Character Creation Contest #36 - Strictly Business

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cbishop

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Edited By cbishop
Strictly Business, by Dan Zollinger on Inprnt.com
Strictly Business, by Dan Zollinger on Inprnt.com

Okay, folks, It's Bruté's Favorite Day - The Ides of March! So here's a new contest for you, et tu, et tu!

Rules are simple:
  • Name the person in the picture
  • Name the "her" that they are "gonna miss."
  • Use the caption in the picture somewhere in your story: I knew I was gonna miss her. This was purely a business decision.
  • No word limit
  • Deadline is Thursday, April 2nd at 4pm Eastern Time (ET) (because nobody would believe me if I said April 1st). You can Google search "what is et time now," if you're not sure.

Thanks for reading, thanks for entering, and see you on April 2nd! -cb

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#2  Edited By cbishop

@darkcloud, @turbinail, @impurestcheese, @batkevin74, @4donkeyjohnson, @wildvine, you threw your entries in the ring last time, let's see what you've got for this one.

@the_families (or whomever you are an alt for), @omniscience (here's your callout), @ostyo, @maccyd, @claymore1998, @gumflabica (aka @the_toaster), @oscuro (you asked to be tagged), you all were around on the contest thread- maybe you'd like to enter this time? :)

@waezi2, @xwraith, @cgoodness, @bumpyboo (I need you to flex your writing muscles), @iconrocket123, @dagmar_merrill, @tommythehitman, @wim_garnet, you all voted on the voting thread, so maybe you'd like to enter this time as well?

We have not had a first time winner since CCC #17, so please! Bring your best story and show us what you got! The only prize is getting to pick (and host) the next contest, but we'd be pleased to have you! :^D

The more the merrier, folks! So even if I didn't tag you, get an entry in here and see you on April 2nd! -cb :)

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batkevin74

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@cbishop said:

@darkcloud, @turbinail, @impurestcheese, @batkevin74, @4donkeyjohnson, @wildvine, you threw your entries in the ring last time, let's see what you've got for this one.

@the_families (or whomever you are an alt for), @omniscience (here's your callout), @ostyo, @maccyd, @claymore1998, @gumflabica (aka @the_toaster), @oscuro (you asked to be tagged), you all were around on the contest thread- maybe you'd like to enter this time? :)

@waezi2, @xwraith, @cgoodness, @bumpyboo (I need you to flex your writing muscles), @iconrocket123, @dagmar_merrill, @tommythehitman, @wim_garnet, you all voted on the voting thread, so maybe you'd like to enter this time as well?

Yeah! And you too @joshmightbe@dngn4774@irishlad@delphic@pyrogram@guardiandevil83 and @time_phantom :)

And @cbishop I loathe noir stories! Not my forte, but I'm in

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BumpyBoo

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#5 BumpyBoo  Moderator

@cbishop: Done.

As for entering...this is very tempting, can't promise anything but will give it some thought mate.

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#6  Edited By cbishop
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@bumpyboo said:

@cbishop: Done.

As for entering...this is very tempting, can't promise anything but will give it some thought mate.

I dare you!

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@cbishop: Sorry, busy writing my own stuff

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This seems pretty interesting.

If I get chance I'll try to enter for it.

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#10  Edited By TommytheHitman

The Magician

I'm a monster... something I understand completely to the bottom of my heart... yet even I am able to surprise myself at times. The man stood before me is surprised as well, possibly due to my sudden appearance crashing through his house's front door while wielding a revolver with enough power to kill a charging rhino.

I pull the trigger twice, my first shot misses completely, whizzing over my target's shoulders and smashing into a framed picture upon the wall behind him, cracking the glass. My second bullet tears through the heart of my foe and sends his face lighting up with pain like a light bulb switching on in the middle of the night. His body slumps to the ground, his face blank with endless agony which he'll never feel again.

I have no name, it was one of the first things I lost when my training began. People simply call me the Magician... my trick being the ability to end life... and my audience being the thousands of potential clients that will spend money for my services.

"I'm sorry." I whisper before closing the eyes of the man that I murdered. "Sleep well." I didn't know him, he may have been a good man... but he's nothing now. "It doesn't matter." I decide before turning to make my exit through the house's back.

"Phil?"A voice calls to my left, the door next to me opens and a woman slumps to the ground with a bullet hole in her skull. I stare at the body by my feet for several seconds before putting my weapon back in its holster.

