City of IF

[Chinaren]

Chinaren's Nearly Famous: STORY OF A PICTURE 6 competition!


Entry 1 - Gi 3000 - Chinaren
Entry 2 - Double Cross - Zephyr
Entry 3 - Death is Blind - Dinranwen
Entry 4 - Nothing Else Matters - Kalanna Rai
Entry 5 - Secrets and Lies - Lilith
Entry 6 - Friday Night. (Caution, strong adult material) - Mephistopheles


Allright then! It's time for Judgment!! Read the rules on how to guess, and PM me. Also vote for your favorite story below!

Good luck to all competitors! :D

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Roll up roll up! Take part in the competition that's practically legendary in IF! Write! Read! Vote! Pay Chinaren money! Win! Win! Win!!!!

Rules and all that jazz. Please read carefully:

There are several parts to this competition:

1. Look, write, submit.

Below this entry a picture will be posted.

Look at the picture and write a short story (max 2006 words) which, at some point, the picture is a part of.

For example. If the picture is of a man jumping through a window, then you can write a story where a man, at some point in the tale, jumps through a window.

In the story you must describe the picture and it must match the picture pretty much exactly.

When you have written the story DO NOT POST IT HERE!!!

PM it, or e-mail it, to me!! Do not tell anyone you have written the story!! I will donate the Fables I get for posting entrants' stories back to the author*

The story will be posted exactly as it is PMd to me, with no corrections or additions.

The entry fee is a very reasonable 100Fables per story. If you are new to the city and don't have this many Fatbacks, please PM me, and I will see what I can do. ;)

You may enter as many times as you like!

2. Judgment.

There are two parts to 'The Judgment'.

a. Best story:

The first is a straight vote on which story you like the best.
The prize to the winning author will be at least 300Fables, a trophy in Chinaren Hall, and the opportunity to submit the picture for the next SoaP!

b. Guess who wrote them!

For this section you must guess who wrote each story. Each set of guesses costs 20Fables (first entry) and 40Fables (each subsiquent entry).

You will Score:

One point (1) for guessing an author, but not putting the right name to the right story. EG:If Crunchyfrog writes story number 10, but you guess Crunchy wrote story 5, then you get 1 point.

If someone guesses an author twice, for an author who wrote one story, only one guess will count for points. (The highest).

EG:If Lordy wrote story 3, and Smee guesses Lordy wrote story 1 and 3, Smee would get the four points for the correct guess, but none for the other Lordy guess.

4 points for guessing correctly eg: D-Lotus - number 10.

1 point for 'guessing' your own entry, as it isn't fair to give three, but it isn't fair to not reward you either.

Of course, this part requires the authors to play along here and not give away what they wrote. Any breach of this rule and the author will forfeit the prize, (should they win) and be barred from entering the next competition.

The person who guesses correctly first, or if no one guesses by the close date, the person who guesses most, wins a trophy in Chinaren Hall and a Fables prize, which will be dependant upon how many people paid to guess**.


*Minus a very small handling fee**.
**Hey, I'm not a charity you know!

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The picture will be posted below, and should be chosen by Rai as winner of SoaP5, but as she isn't around I have used one of mine.

Entrance is open until I get enough stories or until a date that I decide it is closed, depends on the response really.

Remember: If you write a story PM it to me! Don't post it here!!

Happy SoaPing!

Winners of Previous SoaPs were:
SoaP1
Shady Stoat - Best story
E_Fauna & Smee (tied) - Most correct guesses.
SoaP2 - Jan 2006
Smee - Best story
Smee - Most correct guesses.
SoaP3 - Feb 2006
Chinaren - Best story
Smee - Most correct guesses. (Again!!)
SoaP4 - Apr 2006
Key - Best story
Smee - Most correct guesses. (as usual!)
SoaP5 - Oct 2006
Rai - Best story
Smee - Most correct guesses. (Sigh)

[Chinaren]

[Chinaren]

Marston writhed about on the floor or the dirty alleyway, trying, in vain, to release himself from the tangled mass the machine had imprisoned him in. How could this have happened? There was obviously a malfunction, perhaps usually this wouldn’t have been such an issue, but now, now the timing was critical!

He had to get inside before Angela arrived! If he didn’t, it would be a disaster! One from which he would never forgive himself.

First things first though. He had to escape from his bonds. Wriggling about, stretching and grasping, he managed to free his hand. However, his face remained behind the experimental material he himself had designed. He saw now it was all wrong. He had made a mistake.

It could all be rectified, but he needed to get back into his lab!

With a tremendous struggle he pushed himself against the wall. The machine had left a little play in his legs, just enough to enable him to stand. Ha! An error in the programming, but one to his advantage. Humanity plus one!

Trying to orientate himself, he twisted about, knocking against the piles of garbage. He had been so busy working he had let the filth build up. Struggling to meet his deadline he had ignored the outside world. On the plus side, had he not, then the bags of rubbish would not have broken his fall, and his plummet out of the window would no doubt have far more serious consequences.

How much time did he have? Was Angela nearby already? What if she was early? Oh, pray she would be late!

