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| A Writing Contest. | Started by: OhCrap on Aug 09, '08 13:32 |
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Gather ye round, ladies, gentlemen and others (Oompa_Loompa's?) for I have an announcement to make! Many many years ago, in a land far away, one of my forefathers started writing a short story. For various reasons, he never finished it. The title of this impending masterpiece was 'The Teacher' and quite the tale of woe it was. When I am finished here, I shall paste the first two chapters of the tale to this tree. He points to the tree in question. The first chapter has been somewhat truncated for brevity's sake. The challenge for you, dear literati of the underworld, is to continue the story. I would like you to write the next chapter in this saga, you can do what you like with it, take it anywhere you want to go - obviously, given that the basic plot is pretty much laid out in the first two sections, there's some limits already imposed in the name of continuity, but from this point forward, the tale is yours to tell... for one chapter, anyway. The competition shall be open for one week from the time it gets nailed to the tree. The prize is a meagre $500,000, frankly Daera taxes us poor scum so heavily it's all I can afford! That and, well, if this competition is up your street, you'll enter, if it's not, you won't - the best prize in the world won't change that a lot. Entries are to be nailed to this tree please, I only live over the road, so it makes it easy for me to get to. I wish you all good luck, and greatly look forward to reading your entries soon! |
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Most people are born into this thing of ours, it's hereditary. The Teacher was different. His life was classic suburban American. His dad worked 60 hours a week, went to the ball game on Saturday and wanted steak on Sundays. Mom stayed home and kept house, had coffee mornings with the neighbours, organised charity events and looked after the kids when she had the time. He was a good student in school, not an A-Student, but he got decent grades, and didn't get into too much trouble. This was partly down to his parents, his fathers' wrath and his mothers' obvious disappointment when he screwed up. More so it was down to his English Teacher, Mr Taylor, he inspired him, he challenged him, he took him places through literature that his mundane existence couldn't provide. He explored far off lands in his mind. He experienced a depth of emotion that most of us barely glimpse in our lifetimes. Therefore, it was no surprise when he went on to College and studied English literature. It was here that he discovered his second passion in life, shooting. He was 'strongly encouraged' by the admissions staff to join one of the seemingly countless clubs available. Having never been a sporty type they were all out, there were plenty of literary clubs, and he joined two of these. It was through his Poetry Society he met Sarah, a member of the NYU Shooting Club - and possibly the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. For no reason, other than she asked, he went with her one evening and was immediately hooked. He carried his 'trying to be cool', almost nonchalant demeanour through the safety instructions and basic range discipline. It disappeared as soon as he held the Remington 8mm rifle. He felt an overwhelming surge of power the likes of which he had never experienced. He walked through to the range, loaded it up, and approached the line. Taking the prone position, he pulled the rifle firmly into his shoulder, lined up the sites and squeezed the trigger. He knew the kick was coming, but it still felt like a horse had just charged into his shoulder. The cordite hit the back of his throat as he tried to peer down the range to see what he hit - An inch from centre, not bad for a first shot. He turned to Sarah who laughed at the look on his face 'Relax, you could see your shoulders tensing before you shot then, that's why the recoil hurt you.' She nodded down the range. 'Reload, and this time breathe normally and don't tense up.' His second shot was within and eighth of an inch of the bull, as were his third, fourth and fifth. He lay the rifle down carefully, stood and turned to Sarah. 