Two lives ended in the blink of an eye.

Her eyes shut slowly as well, they're staring at the blood staining my suit... and the blood reeks of death. I pull a napkin from my suit pocket and mop my brow free of blood. The framed picture is hanging slightly off its hinges, having been knocked aside by the bullet's impact. I straighten it back to its normal position and notice to my eternal horror what I've been missing.

If it hadn't been for the picture I wouldn't be suffering the way I currently am.

Two people stand at the edge of the frame, the man and his wife, both have been accounted for... yet a small figure stands in the center of the picture, a look of true happiness upon her face. Shattered... just as the picture's glass has been. I look behind me, already knowing what I'm going to see... and look at the same face staring directly at me with shock on her face and tears in her eyes.

Shattered... like glass.

My optic nerves close and reopen. I appear 15 years later stood inside a pitch black apartment, dressed in the exact same clothes I wore the day I killed an innocent mother and father.

"It did matter."I decide while staring at the revolver in my hand. It's shaking slightly, like it's alive and terrified of its task. My own hand begins to quiver... and I point the weapon at my skull and hope I have the strength to pull the firing mechanisim.

A click runs through my ears and I open my eyes to see the same eyes of the girl I shattered so many years ago. She hasn't aged in the slightest in all this time.

"Hello." I say before pointing my beautiful instrument towards her. It's the same one I've used all this time... for all my murders."I've been waiting for you."She reveals her own instrument and the way she carries it is almost a travesty against art. So little skill or talent involved... but in all honesty it doesn't matter anymore.

Her mouth opens and a single word echoes out... in actuality it seems to be more of a command.

"Die."She demands.

I'm going to grant her wish... but not easily. Two shots are fired, one from my own weapon, the other from the girl who's name I have learned to be Susan. It was at this point that I knew I was going to miss her... this was purely a business decision.

The Magician always puts on a show.

My bullet misses, something I'm glad about. Her bullet doesn't, something that makes me even happier. A sensation of pain bursts through my mind... and I slump back in my armchair. My eyes blink quickly... and the girl is gone, seemingly disappeared into the night. The blood on my suit reeks like death as it always does... this is a good death.

My head tilts back allowing me one last breath...

And I die.

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@tommythehitman: You have to name the "her" that he's going to miss- it's one of the rules. Pretty easy fix for this story.

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Edited.

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Jkutz

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I should be able to hop in on this one, life is sorta calming down right now. Hopefully I can put up a good one if I do. :)

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@jkutz: Sweet! Looking forward to it.

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@cbishop: The_Toaster, gumflabica, and The_Families here.

I'm writing 10 second after this post comes up.

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@johnjo719: It's a good read, but yeah, it has to be the words in the caption. Part of the challenge is following the rules. ;)

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@geth: Ah, cool! Thanks for clarifying your alts. Looking forward to your entry! :)

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@cbishop: I've got more alts too, (Dr_Steve is one of them), but I'm getting my RP characters organized. We shouldn't have too much confusion anymore.

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@cbishop: Uggh you suck, i'll be editing it soon, at work right now

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Back from bird dropping survey. Will work on something soon.

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Finally, a worthy contest. @cbishop I shall see what I can do.

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Finally, a worthy contest.

Oh thanks very much!

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Frank shot Alyssa through the heart. She dropped face down to the ground. Looking up at Frank , she gripped the hole in her chest with stunned disbelief as green blood poured out of her.

"Frank?" she asked before slumping to the ground.

"Sorry babe. You took my best customers." Frank explained.

Frank Wyrm stood over his ex lover, Miss Alyssa Vynne as her body turned to green grass and purple and white flower buds began to bloom from her body.

Franks trench coat began to squirm. Yellow, red and green tentacles crawled out from his coat and up his neck. The red one spoke "Ssss.. very ruthless of you Frank. Murdered a woman you loved because she was a business rival."

"I never loved her, Stumpy." Frank replied.

"Sssure." Replied Stumpy.

"It wasss the right thing to do." said the yellow tentacle. "She was ssstealing your best clientele."

"Exactly. Thank you, Azlyn." Replied Frank. "Before she burst on the scene I was the best travel agent magic coins could buy. Then people started complaining that travel via giant hell worm was too unpleasant. All of a sudden wealthy magi decided they wanted to travel via 'organic' plants and all that new age crap she provided. I just couldn't compete."