Hopping forward, he managed to fumble his way along the wall, his one hand outstretched in front of him. Upstairs, from the open window, he could just about make out the sounds of the Gi 3000, blindly following its programming. If he didn’t hurry, he would be too late!

He fell over the low fence, nearly knocking himself out. The bindings didn’t loosen. Another mistake on his part, just one of many. How could he have thought such an invention would benefit mankind? Once he had an idea in his head though, there was no stopping him, and now his carefully laid plans would all be ruined.

He made it to the front door. Thankfully Angela wasn’t there. He leaned on the handle, and it opened. For once his absent-mindedness worked to his advantage!

With short kangaroo hops he made it to the kitchen where, with his free hand, he managed to grasp a knife and finally, blissfully, release himself from his bonds.

He still had to stop his machine though. If it hadn’t done too much damage, he may be able to recover the situation before she arrived.

Rushing upstairs he bust into the room. Wielding the knife in front of him, he avoided a swipe from one of the machines grasping arms and rolled over to it’s base, slamming his hand down upon the emergency halt button.

The Gi 3000 expelled a final sad clunk, and stopped.

Expelling a gasp of relief, Marston stood up and surveyed the room. It wasn’t as bad as he feared. Most of his preparations were untouched.

Just in time too! A voice from outside called out.

“Are you there?”

“In here Angela,” he shouted, quickly rushing round so he was in position.

Footsteps closed, and the door opened.

“Happy Birthday!” Cried Marston, releasing the balloons.

“Oh daddy! You remembered!” His ten year old daughter smiled with delight as she took in the table with party snacks, and the pile of presents in one corner.

“Of course I did!” He replied. “I know moving hasn’t been easy, and you haven’t had time to make friends in the area yet, so I thought a little party would be a nice surprise.

“Oh it is daddy.” Angela frowned for a moment. “But why is the sofa all wrapped up in that funny paper? And the drinks cabinet too? And what’s that big machine in the corner? Your latest invention?”

Marston blushed. “That’s the Gi 3000,” he said. “The Gift 3000 automated present wrapping robot. It ah… needs a bit of work.”

[Smee]

lol - I've got no chance now... far too many new folk with unfamiliar writing styles.

:cool:

[D-Lotus]

Hah! Not like that would stop you. You'd probably watch your pile of Fables shrink before your eyes rather than admit defeat.

Sigh. I guess I could attempt to write an entry, but my style isn't very covert... Oh well, at least I could try to win for best story. This is my fourth contest this month...May seems very competitive.

[Chinaren]

Double-Cross

In the Bronx, urban legends abound. One of them was of the ghost of a gangster, rumored to haunt a local, undisclosed, alleyway on the same night each year. Some even claimed to have witnessed the spectre. Rumor has it; his story goes something like this…


He left me for dead! I can’t believe that bastard left me for dead!

Clinging to life with short gasps, trying desperately to draw precious oxygen through the thick fabrics of the bed sheets I’d last remembered passing out on, I struggled against the sharp rope that bound me, wrapped me tight like a cocoon.

What happened, I wondered? Where am I?

Thinking back, I cycled through my last hazy memories.

I remembered the deal. Tommy and I had been waiting for the buyers to show for what had seemed like ages.

Tommy, I thought, it must have been Tommy!

That son of a bitch! I knew I couldn’t trust that no good ‘business partner’!

As soon as the knock at the door had come, we knew it meant trouble. Shouts on the other side of the door alerted us to their hostile intentions. Gan’s boys, of course! They had set us up for this!

They never were thrilled that we had come along and pedaled our wares in their neighborhoods. Somehow we’d always known this day would come, the day when they came to make an ‘example’ of us.

When they broke through the door, then what happened? Oh yeah, that’s right, we held up our hands, like anyone with a gun pointed at their face would. I remember Tommy… I remember him turning to me and saying something, what was that?

My hazy memories struggled to reveal themselves. Didn’t he tell me, “Sorry Mike, they paid too well”?

I wasn’t sure, but I thought I could remember the shock, the surprise, and the horror. It was much like what I was feeling at the moment as I struggled to sneak free of my bonds. Small animals, probably rats, were crawling over me. Damn this place stinks! Where did they drop me, I wondered, the city dump?

That stuff we were selling, damn it was pure! And GOD could I use an injection right now! I was shaking so badly, I thought I might simply vibrate free of my ties. Wait, I remembered, weren’t we shooting it up just before Gan’s posse arrived? That would have been very unusual, wouldn’t it? Didn’t we have some rule never to enjoy the wares when making a deal?

Or had Gan’s boy’s even been there? Is this all simply my imagination filling the gaps? I’m sure the last thing I CLEARLY remembered was shooting up. Had I simply overdosed? Am I really dead?

My skin was clammy and somewhat numb, but the sharp feel of the ropes pressing down on me, cutting off my circulation in places, convinced me that I must actually be alive. Hell, I thought, if I were dead, wouldn’t I be a ghost? Wouldn’t I be able to just, float through, this terrible cocoon?

Suddenly, the rope binding my right hand to my ass snapped. Maybe those awful rats had come to my rescue!

