Round 7 Challenge: Incorporate a Homicidal Clown (600 words)

What’s going on Candy. Come clean.

Garth was feeling uneasy but he wasn’t going to split. He felt ready for something new in his existence. Maybe this was what he had been moving towards without knowing it.

Trojan. Forgive me for the company. These are friends. We have to take precautions. Sometimes things are not what they seem.

Three guys came out of the shadows. They were older than Garth. No one of them smiled, neither did he feel threatened. Then Candy came out of the shadows. He noticed her eyes first, grey and large like a river or dreams. She had her blond hair pulled back exposing her pale, translucent skin. There was a stillness about her. She seemed to be standing in a place which made her whole, under an indistinct lamp in front of the dark river swirling.

We want you to join us. We want you to help bring down the Unseen One. You’ve already done more than we could. You’ve brought his systems down. It will only be temporary but you’ve shown us all what is possible. When you know what else he is doing, the ring of people trafficking, extortion, drugs, the corruption, you will see what we are talking about.

Garth had heard the rumours. Only now was he thinking more clearly about them, making connections, thinking through the consequences of what he had read and found. He knew that this had to be true, that

His Eden could not be built on such filth, that the highways he lived on and developed had to be a new beginning, free of evil empires and domination and fear.

The Unseen One has made himself indispensable to the e-communities which develop the net into new areas. He has infiltrated all the independent developers group and either made them his minions or stolen their ideas and sold them on, using them to create his own fortressed systems to run his show like an evil clown hiding behind a mask of entertainment. His corporations are powerful and ready to monopolise on the open source developments, to make us all dependent on his systems and software until he runs the hyper world like a dictator.

Garth could feel the passion of her words and shared many of these ideas. There were so many. He couldn’t think. He felt in his gut that he could trust her.

Ok. Look. I want to help. I want to be part of this, whatever you call yourselves. There is only so much I can do alone.

And he did want to come in from the cold. He wanted to move on, into the light, to bring his dreams into the world. He’d had enough of addiction to the games and systems he had been using. At the same time he had learnt from them and he was ready to rise above them and what they restricted him from doing.

Candy smiled.

I knew you were ready. Lets go. It may not be safe here for long. You cant go back, they know where you are. Well take you to somewhere safe, somewhere you can rest.

Garth hadn’t been thinking like this. It took him a moment to step back and see that he really had to break. They knew where he was and if things were really as Candy suggested nothing would be safe now. It didn’t matter. The real secrets were all in his head.

Let’s go, said Garth. He was ready for whatever this new darker future held. Now he had something to fight for.

Round 6 Challenge: Incorporate a White Russian and the words “over the line” into your next passage, which should be no more than 500 words.

Garth was weeping, trembling on his knees in his 3D visor and virtual suite. The tension was palpable around him in the force field crowded with holographic figures. Garth bent over, ready to go; and yet in his heart there was another voice, one of fire-full defiance. He felt like a whip, buckled ready to unleash and gave into this tidal urge. He got up. He threw all his magic around, the figures paled and froze, the huts burst into flame. Then, his final parting shot as he ripped his gear off, he snapped the execute function on a Trojan virus he had secreted into the system. The poison spread and he could see the code disintegrate. This was destruction. He looked on in awe. The game system was un-spooling, rending apart at its core, dismantling in fractal splendour.

He watched the colours and forms collapse into codes and then into sparks then go out. Long after the silence entered his room he stood there. He stood there, because a silence had now entered his mind.

He couldn’t tell how long he had sat there staring. Staring at the dark outline of his systems glowing. The edge of darkness. He was wearied and then there was, behind it all, a whisper of hope, a new beginning. Wasn’t it the Buddha who rose on a lily from the cesspool of existence, its roots deep in the mud, grasping, holding, embracing?

Garth’s phone alarm went. He check it. Shit. He had to get to the waterfront. Candy. He left the room, took the bike and headed out into the night.

Someone was there, standing in the shadows near a lone lamp, Manhattan glittering, grey across the misty river.

Hi.

Hello. Trojan?

A voice like silk in the mist.

Yeah. That’s me.

I have a proposal for you.

Garth squinted, unable to make out her face. He was trying to connect her to the chat room voice. But she was no longer text, code and images. This was a person, stripped away from the clothing of technology. Yet he was the one feeling oddly naked in the dark, as if she could see right through into him.

Huh. Yeah.

Before that, you remember our agreed password.

For a moment Garth’s mind went blank. Then he smiled.

White Russian.

Don’t try to cross over the line.

Garth smiled. He felt safer.