"You'll missss her." said the green tentacle.

Frank sighed "I knew I was gonna miss her. This was purely a business decision."

The green tentacle added "Will you say goodbye?"

"Of course, Mr. Smooth." Frank answered.

Frank walked toward Alyssa, knelt towards her body and kissed her on her forehead. "Sorry babe." He repeated.

All of a sudden, Alyssa's eyes opened wide. Green vines wrapped themselves around Franks neck.

Alyssa spoke in a hurt voice. "You betrayed me. I loved you Frank. We could have worked together but you killed me."

Frank tried to pull away but Alyssa's vines engulfed him. They disappeared into the Earth, the last thing Frank heard was Alyssa crying "You killed me!"

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@stumpy49er: Nice. And weird. But nice! Good to see you back in the contest. :)

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“Oh what is this $#!t?”

I don’t mean to talk out loud, there’s nobody here except me but reading the writing task me verbalise my disgust at the latest writing contest on this website I write on occasionally. I ain’t gonna win this week!

The rules are simple. Name the character. Name the “her” mentioned in the picture. Use a key phrase and get it in by April. Should be a piece of p!ss. Should be. I’ve won like ten of them.

But the ones I’ve won have been superheroes. People with powers. Not shadowy guys with guns talking with that…like they’re narrating their own life and adding “yeah see” to the end of every sentence for effect, yeah see. Like Jimmy Cagney or Jimmy Stewart…one of them’s the gangster.

Okay so let’s write…………………………

There has to be a term for overusing ellipsis’…types that into Google…oh &^%$ off! I get pages and pages: about 23,500 results (0.28 seconds). Nearly 25,000 results for “overusing ellipses” in less than a second. People have too much free time.

Okay let’s write this thing so I can punch out the next chapter of my Marvel policewoman story nobody reads…….

Types in private investigator names into Google…wow! About 1,250,000 results (0.28 seconds)

Okay…Wikipedia “lists of fictional private investigators”…hmmm.

All the good names, the ones that sound good, are taken. Sam Spade, Eddie Valiant, Harry Dresden, Mike Hammer, Nero Wolfe…he sounds cool. Very few girls though, actually two and one of them is Nancy Drew and she’s like a teenage busy body who has sex with the Hardy Boys so that doesn’t count. Let’s make our trench coated mystery man…a mystery woman. Named…types in popular girl’s names 1930 into Google.

Holy hell! Is there anything the interweb can’t do? Mary: nope! Betty: nope too Flintstones. Dorothy: Wiggles & Wizard of Oz! Helen: hmmm. Scroll down…Charlotte. Number 75. Charlotte what though? Needs to be tough, noir-ish. Something that grabs you like Elliott Ness or Maxwell Smart or James Bo…Prince!

Charlotte Prince.

Nice!

Back-story…private investigator Charlotte Prince works for…a chicken shop…what? Okay you’re tired. Go to bed, pick it up tomorrow. You’ve got til April, no need to smash it out right now. Sleep on her, maybe you’ll get it in a dream.

Maybe you’ll also get the lotto numbers!

Maybe I’ll go to bed before I argue with myself any more.

**

New day and still nothing! Let’s check Facebook…oh a Buzzfeed poll about which 5th Dimensional Elf I’d Be. Well I might as well do it, just for fun. Grrr another notification for Farmville! Oh surprise surprise I’m Bat-Mite! Hey, someone like my picture from 2013!

Okay, enough! Let’s write this….Charlotte Prince…Charlotte Prince…Googles name to make sure she’s original. About 138,000,000 results (0.44 seconds) you’re getting slower Google ha ha. Okay she’s a real person on Facebook, Charlottetown tourism, Charlottetown Prince Edward Island…I’m in the clear. Unsueable name so far.

Now write the damn story….

Right after this Cracked classic article about common sense.

**

Another day procrastinated away on internet memes, Facebook notifications, Buzzfeed articles and internet porn. Woo hoo! You’ll be Stephen King in no time you big giant dumbass!

**

-She ran into the alley, gun in her right hand as the rain trickled down from the heavens…-

Well that’s a sentence full of $#!t!

