Incarnate (1487 hits)
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Submitted by UberMadness! (View user info) at 2006-09-25 21:40:36 EDT
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Entry 1
Pedro Perez, the Boy With Flipper Hands. Dominatria, Mistress of Whips. Sammy and Tammy the Parasitic Twins. Pan the Goat Man.The marks have all walked past these people - if you can call them that - by the time they get to my little tent. They've all witnessed the wondrous and the impossible, seen the abnormal and the bizarre. Their faces, however, are always the same. Bored. Unimpressed.
Everyone wants to be amazed these days, but no one will let themselves be taken in. No one wants to be the fool who thought it was all real. No one wants to believe anymore.
And for that, I can't blame them.
This modern age, this internet world, has taken all of the world's ghosts and turned them all into white sheets. It has carbon dated God and drained Loch Ness. We don't look to the sky anymore for UFOs or full moons. Those legends were destroyed long ago. Instead, in the absence of myth we create our own monsters, and turn history on its ear.
These people, these marks, can't even be trust we landed on the moon. They can't say if their latest tragedy was overseen by terrorists or their own government. How can they be expected to buy a man who can shatter glass with his mind to be the real deal?
That's Alberto Folson - or "The Great Mindini" - by the way. I got to set up shop next to his stage a few years ago outside Albany. He's bullshit. Uses high-pitch frequencies to blow the mirrors, windows and cups. He told me as much one night over four bottles of cheap merlot.
Once upon a time performers used to be proud of their secrets. Now it seems everyone's in a rush to tell you how it's done. Now they're all so fucking proud of their ingenuity. They're fools, the lot of 'em. Simpletons born into deformities.
I shouldn't be so harsh. The genuine anatomical wonders deserve all the money they make. God built them that way, after all. I'm talking about the ones with deformities of the soul. Men and women with slow hands and weak hearts who would gladly take the last dollar out of your hand. Betting on the bally and the barker to get you in the door. Hell, not even IN the door so long as you paid first. Slipped on a step and split your head? Tough luck, customer. Too repulsed to continue down the hallway? You bought a ticket, rube, get out.
Stepanie Slim the Stone Headed Woman. Holt Widegan and His Size 52 Boots. Fantastico LaCoste, the Electric Dude. Jimothy Jones the He-Woman.
You show me a performer and I will show you a crook. An amateur with prosthetic breasts and plucked eyebrows. A hack destroying aluminum with her skull and calling it steel.
Huxley "Steel Skin" Ambrose? Uses magnets to warp the blades he attempts to stab himself with.
Martin Lingo, the Human Rosetta Stone? Everyone in the audience that shouts something is a plant. Everyone.
The Minnesota Marksman? The guy with no eyes who does the shooting gallery bit up north? Been able to see since birth. Those eyepatches only go one way, you know.
Over the years I've seen them all. I've shaken more lobsterized hands than you can imagine, and shared seats with more bearded women than I care to admit. As much as I loathe them all, I understand that they're necessary for my well being.
Without them, no one would ever come by and see what's in my tent. My real magic act. The one genuine bit of wonder to be found in these carnivals of lies.
Without the sideshow and its disappointed customers, no one would pay for a chance to see The Devil Incarnate.
Yes, yes, the name is a bit underwhelming. Do keep in mind that I'm dealing with people who have just paid to walk through The Hall of Pickled Babies. I have called it many other things many other times before, but this one just seemed to stick around. Like a hollow cough in the dead of winter. Like lipstick on a glass of wine.
Given the nature of the performance I can only work with another engagement once. One week tops, though I have been known to only stay as long as a day. And once, just once, I was forced to pack up and leave mere minutes after letting some customers in Omaha into my tent.
One time only deals. My well-being, if not my conscience, demands that this be so. It's easier to be miles away in another town before the authorities come around asking questions. Easier to pay cash to the bag man in order to set up shop next to his show. Offer him a bit of my take from the blow. No names. No trail. No history. No history. Nothing but conjecture and speculation.
And, of course, the bodies.
You would think I'd run out of places to go after a while. And you'd be right to think that. We all feel like we've shrunk the world down into little byte-sized units. We are connected. We cross the miles faster than any other generation. We all marvel at how the truth of technology has closed the open hand of the world into a tight fist. We have forgotten the old gods, and we have forgotten how vast of an expanse the world really is.
There is much of America to be travelled, and always a single-o or ten-in-one to be seen somewhere. Ever a county fair to be found. Didn't yours just happen a week or so ago? Think about it. Thousands upon thousands of miles of people waiting to be entertained by the lowest common denominator. Cheap date stuff. Cotton candy and funnel cakes. Low art at low prices.
