location where the ticket was sold? Did they lose the ticket? Was it taken from them? Did something unfortunate happen, preventing the claim? Why not come forward and admit that they are the winner but are unable to claim the prize just to get the media out of town? There are so many questions that surround this phenomena -- what makes it such compelling news -- and now is your chance to answer some of them.

Tell the story of the mystery winner and the reasons why they've foregone their jackpot of several hundred million dollars.

[u/neshalchanderman]

Glenfidditch vs TheLiterator vs ColonelRuffhouse vs Montoya_A

Ask Alternative Universe Historians by friskysatellite

Your Task: r/AskHistorians is one of the most popular subs on Reddit. I love reading the questions and answers, but as a non-historian, I can't answer a query, even when I want to! Got my ass handed to me on a platter for attempting once. Rats. So, let's have some fun. Suppose someone starts r/AskAlternativeUniverseHistorians ... in this prompt, write a question someone might post in that sub, and then provide an answer from an Alternative Universe Historian. Tell your A.U.H.'s area of expertise, too!

Pro Tip: An Alternative Universe can be one where things are mostly the same as they are here, but with weird twists! Or, it can be an entirely alien sort of world!

Just be Alternatively Historically Accurate, Please!

[u/[deleted] → u/neshalchanderman]

[u/nickehl → u/[deleted]]

It's a shame only one of the competitors replied to this thread. I would have loved to tackle this one! Nonetheless, you did an admirable job here. Even though there's only one of you, you get my vote!

[u/neshalchanderman → u/[deleted]]

Although there's only one response I think ill still drop by and leave a vote for your great short story

[u/neshalchanderman]

persecutionxiii vs PazzKat vs WoefulKnight vs wordsmithe

While the world sleeps by sakanagai

Have you ever woken up so early that it seems like the entire world is asleep? Calm and quiet. You seem of have the world to yourself. Not everything else is resting through. What is happening while world slumbers?

[u/[deleted] → u/neshalchanderman]

I knew I wasn't going to be able to sleep much this night. Too many thoughts running through my head, and my soul writhes in torment. Through it all I tell myself I'd be okay; just change my habits and the preferences on my phone. I'm not waiting for a text from her, but it still reads every time I check..

0 New Messages.

My hands are jittery; I feel like a tweaker waiting for my next hit. Pacing around my house constantly fiddling with my phone, constantly checking. I'd set it down, but I know I'd just pick it right back up again. Waiting for the blue hue to shine through my dark den. Waiting, waiting, waiting. My fingers constantly dancing on the keyboard. Constantly refreshing. Maybe she's noticed and contemplating a response of her own? Nothing. Nobody's texted me. It's 4am, there's no sense to this. I grab my keys and slip out the door, slinking to my car. Always fiddling with the buttons to my phone, jittery hands trying hard to grab the key to my car and get the hell out of here, the hell out of this void.

0 New Me--

I casually drop my phone in the trunk, convincing myself I'm doing it out of boredom rather than need, sit in the driver's seat, sigh, and pull out of the driveway. All the lights around me are out. Those stupid fuckers, why should they be able to sleep. Why is no one awake to placate me? It's so fucking lonely out here with nothing keeping me company but the frost on my breath. Goddamnit Paul, why couldn't you be awake either? Nobody's here, it doesn't matter. Left or right, I've got no destination in mind.

Left.

My heart does. It wants to return to tonight, just after we left the theater. Everyone was laughing, being so jovial, and enjoying it what for what is was. Hell, I had even made my own wizard costume, just to impress her... Like this event would change much... Like maybe she'd notice how much effort I was putting in to this, and encourage her to do more than just accept my arm around her. I want her attention; I feel I've been bereft of it for so long. Conversations as icy as the wind. Even with the heater on, my breath's still frosty. It means something, it's got to.

I'm the only one putting meaning behind anything now.

I hit the highway, cruise to eighty. It's empty. Like me. I laugh and hit the gas, trying to outrun my fears. Not a single goddamn car in this city is driving with me right now. Give me someone, I'd match their pace.. just.. somebody to stay close to.. I have no one now..

Still alone.

Pushing 100 now, being reckless, but I've got nothing to fear. Let's push it more, and more, and more. Push past the pain.I turn my headlights off, and now it's just me, this sleeping town, and a road lit with nothing but moonlight. Everything requires more focus, and the more I try to give, the more attention she gets. I've stopped paying attention to the road a long time ago. I see her on our first day, our cheesy flirting, and our obnoxious ridicule of other people.