With one hand free I desperately tried to loosen the rest of my binds, but to no avail. It did, however, allow me to lift myself to my feet. Amazingly enough, I seemed to have been bound in such a way, that my feet were capable of supporting me.

Regardless, needles shot from my toes up to my knees as I hopped along trying to make my way, where? Somewhere else I supposed, anywhere else. Perhaps I could find someone to help me to escape the rest of these cords.

I clashed and clanged up against refuse as I made my way, the sounds echoing off the walls besides me, letting me know I must have found myself in an alleyway of some sort. Damned that Tommy, I thought, no respect for the dead whatsoever!

But, if Tommy had turned me in to the gang, why hadn’t I been shot? Or was I, and I simply couldn’t feel it yet? A mental check of my body revealed that injury was unlikely. Strange! Surely Gan’s guys would have shot me full of bullet holes before leaving me to rot! Maybe I DON’T remember this right!

My attempts to traverse the alley met with futility as I tripped over what must have been a steel barrel, smashing my face hard into the concrete below. A wet oily substance leaked through the fabric, smearing my cheeks and nose, filling my nostrils with a distinctly petroleum scent. Ugh… I choked.

As I struggled to get my feet back underneath me, I froze as I heard voices, murmuring around the corner.

“He seems to have woken!” stated one of the voices, in a masculine whisper.

“Are we ready to unwrap the package?” replied another.

Who were they? I wondered. Their voices were too hushed to recognize.

A siren blared by in the distance, just loud enough to conceal the contents of their continued conversation.

Suddenly, the cold feel of sharp steel was held to my neck, forcing a gasp to escape from my lips.

“You ready to die, boy?” said an over exaggerated macho voice.

A wet stain began to leak down the front of my wrappings as I quivered in terror. Is this the end, I wondered?

Suddenly I was surrounded by a cacophonous laughter, echoing down the alleyway.

As I was reeling from the shock of the sound, the knife made quick work of the sheets surrounding my head, tearing a long evisceration circumventing my neck. Then suddenly, the sheet was torn from my face and precious air rushed into my lungs with ease. Even in this dark, dismal corner of the city, the flickering streetlight overhead was nearly blinding.

“Tommy,” I asked as I valiantly forced my eyes to behave long enough to get look at the shadowy figure before me?

“You made it dude,” he shouted as he slapped me gently on the face in a ‘friendly’ gesture!

“That’s Tommy alright,” said one of the voices from behind me. It sounded like… Ralph?

“Dude, I thought you were a gonner,” exclaimed Tommy into my face. “We all did!”

“Is that why you left me to rot in the alleyway?” I asked, perturbed, amidst the chuckling around me.

“Naw, Dude! Don’t you remember,” he asked me?

“No… not really! Last thing I recall is you turning me into Gan’s boys!”

“Yeah, well, that’s half the truth. You really don’t remember do you? Man that stuff is strong! Remind me never to pull that stunt myself dude!”

“What? I don’t understand,” I screamed back!

“We were goin’ down dude! You knew it and I knew it! The funny thing is,” Tommy said laughing heartily, “this was YOUR crazy plan!”

“Huh?” Then it hit me… It WAS my plan! Furthermore it must have worked!

I smiled contently, now remembering what had happened, as Tommy went to work with his knife, cutting me free of the ropes.

As he said, we knew they were coming. So we schemed and plotted, as we always do in this line of work. We mixed the stuff in a way that I had long ago surmised might make a person APPEAR to be dead. When I shot it up, I must have experienced some amnesia as a result. I remembered the whole plan! He was going to ACT like he’d sold me out, telling them he’d poison me just before they arrived.

“Damn… It must have gone entirely according to plan! They fell for the whole thing?”

“Dude, you’re here, and alive aren’t you?” replied Tommy.

“YES,” I exclaimed in pride of a plan well executed, “So does that mean we got my bounty?”

“Hell yeah, dude! I’ve got it in the car!”

“Alright then,” I said with a smile as I wiggled about to get the blood flowing through my newly freed limbs, “all that’s left is revenge!”

“Absolutely dude,” Tommy agreed, “still, it’s not gonna go down exactly how you imagined it man.”

“What,” I asked, my confidence returning, “What do you mean?”

Tommy raised the knife to my throat. “You didn’t think I was going to split that money with you and end up with a bounty on MY head did you?”

As the knife slipped across my throat, and blood began to pulse free from my neck, I realized, briefly, all those people surrounding us. They must have been Gan’s… then all went black.

--

He left me for dead! I can’t believe that bastard left me for dead!

Clinging to life with short gasps, trying desperately to draw precious oxygen through the thick fabrics of the bed sheets I’d last remembered passing out on, I struggled against the sharp rope that bound me, wrapped me tight like a cocoon.

What happened, I wondered? Where am I?

[Chinaren]

Rap music shook the streets with its unique demanding beat that teens crushing old style in modified cars pumped their water-jacked wheels up and down in well-practiced response as if this stream of violent music was just their song.

The open windows of the street streamed forth with similar sounds of hard rock, dj’s, and rap artist musing with the sound of the car stereo in one loud headache.