-I knew I was going to miss her. It was purely a business decision…-

That’s better but that’s the sentence I HAVE to use in this contest! Somehow I gotta match that level of noir…types in noir to Google…about 308,000,000 results in 0.52 seconds. Le Noir Circus, Le Noir Ticketmaster, Suburban noir, Film noir, noir (anime), images for noir, noir dictionary definition, let’s check that just in case I’m totally missing the point.

“Noir (pronounced: nwär)

1. Of or relating to the film noir genre.

2. Of or relating to a genre of crime literature featuring tough, cynical characters & bleak settings.

3. Suggestive of danger or violence.

So Frank Miller-esque. Like I can write at his level. Like HE could write at his old level!

Okay, let’s write…oooo a new topic on CV about Magneto Vs M.Bison. Bison all the way! I mean that psycho power he has which is part magic, part voodoo, part chi meets Sith powers against plain old magnetism. Plus Bison can actually fight. You dead Erik! K.O!

And that’s another half an hour wasted…man just write it.

Stop telling me what to do.

Stop arguing with yourself! Who do you think you are? She-Hulk?

Why not Deadpool?

Because She-Hulk did it first and better.

STOP! You’re having a third person, first perspective, off topic meta-fictional chit chat. Just write your ^%$#g contest entry!

…fine

**

So what am I going to call her in the story? If Charlotte Prince, chicken shop investigator (this bit needs work) is heading down an alley to confront her, who’s the her and what’s her name? Is she the bad guy? Or her girlfriend? Or her girlfriend nudge nudge wink wink? Or her sister…twin sister…triplet! Twins are overrated but triplets. Types triplets into Google: about 27,200,000 results 0.66 seconds. Multiple births, images of triplets, triplets @ pornhub, Vic triplets saved in Christmas miracle…pornhub it is!

**

Man, nobody’s reading my cop story! Same amount of views as yesterday, dropping nine places towards the bottom of page one, soon to be relegated to the depths of the fan fic section whilst a Dragonball Z Vs Dr Who vomit-a-thon sucks up all the comments. It’s A WALL OF BADLY WRITTEN, UNSPACED, ERROR RIDDEN NONSENSE! It’s like they’re a twelve year old!

Oh my god THEY ARE TWELVE!

If they’re writing like this at twelve they’re gonna be a machine by twenty if they keep it up! Makes an old bastard like me feel older and uselesser when these kids are pumping out epics. Sure they’re badly spelt, grammatically incorrect, punctuation…what’s punctuation? Or spacing? Or capitals? But they’re writing. I didn’t start til…oh Facebook message

**

Okay three days you’ve avoided this! Write the damn thing!

**

So you’ve wasted soooo much time! I’ve listened to Keith Urban; Mr Nicole f*&^$G Kidman! There was a music channel special on him and what did you do…yeah you watched the whole damn thing! From his birth in New Zealand to his growing up in rural Queensland to him singing back up on INXS tracks to his cocaine abuse…I now know more about him than I know about my cousin!

Just write the damn story!

Breathe…focus…noir…breathe…type

**

Charlotte Prince wiped the blood from her lips as her assailant shot around the corner and down the alley. “Fine, play it the hard way!” she muttered getting to her feet and drawing her Browning High Power handgun and started after her.

That’s $H!+! Seriously, what a load of rubbish. That’s the opening paragraph of your entry? Why not something cool like…I’m a monster. See that leaves you open to go ooh are they or aren’t they a monster? Where’s this story going? That’s a good grabber sentence. I could hear the sounds of sirens closing in on us. See that’s another pearler of an opening line…shame they’re taken. Man, this contest is sapping my mental strength and my…oh look someone sent me a gem in Marvel Alliance…

**

Okay you’re now on level 223 on MA…write the damn story! There’s two entries so far, pretty good ones too so you’re going to have to up the ante on this…somehow. Just can’t quite capture the tone, the vibe, the…there’s probably a French word that describes it properly. Types French words into Google: About 75,600,000 results 0.24 seconds. Ugh! None of these help! Merde!

**

“Former Australian PM dies 84”

Meh! He was a horrible person who only got good towards the end. None of this nor any of the other waffle that the Interweb throws up is helping you write this entry. Oh what’s this… a snide comment from a little punk in the contest! What a little $#!t! Shouldn’t take it personally but it does grind my gears…Family Guy is on!