I know about today. Your destruction of Asphodel is hot news and you aren’t safe. Maybe our meeting now was meant to be this way. Because I can offer you something more. There are other like you. Others who want to break out of the fascist hold the corporations and megalomaniacs have over the super information highways. And now you are wanted, wanted by bad men. They want you for their ends or maybe for punishment. You are a terrorist and a genius. To them you are wanted; and for us …

Garth saw movement to the side, figures in the dark.

…desired.

Round 5 Challenge: Incorporate this image into your next passage of no more than 500 words. You can interpret this challenge as you see fit.

Garth felt his body trembling then in spasms, sweat feverishly possessed him enveloping his fluttering nakedness. He was now staring down at Fido wrapped over his bike, contorted, his body in an unnatural position, his head crushed. Garth felt an impulse to run away, to get away from that spot, as if his sanity was hanging in the balance. He turned around and ran to his bike and went to leave.

Just then he heard a holler and looked back. It was the lorry driver standing beside the body looking at Fido, his gaunt face yellowed under the evening lamps which had just turned on. He looked foreign, probably Russian. He cried out something incomprehensible. Garth didn’t wait for a translation. He turned away, the piercing grim look in the driver’s eyes staying with him as he pedalled off. As if the man had seen death and ugliness and become indifferent.

He took aimless turns, hardly aware of the bike under him or the traffic and houses around. After a while he found himself at the river where he stopped and went down to the water. He fell to his knees and vomited into the gloom, the oily water receiving his squalid meal with the indifference it had got used to showing to anything that came down to its broken desolate shore.

After what felt like a wearisome endless age Garth rose, his sobbing dried out, his eyes cold. He only knew how to do one thing and that was what he felt could cleanse him. Asphodel Fields. He had to go back and face the Clan and confess his role in the destruction of his people. He left the waterline and headed back to his lair.

His system were up and  running so when he got in he went straight into the Fields. He noted that many people were already there. He headed out of his hide out and ran towards his Clan base. He was there shortly. There was a strange feeling in the air, a silence. The silence in which many beings are present. He felt ill at ease as he turned in to the central square and saw before him the whole Clan. Motionless, dressed in full battle gear, faces hidden behind guards and masks.

He walked towards them. Into the open space. He felt ready inside himself to confront his part in the downfall of his people. He felt calm and light. He moved on towards the Elders. The silence was strong. When he arrived before the King he stopped. No one moved. Then after a darkening moment he saw the air before him spark and bend as if water was moving in the space. A hologram. He waited for the full form to appear. It was dark, then out of the void came a movement. Before he could tell what it was he heard a screech and saw himself on his bike on the street corner where he had waited earlier. His mind reeled, his senses breaking off into fragments as a voice spoke “You didn’t think that you could get away from your just reward, did you?” The Unseen One’s voice! Triumphant, ghoulish laughter and the beat of a battle drum took up. Ganesh fell down to his knees. It was all over now.

Garth felt his body trembling then in spasms, sweat feverishly possessed him enveloping his fluttering nakedness. He was now staring down at Fido wrapped over his bike, contorted, his body in an unnatural position, his head crushed. Garth felt an impulse to run away, to get away from that spot, as if his sanity was hanging in the balance. He turned around and ran to his bike and went to leave.

Just then he heard a holler and looked back. It was the lorry driver standing beside the body looking at Fido, his gaunt face yellowed under the evening lamps which had just turned on. He looked foreign, probably Russian. He cried out something incomprehensible. Garth didn’t wait for a translation. He turned away, the piercing grim look in the driver’s eyes staying with him as he pedalled off. As if the man had seen death and ugliness and become indifferent.

He took aimless turns, hardly aware of the bike under him or the traffic and houses around. After a while he found himself at the river where he stopped and went down to the water. He fell to his knees and vomited into the gloom, the oily water receiving his squalid meal with the indifference it had got used to showing to anything that came down to its broken desolate shore.

After what felt like a wearisome endless age Garth rose, his sobbing dried out, his eyes cold. He only knew how to do one thing and that was what he felt could cleanse him. Asphodel Fields. He had to go back and face the Clan and confess his role in the destruction of his people. He left the waterline and headed back to his lair.

His system were up and  running so when he got in he went straight into the Fields. He noted that many people were already there. He headed out of his hide out and ran towards his Clan base. He was there shortly. There was a strange feeling in the air, a silence. The silence in which many beings are present. He felt ill at ease as he turned in to the central square and saw before him the whole Clan. Motionless, dressed in full battle gear, faces hidden behind guards and masks.

