fs put the final touches on a flier and went to main street to get it posted.  It was a very simple idea so he didn't think it warranted much of a speech or a hubbub.  He found a few corners and a few spots on main street to put up the following flier:

***Announcing***

Entertain FutureStealer
A Short Story Competition

Entry is simple, give a short story to the streets based on the following prompt.  I will judge and give awards to my 3 favorites.  Awards will be as follows:

First Place - 25 credits

Second Place - 10 credits

Third Place - 5 credits

Your prompt is:

"As the child of a powerful mafia boss, you have always lived a life of privilege and luxury. But when you discover a dark secret about your family's business, you are faced with a difficult decision that could change your life forever. "

Submissions will close Mar 29 - 00:00:00.

This was clearly written for me, and I will be participating uncle FutureStealer. Worm is going to be so happy and we're going to laugh and have good times.

Stiffler Gambino-Bruno, conceived in a blustering wave of moonshine, fairy dust and consensual gangbanging, took the surnames of two stronghold families he thought he was kin to, who were present on those eventful evenings of debauchery.

Much to his dismay, he never struck a bond with the Bruno Syndicate and thus, was raised by the illustrious and wealthy, Gambino Family.

Throughout his tender, childhood years, “Stiffy” (as he was fondly nicknamed), was privy to the comings and goings of many a mafioso who entered the Gambino HQ – they arrived wholly frustrated and vexed, then left content and gratified; Stiffy always wondered what the dark secret was to this and as childhood and adolescence passed him by, adulthood was approaching, and as he grew a stronger reputation within the family, as did the trust they placed in him with knowledge of the funding streams and inner workings.

On the eve of his 21^st birthday, Papa Gambino summoned Stiffy into his lavish office:

Look here little Stiffy, I think it’s time you learnt about the dark secret bread winner we have in the Gambino’s, it’s the money maker and what puts food on our table.

Looking taken a back and exhilarated (you’re finally going to find out!) you reply:

What is it Papa G, what is it?

It’s pie little Stiffy, waaaaaaaaaaaaarm apple pie – us Mafiosos can’t get enough of it.

Pie? We bake and sell pies? We’re a bakery?

Noooooooo little Stiffy, you’ve got it all wrong. We give these hard-working class generals a place they can be themselves – they love taking it to a good warm apple pie, they roger the hell out of those pies, I mean they really go to town on that short crust pastry. It relieves the stress and tension out of them and some say there’s folklore that states it’s as close to the real thing that you can get.

Now, Johnny “Wooden Cock” Mahoney is retiring and he runs our Pie Penetration Racket. I’d very much like for you to take this role and make it your own, but I know it’s a lot to take in all at once and I know it’s an unusual thing to just learn now. Take some time, think about it, and let me know.

Leaving Papa G’s office, Stiffy was confused and perplexed. He’d been given a difficult decision that could change his life forever. Does he take up Papa G’s offer and run a racket that helps gangsters fuck their way through a crate of pastry and a basket of apples, all for the purposes of relief, pleasure, and self-gratification? Or does he reach out to his other sire whom he hadn’t spoken to for years, Papa Don Salvatore Bruno for work? After all, the word is the Bruno Syndicate prefer to use cheesecake, and that’d be just grainy gloop that gets lodged in many a crevice if you give it a good rogering.

To be continued…

"As the child of a powerful mafia boss, you have always lived a life of privilege and luxury. But when you discover a dark secret about your family's business, you are faced with a difficult decision that could change your life forever."

Her name was Lucatiel of House Mirrah. To her father and mother, she was their Luca. To relatives and friends, all manner of adoring nicknames. Hers was one of many rich families from the Old Country. House Mirrah has long been connected with organized crime.

She knew that, learned of their connections when she was old enough to understand at seven years old. What she was told was that House Mirrah had many enemies, so they had to make some friends to protect her father's thriving vineyards and wine manufacturing plants.

The wine was so good that thousands are exported out of the country to other parts of the world. She lived in luxury, she had a loving family and caring relatives.

She was ten started to notice some bodies being dragged off into a warehouse in a vineyard when she went to visit one with her father. She didn't think much of it at first. After all, her father told her years ago that certain things had to be done for their family to survive. Murder, being one of them. She dis ask what was in the warehouse, and her father simply looked down at her. She would swear that she had never seen her father that angry with her.

Not since she shattered the window of his favorite car when she was eight.

"You do not go into that warehouse. Ever. Understand?"

That was the first and last time she ever asked about the warehouse at the end of that orchard. At least for a while...