Something to make the rich feel better about themselves and to make the poor forget themselves. A father meeting up with his mistresses while his children ride a Ferris Wheel. A child peeing himself becuase his mother won't walk him to the restroom. Giant whale people waddling with fistfuls of chocolate with big, stupid smiles on their faces. Bored volunteers at sponsor tents, sneaking shots of whiskey during a firework show. Teenagers smoking up and fucking behind the House of Mirrors. This is America. These are the people that come to me for wonder and amazement.
These are the people I have to sell my show to. I actually have to convince them to give me money. These...these people who have thrown their dollars away to see Glynda the Living Mermaid and Mortimer the Half-Man. These bored, unimpressed faces that stroll from out the line of rigged-up tents and boxcars, sweaty and cramped from not standing up straight (always hunching over to get a closer look at the lie), rolling their eyes and laughing at the performers.
It doesn't matter that they've just seen a woman bite off her own hand. They know it's all an act. It doesn't matter if they see the blood splatter her face and fall to the floor in thick currents. They only push their children closer to the front to see, pointing to the little tubes in her cuffs that spout the red fluid everywhere.
A careful eye, if forced to look, can find the truth in anything.
My sell has to be quick and efficient. I'm not part of the show so I receive no assistance from the blind opening, no ding shouted out once everyone's paid and is inside seeing the show. Everyone who walks past sees my dark, leather tent with the two torches in front (lit, real torches, not those tiki deals that the upper class is so fond of), and then they see me. I don't stand for them. Most of them walk away. The curious ones linger for a moment, typically adolescents and the younger crowd. I don't allow children to participate. That's always been a rule. What happens to them after the show is none of my concern, but I won't actively allow anyone younger than 15 to step inside my tent.
I don't work the crowd, I sell to the individual. Ask him or her if they'd ever seen real evil before. Not comic book evil, or genocide, or anything done by the villain in the latest Tom Cruise movie. Real evil. Wickedness older than the written word. Something elemental and ageless.
I promise them the devil incarnate, for a price. Most don't pay. Some do. Doesn't matter if just one pays. It's all the same to me. One's all it takes.
On a good night, I'll have at least fourty warm bodies make their way into my tent. I do not accompany them. I don't want anyone thinking I'm rigging some sort of trick inside. The experience is theirs and theirs alone. Couples cannot enter together, and not just because I don't want some college kid getting a handjob inside my tent. Mother cannot accompany son, daughter cannot hold daddy's hand while she looks. Everyone enters alone, and comes out alone.
We have lost our ability to appreciate the individual experience. Everything is shared as soon as it occurs. Book reviews are available before the book itself is on the shelf. We are told what to think before we have a chance to think for ourselves. I hope to change this one customer at a time.
When they walk inside, past the twin flaps of leather with "The Devil Incarnate" stitched into them in big script lettering and a smiling red demon's forked tail curling up to create the "I," they step up and into a simple cell surrounded by the hanging walls of the tent. A deep mahogany floor extends from front to back, accented by an old Persian rug of purple and gold. In each corner, atop wooden tables, perch stone gargoyles holding torches. The room contains no electric lighting,
just flame. In the center of the room sits a box the size of a small house safe. All of its sides are smooth, and black as pitch with faint swirls of ochre just beneath the polished surfaces. In the candlelight it looks almost alive, the flicker of shadows causing streaks of yellow and red to dance among the black.
Atop the box, two circles of curved glass. Spy holes. There is no pedestal or podium, so they must kneel down after approaching the box. Kneel and bend over top of it to look inside. Some touch it, others do their best to avoid contact. I have heard people claim the box to be as cold as ice. Others say it felt like the surface slowly grew warm as the time passed. It has always felt like a box to me, which is to say it felt like matter, but then I have never looked inside it myself.
They peer into the box and wait. Sometimes it's only a matter of seconds, sometimes a minute or two passes in silence. Then a white light fills the inside of the box, revealing its content. And for many of the marks, for the majority of the people it's always the same.
A mirror.
When their eyes adjust and the stars have faded from their sight they peer into the black box and see nothing but a
reflection of themselves. Most storm out of the tent, grumbling about being gypped. A few confront me, ask me if I think I'm some sort of prophet. The high school and college age crowd will walk out and rave about the twisted beast they saw inside. I never refute their claims...publicity never hurts. Some don't get it.
The human spirit. The greatest devil of them all.
Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke.
It would be easier if it all ended here. If you, like the patrons of whatever event I've set up shop at, believed it was all just one big bit of dressed up social commentary. This is not the case.
