ALL NEW WRITING CONTEST!

RULES

At least 250 words, no more than 500 words

On a topic related to the mafia - the type of mafia everyone reading this is part of.

Closing date is 20th May at 20:00

PRIZES

Each entrant that meets the criteria listed above gets a fee - the fee is at least $500k, but could be more, depending on how many entrants we get.

The top prize is at least $10M

Prizes for 2nd, 3rd, and 4th place

HOW TO ENTER

Pin a copy of your composition here, and it will be judged. 

Each entrant will receive an entrant fee, and also get feedback on their piece from one of our judges.

OTHER INFO

This contest is open to all, including and especially Matt_Durdock, and those who entered his contest.

Let's let bygones be bygones. 

I made my way through the dark alleyway and hid myself out of sight to inspect the area around. No cops, very few people. It wasn't a busy day after all. I waited a couple minutes before a black sedan pulled up in front of the cigar shop. My target had arrived.

"He's a little too careless for someone making enemies around," I thought as I saw him alone, with no bodyguards accompanying him. He walked into the store. 
I was about to walk out of the corner when a sudden announcement caught the attention of all the pedestrians and led them to the other end of the road where it originated from. Finding the circumstances to my advantage, I released my long hair and stationed myself against the car parked outside, waiting for the target to come outside.

Soon enough, he exited the shop with hands full of boxes of cigars. He peered at me for a while. I smiled and walked towards him to help him carry the boxes to his car. Knowing his character well, I knew he would fall into my trap...and he did.

"I don't let ladies work," he said, smiling back at me.

"What a gentleman," I giggled and shook my head, to look more ladylike. I moved closer to him and whispered softly into his ears, "Someone told me I would find a lonely man here. Looks like it's true." He grabbed me by my waist and led me to his car.

"But not anymore, am I?" He opened the door to the passenger seat and asked me to get in. I did.

"One step closer," I told myself. 

He seated himself on the driver's seat and started the engine.

"Must be my son who told you, isn't it? He surely knows what I like," he said as he examined me from head to toe. 

I let my fingers softly trace down from his arm to his hand and held it. I leaned towards him and said, "Take me to your favourite place."

He drove me to the nearby beach. It was surprisingly empty, with no one around. We stood on one of the wooden docks, admiring the aesthetics of the setting sun. He held my hand.

"This is my favourite place. No one, except you and I. A place for us only." 

I leaned my head on his shoulder and prepared to pull out my gun, but before I could, he grabbed it. I chuckled. 

"So you knew."

"You are cute, but you chose the wrong person," he said as he held the gun at the back of my head.

"And you'll miss this cutie," I gave him a last smile before slashing his throat with the knife in my other hand that was behind him, "because you won't live to see me again."

The man fell to the ground, with blood spraying out from his half decapitated throat. The blood pooled around him before dripping into the sea. I wiped the blood from my knife on his clothes and looked at it. Good thing I had sharpened it the night before. This man wasn't so dumb after all.

"But you were dumb enough to think I'd come without preparing." I picked up my gun and wiped it. Little did he know, it wasn't even loaded.

the old bum listened to her crew leader offer money for stories about this thing of ours. 

Eh, I've got a story for you. You remember the old soup kitchen down green street? the one that burned down to the ground? such a tragic accident, 5 dead bodies burnt to a crisp. well, word on the street is that it wasn't old Ethel trying out a new recipe. Couple of hooch was all it took to get the story out of the owner.

The owner had their demons, and had to go lay flowers at the grave of a past lover. He was into his cars, fast cars, way to fast for him. She left Ethel to open the shop for her. At the cemetery There was a middle aged man there, smartly dressed lad, you know the kind. told the owner the Louis was a fine man and to call this number if she needed anything.

Anyways, when she got back into the soup kitchen she heard a laugh from a man she didn't recognise. so she came in through the kitchen all quiet like. That's where she saw the body of the youth pastor lying face down in a pool of blood. 

"Yeah the only ones that put up a fight were the two brothers, the rest just begged for their lives, pathetic."