When she turned eighteen, she asked her father, "Whatever happened to that old warehouse?"

Her father did not look up from the papers he was working on, and says, "It is still standing, my little Luca."

"I want to go in there."

Her father stares up at her through his glasses, and she stares back, clearly serious. He only sighs, and nods, "Alright. I suppose... you are old enough to know. Come. Let's go." She and her father would get into a car, and drive back to that vineyard. Nothing much changed about it, save for the extra land and more grapes being grown. She saw the corpses, some well-dressed with jewelry and gold rings on their fingers, others looked like ordinary citizens that were beaten to death.

She only noticed then, that the warehouse had no windows. Hell, the doors into the warehouse didn't even have any peepholes. It must have been dark in there.

Her father would walk ahead, knocking on the door in a specific pattern. Tap tap taptaptap. She heard the deadbolts slide open and light poured ahead into the dark. There was no light in there, save for some lanterns.

"House Mirrah has a centuries-old secret." Her father says as he walks in, Lucatiel on his tail. She smelled it first, blood. So thick in the air, it permeated the inside. She was sure that no amount of cleaning in decades would wash out the smell. Then she saw it. Dozens of corpses hung by their feet on meat hooks, their blood being drained from their throats like pigs and cows in a slaughterhouse.

The buckets underneath would be picked up, replaced by fresh empty buckets, brought along by some of her father's men.

"You say me and your mother have not aged a day. You're... not exactly wrong."

And she realized it. Rather quickly. This was something straight out of a horror film. The dark secret of their family... it was strange actually, as she remembered those old leatherbound journals she had found in their old house's library. Some of their authors seemed to have lived decades, maybe even centuries, past their time.

"You're... vampires?"

"In a sense, little one. We do not age, but we are unaffected by the sun. We are eternal."

Lucatiel, it takes all of her strength to not back away from her father. "So... now you know the secret. There are many vampires all over the world. Alongside our normal exports of wine, we export these special curated bottles of blood to certain... someones."

She swallows. Vampires were real. By God, vampires were real, and her father and mother were two of them.

"Now that you know... What will you do? I will not... advertise. I will not go on a tirade about how becoming a vampire would be good for you. I want you to see what it takes to become one. The terrible things you must do..." It is clear as day, that her father is ashamed somewhat of this dark business.

But what could she do? She was her father's daughter, and she would not turn her back on him now.

"Oh, papa, no wonder you always look good."

Her father had a look of shock, and the two seem to stare at each other for a moment, before breaking down into fits of laughter. After a good few minutes of laughing... "I know what I want to do father."

"Then... you drink." Her father says, suddenly serious, as he grabs a cup and scoops up some of the blood wine.

Lucatiel takes one look at the glass of sanguine red. 

She takes the cup.

And she drinks.

The alarm clock beside my bed rang loudly for no reason what so ever as the sunlight cascaded in through the open blinds.

There was no reason for the clock to be set. Hell, the only thing I had on the agenda for the day was to do absolutely nothing at all.

That came with the territory of my upbringing. Nothing but the best of the best. The most expensive bottles of wine at the most expensive restaurants in town.

Anything I wanted, all I had to do was ask. It certainly warped my sense of reality.

Through it all, the private schools, the sleep-away summer camps on other continents, the private tutors and au pairs, I never questioned anything.

Who was I to ask how the steak was made? I was content, all be it, a bit ignorant. I didn’t know any better. How could I with my head buried firmly in the sand?

With a grumble, I kicked the blankets off of myself with a disgruntled sigh. My head was pounding from whatever amount of drinks I had lost count of the night before. There had been some sort of party but that was about all my tattered memory could recollect.

You could put a gun to my head and offer my a million dollars for the time and place and I still wouldn’t be able to recall anything from the previous hours. That was about had it had gone since my high school years. When your family is as well known as mine in the seedier sections of town, it’s amazing what someone can get away with.

Fear is one hell of a motivator.

Of course, even with my head buried, there were parts of the family that i just couldn’t miss. I knew that our family fortune wasn’t exactly clean money. To be more accurate, it was blood money. But I never questioned it, not once. That was never my place. I was content riding the wave of luxury without having to lift so much as a finger.

I sat on the edge of my bed with my elbows resting on my knees and my head in my hands. I suddenly wished the sun wasn’t so bright as the abrupt knock at my door startled me.

”Uh, come-come in.” I managed to stutter out, my head pounding with every heartbeat.

”Get dressed.” My father stated, even before the door was fully open, “You’re, coming with me tonight.”

Before I could even respond, he was out of my room again, leaving me stuck in my hangover haze.