**

Okay that’s another day wasted on Fox8!

**

Charlotte fired. The sound reverberated around the alley. I knew I was going to miss her, thought Charlotte as she scanned the alley for her target.

That’s TERRIBLE!

**

Focus…seriously. It’s just a 700 word contest to win the chance to select the next contest. Is that my phone ringing?

**

-I knew I was going to miss her. It was purely a business decision. Strictly business. Who was I kidding? It was the most personal thing ever. And the gun shot…-

Caitlyn emerged from her curled state, caused when someone points a gun at you and pulls the trigger at close range in a darkened alley at two in the morning.

“You missed Charlotte,” she said with a smirk as she stood up straight. “You always were a terrible shot.”

Charlotte Prince looked at her dark third intently. With twins you got a good one and a bad one; with triplets you got something extra. Caitlyn was than extra.

“I want to kill you,” Charlotte said as she levelled the gun directly at her sisters throat. “And I should kill you after all you’ve done.”

“But you can’t,” Caitlyn chuckled as she pulled out a cigarillo case and took out one before motioning them at Charlotte. “Out of the three of us you always were the weak one.”

“And you were the nasty one,” Charlotte gingerly stepped forward and took a cancer stick.

“So?”

Charlotte looked at her with a mixture of emotions. “Goodbye Caitlyn.” And with that she turned and walked away.

“Is that it?”’ laughed Caitlyn. “Oh yo…” Something felt wrong and Caitlyn looked up to see a dark shadow descend upon her. The alley rang out with a cacophony as the Alex & Gunn solid steel safe turned her into little more than chunky paste. Charlotte looked up to the roof to see her triplet Candice looking down. Candice had been the wronged one. The now twins looked at each other before Candice escaped into the night.

-I now had to explain to the police Candice was dead.-

Charlotte put the cigarillo in her mouth. “Piece of cake.”

**

There! Done! Post it and walk away

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Turbinail

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#29  Edited By Turbinail

THE TALE OF MARBLE SWAMP

“Aren't you going to miss her?” The small and scrawny boy asked. “No. Never.” He said. His head was thinking something different. “I knew I was going to miss her, this was simply a business decision.” The mob boss' face was stern, and his voice was hushed and cold. The scrawny sidekick held his gun up and stared down at the bloodied woman.

Three gunshots littered her chest, as well as three or four that decorated the wall behind her. “Help me, god dammit.” The mob boss began picking up the body and threw it into the small car's trunk. “Franky, are you sure you wanted to do that? You'll be caught when they find out.” The sidekick said. “Greg, will you shut your scrawny little mouth?” His voice was strong and stern.

Franky slid into the driver's seat while Greg closed the trunk of the car, concealing the body in the dark of the trunk. “We're going to go dump it in the swamp down south.” Franky said in his strong Russian accent. “How could you kill Mary Ann Sand? The CEO of Ann Sand Inc?” Greg was yelling at Franky. Franky gripped the gun tightly in his hand. “You do not boss me around!” Franky yelled. His hand shot up and the trigger pulled back.

Greg looked down at the gunshot wound in his chest. Blood decorated his chest. He spat up crimson liquid out of his mouth and on to the dashboard of the car. “Greg! You're messing up my car!” Franky shouted. He looked over. Greg was slumped over in his seat, bloodied and wounded. “Great, more stuff to clean.” It was maybe an hour. The swamp was deep in the marshy woods, where barely anyone even thought of going.

Franky opened the trunk and took the body out of the car and set her down on the muddy grass. Franky walked to the side of the passenger car door. He picked up Greg's slumped up body and set him next to Mary's body. He picked up Mary by her hips and threw her over his shoulder. He slowly slid her body into the cold water. He pushed Greg into the water. He turned away and began walking to the car. “Wait, wait.” Greg's strained voice cried for Franky. He was still alive. “What do you want? This was just strictly business.” “Please, I need your help.” His voice was crying out for dire need of help. Franky walked over to Greg, who was lying in the water halfway. Greg reached for Franky, then shot himself up. “Vest, idiot!” He shouted. He pulled out his gun and began shooting at Franky.

Franky ran and jumped over the car. He began shooting back at Greg. POW! POW! POW! Greg collapsed, two gunshots to the neck and one in between his eyes. Franky held his shoulder, which had been shot in his miniature battle with Greg. Greg was truly dead this time, or so he hoped. Blood was flowing from Franky's shoulder. He began walking around the car and to the front seat door, but he however, didn't make it.