The voice was coming from the front room, He was using the payphone in the shop? can you believe the nerve of him? The owner grabbed a bread knife from the counter and entered the front room.

"Should of kept Louis alive so he could see this."

Yeah that didn't go down well, She just lunged at him and plunged the knife into his lower back. she was slashing wildly, cutting his arms to pieces whilst all he could do was protect his body. This went on for 10 seconds before the man used his hips to throw she off of him. Boy if you could hear the words coming from his mouth. She checked the phone, dead, fuck. She remembered the card and called the number on it

"Yeah its me, listen, i need a favour, yeah, bring a can of gas"

She smiled and looked at Kirsty "and you know the rest of the story dear".

Mandalore a man from another world could be picked out. His armor glew in the sun covered from head to toe in a metallic silver armor. His helmet was the strangest part of his armor. It had the shape of a T on it as a visor he would look out with. Mandalore was a man of honor and pride. He has seen many battles, many of them not from this world. He continued down the street and stopped to the side grabbing his helmet as he heard a loud:

Bump Bump.

His mind was racing. Returning to his very first battle he had ever fought in. Massive blaster fire is screeching past his ship as he flies right into the heart of the battle. Ejecting from the ship, landing in the middle of all the fire pulling his blaster and lighting up everything in sight. As he walked towards the enemy, he got shot in the shoulder dropping his blaster. The noise he heard got louder..

Bump Bump Bump.

He draws his vibroblade and charges the enemy. His fellow troops drop in behind him as he leads the assault. Slicing many enemies down as he moves through them. Smoke clogs the battlefield as a man stands from the ashes of the battle Mandalore proud. His fellow troops began to stand up. The world was theirs. The sound was faster now..

Bump Bump Bump Bump Bump.

Falling to his knees he screams a loud roar from his chest. Standing up walking into the street as the cars where coming at him he drew his blaster opening fire. Tearing apart cars and people walking on the streets. Red beams blasted from his gun killing everything in sight. In distance he heard the sirens of what this planet called its warriors.

"Pathetic whelps."

Mandalore dropped his blaster as the police surrounded him. He drew his sword and grinned under his helmet. The Earthlings looked in awe as one man stood against them all. The police shouted at him.

"Put down your weapon."

Mandalore replied. "Never"

The moment was getting tenser by the second. Gripping his sword ready for battle, the scene only got worse. The police held their guns tightly all pointed at Mandalore. Police cars blocked both ends of the street, no escaping for Mandalore. He knew the odds and didn't fear what was to come. He held his sword tightly in his hands getting ready to charge. The police were hesitant and began:

"Give up now. There is no coming out alive out of this one. This is your last warning put the sword down and come quietly."

He listened but only heard:

Bump Bump Bump Bump Bump Bump Bump Bump Bump Bump

A loud proud roar came from deep with Mandalore. Echoing through the streets he began a full-on sprint at the police in front of him. Completely dumb founded by one man charging a dozen men. As he charged them the police opened fire. 

"Fire. Open fire. Kill em."

Slowly picking himself up off the floor, Soul’s knees creaked as old age was taking its toll. Picking up his fedora and dusting it down he looked down the darkened alley at two figures climbing over the fence. Suddenly a car pulled round the corner and its headlights lit up the alley. One of the men turned back to check to see whether they had done their job successfully. 

Unfortunately not.......................

The car headlight lit up the man’s face and that was it, he knew he was done for.

Limping back down the alley to the main road he made his way back to headquarters. As he walked he could feel a shooting pain in his ribs.

‘Those bastards must’ve busted one of my ribs’ he muttered to himself. ‘I’ll be sure to do a little more damage myself’

Using the streets of the South Side to support him he made his way back to the HQ. Kicking opened the door out of anger, but grimacing as he did so, he made it to the HQ bar. Looking around he realised he was alone and took a bottle of whiskey from the counter. Swigging down half a bottle, he felt the pain subside a little. 

‘Right now where is my ol’ faithful’? 

Pulling open the cellar door, he moved a couple of guns to the side.

‘Far too quick and easy’ he said to himself. 