”Sounds about right.” I grumbled to myself as I forced myself up. I knew that I didn’t have any say in this. My father wasn’t someone that you said no to. At least not more than once.

I dragged my feet as much as I could but ultimately, I knew that it was useless. No matter what, one way or another, my father got his way. It was far easier just to go with the flow.

Going with the flow didn’t exactly slow my racing mind any. I was stepping into the unknown here. My father never brought me along with him on his “business” trips. Truth be told, it was making me rather uneasy. I hadn’t the faintest idea what this little excursion that my father was taking me in was. I was completely in the dark and that was absolutely terrifying when dealing with this man.

After forcing myself to get ready, my father quickly hurried me out the door to the waiting limo as soon as I made my way drearily down the stairs. Whatever this was, it meant a great deal to him. I could tell by the way he wasted no movement, the way the he kept nearly every word under wraps. That was something I had grown accustomed to. Everything was need to know. If he didn’t tell me something, it meant that I didn’t need to know.

We were fifteen or twenty minutes away from the house when he formally broke the silence in the back seat of the stretch. “Do you know what I do, Kieran?”

I was taken back by the question. My entire life he had made it a point that I was never to ask any questions about his work. No who, where or when’s. It has served me well so far but I decided to answer truthfully, “I’ve no idea, Sir.”

I kept my eyes out the window, I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eyes. That underlying fear was still there, the same way it had been since I was a child.

”I exploit the little guy.” My father stated coldly and matter of factly. As if it were any other day. “Sometimes…” he trailed off for a moment before collecting his thoughts again, “sometimes, that little guy falls and disappears, just, poof, gone. Everything we have, everything we’ve built, has been on the back of those less fortunate. Those that didn’t have the balls to take what was sitting right there in front of them. Nothing in this world is given to us, we take what is ours, what we deserve. One way or another.”

I sat with his words for a moment, trying my best to wrap my head around them. I was under no illusions that my family was working in the grey areas of life, but this, what my father was saying, seemed far sinister than anything that I could have imagined. From the way he was saying it, it all sounded like he enjoyed crushing the little guy.

”I-I don’t understand.” I managed to blurt out. A sickly feeling settling into my stomach.

The limo pulled to a stop as my father tucked his hands into his pockets, “You are about too.”

I stepped from the ride as soon as the driver swung my door open. Craning my neck upwards, I read the marquee sign above the front entrance to the Chicago Stadium. In big, bold, flashing letters it read Clementine versus Hawking, the heavyweight fight to end all heavyweight fights.

My father never really seemed like a big sports guy, sure he bring me to the occasional Cubs game but other than that, it was never really spoken about in my house. Especially nothing that seemed as barbaric as a boxing match. It didn’t seem to be in his DNA and yet, here we were.

Hurrying me inside, my father quickly found our seats amongst the well dressed business men. Having never been to a fight before, I was surprised by the high class clientele that were filtering in as the fighters made their way ringside.

There were about a million questions running though my head but, I knew better than to ask any of them. If there was something that I needed to know, he would fill me in. I was just along for the ride at this point.

The ring announcer made the introductions and the fighters retreated to their respective corners. It was at that point that my father leaned towards me, speaking just above a whisper, “Clementine in the second.”

I didn’t know much about boxing but I’d have to be an idiot to not know the line before this all began and Clementine was nearly a two to one underdog. If I was a betting man, I certainly wouldn’t be putting my hard earned cash on this particular underdog, especially the way that Hawking’s last few fights had gone.

”What do you mean?” I asked, genuinely curious.

”You’ll see.” My father responded with a sly smile.

I knew not to push it any, instead deciding to settle into my seat and enjoy the festivities.

The first round was vicious, both fighters came out swinging but by the end of the round, Hawking had stunned Clementine with a couple of heavy rights that left his opponent dazed and just managing to struggle to the end of the round bell.

I gave my father a sideways glance but he seemed content as always, clearly not upset that his fighter was faltering. “Just wait.”

The second round bell rang and before I realized it, Clementine came out hard, stunning Hawking with a couple of heavy body shots before catching him with a clean uppercut, sending him sprawling back to the mat.

The arena erupted, mostly in a loud chorus of boos. No one, and I mean absolutely no one except for my father, expected Clementine to pull this one out. Hell, Hawking was a sure bet, seventy five percent of this place probably just lost their houses.

But not us.

My father didn’t have to say anything, I understood. He just ruined countless families with nothing more than a carefully passed, overfilled envelope. Just like that, he put the majority of this place into the poor house like it was just any other day. Those people were inconsequential to him, inferior, the bottom of the barrel, a means to an ends.