The next day was filled with news about Mary Ann Sand missing. Investigations were going crazy. The town had been searched in and out. Every alleyway, house, business, warehouse, absolutely everything was thoroughly checked in and out, in every which way possible. Officer Dakota Norman decided to check in the marshy woods an hour from Mary's hometown. What he found, was surprisingly supernatural. On the hood of an abandoned car sat Mary's body, pinned to the hood. On her chest lied someone's head, Franky Ross' head to be exact.

Greg slumped against the car, blood splattered down his head and neck. Blood was all over the scene. It covered the windshield, the windows, the tires, and the trees surrounding it. Rocks around the car were splattered with blood. In Mary's hands, were two guns, both splattered with blood and littered with fingerprints.

Officer Norman reached for the guns. He was making a bad decision. Franky's head moved. His eyes were sunken in and colorless, just ebony pits of death staring back at him. Mary's eyes opened, the same. Greg's seemingly slumped over dead body pulled himself up from the car side and stared at Officer Norman. Franky's head rolled off the bed of the car and fell to a body on the side, where his hands snapped it back into place. Mary unpinned her hands from the hood and pulled herself up.

Officer Norman reached for his gun, which sat in his holster. “Move, freaks!” His strong Australian accent cried out. Mary snapped her neck. Her skin was lifeless, gray with bulging veins that showed all over her body. Officer Norman shot at her multiple times, casting blood over the hood as she collapsed. Greg was too quick to be avoided. He tackled the officer down and began smacking him with the butt of his pistol.

He dragged his almost unconscious body to the side of the swamp and pounded the back of his head with a large rock. The tale said that Greg dragged Officer Norman into the water, where he was drowned to death by him. Others say that the officer went mad with insanity and disappeared. Only three people now the truth, and they are seemingly seen in some places around Marble Swamp, Louisiana today. Those three people are Franky Ross, Mary Ann Sand, and Gregory Bankowitz."

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"I think that's enjoy writing for today." The woman said. She scratched a word out in her journal and closed the green book. She put the book in a desk drawer and began walking from the drawer. The ground shook, once or twice, maybe three times. "EARTHQUAKE!" She shouted. The quaking knocked her desk over and scattered her papers all over the floor. She was too shaken up to grab anything. The papers were flying across the room.

Marble Swamp was a real place, and it was going to get destroyed in an earthquake. Very rarely, Louisiana would get a tsunami, barely even get tall waves. But, like a miracle, they did. She peered out her window, a giant wave rose in the air. It crashed down hard on the ground and smashed against her building below. She sprinted down the hall, trying not to fall. "We have to go inland!" She shouted to her roommates.

Rachel began sprinting towards the staircase, and SLIP! She hit the deck and rolled down the stairs. Her head was bleeding, but she was too unconscious to actually feel anything. The ground shook and her apartment was surrounded by water.

Rachel woke up in an alleyway. Her stomach and back were sore, they burned like as if they had been shot. She peered down. She wasn't wearing her casual clothing. She was wearing a long fleece night gown. She felt her chest, blood. She looked up as her body was being thrown into a trunk. She was being thrown into the trunk of Franky Ross.

She screamed, and began banging on the trunk. The sound of screaming made Franky come out of his car. Greg was sitting there as well. How, they were fictional characters of Rachel's imagination. Franky mumbled in a large booming voice and threw the trunk open, where Rachel had taken Mary's spot.

Rachel gulped as she looked into his sunken in eyes. He puffed a cloud of smoke into her face. He gripped her arms and pulled her up. Rachel snatched the gun from Franky's less dominant hand and blasted it off at him. Franky dropped her as he fell to the ground, a single gunshot to his head. Rachel looked down at the gun in her hand, then at his dead body.

Rachel screamed and began running out of the alleyway. She was breathing heavily, the gunshots burned in her chest. She breathed heavily, then collapsed. Greg stood in the alleyway, staring at her collapsed body, and then at Franky's.

Rachel woke back up in her apartment room. She stared at her open journal and read something she remembered not writing, it had replaced some of her writing from earlier. It read, "Franky opened the trunk after hearing a noise. In the trunk sat Mary's great granddaughter. She stole Franky's gun and shot him, killing him. Greg pulled out his gun and shot the granddaughter, killing her."