There is another sort of light in the box. I do not control when it comes on, nor do I know what it reveals. All I know it happens once a night, and that the box decides when it happens.
To determine who has seen what's inside is easy. Most come out with slack, pale faces. Some return with headaches. I once saw a woman walk out with blood between her legs. Her period had started. All are completely out of sorts and exhausted, and typically need to be escorted away from the area. I blame the heat, and say they overwhelmed themselves out of fear.
I know the truth. And in a few days, so will the rest of the town. For though no one else notices the faint traces of yellow and red in their eyes, I do. I see what the box has done.
I keep a collection of clippings from local papers. Headlines that show up on page three or four. Not big news, but something. Though I'll leave town after a show's closed up and moved on, I'll stay close enough to see what's come of my act. Once I get my story it's back to the wheel and back to the road.
I have four binders full to the point of bursting, and have just recently started my fifth. Among the newsprint gray and loose trails the glue sticks have left behind, the words call out to me:
"Five dead in tragic suicide pact"
"Local businessman's shooting spree kills 14 in downtown Wichita"
"Mother aborts fetus, drowns children in the Charles River"
"Massacre at Willow Valley Nursing Home"
"Evidence of animal torture, rape at college campus"
"Woman takes chainsaw to lover, self"
"Dismembered bodies found, latest victim still alive"
A careful eye, if forced to look, can find the truth in anything. I don't know what the box unlocks in them, or what exactly it does, but I know it does something to them. In them. With them. It does something, and that something is real. That is all I need to know. I do not care to ever find out for myself.
These carnival showmen, these sideshow sallies can all keep their palmed coins and mirrorplay. They know nothing of spectacle, of astonishment, of wonder. I'm going to bring it back to this country one stop at a time. One person at a time. I'm going to make everyone believe again.
I could always seek a larger stage, I suppose. But then people would notice. Too much attention, and then I'll have the internet talking about me. Science and religion investigating the "phenomena" and offering their explanations. Psychiatrists on talk shows arguing about hypnosis and psychotropic drugs. Government agencies secretly speculating on its offensive capabilities. Discounting the box and proving it's a hoax. Just another Loch Ness Monster. A trick.
Because, really, all magic is just trickery isn't it?
Isn't it?
- VS -
Entry 2
As soon as he opened his eyes, Geras knew he was still dreaming, knew that it was the same dream he'd had since childhood. The air felt different, more oppressive somehow. The same dream, different details.Forcing himself through the syrupy resistance of the atmosphere, he sat up and swung his legs round so he could perch on the end of the stone block that all the Novices slept atop. He stayed there for a time, forcing the viscous air into his lungs, before rising to stride across his spartan cell and don his only garment, the cowled white robe that indicated his rank, lowest of the order.
Dressed now, he left his the room and pulled the door to, slowly, to minimise noise. He realised his attempt at stealth was pointless but even in the dream there was something about the stone serenity of the chapterhouse during the pre-dawn hours that encouraged silence. He padded through the darkened corridors until he reached the doors to the main courtyard where he placed his hand on the varnished surface and closed his eyes.
After a second or so, the massive oaken panels swung outward effortlessly at his unspoken command and, even after two years at the seminary, Geras was still amazed at this, the most simple of all the Universal Channels. It was the only one that he had been able to learn.
Everything in the dream was the same as it was in the real world, he acted the same, had the same thoughts, explored the same surroundings. There was one just one small yet profound difference.
Nothing ever moved.
Even now, in the moon slashed courtyard outside the Novice's Chapterhouse, there was absolute stillness. No cloud slid through the heavens, no trees rustled in the breeze, even the stars ceased to twinkle and pulse. Geras looked up and noticed abstractedly that an owl was frozen mid-flight in the night sky, wings flared, locked forever swooping down for the kill. Across the courtyard the night sentry sat static and unseeing, illuminated by torchlight that didn't flicker.
Always the same.
Geras knew the only way to make it stop was to continue his aimless stroll until he felt tired enough to go back to bed and wake up.
---
"Why did you come here?"
He thought the question over before answering, a trickle of sweat running down his temple. Faculty Quarters were strictly off limits for all students and despite the fact that the Academy Administrator had asked him to visit before morning classes, Geras still felt like he was trespassing somehow.
"My village," He said after a time, "They could see I was different. They grew scared of me." He raised his hand almost unconsciously to indicate his hair, prematurely bleached the purest white.
The Administrator nodded tacitly, it must be tough, he thought, for this boy to have gone through all he had at such a young age. He felt a pang of guilt about what he was about to do but brushed it aside immediately. It would all work out in the end. Time willing.
"And so why did you come Here? To this school?" He asked gently.