The buildings were too close to each other, producing the angry not very well mixed crowd of one of many New York Ghettos. The noise, the smell, the illegal drug peddling on the corners, and the many colored unreadable graffiti marks on the walls gave this neighbor the same indistinct identity as any number of these gang ridden slums. Yet, the smell of tomato sauce, the loud voices full of strange accents, and the old timers with crooked hats sitting in white shirts and suspenders with cigars in their mouths declared that this was Italian section of the city.

This part of the city was rife with fights as the new generation struggled with the old, as the Italians fought with the Spanish across the street, as gang struggled with gang, and drug dealers fought over turf.

Finally walking down this street of rap-lovers, feuding gangs, and fiery tempered Italians was one Julie Maria Ratline dressed in the catholic school girl uniform that all good Italian daughters were. In her ears were shoved were two ear phones plugged into an old fashion cd player that was a joke compared to the flashy ipods and mp3s the other kids on the block carried.

Unlike the more violent and tradition fighting teenagers, Julie’s CD player was pumping forth the sweet sounds of Mozart’s symphonies. Julie was remarkably different to her peers in many ways.

Julie got good grades. Julie obeyed her Mama, Papa, Nana, Grand-da, her auntie and uncles along with the other fifty members of the Ratline clan. Julie didn’t use, sell, or deal drugs. Her name wasn’t on the I gotta hit that list. Julie didn’t date without a chaperone. Julie didn’t listen to rap. Julie didn’t race in the streets. Julie didn’t shove a 36 revolver in the bottom of her book-bag.

Julie was just a good, catholic school girl, who did what she was told without sacrificing her unique.

She didn’t deserve what was about to happen to her. Yet happen it did.

It should happened to the two-timing punk in the hot-rod next to her who was telling her lies about how he wanted to be her only one while he was just panting to get up her skirt before going to the next girl before Julie could blink. It should have happened to that guy. He deserved it with his drug-dealing-misbehaving-no-respect-for-anybody-attitude, not good girl Julie Maria Ratline.

Julie had finally managed to enter the ally that contained the rickety stairs to her family’s apartment above the local dry-cleaners. The punk had followed close behind hoping to over-come this pretty thing when she was alone in the ally.

Julie was just about to wave the container of mace necessary for this neighborhood in the jerk’s face when it happened.

Gun Shuts rained everywhere as a drive by gang shot at their revivals who pumping down the street.

Time slowed, and Julie in some vague hope that she could reach the stair to her home before she was hit.

Then she saw it. Or rather there Julie saw her.

Julie saw one of the many agents of death. Wrapped in a white death shawl held tight with barb wirer the being looked like it was half-flesh and half a skeleton, and stretched out a rotten flesh hand as it mouth opened in a silent scream.

Julie could almost hear that scream when suddenly she realized it was her own scream that she heard not the specters.

Julie’s scream ended as she watched the specter approach with a slow but dreadful tread. As if in a trance, Julie observed the full chest and hips of the flesh side of the specter, the specter’s fair half face, and the flowing wispy hair that grew on both the fleshed and skeletal side of its head.

Its feet touched the ground yet none of the littered trash in the ally moved at its touch. Julie could clearly see it, yet she could also see the sky-scrapped horizon behind the ghost.

Death was beautiful and horrible at the same time. Appealing, Julie could tell by the droll flowing down the jerk’s mouth beside her, but disgusting at the same moment.

As it approached closer, Julie realized something else. The woman ghost had no eyes. Literally. All that was left were its eyes had once been were two empty hollows.

Death is blind, Julie realized, Death is blind.

Just then, the female specters hand waved in between Julie and the local teenage pervert as it was hesitated to choose between them.

Waving, back and forth, grasping blindly for her victim. It touched Julie first, its fleshed hand slapping on her arm like some slimly creature from the sewers.

As the specter’s grip tightened, Julie felt cold, and the specter looked at Julie almost in shock.

“Julie Maria Ratline,” the specters half-smooth half-grating soprano voice filled with the accent of the old Italians reluctant to speak English, “It was not your time, but know that death is blind.”

The rotten fleshed hand then grabbed her tight as the specter turned her around.

Behind her, Julie saw herself lying bleeding on the ground with a gunshot clean through her head as the punk teen still half-lustful stood in his own liquid waste.

“I’m d-d-dead?” Julie’s voice sounded shaken and empty even to herself.

“Yes, but it was not your time. It was his.” The specter said pointing to Julie’s perverted companion. “Luckily, we can correct this. If you wish. Death does make mistakes and my boss has exceptions to the rule to correct mistakes like this.”

“You mean, I can live again?” Julie said facing the Italian female specter.

“Maybe,” the specter said looking at Julie its skull cooked to the left, “But only if you so choose. You have a choice. You can go ahead and stand before the Maker as your judge, or you can be assigned a task. If you accomplish the task, I will take you back in time, and this time, the one who was supposed to die will die and you will live. I must warn you though, the task is difficult, and if you don’t accomplish the task within the allotted time you will sentence to serve ten thousand years as one of death’s minions before you can gain your final peace.”