Before Rachel could finish reading, she collapsed on to her journal, blood escaping from a single gunshot wound in the back of her head. Behind her stood Greg Bankowitz, as a ghostly spectre. Slowly, he disappeared into vapor and left.

(This isn't my best work. I dug myself into a huge plot hole and couldn't find a way out. So yeah, hope you enjoyed.)

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#30  Edited By cbishop

@turbinail: Yeah, it could use a little work. With fixing, I think you'd have a solid shot at winning.

@batkevin74: I read the whole thing. Interesting way to go. Still a little confused by you being stumped on this one. The person in the picture could just as well be the Punisher, and you've certainly written him before.

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@cbishop: But then the complaint would've been "Why didn't you use an OC?" And yeah that's pretty much my brain on how the piece came to be. Just one of those hurdles that happen from time to time

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@batkevin74: Well, I thought it was implied that you character could have been Punisher-like. ;)

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@cbishop: Thanks. I made it a little longer and did some editing. Thanks for the advice. I'm hoping to get my first win after this.

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@turbinail: I wish you well with it! It would be interesting to see what contest you come up with. :)

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Steep compitition this round.

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@wildvine: There have been some cool entries so far. Still mulling mine over. You throwing your hat in the ring this month? :)

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#39  Edited By stumpy49er

@cbishop said:

@stumpy49er: Nice. And weird. But nice! Good to see you back in the contest. :)

Thanks!

I figured its been too long and I might as well throw something in the mix. Even if it's short and strange.

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@cbishop I want to see what you post so when I edit my story I can just change it enough to make it good enough to beat yours :p I have a contest idea I'm determined to bring to fruition

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#41  Edited By johnjo719

I could hear the sirens closing in on us. They overpowered the sound of the engine straining against its boundaries and limitations to give Nicholle and I every bit of speed it could muster up. The tall buildings and street lights flew by and were quickly left behind us as we entered the country side. The noise of the sirens fell away, and I was able to ease off of the gas pedal for the first time in what felt like forever.

"We did it!" Nicholle exclaimed excitedly. I turn over to her and smile brightly.

"I told you I'd get us out of there." I reply. I look into the back seat and check on the duffel bags of money we had thrown back there in our hurry to escape our former boss' mansion. We hadn't expected him to call the police, after all those mob guys were supposed to have some sort of code of silence right? Omerta or some other bullsh*t like that. But, I'd managed to pull us out out of the frying pan. Hopefully we weren't heading into an even hotter fire.

"Lex, babe, I thought we were finished back there. There had to have been like fifty cop cars chasing us down!" Nicholle said.

"Even if there were a hundred, we would have been fine. These pu**y a** cops ain't got sh*t on me!" I say proudly. I look at Nicholle and smile at her fondly, taking in all of features. Her soft brown eyes. Long, straight, midnight black hair. Skin the color of burnt honey, and a slim figure. None of that compared to how beautiful she looked whenever she smiles, or blushes when I compliment her. From the first time I met her, I thought "I could really love this chick." But it wasn't meant to be.

"What?" She asks. "Is there something on my face? "

"Not at all." I reply. "I was just taking it all in." I had to look away then. I couldn't think of what I had to do and look at her at the same time. Why? Why did she have to go and rob my father and his so called "family"? Now it had fallen upon my shoulders to get rid of her, since I was the one who had brought her around in the first place. This was the point of the "robbery" we had just committed.

"Let's pull over." I suggest. "I've gotta take a leak." She nods her head and I pull over. I get out of the car and she follows. After walking a few feet away, I whip out and proceed to piss. When everything was done, I turned around and walk back to her. She was facing away from me, staring off into the sunset. This was the perfect time. What better way to go than while watching a beautiful sunset?

I reach into my waistband and I pull out my Glock. It was already cocked, so I didn't have to worry about her turning around after hearing the sound. I raised the pistol and took aim. She turned around and smiled, looking me directly in the eye.

"What took you so long? " She asked.

"Had to work up the courage." I explained, gun still pointed at her. "Still do."