Reaching down the pulled out a well used, heavily stained baseball bat. 3 large nails had been hammered through it and they remained as sharp as ever. Etched into the handle were a number of notches for each time he had had to teach someone a lesson. He took out a pocket knife and scratched two more lines into the handle. Having realised he had already put in so many notches around the base, he started to make the notches up the length of the bat. He had already taken out 19 people, these two punks would be numbers 20 and 21. Always with the bar to the knees and legs obviously enough of a warning. 

Letting out a ‘sigh’ he grabbed the whiskey off the bar, he took one more swig before heading out. He wondered to himself why two men would risk everything for a few hundred dollars. They obviously didn’t know who they were hitting. But they would know soon enough. Rubbing his thumb and fingers over the notches on the handle he was hit with a moment of inspiration.

Marking his new name into his victims would give him immense pleasure. From now one every victim was going to have his newly found name carved into their skin, a visible warning for all to see. 

__________I__________

"Heh we all do sum and don't mean it....it's called natural instincts, but I call my instincts savage. My "savage" instincts got me thrown in the slammer and I only did one thing, but I didn't mean to do it like I said my instincts just kicked in that's all...." Says the female stuck behind bars. 

"Well I'm pretty sure of that Wanda, but majority of us gals are stuck up in here for sum we ain't do. That's just life sweetie.....people blame you for everything so they don't have to get into the situation that deeply, but it sounds like it was hormones not instincts." Said the lady in the cell next to her. Wanda sighed and sat down, then she started nodding "Yeah.....I guess you're right Marg...I'm gonna read my book, then I'm heading to sleep k?" "Yeah I guess Imma hit the hay, so good night Wanda we got the "big thing" in the mornin...." Marg responded. Wanda made a grunt that meant okay, then she went over to her bed and grabbed a book from under her bed, but then she remembered the hole in the wall leading to her cell neighbor so she put her book down and got up to make sure no guards were patrolling, but they were all off duty celebrating a promotion to Warden. 

Wanda let go of the bars and went to the hole and crawled to her cell neighbor's cell which just so happened to be Margaret...."How the fuck....." Marg began to say. But before she could Wanda started kissing Marg and then started rubbing her ass as they both moan and groan tossing and turning all over the concrete floor and then on the bed, but Marg tries to escape yet she gives in eventually......but we fade off to the next day and Wanda back in her cell gets up and feels sore and she groans "Fuck....it happened again...Marg you awake?" Wanda doesn't get a response, but instead she crying so Wanda started thinking to herself...."I don't mean to hurt anyone....I try my best to hold back, but it seems I'm not strong enough to do it....I just hurt my friend because of my instincts and I feel terrible for making her life worse than it already is." Marg avoided her, but once nightfall came....it was time for the "big thing".....Wanda walked up to Marg to apologize before they followed through with the plan "I just wanted to say sorry and if you hate me I understand becau-" Marg interrupted "Look we'll deal with that after we get out of here so just stick with the plan." Wanda softly smiled...she was forgiven..for now. Marg and Wanda worked in the laundry room until it was time to leave, but they hid in the laundry baskets with sheets on top of them I mean what cop is going to go through sheets?? Anyway everything was going according to plan for now.....but how will the plan continue?? Find out in the next issue offffffff "Escape from Hell's trap"

The rain. That’s what Jimmy remembers most about that night. The rain. Sat in the car, waiting, in the rain. The rain that didn’t show any sign of letting up. The rain that felt like it was somehow attached to Jimmy’s emotions. His feeling of impending dread, somehow linked to the rain. The rain is what he remembers, but on that night it was the last thing on his mind.
   He had been sat in the car, alone, for almost three hours now, waiting. Waiting in the rain. It’s funny really, his evening had started better than this, it started at the club.
   Jimmy had gotten to the club around 5pm, to have a meeting and some lunch with some friends of his, wiseguys, like him. Guys who didn’t earn money by doing regular 9-5 jobs, guys who didn’t get up at 6am to do the commute to a job they hated. No, these were wiseguys, guys who did what they had to, to earn that extra dollar and a half.