"My mother said that I was marked. That my hair was a sign. She thought I had the potential to become..." He floundered, not wanting to utter the word.
"...An Incarnate?"
"Yes."
The Administrator stood up from behind his desk and began to silently pace up and down his office with his hands clasped behind his back, weaving between the mountains of paperwork that dotted the creaking wooden floor. It would haven taken years, Geras thought, to have written them all.
"Yet the Elders report you have shown no aptitude for any of the Seven Disciplines in the two years you have been here." It wasn't really a question.
"No."
"Why do you suppose that is?"
Geras remained helplessly silent, unable to come up with an adequate explanation. He had ability. He knew he did. He could feel it sometimes, bubbling beneath the surface. He just hadn't worked out a way to release it yet.
The Administrator watched the emotions play on the young mans face and realised intuitively what was going behind those eerily lavender eyes.. He sighed, stopped his pacing and turned to face him fully, weighed down by what he had to tell the young man.
"The Elders have requested you leave the school unless your studies markedly improve. You have one week to find your discipline, otherwise, I'm afraid we'll all have to bid you farewell. Do you understand?"
A nod.
"Do you have any questions?"
Geras looked as though to speak and then hesitated. Something had been gnawing at him about the kindly Elder ever since he had first been initiated and he realised that if he really was to leave in a week, he could ask what he wanted without fear of reprisal.
"Yes child?" The Administrator urged, sensing indecision.
"Well it's not realty related sir, and excuse me for asking - but why is your robe different to those of The Seven?"
The saintly old man took an involuntary glance down at his plain black gown and tried to hide his surprise at the question he knew all the novices had thought of at one point, but none had never dared ask.
"I wear the robes of my own Discipline, child." He said finally.
"So how come you're the only one?" Geras blurted out the question before he really thought about it, and instantly knew he had gone to far.
The old man just smiled sadly and gestured to the door.
Geras knew when he was being dismissed.
---
Today's lesson was to be a practical demonstration and as such was taking place away from academy grounds, it being the Order's primary rule that only the Universal Channels were to be used within the compound. White robed novices and first level acolytes were all seated on the dirt beneath the huge oak that shaded the clearing and the class watched in fascination as Elder Theus, Master Incarnate of the Pyre Discipline, made his preparations to channel heat into the stack of firewood in front of him.
"Now Class, I want you to note how I draw the warmth from my surroundings, and store it up before passing it all onto the wood at once. This way, it's possible to release enough heat to start the fire in one go. I want you non-Pyres to pay attention too as the principles are the same for all Disciplines."
Theus closed his eyes and bowed his head, turning his palms outwards to give him a conduit through which to channel. He was the youngest of all of the Elders and his hair still showed traces of auburn amongst the grey, a fitting pigment for a Fire-Incarnate.
A slight breeze flowed through the glade and the students all felt the temperature drop slightly as Theus literally sucked the heat out of the air. He did it slowly for their benefit and this always made it harder to keep the channel focused, even such a simple one. His brow furrowed with concentration as he felt the elemental forces build within him. Almost enough.
It was the height of summer but the air was chilly now, crisp, and those furthest away from the Elder pulled their cloaks tighter to ward off the unnatural cold. The students in the front row however, began to sweat, drowned in heat shimmering from their teacher in visible waves that twisted the air.
Just as the grass at his feet began to brown and smoulder, Theus began to slowly raise his hands from his sides, still with palms upwards. By the time they reached shoulder height, a barely visible nimbus of yellow flame engulfed them.
With a sudden movement he bought his hands together over his head and opened his eyes, focusing all of the forces pent up within him onto the stack of twigs between himself and the class. There was an audible crack as his hands made contact and an instant later the stack exploded into flame, showering the class with sparks and burning embers. Those students not caught by surprise still gasped in awe at this supernatural feat they all hoped they would one day be able to master.
Theus grinned sheepishly as the class finished beating out the last of the rogue splinters of burning tinder spread from the explosion.
"Sorry." He said ruefully, "Over-cooked it a little there. Rhius, could you please?"
He gestured to the purple garbed Elder who sat observing a little away from the class. Rhius shot his younger colleague a withering look and with a negligent flip of his hand, summoned a gust of wind to douse the remaining scattered flames.
And Geras watched miserably, knowing he would never be able to duplicate any of what he had just seen.
---
The afternoon was beautiful and he had dawdled on his way back to the compound, his thoughts a mess. He was finished. The outside world wouldn't accept him because he was different and here at the Academy it seemed he was also an outcast. In his two years training he'd made no progress and the friends he had made when he had joined had all graduated to higher ranks within the order and now avoided him. New Initiates also kept their distance, not wanting to associate with what they perceived to be such failure. And so it was that, with nobody to turn to for guidance, he walked alone and unseeing, terrified of the dark blanket that had been spread over his future.