“What is the task?” Julie hesitatingly asked before agreeing.

“You must solve an unsolved murder. A murder that even famous detectives like Sherlock Holmes was unable to solve.”

“Whose murder?”

“Mine.”

Julie looked at the specter and looked back to her now cold corpse. Opening her mouth to answer, she said….

[Chinaren]

I sort of forgot about this!

Any more entries? If not I will start with the Judgement. :shock:

[Chinaren]

The studio was full of light, brilliant white light. It poured in from the massive windows, sparkling and dancing like a gift from God. In the center of the room stood the Artist and his wife, his arm around her shoulders her arm around his waist. She turned and smiled up at her and he leaned down for a kiss. "What do you think?"

"I think it's perfect." She pulled back from him, grabbing his hand. "I've got a surprise for you, come with me." Humoring her he allowed himself to be tugged to the other end of the room where the plastic from the decorators still hung. The studio wasn't quite finished and the crew he'd hired would be coming in tomorrow to finish cleaning up. But now his wife drug him over. "Close your eyes honey."

With eyes rolled in humor he clapped a hand across his face. "No peeking!" She scolded with a smile and he quickly shut the gap between his middle and ring fingers. There came the sounds of her shifting the plastic around and moving something across the floor. "All right, open them." As he did so she shouted 'Ta-Da!' and he was surprised.

A massive canvas, tall enough for himself to be painted life-size, sat on a custom built easel not five feet from him. "My God! Where did you get it?" She wandered over to him, coy and knowingly.

"My little secret." She whispered. He held her close, kissing her. God he loved this woman...nothing else mattered to him. Nothing else. "What will you paint dearest?"

He looked at it thoughtfully. "You. I think I'll paint you." And as she smiled at him he knew he'd said the right thing.
--------------------------------

The Artist stared at the Portrait with bleary eyes, empty whisky bottle falling from numb hands. "Damn you, I'll finish this!" He turned to the windows roaring, "I'll FINISH THIS!" Thrashing around, not caring what he broke, he took up pallet and brushes.

With swift bold strokes he changed the Portrait, the Portrait that had cost him everything that mattered. He'd thought she'd be pleased, and she was at first. Then she'd become critical, 'My hair's not like that!', 'My eyes are bluer!', 'You made me FAT!'.

Nothing satisfied her. At first it hadn't mattered to him, he'd gladly made the changes. After all, nothing else mattered, only her. But he'd felt the strain and then she wouldn't let him work on anything else. He'd start a new project and she'd nag him about her Portrait. Well he'd fix her.

Several brushes clenched in his teeth he went to work, obliterating the park background he'd originally painted. He turned it into an alley, a particularly lonely one. He worked quickly, moving on from the background to the figure itself. Large strokes of white and blue overcame her face and he grinned so hard his teeth left marks in his brush handles. He would finish now, nothing else mattered...
---------------------------------

When the Police finally entered his studio the found the Artist sitting in front of the Portrait. His arms were wrapped around his knees and he rocked back and forth. At first appearance his clothing seemed to be covered in paint but later tests would show it was blood...his wife's blood.

The Prosecution didn't have a hard time convincing the jury, not when they showed them the Portrait. It was pretty damning to have that painting match the crime scene photos so perfectly. A woman, wrapped in several bolts of canvas, tied up tightly with hemp rope. One hand protruded, reaching for the help that never came. Begging her killer to forgive her.

Even the DNA match on the bloody clothing wasn't needed. The Jury was convinced from that moment on, nothing else mattered. Nothing stopped them from handing down their guilty verdict.

As he was sentenced to death the artist murmured only one thing. "Nothing else matters."

[DELETED]

DELETED

[Chinaren]

Secrets and Lies


I figured it out! Got to call Maureen! I know this bastard’s next move! A man ran through the darkened streets of Sugarcreek, whipping out his cell phone and pressing the speed dial.

“Maureen, it’s Sean. I’m fine, thanks.. But I have a lead on the case! I need you to come uptown right away.... Grant’s sick? I’m sorry... you sure? Alright, I got this covered, don’t worry about it.” Sean panted heavily as he approached the alleyway he was sure the killer would be at with it’s next victim. But it was empty. What? Where is he? Where’s the victim? This is it, I know it!

A heartbeat passed, maybe two and then Sean was soon wrapped up in a plastic garbage bag and bound tightly. He felt something pressed to his neck as a voice hissed, “Nice try, inspector. You are the next victim.” And with that, something thin and flat was shoved through his trachea, leaving him to die, outstretching his unbound hand and blindly gasping for oxygen only to get the plastic in his mouth.
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It was early and the sun was barely peeking over the hilltops in Sugarcreek, Georgia, coaxing young and old out of their beds and houses. Small children laughed and ran rampant across yards as parents and grandparents sipped lemonade or sweet iced tea while watching the young ones expend energy.

But all was not well in this sweet little suburbia.

One of the children spotted a small and fragile-looking kitten. She stepped carefully after the kitten and it took off running. Undaunted, the girl followed the white patch of fur to an old, abandoned alley.