'Thanks for this, I can't remember the last time I enjoyed myself so much' She leaned into his ear and whispered almost kissing his ear as she did so 'The night's not over yet' I could tell you about the three years the spent dating. I could go into detail about how they discovered each other physically. I could tell you about how The Teacher found true love and emotions that were until now the realm of books alone. I could tell you how these two strangers grew into one sentient being, they could finish each other's sentences, and they knew instinctively when the other had something on their mind. I could tell you about how his skills as a marksman were honed on the range until he won state level competitions. I could tell you about The Teachers first job teaching English Literature to teenage kids. I could tell you about Sarah dropping out to nurse her sick father in his final months. I could describe their wedding day, the tears in their eyes as they recited the vows they wrote themselves in a stumbling attempt to tell the world how much they loved each other. There was no need for words though. Anyone who saw them could tell they belonged together. I could tell you about the day Sarah told The Teacher she was pregnant the tears of joy, the hugs, the talking into the night discussing names and the child's future. I could tell you about the birth, their surprise and delight to be blessed with twin girls. Instead, I shall fast-forward seven years. To the afternoon Sarah was walking with the twins through the markets in the Italian quarter, shopping for the spicy sausage The Teacher liked so much. The twins playing happily, as they walked alongside her, happy to be out in the spring sunshine, excited about tonight's special birthday dinner for their beloved dad. Sarah looked up at the clock on the church, 1.30 already even if she rushed through the rest of the shopping it would still be an hour before she could make it home. The twins would be screaming blue murder for lunch by then, nothing else for it, lunch at Da Corrado's. The ever-enthusiastic Vito, who had her shopping stowed in the cloakroom, greeted them at the door. It was quiet today, but then it was one of those places that always was, yet it was still in business after thirty years so they must be doing something right. The only other people in the restaurant were two tables table of four men eating in silence at the back. Vito showed them to a table by the window and got them settled, returning immediately with menus, fresh baked bread, olives water and wine glasses. Sarah told the kids not to order anything too big so they didn't ruin their appetite; in the end she decided on a baked fish, the twins wanted to share a plate of the Agnolotti. As they sat talking and waiting for Vito to come back a young boy ran across the square and into the restaurant carrying a package wrapped in brown paper. Vito stepped outside into the street to collect it, bringing it back in and heading over to one of the groups at the back. Without a word, he placed it on the table next to an obese Italian and headed back over toward Sarah... then The Teachers world changed forever. The explosion tore through the restaurant like a hurricane, blowing furniture, food, glass, and body parts out into the square. The police would later tell The Teacher that death would have been immediate - they didn't suffer. Why they thought this would bring any comfort to a man whose whole life had been torn apart was a mystery to him. They wanted him to call a family member or a friend to come and sit with him. What was the point? He was beyond numb. He somehow found his way back to their home, and just sat staring at the wall, his brain unable to comprehend the magnitude of what had happened, trying to remember all the police had said. A Mafia hit. That phrase ran over and over in his mind, followed by a thousand questions. Who ordered it? Who made the bomb? Who delivered it? Who was the target? Who who who? After a while, could have been hours could have been days, The Teacher truly didn't know, he stood and went to the gun case. Only one thought on his mind. Revenge. |
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| Reply by: OhCrap at Aug 09, '08 13:32 | |
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You don't need to live in the Bronx long to discover which bars are run by which families. The question The Teacher faced was guessing which one to start in. Most of them were functioning businesses. His plan, if you could call it that, was to go hang out in the bars and listen to the rumours certain to be circulating. See if he could pick up some titbits of information - and maybe get just a little loaded. He packed his favourite Winchester rifle, a shotgun, and two pistols into a sports bag; strapped his hunting knife to his ankle, grabbed his coat and headed for the car. Starting the engine he allowed himself a moment to think about the steps he was about to take. Far from being scared, an overwhelming sense of calm came over him, as if he were somehow detached from it all. If asked later on, he wouldn't remember any of the drive, he wouldn't remember where he parked the car, or the walk through the market into the square. He would remember, however, the crushing feeling in his chest when he looked over to what was once Da Corrado's restaurant. He chose The Streetbar for no discernable reason, ordered a large whiskey and took a stool at the end of the bar. It was better than he hoped. Everyone was talking about it. The Teacher picked up quickly that it had been six Made Men and two Capos from the Genovese family. There were all sorts of rumours flying around about who was responsible, but it didn't seem anyone here knew anything for certain. Drowning his whiskey The Teacher stood up and headed to the bathroom. As he stood at the urinal, he heard voices coming through a vent in the wall. 