The strike came without warning and Geras was on his knees before he knew anything had happened, his head swimming. A blooded rock the size of a fist dropped next to him and he fought through the starburst of pain and tried to shake off the blur in his vision so that he might locate the thrower. He raised himself up and. gradually, his sight began to clear. Recognition bought with it no surprises.
Marduk and Enlil were walking across the meadow towards him with a belligerent gait that Geras knew all too well, the former carrying triumphant grin on his face as he congratulated himself for his accuracy. The two brothers followed the Air and Lighting Disciplines respectively and although they had started at the academy at the same time as Geras, they were both now well on their way to being granted the full rank of Incarnate.
They had carved a reputation for themselves within weeks of initiation as ruthless bullies and novices and acolytes alike took care to avoid him. Predictably, they had singled Geras out as weak enough to be able to torture with impunity and spent their free time trying to make him as miserable as possible. Today, they needn't have bothered.
"Hey Grayhead, aren't you a little old to be taking strolls in the country?" Marduk sneered.
As ever, Enlil chimed in a second after: - "That's probably why you've failed at every channel you've attempted - you old fogies can't kept your head on the job"
Geras' silvery hair had always been of great amusement to the brothers and normally such comments would wound him with memories of the abuse he had taken as a child. Today though, he had other concerns and Without even acknowledging what had just happened, he turned his back and continued on his way, quickening his pace in a futile attempt at escape. He starred fixedly ahead, refusing to look back and give them the satisfaction of seeing the fear on his face.
Frustrated, the two began to follow, talking loudly to each other.
"Is he turning his back on his superiors Enlil?"
"I Think he is Marduk, I think he is. Perhaps we didn't attract his attention before. What do you suppose we should do about that?"
"Maybe we should do something a bit more flamboyant."
Something terrible in the tone of the last comment forced Geras to face his tormentors and his pale eyes widened in terror when he saw the two of them standing with palms up and heads bowed, ready to channel. It was too late to run.
"Please... Please leave me alone."
The two laughed and continued to draw in their force with evil expressions. The air began to dry and crackles of static discharged at their feet. Geras felt the panic rising as he realised how far the two were going to go.
"STOP!! THIS IS FORBID..."
The cry was cut short as an unnatural gale tore through the meadow, knocking Geras to the ground and rolling him across the sun-baked dirt towards the two brothers. The sky darkened as the wind grew stronger and twigs, branches and then stones whipped past him as he clawed ineffectually at the earth to anchor himself. His fingernails tore away and he screamed as he was pulled inexorably closer to his attackers.
And then Enlil unleashed his will upon him and the pain of these abrasions seemed a minor distraction compared to that utter agony that followed. Geras lay helpless as Enlil channelled raw electricity into him and every muscle in his body contracted, stretching to breaking point. He began to twitch and spasm, the anguish made the more unbearable because of his inability to scream. .
No more. It was too much. This had to stop.
He felt a tooth crack and shatter as he clenched his jaw with the pain and something snapped inside him. His strangled weeps grew in his throat, grew to a roar as an unparalleled wave of anger surged through him. This had to stop.
His vision faded into a red fog as the capillaries in his eyes began to burst under the enormous strain. He felt the roar grow. This had to sop. This had to stop now.
This had to stop now
THIS HAD TO STOP NOW.
and it did.
Just like the dream, it all stopped. Except, in a flash of lucidity, Geras realised that it wasn't a dream. That it never had been.
It was ALL real.
And a thunderous explosion of silence reverberated across the valley as all motion in the universe ceased and Geras rose up from the grass, glowing with an incandescent fury.
He knew now. Understood it all. He was not Air. He was not Fire. Was not Earth.
He was neither Lightening, Water nor Light nor Dark.
He was none of the 7 Disciplines.
He was something else.
He was Time
He strode purposefully towards his torturers who were locked into stasis, still in the midst of their channel. Both had frowns of concentration on their faces and crackly fractals of visible electricity were still frozenly spewing forth from Enlil's upraised hands.
Geras' mind was blank with rage as he approached and an idea of terrible vengeance came to him unbidden.
Engulfed in an glowing nimbus of darkness, he released his grip on Time, channelling the lost seconds of the entire world into the pair. Motion began again. Slowly. The brutal gale of before was dropped to a rustling breeze as reality gradually crept back to it's natural course. Marduk and Enlil lost all control of their channels as in their time-line, they watched with disbelief as Geras translocated himself from the ground and rushed towards them at super-quick speeds.