   Jimmy didn’t go out of his way to become a ‘gangster’ it just happened. He lived in a Italian neighbourhood, where regular jobs were not easy to come by, so he and his friends did what they had to to make ends meet. A few trucks hijacked here, and few burglaries there, whatever it took. Jimmy was the only boy in a family of seven siblings, so he treated his best friend Petey like his brother. When they were little they even called each other their brothers. It was Petey who, after ever little job they did, every little score they made, divided up the money but kept some aside for, as he put it ‘the man upstairs’. Jimmy never understood that, he always assumed it was for the donations plate at church, to help absolve them of their sins. But, as he found out, it went to someone much more important than God, it went to Vincent Gualtieri.
   Vinny was the Boss. Not the big boss, but the boss of the neighbourhood where Jimmy, Petey and the rest of their crew lived. So any score you made, and job you did, you paid some up to Vinny, to keep him happy and keep you safe, that’s how it worked. It was at this lunch meeting Jimmy was having with some friends of his, when Vinny sent someone over to ask to speak to him alone. It was that little chat, earlier that day that brought Jimmy to that car, alone in the rain, waiting.
   From the sandstone tenement building opposite, Jimmy saw who he was eating for, come out and head downt the street towards him. Petey. Jimmy got out of the car, in the poring rain and headed towards Petey. Jimmy was practically on top of Petey before he knew what was going on. “You rat, you FUCKING RAT, HOW COULD YOU” but before Petey could say anything, Jimmy squeezed the trigger. BANG.

Some solid entries already.  Could I ask my fellow writing creatives to give Matt_Murdock a nudge - I very much want him to help me with the judging, but he's playing hard to get!

Nope. Leave me out of everything that you do.

It's a shame that Matt_Murdock is allowing a small personal animosity get in the way of this contest, but let's crack on regardless!

Some solid entries, but not much from my home city of Chicago!

There is no personal animosity. You’ve already guaranteed me first prize before entering as a way to try and bribe me. You are back to rigging your own contests. On top of that, you already owe for the contest that you begged me to put on for your behalf. Stop twisting everything for your own betterment.
 

Matt_Murdock - you have done exactly as I knew you would.

Now, the only way you can prove what you allege is to enter, and then see if you win first prize.

I have asked you repeatedly to judge, but you refuse.  Is this just so that you can accuse me of rigging it?

To: Matt_Murdock
From: Kirsty
Sent: May 20, '20 15:48
Subject:

I've got the other competition on the go now - I can't afford both.  If you enter this one, I'll give you the top prize and you can use it to find the otehr one? 
 

Care to keep going with your lies?

Matt_Murdock - I was calling your bluff.  I knew you'd make it public.  And now you have to enter, as it's the only way that you have to prove whether I'm a cheat or not.

This is chess, son, not checkers.

Fortunately, as I’ve told you way to many times to count by now, I don’t play your games. You can twist and distort everything all you’d like but that doesn’t change the fact that once again you’ve been called out for being less than ethical. You are a lie and a cheat, if that’s how you want to spend your time, have at it. I’ll let your own words be evidence enough. 

I am a lie?  What are you talking about?  Calling yourself a writer?

Yes, a lie and a cheat. As in someone who lies and cheats. Good job trying to deflect from being called out and shown with the proof that you always seem beg for. 

Matt_Murdock - I think you meant to say liar - and I knew that you would run to the Streets.  So I set you up and you fell for it.

And now you literally have to enter!

A) No, I don’t. I certainly don’t have to do anything for you.

B) No, I said exactly what I meant to say. 

and C) You are once again trying to cover up the fact that you’re trying to rig your own contest again. This isn’t the first time that you’ve guaranteed me a winning entry. Dress it up all you’d like, you still play the same games and pull the same backhanded tricks that you always do. Kind of like going to my CL after I refuse your money.

So, you definitely, specifically, wanted to call me "a lie"?

How does that even make sense?

And bullshit, I set you up and you fell for it, son.  

And yeah, I did try to give you money, so that you'd help me judge.  That's how transparent I am.