“Haha, kitty! I found you.. Huh?” The girl noticed the kitten pawing at what looked like a big garbage bag on the ground. She picked the kitten up.

“Leave that alone kitty, it’s icky.” She stopped, eyes wide on a butter knife sticking out of the pile.

She grasped the knife and wrenched it from the bag. Blood began to pour from the hole and the child, horrified, dropped the knife and ran home, the kitten forgotten. Her terror was soon spread all over town and the police investigated as soon as the first phone call came in.

Sirens and flashing lights soon filled the alley as the coroner and police team searched the area and tried to identify the body. One investigator bent down and studied the victim’s face. You fool, Sean, you fool, she thought, one thumb stroking the victim’s cheek as the wind tousled the long brown ponytail of the inspector and a single tear escaped from her ice-blue eyes.

“Inspector? You okay?” A plainclothes cop hand come up behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder gently.

“This is Sean Ramirez, my partner. He called me in the middle of last night, said he had a lead on our case but I was.... otherwise distracted,” she choked out. “My son was ill most of the night so I told Ramirez to follow it on his own.”

“I- I’m sorry Inspector. Perhaps you should go home, let us finish up here. Maybe we’ll find something about his lead and we’ll call you. Go get some rest, Maureen.” The cop spoke softly, and attempted to assist Maureen to her car but she brushed him away, and sped off.

You know who did this, it’s his MO. You have no choice but to bust him now.

He’ll get out, and then he’ll take Grant away from me.

Maybe he’ll be better off without you. You’re not exactly mom of the year.

We made a deal. I keep the heat off his tail in the case and he leaves Grant and I alone.

Looks like he just voided the contract.

The whole time she drove home, she inwardly battled with herself, not noticing the sleek, navy blue car always three cars behind her. She pulled into her driveway and made to press the button to open her garage when her cell phone rang. She picked it up and glanced at the number.

Maureen didn’t recognize the number but she took a deep breath and answered.

“Hello?”

“Maureen, my dear. How are you?” The voice on the other end purred.

“What do you want?” Maureen’s voice grew tight and panicky.

“Our son, of course. Your partner came after me last night. You have broken our agreement so the boy is mine.” The voice never rose nor did it waver.

“No, I didn’t know Sean would figure it out. It is not my fault! I honored our agreement for seven years! You can’t just take him!” Maureen flew out of her car, flipped the navy blue car the bird, and raced inside her house.

“Grant! Grant? Sweetie? Mommy’s home! Where are you, Grant?” Maureen raced up the staircase to her son’s room. Grant was lying in the floor with a book, still in his Pjs.

“Mommy, where were you? I woke up and you were gone. Did work call you again?” His precocious demeanor reassured her that he was safe and she gathered him up and squeezed him tightly.

“Yes, sweeting. Work has being calling Mommy away a lot lately, and I’m sorry. I’ll do better for you, okay?” Maureen put her son down and smiled when he grinned toothily.

“Mommy, who is that man behind you?”

Maureen didn’t have the chance to turn before the gun went off.

Grant screams were muffled by the cloth that was shoved over his face, drenched in chloroform.

[Chinaren]

Caution: Extremely graphic and possibly disturbing! DO NOT READ IF EASILY OFFENDED!!!!
Left for Dead

It was another typical Friday night. She sat at the bar, alone, drinking whiskey and feeling out of place. It had been years since she was alone. She was attractive, with her strawberry blonde hair, brilliant blue eyes, and a figure that gave most men a hard-on just looking at her. God, she was so horny. She needed to feel a thick cock inside her, needed to feel his breath and sweat mingling with hers as they fucked out of sheer desire. No love tonight, just sex.

She scanned the scene again, searching for the man that could satisfy her needs. She spotted her target. He was about six foot tall, maybe thirty, brown hair, hazel eyes. His body wasn’t perfect, not a solid, rock hard mass of flesh that she could dig her nails into, but he didn’t look like he was a total fatty either. Maybe he played football in high school and then old age caught up? It didn’t matter, what mattered is that she decided that it would be him groping her firm breasts tonight. She would have him.

“Hello there, can I buy you a drink?” She leaned close to him, hoping that the glimpse of her breasts would awaken his desire. “You look like you could use a little company tonight.”

“Sure, why not? I’ll take a cuervo, lemon, no salt, and please, have a seat.”

She got a waitresses attention and placed his order, then tipped her heavily when she returned. Hopefully he got the idea that she was a well to do woman sitting across from him, and further his desire. “My name is Kate.”

“Kate, I’m Allen. Pleased to meet you.” He reached across the table and shook her hand. His grasp was not too firm, but it wasn’t the pansy ass squeeze of a man intimidated either. “Likewise”, replied Kate. They talked and talked, until last call came, and then buzzing from the booze and her desire, she made her move. “Would you like to share a cab? There is no way I can drive, but…..”. She let her sentence hang unfinished, letting him run through his own mind what all this offer could entail. “Sure, let’s do that.” he replied.

They stood and walked out into the perfect night. A slight breeze toyed with her hair, and she took the opportunity to move it so that her slender neck was shown to better advantage. He hailed a cab, opened the door for her and then got in himself.