I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. This had all been staged from the beginning. It was the illusion of competition. The outcome was put in place well before the doors even opened.

The Moore family just destroyed countless others through something so easy as fixing a heavyweight boxing match.

That didn’t seem to matter much to my father, or at all really. He pictured himself in the upper echelon and he was damn sure going to do whatever he needed to in order to hold onto that power.

As the patrons shuffled out, I had made up my mind even before we reached our limo once more. The money or the prestige that came with it didn’t matter to me in the slightest. This whole ordeal left a terrible taste in my mouth.

I couldn’t remain complicit. Hell, I couldn’t even remain a part of the family.

Growing up in a family like mine, you learn to cover yourself sooner rather than later. As soon as we made it back to the house, without so much as a word, I nearly ran up to my room, grabbing whatever I could fit into two duffel bags. I grabbed whatever loose cash I had laying around, stuffing it into my pockets before I made my way down the back steps away from my childhood home.

Just because my family made their fortune on the backs of the little guy, didn’t mean that I had too.

Maria Santana DeLuca. Eight years old. Daughter of renown Italian mafia boss, Domenico DeLuca. She was the definition of the perfect little girl with the perfect little life. In every circumstance, she was the most polite and charming child anyone had ever met. Spending her years growing up in a luxurious countryside estate with the most established tutor’s money could buy, Maria was sheltered and protected from the evils of the outside world. Or so they wished to pretend.

She bounced along a small stone pathway. Pigtails made of obsidian, silky locs bounced in their curls as she hopped from one foot to the other, avoiding landing in the grass between the stones less she loses her own game.

“Maria!” Her mother called from the terrace overlooking the yard. Maria turned and waved at her mother; a childish grin spread from cheek to cheek. Her mother didn’t smile back though, instead choosing to signal her over; it was time to go back inside. Maria glanced up at the sky, holding a flat hand at her brow to block the sunrays from assaulting her eyes. She still had more than an hour before sundown, but it was best not to argue. For as long as she could remember she had never been allowed outside the walls of her estate past sundown. When she would ask why, she would be chided and reminded that little girls are to do as they are told.

Taking the stairs one at a time in bunny hops, she had just made it to the top when she had noticed the Hands of her father’s speaking in hushed tones with her mother. Mother looked frantic and was talking with her hands. The gestures were erratic and uncontrolled. The adults quit their chat immediately once they had noticed Maria’s presence. All three faces contained a grim look.

“Your father would like to see you.” One of the men spoke softly to her. Her mother squeezed her eyes shut tight for a moment before walking over and giving her a slow, drawn-out kiss upon her forehead. Without another word from any of them the Right-Hand man took her hand gently and led her down the path of the rocky path she had been playing on earlier.

Maria had never followed the path into the woods behind her home. It was forbidden by her parents and being the good child she was, she obeyed. Silence filled the air as the two walked. The stones led them deeper and deeper into the thick trees. Sunlight became scarce but just as she had opened her mouth to ask, they had pulled up in front of a rock face with a wooden door attached to it. The door had strange markings carved into the grain, but she couldn’t make anything out of them. The man let go of her hand and knocked three times.

The door swung open with no one behind it and a cool draft wafted over them. The man picked up her hand again and led her down a winding corridor of stairs. The air smelled damp and mildewy. It took a few moments before they reached the bottom. The room opened up into a large cavern with what looked like an alter at the far end of it. Several hooded men were standing along the sides, the fabric of the hoods cloaking their features. The Hand led her down to the alter where her father was standing. Next to him was a very small, and frail old lady. Her hands were clasped together with her lips pressed tight. Maria noticed that she was staring straight ahead, only where her eyes should have been were white orbs. Goose flesh crawled over Maria’s skin.

Before she could blink, two men grabbed on either side of her arms. Panic settled in. “Daddy! Daddy, what’s going on?” she cried.

“You have an important decision to make, Maria.” He said without turning to face her. “Several decades ago, our ancestors made a deal with a dark force. Our ancestors wanted power, wealth, control. This is how we got to be where we are. With power, comes sacrifice. This,” he pointed towards the old lady, “is my little sister, Sarah. You see, in order for us to remain as almighty as we are, we must have a seer. She allows us to see future events that guide us to success. But the demon who facilitates this deal demands a life for a life. Sarah’s time is coming to an end which puts you in succession to make the next deal. You may either choose to be the seer or the sacrifice” He finally turned to her with despair in his eyes. “I’m sorry, my little girl.” He whispered.