He stood implacably, pouring millions upon millions of seconds into the two and watched as they began to gradually change. Their flesh greyed and their skin wrinkled and cracked. Hair thinned and whitened and they began to shrink visibly, stooping over as the years ebbed the strength from their muscles. Their Eyes, once dark and penetrating, began to whiten until the two saw everything though a milky film that leeched across their corneas.
And then it was done and time resumed. Azure returned to the sky and birds began to chirp in the trees once again. Somewhere in the compound, a raucous laugh carried on the wind.
Geras collapsed to the ground in a crumpled heap, sapped of all strength, ignoring the terrified cries for mercy croaked out by the two blind geriatrics in front of him.
"Shut-up Grayheads" he whispered.
And then he gave in to the darkness of total exhaustion.
Watching all from his place of concealment, The Administrator smiled a smile of heartbreaking joy.
For he had finally found a pupil.
Entry 1:
absolutes
Axolotl
Ballare
Beano312003
Bigmike
calbearspolo
coley
Confuzitron
Coyote
darko
DrogoRoch
goferforhire
gravitas
Gunslinger
indoninja
Jack_Burton
Jack_McCallum
jgreening
joedaddy
justagirl27
loki
Maltese
MandaPanda
Merlina
NerfHerder
Orgasmatron
Pentameter
rad1101
Sacrilicious
scourge
Stagger_Lee
stevie_says
street-pirate
supadupapupa
thorpe
Uberjunkie
Wiggles
34 eligible votes (37 total) *
Entry 2:
Amontillado
Antioxident
apollo88
AsshOly
august_sobriquet
BadAssJulie
Berty
Bob_Dole
Bubba2341
c1ndy
CaptainThorns
charminglybeef
Chroniclysm
consuelo212
Crystle
Davros
DonovanMD
EchoBoxing
firefly
FunnyAsCancer
ghola
Hirilnara
HotWillie
Impassive-Digressive
intellismartness
JMG114
JoeyG
JonnyX
kaos-king
littledan
Luckystar
Magicaddict
nyxmar
satchel
Shaun_Rocks
sicosemen
Soley_Trinity
Spam
sparkle_pink
SPECIALk
St_Jimmy
strwbryfanatic
William_Q_Percy
WingedFoote
41 eligible votes (44 total) *
* Eligible votes are those made by users who had either (A) posted 3+ messages OR (B) written 100+ [lowered from 750+] reviews as of the beginning of the UberMadness! competition.
User Reviews
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-09-29 13:03:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Man, it's a bitch getting this stuff out from under your fingernails. I should have thought this out better. Of course, I won't be biting my fibgernails for the rest of the day, so I guess there's always an upside to things.
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-09-29 12:52:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Pooflinger.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-09-29 12:50:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
My boss just handed me a bucket of warm soapy water and a sponge.
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-09-29 12:42:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Here are the scattered ideas I threw out when writing out notes. They sort of read like a shitty poem version of the above. I fear my mind works in its own meter.
the bally and the barker
ten-in-one inside a row of tents and stages
anomalies
abnormalities
anatomical wonders
pitch cards for extra money
rooking rubes and gillies
for shame
the blowoff
the ding
the promise of a hidden treasure
the parted curtain and the paid dollar
black box, ochre and pitch
candlelight in the tent
too dark for midnight
bars behind and bars beneath unbending
the mirror for some
reflections of the self
a gyp and a groan
missing money and fool's luck
But for one unlucky one
One in each city
The flickerbox shows itself true
hail horrors
crimson smoke and silent screams
a shock of white in the hair
red eyes moving slowly in the night
devil eyes
one in each city
for a while
until it is satisfied
and we are gone
a trail of dead
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-09-29 12:39:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-09-27 18:23:03 (#)
Ranking: 0
If #1 loses I'm gonna shit in my hand and start throwing it at the walls.
--
Time to drop trou.
Fuck, Author #1, sorry man.
Submitted by strwbryfanatic (user info) at 2006-09-29 11:45:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Antioxident (user info) at 2006-09-29 08:07:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Magicaddict (user info) at 2006-09-29 05:44:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Cliched as hell, but good fantasy.
Submitted by NerfHerder (user info) at 2006-09-29 01:09:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by nyxmar (user info) at 2006-09-28 21:55:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-09-28 21:19:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by consuelo212 (user info) at 2006-09-28 16:00:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-09-28 15:42:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by thorpe (user info) at 2006-09-28 08:42:29 (#)
Ranking: 0
Is this is indeed Jack vs Kaos-King then I am going to start calling the latter Ronnie.