'Do you think Genovese will find a way to get to Silese? I hear he's holed up pretty tight now.' Said a deep voice from beyond the wall. The Teacher couldn't hear the response. But he had all he needed, Silese. He knew that name. In fact, he taught a Tommy Silese he could get a home address from the school files. Returning to his car he tried to think of a way to explain his request for the Silese boy's file to the secretary. He decided on getting the home addresses for his whole class, he's say he was going to write them and explain his absence from school for a while. She could get that together while he went to talk to the principal, they wouldn't deny him some compassionate leave now.... And he had business to attend to. Everything went smoothly at the school. Aside from the whispered comments and pitying stares in the corridors everything was much the same. The same groups in the same places in the corridor, the jocks all trying too hard to be cool, the geeks scurrying past hoping not to get spotted today. Why he thought it would be any different he couldn't say, but everything else in his world had changed, it just seemed odd that the world around him should carry on as normal. |
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| Reply by: OhCrap at Aug 09, '08 13:32 | |
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The Teacher walks in to talk to the principle while the secretary getts together all the home addresses. He starts to explain his situation and why he has wants to take leave but the principle cuts him off stateing that he already knows about what happend and that there is no problam in him takeing as much time as needed. The Teacher looks at the principle and thanks him for the kindness he has shown. He then walks out of the off over to where the secretary is and she already has all home addresses ready for him. Now the plan is starting to unfold as planned. He grabs the listing and thanks the secretary for the favor, puts the listings in his pocket and turns and walks out the door. He finally gets back to his car and pulls out the listings and starts to look through all of them. One by one he throws them off to the side and then he stumbles on the listing he wanted, Tommy Silese. His eyes filled with anger, hate, drive and determination. He never felt this way about anybody before he didnt know how to deal with the feelings and thoughts that travled his mind. He wanted to make Tommy suffer for what he has put him through make him feel the pain that he feels and will feel for the rest of his life. The teacher takes all the other addresses gets them togather and puts them in the glovebox and looks again at Tommys address and starts up his car. After searching about an hour or so he finds the house, parks across the street and looks over at the house. There were two cars in the driveway so he knows nothing can happen now. He figures that he will wait there till the family leaves if they leave and then grab Tommy. He lays his head back and ends up falling asleep. About three hours later he wakes up in a panick and calms down real quick, not knowing who is watching him or even knows hes there. He looks back over at the house and notices that there are no cars in the driveway. His heart starts pumping and beating faster his body goes numb again, and he gets tunnel vision. He reaches in the back and grabs one of the pistols in his bag, gets out of the car and starts walking towards the house. Not knowing who was home he had to be carefull with how things went, so he knocks on the door and 10 seconds later the door opens. The Teacher notices its Tommys little sister and asks her if she could speak to her big brother. She scurries off and a couple seconds later Tommy walks to the door. Tommy looks as if he hasnt slept in days, has bags under his eyes and they are bloodshot. It was obvious that he was coked up and The Teacher asked him if he could talk to him. Tommy looked kinda skiddish but he said yeah. He told Tommy to get into the car so they could talk about it, and off they go. The teacher asks Tommy how he has been doing being very friendly trying not to let him on to what was about to be his fate. Tommy answers back and states that he is doing well and he has been up trying to get his school work done. The Teacher asked Tommy if he had heard what had happend. Tommy looks over at the teacher and said that he heard on the news that someone had blown up some resturant. The Teacher agrees with him and adds that his wife and two kids where in that resturant that HE had blown up. Tommy looks at The Teacher with disbelief and askes in a angered voice, "What do you mean that i blew up ive been at home all day doing homework for school ive already told you this". The Teacher then