“Daddy, I don’t want to die…” Maria wept. That was enough of an answer for her father. With a solemn face, his hand whipped out a dagger and plunged it into Sarah’s heart.

“I love you…” He whispered as Maria’s body shook and her vision went black.

Prompt 

 

"As the child of a powerful mafia boss, you have always lived a life of privilege and luxury. But when you discover a dark secret about your family's business, you are faced with a difficult decision that could change your life forever. "

Mario was the oldest of four brothers belonging to an established and powerful crime family in Sicily. His family was known throughout the city for its brutal crimes but he mostly stayed away from it.  The crimes and horrors he saw as a child deterred him from that life. 

Mario was ten years old, it was a cold and stormy night. His father was sitting across from him smoking his thousand year old cigar. He looked over at him “Son we are expecting company tonight. Stay in your room and don’t make as much as a peep.” Mario has done this thousands of times before now. He nodded his head in understanding. His father continued “Son you need to realize I am doing all of this for us, for our legacy. I want you to take over when I am either killed or die in some prison.” Mario held back his opinion as he has heard this speech many times. Mario speaks up “I will honor our legacy.” His Dad gets up kissing him on the forehead and sending him to his room. 

As Mario makes his way to the room, he see’s as the two large front doors open and a blood soaked man tumbles inside. The man looked up with pain and fear in his eyes. “Help me please”. His father came over slamming his boot into the side of his head as he fell flat on the carpet. “Son do not leave it is time for you to learn.” Mario is instructed to help his father carry the body to the basement. Mario waits for a moment as his father opens the basement door. Mario knew this basement well, it was off limits to anyone but his father. As he stepped inside he saw the place was full of horrible mechanisms for torture and other blood stained tools. He heard the screams during the night but thought it was his own imagination. He truly wished he was in a nightmare but he was not that lucky.

His father takes a smoke from his cigar, as he smiles. Mario see’s the man now strapped to the chair. His face was caved in so he no longer could see the man’s eye socket. His torso was full of blood from a stab wound. His Dad goes to the nearby table grabbing a knife and handing it to his son. “Today you join the ranks of the Viccini crime family. This is the first step to becoming one of us.” Mario's life flashed before his eyes as sweat fell down his face. He can hear his heart thumping as he was being screamed at. He stepped forward out of instinct knowing if he did not do this, he might be beaten or worse.

He closes his eyes swinging the blade forward as the room falls dark. He continued over, and over feeling the blood fall upon his hand and the blade. As he did this he knew his soul was now condemned to hell like his father. He opened his eyes seeing he was back in his bed tucked in. He looked to the corner of the room seeing the ghost of the man he just killed starring at him. A crooked smile appeared on his face as he rushed him and all Mario could do was scream

I would like to thank everyone who participated, I'm feeling very entertained so far.  Nice job!

I'll be back tomorrow with my final decision and payment to the winners!

Now a Zombie because the dirty Gimp-Pimp hurt the lil pear, SassyPearPeachZombie roams the earth, with a bright smile, as always. She still very much loves her daddy, and her daddy still very much loves her. He feeds her pears again because zombie, and she grins with a juicy mouth at her father Worm.

It is spring now, and Worm and his dearest daughter are going to go on a grand family vacation. There will be a water slide and jet skis. They’re bringing along uncle FutureStealer, along with other characters, and there will be much glee to be had. They may or may not rent an RV. Unfortunately, the vacation hasn’t happened yet, and thus the story has yet to be ready to be told so it could not be featured in this contest.

fs was sitting in his favorite corner chair, reflecting on the stories he had heard.  He was sipping on his coffee and noticed it tasted a little off.  Someone must have messed with it.

Tianna, would you be a dear and get me a new coffee, so I can decide on these winners.  Also, please put worm back on the shit list.

Sipping on his fresh coffee, he deliberated.  He had been met with some fantastic stories.  They were filled with blood, intrigue, and fantastic twists.  It was a very tough decision, but he had decided how he'd like to place them.  He grabbed his coffee and his hat and headed to main street.

I would like to thank all who decided to participate.  I really appreciate you taking some time to indulge me.  The stories were fantastic and as such I'd like to make some modifications to how I'll be awarding people.  So, without further ado, I present my placements:

1st Place - KieranMoore

2nd Place - Hazelnut

3rd Place - Sister_Friede

However, as honorable mentions for also having very interesting stories (of note, stay away from Stiffler's baked goods), I'd like to also give 5 credits to Stiffler and Hobo_Clown for participating.  I'll send out rewards shortly.