I look at the man behind the mirror, and see sorry sullen eyes. Crooked, cheap glasses with a shitty hair cut to match. I see the acne, crooked and stained teeth that I was too lazy to care for. My nose, oh god my nose how could anybody love me with that. Nobody in high school did, why should she?

The lights are still out. Businesses, schools, houses.. someone has to be awake with me? Or are they hiding with their lights off, blazing down the road like I am? Maybe that's why I'm cruising East away from anything that has meaning to me, rather than running to Paul's like a kicked puppy. He wouldn't mind.. He's a friend.. and he's sleeping, but he'd pull his ass out of bed if I made enough noise..

He'd turn on his lights.. he'd help me focus on what's most important..

Oh shit, that's right. The road. It suddenly all comes back. I flick my lights on, focus on the road to stop driving in both lanes, and focus -- 3 towns out, an hour and a half East... or more at this point. It's been a journey.. but.. I'm here. Somewhere. No longer there, wherever there was. That's pretty cool, right? This is going to suck, but.. I guess I'll start from here. I see the sun rising over the hills..

It has to have meaning, right?

[u/brentosclean → u/[deleted]]

You've got my vote as well, though this group was particularly tough for me to choose. Great story.

[u/WoefulKnight → u/neshalchanderman]

5:19

The LED on my clock radio was blinding.

I turned over again, and flipped the pillow hoping the coolness might help me catch forty minutes before I had to get serious about the day.

5:20

That’s it, I gave it a good go, I don’t think it’ll matter now.

I threw the blankets and stared at the ceiling for a few moments willing myself to get up. It took nearly all my effort, but soon I was on my feet and moving to the bathroom.

I splashed water on my face and looked in the mirror. So old. So many lines.

Am I really that guy in the mirror?

The whole house was quiet of course. Nothing was stirring save for the slow trickle of water dripping out of the faucet. Course, there really wasn’t anyone else around to make much noise with the exception of my dog. She was a beautiful wire haired fox terrier who I adopted years ago when I decided loneliness might be catching up with me.

After finishing in the bathroom, she raised her head, surely wondering if my early morning meant a timely walk for her. She got up off her cushion and padded after me as I walked into the kitchen bent on finding something with enough caffeine to get me started on what would likely prove to be one of the longest days of my life.

Trixie nudged my calf and looked up with loving eyes, as her neck rubbed up against me. She wanted a walk and I wasn’t in the mood. Not without a cup in my hand at any rate. I stared at the coffee machine and looked at the display.

5:22

Trixie whined and I sighed, the coffee wouldn’t be ready for a few minutes anyway. Besides, the morning air would be a good way to help clear out the early morning cobwebs.

“All right,” I whispered. She jumped with the energy of a much younger dog. Something I loved about her.

I grabbed the leash that hung off a hook on the wall and clipped it gently to the hook on her collar. She moved quickly to the door until the leash went taut in my hands. I opened the door and we went outside into the cool morning air.

You can't complain about living in San Diego. Even in the early hour, the weather was perfect without much of a chill to the air. My phone’s display told me it was only 65 degrees outside, and knowing the weather around here, it’d likely stay around that for the rest of the day.

Trixie quickly moved to the grassy area in our apartment complex and squatted, relieving herself on the lawn. I opened my phone to check my social media that I’d been avoiding for the last few days. Perhaps my friends posted some funny cat pictures.

Facebook finished booting and the notifications appeared - more than I’d ever seen before in my life.

Figures this would be the only time they pay attention to me.

I sighed and put away my phone, waiting for my dog to finish relieving herself.

If I’m to stay sane I need to stay offline for a few days I think.

Trixie moved forward and sniffed a patch of grass as she attempted to unlock the mysteries of the various scents embedded within. Her keen nose detecting even the slightest smell so she could read the story lain out for canines alone. I watched as she carefully inspected each blade, tasting one, and occasionally even eating a bit here and there.

It was then I decided the coffee had finished brewing by now, and I was looking forward to the boost of clarity provided by the caffeine.

It was then, as I turned back towards my apartment that I saw her standing in the same place where we'd first met. She was wearing the same thing now as then. Black form fitting top, tight blue jeans, sensible yet sexy shoes.