“Where ya headed?” the cabbie asked.

She gave Allen a coy smile. “My place or yours?”

“Well, I feel it best to take you home first. An extraordinarily beautiful woman such as yourself should not be unattended to this late at night.” Thank you God, she thought. “Sounds good to me.” She gave the driver her address, and fifteen minutes later they were exiting the cab.

“Would you like to come in? I can call you another cab when you are ready to go?”

“That sounds nice. Thank you.” Yes! She had him. Once in the house, there would be little chance that he would leave without screwing her brains out.

They walked up the stairs to her home, and she keyed in the pin that would unlock the doors. She let him in, and then , after shutting the door, grabbed his shoulder and turned him towards her. Her hands grasped the side of his face, and she pulled his lips to hers. She pressed her tongue against his lips, parting them, and then pushed further into his mouth. It tasted of tequila, but right now, with her moist pussy burning, she could have cared less if it tasted like shit. God, she needed him. She walked him backwards, her mouth still locked to his, and guided him into the living room.

She forced him onto the couch, then shed her blouse and slacks. She could see his penis hardening, straining at his jeans. She got to her knees and undid the zipper of his pants. She was a little frustrated at the fact that he was wearing underwear. It slowed things down. She finally got his cock free of the cloth, and found that she had chosen wisely tonight. Thank you, he’s hung like a horse! She lowered her head until the tip of his penis touched her lips. She licked at it, tasty the salty pre-cum that always irritated her so much, yet tonight, it awoke such a fierce lusting that she desired a whole mouthful of it!

She opened her mouth, and let the hardened member enter. I don’t know if I can open my mouth wide enough! she thought, but with a little effort, she found that she could. She began to move her head up and down, licking the shaft with her tongue as it slid in and out. This is heaven! She could feel her panties getting moist as her juices began to flow, her desire to have him penetrate her increasing with every movement.

“Fuck me!” She stood and he removed his clothing, slowly, as if he knew that her need was intensifying with every second that passed and he was taunting her. Finally he had his clothes off. She lay back as far as she could on the couch, her legs spread open for him. He knelt and she let slip a hiss of pleasure as he finally entered her moist cleft. He stroked and pinched her breast, rolled his thumbs over her nipples as he slowly pumped in and out. She moaned and trembled as her first orgasm swept through her entire frame.

He drew out, and put a hand under and around her. Before she knew it was going to happen, she was laying on her stomach. He entered her again, but this time he thrust hard and deep. She moaned again, and she felt his hands move to her shoulders. He thrust harder and harder, as if he were trying to force his way through her.

“Stupid bitch, don’t you know that you shouldn’t bring home strangers?” She felt his cock pull out, and then pain flared through her hips as he forced himself into her asshole. She screamed in pain, but he shoved her head into the cushion to stifle her cries. Oh dear God, please make him stop! It hurts, oh it hurts! What have I done? I didn’t want this! He pushed her head harder, and her breathing became more labored as he abused her asshole, pulling all the way out and then forcing it back in, always harder and deeper every time.

Please, please, don’t let him kill me! Let him cum and then leave. Please, I don’t wanna die like this! She had never felt such pain before, and yet, as her breaths became shallower and carried less oxygen, she found that she beginning to enjoy it. She felt her vaginal juices flow more profusely, and she climaxed again, could feel her asshole gripping his cock harder as she did so. “You like that, don’t you bitch?” He thrust once more, and then she felt his hot fluid gush into her ass. She came as he did. This is divine, she thought as she passed out.

She awoke later, and found to her horror that she couldn’t move. Their was cloth over her naked body, and lines of pressure all around her. The taste of blood filled her mouth. Her fingers and toes hurt. She tried to see, but it was dark. Where was she, what had happened? She tried to scream, but a gag prevented any sound form coming out of her mouth. Her asshole burned, and memory came flooding back to her as she remembered what had transpired. What has he done to me? Wasn’t what he did enough?” She rolled over, and found a wall beside her. She levered herself against it, and after a few moments was sitting upright. She forced her legs to bend, and then pushed herself up the wall . Okay, I’m standing, what now? She hopped a few feet, and then struck something hard, but slightly giving at the same time. A fence maybe? I need to turn around. She hopped herself in a circle and then began hopping forward again. She strained her ears and began to hear car traffic. It seemed to be coming from the direction that she was facing. She hopped faster, hoping beyond hope that she would not get hit by a car or something.

Her left leg struck something metallic and she heard bottles and such rattle as she fell to the ground. Her shin hurt, and now she had to get up again. Fuck, if I ever see that cocksucking mother fucker again, I’m gonna fucking kill him! She found the other alley wall, and repeated the process of standing again. She could feel something like ropes catching on bricks as she stood. I have to be in an alley. Please let me go the right way the first time. She stood still, silent, trying to find the sound of the street again. It seemed to be to her right. She hopped that way.