brings up that he had overheard in a bar that he was part of the Goneves family and that he was the one that dropped off the bomb. Tommy cant believe what he was hearing the accusations from his teacher. Tommy felt the car gaining speed and looks over at the speedometer, 110 mph. Tommy then notices that in the back seat was the bag of guns. Tommy starts to laugh and looks over at the teacher. He askes The Teacher what his plan was to kill Tommy, and the teacher looks over and notices a .38 in his face. The teacher felt a breif second of fear and went numb again. He askes Tommy if he was going to kill him and states that he wish he would so he no longer had to deal with the pain and agony of not being with the ones he loved the most. Thats all Tommy needed to hear and then the car looses control he had shot his teacher point blank in the head but forgot that he was speeding down a narrow road and looks out his window to see wear they were. Tommys eyes got huge with fear now knowing that was all part of the teachers plan. He then looks at the front window and had no time to react the front of the car was already air born. He cant believe the teacher had been able to put a plan like that together. His plan was to die but he knew he was taking Tommy with him. The car flies through the air for what seems like an eternity and finally hits the ground causing a mushroom cloud explosion. The next morning the news reported that there was a car that had been drivin by a male whos body could not be identified and a passenger whos id was bearly ledgeble. Tommy Silese had been killed in a fatal car accident that happend the night before due to drunk driving. This is a story about my mentor Paul and his revenge and desire to be with the ones he loved the most. That night was a fatefull night he now lives in heaven with his wife and two kids. His plan was never to be killed but to kill the one that had killed him inside. But his plan still was fulfilled Tommy still died and Paul get to be with his family once again. |
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| Reply by: TheNightStalker at Aug 10, '08 20:15 | |
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| Just a reminder, this competition ends tomorrow... Mr Stalker seems to be in pole position at the moment! | |
| Reply by: OhCrap at Aug 15, '08 15:06 | |
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The teacher dreamed about them every night. Sometimes he knew he was dreaming, and sometimes he didn't. Regardless, they would be perfect. Angelic apparitions, dressed exactly like they were the last time he saw them. Those times when he didn't know he was dreaming, and saw them standing there before him in his mind, were the only brief moments of happiness left in his life. Even when he knew he was dreaming, the slow tearing of his heart at least reminded him of what used to be. At the end of every dream, they would be consumed by fire. No matter how long he slept, or how desperately he tried to wake up in the middle of a dream, there would be a final moment of screaming, burning skeletons, and the teacher would snap awake, screaming in horror. Though his life had only collapsed a few days ago, the teacher's eyes, the eyes which had once looked out with love towards the world, had sunk back into his head like a corpse, as if he'd buried himself with them. He rejected all attempts to help him, all pleas to get counseling. The teacher knew that Silese was behind the hit. Tommy Silese was just a 16 year old kid, and obviously had nothing to do with the mob. The teacher, after discreetly talking to Tommy's friends at the supermarket, learned that Tommy's father Vinnie had a lot of money, but no one seemed to know what he did for a living. So the teacher waited for his chance at Vinnie Silese. He woke up every day a shriveling, broken mess, wanting only to make Silese pay. All day, sitting at his kitchen table with three empty chairs, he planned. Originally, he relied on the rifle. He wasn't as good a shot as he was when he'd won the championship, but he was still more than skilled enough to put one inside Vinnie Silese's brain. Though the teacher knew that this was perhaps the smartest way to kill, you don't get revenge from half a mile away, when your target just winks out of existence. The teacher wanted Vinnie to feel it. Feel the fear. See it his eyes. So he planned. The teacher drove by the Silese house twice a day. Once in the morning and once in the evening, waiting for an opportunity to present itself. After a couple days of doing this, the teacher began to get frustrated. He loaded a pistol and drove purposefully towards the Silese house. As he approached it, he slowly eased off the gas, as he saw Tommy packing a car full of boxes. The teacher was scared. Silese could be running. Wrenching the wheel, he sent his car over the curb in a hasty park job and jumped out to talk to Tommy Silese, with the pistol tucked in the back of his pants, covered by his