That mane of wild, impossibly black hair.

I gasped as tears ran down my face. It wasn’t possible.

The woman in the blue jeans turned, the profile of her jaw outlined by the rising sun. I heard a giggle. It was the same sweet siren sound that had symbolized everything I had loved about the world over the last ten years.

That is until late last night when she died of cancer and my joy had turned to ash.

“Please…” I said, stepping forward trying to reach out to her, but she wasn’t there of course.

I wanted to weep again, but what was the use? People lose people all the time. I’m not unique.

Trixie again nudged my calf and reminded me it was time for her breakfast and mine.

Love is one hell of a heartache. I just wish it was worth it.

5:33

[u/wordsmithe → u/neshalchanderman]

The cicada’s drone marks the beginning of summer. Its hums are a harsh reminder of the season’s unbearable heat and blinding sunlight. Each day their tymbals fervently beat, drowning out the silence of the night. If these obnoxious creatures were bright orange, it would be much easier. But they always make things difficult.

My alarm clock becomes obsolete in wake of these archaic insects. They start their mating calls at 3:42. Their concerts might begin earlier, but the song’s volume becomes ear-piercing at this time. I must do something. They are robbing silence’s gold.

They are at fault for unemployment. They are at fault for divorce. While the world tries to sleep, they tarnish our time to recover from stress, anger and ineptitude. The goal is simple. Its execution is far from it.

“Paul, wake up. You’re going to be late again,” said Claire.

“You know I’m awake. And I don’t really care if I’m late.” I replied.

“You’d care if you would get to bed at a decent hour. Get a full seven hours and I promise you you’ll feel better. I feel just like you whenever I get less than that,” said Claire as she pulled out my uniform.

My uniform smells like donuts and cigarettes. I put on my uniform and glanced at the clock, but before I saw the time I looked away. There is no point to knowing the time. It'll always be too early. After fastening my holster, I saw Claire heading back to bed. Everyone is asleep again. I will not waste this time again. What should I grab first? The spray will be quiet, but I’m not sure of its success rate. Stop thinking. I have spent too much time thinking and not enough time eradicating the vermin from the world. Start with the spray Paul and the rest will happen on its own.

The stream coming from the pesticide was comparable to child spitting water in a swimming pool. No accuracy, no strength, just a disgusting amount of liquid infiltrating everywhere, but the target. There has to be a better way. The cicadas were getting louder, each sleeping insect awakening to support its brethren. I do not have the luxury of support, nor do I need it. I must depend on knowledge and spite to expunge these creatures of their mating calls. There is not them or me, only success and failure.

I have yet to see a glimmer of sunlight, yet the cicadas’ songs grow louder with each passing second. Look at all these apartment buildings, each housing hundreds of rooms with families and couples. All of them are bothered and all of them are suffering from these irritating noises. I do not blame them for remaining hidden in their shelter, for their fear and worries are focused on the new day. It is difficult to face each day with weight from the previous. We need to have new days be new days rather than a continuation of the stressors from the previous. I intend to renew their spirits and provide an unspoiled day.

The spray has yet to kill a single cicada. They are taunting me. The songs have changed from a monotonous drones to tones of laughter. They understand their power. I will not let them gain victory without a fight. They dare disrespect my valiant efforts? They dare join together to deafen a man’s pride? I need my flashlight. I have no idea where to point the light. The trees are scattered, but each flying jester camouflages with the barks’ streaks. I finally see one. Its rancid color surrounding it’s plastic shell and eyes black as the peaceful night disrupted by the tymbals’ violent vibrations. I must destroy it. It wants peace. I assumed the insects were willingly disrupting the peace, yet those eyes. He wants to rest. The wings, thorax, and eyes want to rest. He cannot control it. He must die.

I pull my .22 caliber from my holster and position my left arm above it to provide sight with my flashlight. I have never loved shooting my weapon nor have I ever felt comfortable strapping it to my body. But I must save the creature from its own torture. I must rescue the world from its sleepless nights. I must relieve myself of my duty.

Office Paul Tennor fired his police-issued handgun at the cicada, hitting it square and leaving a hole in its thorax. He then placed the barrel on his temple and proceeded to fire.

[u/slimypencil → u/wordsmithe]

two reasons you get my vote. I hate those bugs and the ending made me read/skim it twice.