A man spotted her hopping towards him. He ran to her. “Are you okay?” he asked. He put a hand on her shoulder and she began to cry. He pulled a knot and took the ropes that bound her off. He pulled the sheet, and she saw the look of horror that filled his face. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, but the gag prevented this. Her head felt cold! Where was her hair! She looked at her hands and saw that the tips had been cut off, and the pads on her toes were bleeding. She sat down, and the man wrapped the sheet around her. The stranger reached towards her. He gently undid the leather strap that held the gag in place. “Ma’am, what happened to you.?”

She tried to respond, and the first thing that she noticed was that her tongue did not strike any teeth. That prick pulled out my teeth too?! This was too much. She needed to wake up, that was all. This had to be a bad dream. This couldn’t be real. The man had a cell phone out, and seemed to be giving someone an address. He hung up and looked at her. “It’s okay, dear, the police will be here soon.” She barely heard him. She was fading out again.

When she next awoke, she was in a brightly lit, white room. There was a pillow beneath her head. Tubes ran into her arms. “Where am I ?” she asked the room. A nurse walked in, accompanied by a cop. “Oh, I see that you are awake. How do you feel, sweety?”

“What happened to me?”. This was all that mattered to her. The cop turned to face her. “Well, ma’am, it looks as though you were raped. Did you happen to fall asleep or did he knock you out or something?”

“I passed out.”

“Okay, well, we thought you might of, and then we thought that perhaps the rapist felt you were dead. So he shaved all you hair off, removed your toe prints and your finger tips, and he pulled you teeth also. We think that he was trying to make it hard for us to identify your body. You were trying to get out of an alley while a sheet was tied around you when someone found you. There was severe bleeding in your anus, but the doctors say that there was no permanent damage from that. “

“Thank you officer.” She slept, knowing that it hadn’t been a nightmare, and that some fucking creep had left her for dead in an alley.

[DELETED]

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[Kalanna Rai]

Well [explicative deleted]....Took guts to write that.

[Phang]

Ho-lii shezmuss.

[Chinaren]

It's time for Judgment people!

PM me your guesses (along with payment of course) and vote for your fave!!

Voting is open to all, even the authors of the entries.

[DELETED]

DELETED

[Chinaren]

WooOOoo! It's a close one!

I'll close the voting next week, so get your votes in quickly.

[Chinaren]

Great, very funny guys! A four way tie! :rolly:

If someone could just cast a tie-breaker...

[Lilith]

*closes eyes and clicks* No one hate me, please!

[Chinaren]

Very well, I hereby declare SoaP6 closed!

I have posted the authors in the top thread! Congrats to Messy who takes home a nice fat paycheck! :D Your award will be in the Hall of Champions in Chinaren Hall soon Messy, which you now have access to.

As no one guessed, I get to keep that prize! :lol:

Thanks to everyone for playing. :D

[The Powers That Be]

Well, that's something I didn't expect to see. Not only does paint-by-numbers misogynist rape-fantasy torture porn show up at IF, but it somehow manages to win a writing contest.

To the author's credit, he did touch all the bases of the genre:
Women who desire sex are whores who must be punished? Check.
Women not only deserve rape, but secretly enjoy and desire it? Check.
The appropriate punishment for whores is to mutilate them so they can never have sex again? Check (except that the author in this case chose to leave her genitalia intact).

Overall, this is pretty common woman-hating stuff, similar or identical to stories that can be found in hundreds of porn sites on the internet. While I suppose it was inevitable that it would show up here eventually, I must admit that I'm disappointed to see it lionized.

[Chinaren]

You seem to be a bit of an expert on this Powers! :shock: ;)

Mind you, I wish I had voted for my own now (I voted for Din's btw), and managed to secure the largest prize from SoaP yet. I'm a little low on Fables these days.

Next time...

[Mother Goose]

I suspect it was more innocence than depravity that led to its winning. People had never seen anything like it and voted for it as new and daring.

I wish you had voted for your own, too, C-ren. Seeing a wrapping machine gone berserk in that picture seems most imaginative to me, well-written as some of the other entries are.

[dinranwen]

I was wondering, Chinaren, if you planned to reveal at all, who wrote what now that part of the competion is over?

I'm interested in seeing who exactly my competion was....

*blushes at Chinaren's unintional compliment* Thanks for your vote by the way...it really didn't deserve it, I've spotted more errors in that one story now that I've read it over, over, and over, but thanks. Needless to say *blushes bright red in guilt* I voted for myself, but that was more of a vested interest and not because the others didn't deserve it.

[LordoftheNight]

Hey Din.

Entry 1 - Gi 3000 - Chinaren
Entry 2 - Double Cross - Zephyr
Entry 3 - Death is Blind - Dinranwen
Entry 4 - Nothing Else Matters - Kalanna Rai
Entry 5 - Secrets and Lies - Lilith
Entry 6 - Friday Night. (Caution, strong adult material) - Mephistopheles

Does that help?

[Lilith]

Hey Kalanna! WHOOT! We both got goose-eggs for votes! Yay!

[dinranwen]

Help? No, I'm beyond help.

Satisify my ever existent curiosity temporarily? Yes.

[Kalanna Rai]

Meh...could have voted for myself but what's the point? I entered on the spur of the moment for the fun of it... :D

Although I should have guessed who wrote what, I'd have made a killing in Fables...