shirttails. "Tommy! Tommy! Going on a trip? Where you going?" blurted the teacher nervously. Tommy was obviously shocked, as he muttered the teacher's name in greeting and stuttering, embarrassingly addressed him. "Yea. Uh... my mom and I are going away for a while. I'm really sorry about what happened. Everyone at school is talking about it. They said you looked uh...different." The teacher, who had once attuned himself to his students to help their minds flourish, twisted his head like a bird of prey as he analyzed this new information. Realizing that his target wasn't getting away, and would be alone tonight, he turned and walked briskly back to his car. Realizing after a few steps that he'd left Tommy openmouthed and confused, he shouted back over his shoulder "Well have fun. I've got to go now", as he slammed his car door and drove off. Later the night, when darkness had covered the sky and a light breeze shook the trees in front of the Silese house, the teacher pulled up a short distance away and killed his headlights. The car that Tommy had been packing earlier was gone. It was on, then. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder and grabbing a pistol, he tucked it inside his dark jacket. He crouched low, and softly snuck around the rear of the house. Gazing in a sliding glass door from the cover of darkness, the teacher spied Vinnie Silese sitting at a table, with one large man sitting next to him and another walking around the kitchen. Bodyguards. Silese had a mostly empty bottle of wine and a pistol lying on the table in front of him, and was shouting at the standing man. The teacher took his rifle and gazed through the sight, waiting for an opportune moment. As the standing bodyguard took a few steps closer to Silese, and was close to the seated one, two shots rang out. Two bullets found their mark, and two men slumped to the ground on either side of Silese. Knocking over the bottle of wine as he frantically lurched toward his gun, Vinnie Silese pointed his pistol at the door, as he shuffled back towards cover. The next bullet from the rifle struck him in the arm, and he dropped the pistol to the kitchen floor. Two more shots, and Silese dropped to his knees, which were both gushing blood. Dropping his rifle, the teacher pulled out his pistol and strode towards the door. Smashing it open with the butt of his gun and ignoring the shards of glass that dug into his arm, the teacher flashed a fractured, manic smile as he raised his pistol towards Vinnie Silese, who was cowering in the far corner of the kitchen. The teacher paused to listen to the labored breathing of his target, and it was at that moment that he heard the click from off to his right. Without moving his pistol a quarter of an inch from his target's heart, the teacher glanced over to see what had caused the noise. Standing there was Tommy Silese, his 16 year old former student, looking like he was 14 and terrified, barely holding on to his father's gun, which was now aimed at the teacher. "Stop", moaned the boy, "or... I'll shoot you! Leave my dad alone!" The teacher, whose gun never wavered, growled "Your dad. Your dad. Your dad is an animal. Tommy, I didn't expect to see you. But he killed my family. He probably killed other people too. I have nothing against you, Tommy, but he dies tonight. Just turn around, go upstairs, and call the police." "I'll shoot you!" yelled Tommy again, though the teacher saw that the safety on the pistol was still firmly locked on. Sighing for a brief moment, the teacher shut his eyes. Opening them, he glanced up towards the ceiling. Then he pulled the trigger, and Vinnie Silese's brains decorated the wall as his scream died and his body fell to the floor. Tommy frantically tried to pull his trigger, but was unable to do so. Turning towards Tommy and halting a few feet away, the teacher pointed his gun at the boy, who abruptly froze. "No, Tommy. You're forgetting. Let me show you- you see this here? Watch what I do to my gun. That's the safety. That's why you couldn't shoot me before. Now switch that off. Good. Hold the gun with two hands, you're shaking too much. Now aim here, right at my forehead. Let me take a couple steps closer to make it easier. Take a deep breath. Now another one. When you exhale, pull the trigger. Tommy... Tommy. PULL THE TRIGGER! PULL TH-" A single shot rang out, and the only sound left was a faraway siren. Fleetingly, the teacher begged that this time, the dream would not end in fire, as he was swallowed by the darkness. |
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| Reply by: Rorschach at Aug 16, '08 03:29 | |
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I guess we're past competition closing time, the winner of the 500k prize is Rorschach, but I'll throw 100k to Mr Stalker for making an effort too :) Many thanks guys. OC |
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| Reply by: OhCrap at Aug 16, '08 15:01 | |
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