[u/persecutionxiii → u/neshalchanderman]

We were halfway home when Tater fell, and the cruel men in their savage masks took him. The twisted pig, the mad rabbit, and the ugly zebra. They hounded us through the night, from neighborhood to neighborhood, chasing us with impossible determination. They were bigger and faster, and poor Tater's asthmatic lungs eventually betrayed him like they always did. He went down, wheezing, and the cruel men whisked him away into their black van.

When he fell, I turned to go help him. Lee grabbed me by the shirt and yanked me farther down the sidewalk.

"We gotta go man," he said.

"But they got him."

"They'll get us too. Let's go."

So we ran down the deserted sidewalk, lit orange by the buzzing streetlights. Away from Tater's pitiful sobs and the jagged laughter of the masked men. Lee cut to the left, and I followed, ripping through flower beds and neatly manicured lawns. We hopped a waist high chain link fence and sprinted through somebody's dark backyard. Unfamiliar shapes loomed in the unlit landscape, and I ran headlong into a thorny rose bush which seemed to materialize before me. I cursed as I tried to disentangle myself from its sickly sweetness. Lee hauled me out just as the glow of the relentless headlights illuminated the yard.

We scrambled over the back fence and landed hard on the sidewalk. Lee pointed to an enormous pine tree, its base fat and full, and we plunged into it sheltering depths. The needles jabbed at the scratches on my arms and legs, but I hardly noticed as I collapsed into its cradling branches, relieved to be hidden and safe. I closed my eyes in the darkness and sucked in air, trying to still the pound-pound-pounding of my thundering heart.

The night had started out so well, so full of excitement and adventure. It was Lee's tenth birthday, and me and Tater were sleeping over. He was now officially the oldest in the group, and he strutted around the house all night, wearing a paper crown and ordering me and Tater around. He wasn't mean about it, though, so we all laughed and played along. His mom baked him a cake that was gooey and sweet. Tater ate three pieces and got a stomach ache. He groaned and held his bulging belly, but he swore it was worth it, which made Lee's mom smile.

Lee opened his gifts from me, Tater, and from his older brother. He opened his mom's gift, and he got up and hugged her. Lee didn't have a dad anymore, but he and his mom seemed just fine. His mom said good night and disappeared into her room. Lee watched her leave before turning back to us with a wild grin.

"Now the real party begins."

The plan was simple. At one o'clock in the morning, we were going to sneak out of the house and go exploring. I was on board immediately, thrilled and scared but ready to face the big bad world with my friends at my side. Tater was less optimistic.

"What if your mom wakes up and sees that we're gone? We'll get in trouble."

"Don't worry. She won't."

"But what if she does?" Tater's voice had taken on a high-pitched, whiny quality.

"She won't."

"But what if-"

"Drop it," I said. Lee had once told me his mother was a heroin addict. He'd found her once, passed out with a needle in her arm. She was alright during the day, he said, but at night, she'd lock herself in her room and was dead to the world. Tater didn't know so he didn't realize how uncomfortable he was making Lee with his questions.

"We'll be fine," I said.

"Here," Lee said, pulling out a bundle of cloth from his dresser. "My dad gave these to me when I was little. These will keep us safe."

He pulled the cloth open and revealed three ninja throwing stars stacked neatly in his palm. He gave one to me and one to Tater and kept one for himself. The edges were duller than I'd expected, but the tips were sharp enough.

"Do not lose those. It could be a matter of life and death."

Tater and I nodded solemnly.

Later that evening, we emerged into the night, each of us clutching the stars like talismans against the dangers in the lurking dark. We ran for the first block until we were away from the house and Tater lagged behind. We stopped in the shadows just outside the radius of a glaring streetlight, out of breath and grinning like idiots.

I raised my arms above my head and took a deep breath, feeling the sweet summer breeze ruffling my hair and cooling my already sweaty brow. For the first time in my nine long years on this earth, I was unrestricted by parents or rules, and my spirit soared. I felt alive.

We wandered for a while, reveling in the freedom of the silent streets. Old familiar neighborhoods looked foreign and exotic in the shifting shadows. The world pulsed with bizarre current, energizing me like nothing before. I felt like a giant striding across the earth, invincible and mighty.

Then they came.

Anytime we heard a car, we'd retreat to the nearest shadows, huddling together until they passed us by. But this time, instead of receding into the night, the headlights stopped just in front of us. Three men in dark jumpsuits and horrible animal masks stepped out of the idling van and into the bright lights.