"Would it be easier for you if I turned away?" Nicholle asked. In that second, I knew I knew I was gonna miss her. This was purely a business decision. I tried to convince myself that maybe.......maybe after a few years, I'd get over this nasty piece of "business", but I knew better than that.. I couldn't give her an answer because I didn't know the answer my damn self. Is it better to shoot the woman you love in the back? Or staring at her face to face?

"We could have had it all you know." She mused dreamily.

She turned around and looked at me, her eyes pleading with mine, and whispered to me "it wasn't all an act you know. I really did love you."

I stared at her, tears welling up in my eyes. "I know. I believe you." I said through the tears and my voice cracking.

I pulled the trigger, the bullet flew out of the gun and her body rocked, twirled and then she sank down to the ground, blood pooling around her wound. And that was it.

(is this better? I deleted everything because my phone was annoying me.)

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@johnjo719: There's a spot where "we're" needs to be "were." Other than that...I don't know why you guys are finding it so hard to use the caption exactly as it is in the picture. No part of it is a quote, and the first sentence isn't right. Tweak that to what it's supposed to be, and you're golden.

As for beating my entry, a) I have yet to post, so you're already ahead, and b) it's hardly like I always win. I've been beaten plenty of times. ;)

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@cbishop: what's wrong with the first sentence? And I've modified it and it should definitely fit now with the rules

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@cbishop: I think I have a good idea for this one

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@cbishop: what's wrong with the first sentence? And I've modified it and it should definitely fit now with the rules

I meant the first sentence of the caption is not right as you typed it:

I knew that I would miss her. This was purely a business decision.

The caption actually reads:

I knew I was gonna miss her. This was purely a business decision.

Rules are rules - it needs to read as it is in the caption. ;)

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@johnjo719: Your story is certainly my favorite so far. Good job.

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#49  Edited By ImpurestCheese

Here's my entry...its a little shorter then usual but hey enjoy/

The Final Victim

I look at the woman lying before me, her body passive, just waiting for my blade. I have killed four before her, but she is the last, the one who will finally satisfy the man I have given both heart and soul too. My victim’s name isn't important, but what she is, well that’s the most important. She’s a street performer from Covent Garden, just like the others, but this one is different. Unlike the others I know that I will miss her, but this is purely a business decision, albeit that my business is equal parts solace and base desire.

Yes I know that sounds incorrect, but from my point of view I am in the right, and she is in the wrong. You see the man I honour with my killings was killed by his fifth victim, at least that’s what I have been told when he whispers in my ear. He have a special connection, I was born a century after he died, his own knife stuck through his throat by a struggling victim, to the exact day and hour.

As I mentioned before the woman here with me is a street performer, she’s British born and does a fusion of ballet and hip-hop for tourists down in the seven dials. The girls before her were an assistant to a magician, two Dutch dancers and an R&B singer. All of them were beautiful, none of them realised what my intention was until they woke up, and saw the gun at their throat. Turns out that, even a prop weapon can make even the toughest person think twice about fighting back, something that gives me control of what is potentially a difficult situation. That said the gun isn't the murder weapon, no that’s the job of the knife, two swift slashes to the throat silences them whilst I deliver my personal touch, the names of my mans victims carved into their chests, a little sign of respect to the guy I love. Finding places to do my work was hard at first, but the recession has done enough to leave vacant properties for me to go about my business without being disturbed.

Before I finish my last victim, there is a matter of the letter, a delicately written piece confessing to what I have done, and a threat that more will follow. The reality is, that I must follow the rules set out by the man I love, five kills and then death, but I have my own flare as I roll up my sleeve, and read the name tattooed on my arm. It’s not my name, but the name of my man’s fifth victim, and in a few minutes I will be with him for all eternity. I quickly read the ‘Dear Boss’ letter, stylised after the one left by my master, and stop as I read my name; Jacqueline Druitt, that’s not my real name, rather the one he gave me. Carefully I place it, back in the envelope and throw it on the desk behind me, it's now time for the final preparation.

Shucking the trench coat I’m wearing, I stare at the haunted looking woman in the mirror. Dressed in my show gear, a forest green leotard and black ballet boots, I take a deep breath. Ever since I started planning my murders, I knew I would have to be the last kill, so I made myself a perfect victim as well as the perfect villain. With a single double slash I collapse, blood pooling from my throat. I know that now I’ll be remembered, and even better I can finally be with the man I love.

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@impurestcheese: Interesting way to get around the picture. Completely disturbing. lol