I can't believe nobody else has noticed the similarity between Entry 2 and Terry Pratchett's "Thief of Time" Discworld novel.
--
Jesus Christ, read my review... I may have a big ego but it ain't that fuckin' big.
V
V
V
Author #1. Wordy as fuck, but I feel almost every word counted. Jesus, this was fucking ART, man. I could quote lines all day, but let me keep it short and say this...
I fear coming up against you in some future round.
Well done, whoever the hell you are.
Submitted by thorpe (user info) at 2006-09-28 08:42:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Is this is indeed Jack vs Kaos-King then I am going to start calling the latter Ronnie.
I can't believe nobody else has noticed the similarity between Entry 2 and Terry Pratchett's "Thief of Time" Discworld novel.
Submitted by thorpe (user info) at 2006-09-28 08:39:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Entry 1: Pretty cool. I'm glad it wasn't just a mirror thing.
Entry 2: Thief of Time much? It didn't even feel like that much effort had been put into trying to differentiate it. The writing ability was all there though and I probably wouldn't have had a problem voting for this if it had actually been better than the first, you just got unlucky.
Both good entries.
Submitted by Beano312003 (user info) at 2006-09-28 07:43:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Tough call.
Submitted by DrogoRoch (user info) at 2006-09-28 06:58:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Tough choice as I liked both of them.
Submitted by sparkle_pink (user info) at 2006-09-27 23:16:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-09-27 18:34:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
"Author #2. Wordy as fuck,"
That was intended for Author #1. Sorry.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-09-27 18:23:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
If #1 loses I'm gonna shit in my hand and start throwing it at the walls.
It ain't me, btw.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-09-27 18:20:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Holy CHRIST!!!
#1!!!
Author #2, it's a shame you put so much effort into your entry, since you would have crushed a weaker opponent. I thought it was okay, but this kind of fantasy stuff has been done a LOT, and I just didn't have any investment in the characters. Good effort, though.
Author #2. Wordy as fuck, but I feel almost every word counted. Jesus, this was fucking ART, man. I could quote lines all day, but let me keep it short and say this...
I fear coming up against you in some future round.
Well done, whoever the hell you are.
Submitted by JoeyG (user info) at 2006-09-27 17:52:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by St_Jimmy (user info) at 2006-09-27 15:23:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
both were good, but I thought 2 was a bit more creative.
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2006-09-27 14:50:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I read #1 and thought I had the winner.
Then #2 blew me away.
Shame one of these has to lose.
-Dave
Submitted by loki (user info) at 2006-09-27 14:23:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
tough call
It's a shame one of these is going to lose.
Submitted by gravitas (user info) at 2006-09-27 08:56:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-09-27 07:25:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
These were both terribly cheesy. Entry 1 was tales from the crypt and entry 2 read like the formulaic fantasy novels I find at Waterstones.
"Because, really, all magic is just trickery isn't it?
Isn't it?"
Was intolerably ghey but the ending of entry 2 was also intolerably ghey.
Also, in spite of it all, I enjoyed both stories immensley. I'm having real trouble choosing.
I'm going to go with entry 2 for arbitrary reasons.
Submitted by Soley_Trinity (user info) at 2006-09-27 06:16:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by AsshOly (user info) at 2006-09-27 03:03:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by WingedFoote (user info) at 2006-09-27 02:35:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
honest to God, the two best entries in the contest. I read entry one, and couldn't believe there was a piece of writing on this site I would vote for instead of it. And then I found it. Jack and Kaos?
Submitted by SPECIALk (user info) at 2006-09-26 23:49:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I wish I could've voted for both...
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-09-26 23:14:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Entry 1, you had too much "telling" in your story. But I still preferred it.
Submitted by supadupapupa (user info) at 2006-09-26 23:08:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
These were both quite good, but I think number 1 edged it just a bit.
Submitted by William_Q_Percy (user info) at 2006-09-26 19:33:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Luckystar (user info) at 2006-09-26 18:42:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Uberjunkie (user info) at 2006-09-26 18:22:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2006-09-26 18:05:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
my guess
entry one: mccallum
entry two: kaos king
both entries: too fucking long. this to me is one of the biggest problems with UM. with that standard issue bitch out of the way, these were both very well done. i picked one simply because it caught my fancy a bit more. really have nothing bad to say about either one (minus the length thing)
Submitted by Wiggles (user info) at 2006-09-26 17:46:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
:(
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2006-09-26 17:09:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm weeping right now, because I have to make a choice.
My opinion... best 2 stories yet.
#2 just so barely gets my vote. Damn.