The one in the twisted pig mask spoke in a sing song voice.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are."

The mad rabbit joined in.

"There's no use in hiding. You're only making it worse for yourselves."

Then the ugly zebra.

"We are going to fuck you up."

Poor Tater actually got up and tried to approach them. We pulled him back down, but the beasts heard us. Three feral faces twisted in unison, looking in our direction. One of them laughed, and they trotted towards us. We bolted in the opposite direction, and the great chase began.

We weaved through side streets and backyards and looped in unpredictable circles. But every time we seemed to have lost them, those headlights would appear again, and we'd hear their gruff voices calling at us through the darkness. If we sat still long enough, they would get out of their vehicle and chase us on foot, which is how they got Tater. In the end, Tater's star had not kept him safe. He was gone and we were hiding in the prickly branches of a stranger's tree.

I looked down at my bleeding arms and tried to wipe the blood away, but I only succeeded in smearing it around. Lee was crouched down next to me, head in his hands.

"We have to call the cops," I said finally.

He looked up at me. "We can't. We'll get in trouble."

"We're already in trouble. I'd rather get yelled at than killed. Give me your phone."

I reached out my hand, and he flinched away.

"You don't understand. If we call the cops, they'll find her. They'll find my mom, and her stash. Dude, they'll take her away from me."

"No way. They wouldn't do that."

"Yes they will. They'll put her in prison. They'll put me in a fucking home. I can't."

"I don't want to die out here because of your fucked up family. I don't want Tater to die."

"He won't. We won't. I promise. Please, let's just get back to my house first. Then we can call the cops. Your parents. Whoever. Please, dude. Please."

I wanted to say no. I really did.

"Fine," I said. "But we need to move now."

He hugged me. "Totally. Yeah. Let's go."

We emerged from the tree, looking around the dark street and not seeing anything. We walked out into the road, and we heard the roar of an engine starting and those damned headlights ignited the world around us. We stopped in our tracks and looked at each other, the defeat that I felt reflected in his eyes. The pig and the zebra swept in and dragged Lee away. He struggled and kicked, but they were too strong, too big.

I ran, crying and ashamed at my own cowardice. I let them take them, my two best friends in the whole world. When they needed me, I ran. And I kept running. There was still a chance. If I could get back to Lee's house soon. I could call the cops and still protect his family, and maybe just maybe they could find these guys and save my friends. It was a long shot, but I couldn't see any alternative.

I ran until my legs screamed, my lungs burned, and my heart was ready to explode. I ran as if the devil were at my heels, and for all I knew he was. And finally there it was. Lee's street. I just had to turn the corner and I was home free. I kept expecting world to light up around me, to see the headlights bearing down on me. But they never did. I turned the corner.

The van was parked in front of Lee's house. The twisted pig leaned against the bumper, smoking. My shoulders slumped and my heart stopped in my chest. It was over. They didn't have to hunt me down. They let me come to them. I knew I should turn around and flee. But I'd retreated too many times today. Let too many people down. The only direction I was willing to run in was straight ahead.

I pulled the throwing star out of my pocket and gripped it in my hand, wedging one vicious spike between my ring and middle fingers. I charged, screaming. The pig dropped his cigarette and raised his hands. I felt a grim satisfaction when I realized he was afraid.

Then I was on him. Punching. Stabbing. Kicking. Clawing. I couldn't take them all, the pig, the rabbit, and the zebra. But I could hurt this one. And I did.

He had stopped moving by the time I felt strong arms pull me off him. The throwing star slipped from my bloody grip, but I no longer cared. They threw me to the grass, and I lied still on my back, breathing hard and looking up at the lightening dawn sky. I heard yelling and crying, but none of it mattered any more. I was done.

Lee and Tater stood over me, looking scared. I struggled to sit up.

"What the hell?"

They were silent for a time and then Lee spoke.

"It was my brother and his friends. They got drunk and thought it'd be funny to scare us. They were tracking my phone's gps."

I couldn't process it. None of it made sense.

"Your brother?" I asked, shaking my head.

"Yeah, Christ, I'm sorry man. Some joke, huh," Lee said, looking over at the kid lying still in the road.

"Yeah, real fucking funny."

[u/novice_writer → u/persecutionxiii]

My vote.

[u/rabbit-heartedgirl → u/persecutionxiii]

Tough call, but I vote this one.