Submitted by august_sobriquet (user info) at 2006-09-26 15:59:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2006-09-26 15:39:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Hirilnara (user info) at 2006-09-26 15:19:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-09-26 14:15:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Author #1, the object of this contest is to write a story, not type as many words as you can.
Submitted by HotWillie (user info) at 2006-09-26 13:06:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2006-09-26 11:59:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by c1ndy (user info) at 2006-09-26 11:45:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by JMG114 (user info) at 2006-09-26 11:44:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow. Is it the final round already?
Submitted by indoninja (user info) at 2006-09-26 10:34:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
this was a toss up...
Submitted by indoninja (user info) at 2006-09-26 10:33:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Toughest choice so far, good work.
jack and Kaos??
Submitted by Bigmike (user info) at 2006-09-26 10:09:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
My first +2.
These were both well written and interesting. What a great title!
Number one did it for me though as it is my kind of story. This takes nothing away from number two which was excellent as well.
Congrats to you both for well woven tales.
Submitted by Pentameter (user info) at 2006-09-26 09:39:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I really liked both of these, but entry 1 stuck with me a little more.
It's a shame that one of these has to lose.
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2006-09-26 09:13:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Okie.
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2006-09-26 09:08:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Damn...
Submitted by intellismartness (user info) at 2006-09-26 08:36:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Another solid matchup, but I think I'll go with number two.
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2006-09-26 08:27:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Spam (user info) at 2006-09-26 04:35:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Bob_Dole (user info) at 2006-09-26 04:34:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
It's too many hours without sleep to honestly vote on this. #2 looked cooler upon quick skimming, so, yeah. or something.
Submitted by Merlina (user info) at 2006-09-26 04:34:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2006-09-26 04:08:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
apollo v. domenad
Submitted by Shaun_Rocks (user info) at 2006-09-26 03:21:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by BadAssJulie (user info) at 2006-09-26 02:32:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
#2 had a picture
Submitted by Ballare (user info) at 2006-09-26 01:44:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by absolutes (user info) at 2006-09-26 00:41:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by satchel (user info) at 2006-09-26 00:27:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by goferforhire (user info) at 2006-09-26 00:10:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Coyote (user info) at 2006-09-26 00:03:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
this one was tough to call. In the end the small-time Satan caught my attention a little bit more than the god of old age.
Submitted by Crystle (user info) at 2006-09-25 23:37:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by coley (user info) at 2006-09-25 23:32:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Both good, sorry 2, I liked 1 and couldn't finish yours (too long, ADD kicked in).
:(
I'm a jerk!
Submitted by firefly (user info) at 2006-09-25 23:30:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by FunnyAsCancer (user info) at 2006-09-25 23:26:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
#1 was great, but #2 made me fear for my UberMadness life.
Submitted by littledan (user info) at 2006-09-25 23:22:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
WTF I'm not reading all that! Entry 2
Submitted by EchoBoxing (user info) at 2006-09-25 23:15:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
WOW that's a lot of words.
Submitted by DonovanMD (user info) at 2006-09-25 23:15:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by street-pirate (user info) at 2006-09-25 23:13:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by justagirl27 (user info) at 2006-09-25 23:04:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-09-25 23:02:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by Amontillado (user info) at 2006-09-25 22:46:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I loved #2.
Submitted by charminglybeef (user info) at 2006-09-25 22:29:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow. Great matchup.
Submitted by Confuzitron (user info) at 2006-09-25 22:28:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by MandaPanda (user info) at 2006-09-25 22:24:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Chroniclysm (user info) at 2006-09-25 22:22:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Reminds me of that show Heroes that I just watched, but darker.
Submitted by joedaddy (user info) at 2006-09-25 22:18:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX celent
Submitted by calbearspolo (user info) at 2006-09-25 22:10:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
mmmm mmmmmmm
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-09-25 22:07:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-09-25 22:07:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This is one of the toughest matchups for me- these are two of the best pieces Ive seen so far.
Submitted by Gunslinger (user info) at 2006-09-25 22:02:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Both pretty good. Number 2 reminded me of Fable, which made me kinda mad...
WHY CAN'T I KILL MY WIFE AND CHILD??? FUUUCK
Submitted by Impassive-Digressive (user info) at 2006-09-25 21:52:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Maltese (user info) at 2006-09-25 21:52:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I scrolled through this...
Dead bodies + chainsaws...
or a fucking awesome pic?
Dammit.
Submitted by Jack_Burton (user info) at 2006-09-25 21:50:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by stevie_says (user info) at 2006-09-25 21:46:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by jgreening (user info) at 2006-09-25 21:45:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Best pairing yet.