He walked towards them. Into the open space. He felt ready inside himself to confront his part in the downfall of his people. He felt calm and light. He moved on towards the Elders. The silence was strong. When he arrived before the King he stopped. No one moved. Then after a darkening moment he saw the air before him spark and bend as if water was moving in the space. A hologram. He waited for the full form to appear. It was dark, then out of the void came a movement. Before he could tell what it was he heard a screech and saw himself on his bike on the street corner where he had waited earlier. His mind reeled, his senses breaking off into fragments as a voice spoke “You didn’t think that you could get away from your just reward, did you?” The Unseen One’s voice! Triumphant, ghoulish laughter and the beat of a battle drum took up. Ganesh fell down to his knees. It was all over now.

Round 4 Challenge: Weave an element of Fyor’s story into your own passage. It should be no more than 450 words.

And following on from the panic and the ugliness of the street his mind filled with a whiteness and pure clarity. The world before him reared up like a huge impassable wall – cracked, filthy, crumbling; despotic in its extravagant towering up, reaching for a grey sky only to collapse into this brutish mindless mess. Now he could smell the brackish slime again, feel it sticking to his armour, drawing on his vitality, beckoning him to death. He knew there wasn’t much time. He had to find Avitus before the swamp claimed him for its own. The decision had been his, the clan had supported him. Living by the Code meant also sacrifice, however great. The Code demanded revenge. And he was its instrument. It was Avitus The Visigoth who had to die and die he must.

He pushed on. The faster he went the less the mud pulled him down. In the dim, sickly light he could make out the still, lifeless trees and the wet ivy hanging down. Often he came across corpses of warriors face down, remnants of the Unseen one’s expedition force who had scattered and fled into this region to die alone and unmourned. There was no middle ground in this world. Kill or be killed. The clan had repulsed this expedition force but soon word would get back to the Unseen One and efforts to locate them in their mountain hideout would be doubled. And it was all because of Avitus. One of their own. A warrior who had committed the ultimate sin. Betrayal.

The mud under his feet began to firm up. He was coming onto an island. He felt the release in his movements. A lightness, a joy, his strength returning. Around him the trees were alive, larger, the grass vital and bushes with berries skirting the clearing ahead. A perfect place for a warrior to rest. Only he wasn’t the first one there.

The warrior swung around. The black cauldron on his chest immediately identified him as a Visigoth. Avitus. Ganesh didn’t hold anything back and threw his lance immediately. Avitus stepped back but the force of it hit him on the shoulder. He fell. Ganesh The Kabalist followed up with a spell which found its mark. He had five seconds to exploit his opponent who had frozen like an ice statue. Running forward he took out his sword and held it high above to bring it down. But not soon enough. Avitus threw a dagger at him and tumbled back out of reach. He was hit. He was raging. He lunged and swung again. Avitus couldnt get away this time and the blow took out his leg. His power dropped. Ganesh went for the shoulder. Another dagger. He was dwindling, his power dropping as Avitus cast a sickness spell. He couldn’t last much more. He went for the kill.

His lion heart swelled. He stepped back out of the epicentre of the spell, feigned sickness. Avitus was up and coming at him. He buckled down. Avitus raised his sword as he approached. Then just as the sword started to descend he stepped under its arc and flicked his blade forward, driving body and sword with all his might into Avitus and taking him down. He rolled away. Avitus was up after him but too late as he swung round and started to hack at him. Blood began to leak out of the Visigoth’s armour. His arms, legs, chest spilling. He was doomed. Ganesh kept on, all of Garth’s might going into the red button to punish the betrayer, breaker of the Seal. The Visigoth was stunned. Garth pressed the communal vision button and stepped back for the final blow. The scene was going out to both sides of the conflict, all live players in Asphodel Fields could watch this ultimate meting out of Justice. He waited a moment. He knew everyone would have hit freeze mode to watch the final wretched chapter of this family saga close.

And following on from the panic and the ugliness of the street his mind filled with a whiteness and pure clarity. The world before him reared up like a huge impassable wall – cracked, filthy, crumbling; despotic in its extravagant towering up, reaching for a grey sky only to collapse into this brutish mindless mess. He took a gulping breath, disconnecting from the horror and returning to the source of his despair.

From somewhere within a memory bubbled up, another living self embracing world like amniotic fluid, nourishing and protecting him. It was as if he could smell the brackish slime, as if it invaded his nostrils again; he could feel it once more sticking to his armour, drawing on his vitality, beckoning him to death. He knew there wasn’t much time. He had to find Avitus before the swamp claimed him for its own. The decision had been his, the Clan had supported him. Living by the Code meant also sacrifice, however great. The Code demanded revenge. And he was its instrument. It was Avitus The Visigoth who had to die and die he must.

He pushed on. The faster he went the less the mud pulled him down. In the dim, sickly light he could make out the still, lifeless trees and the wet ivy hanging down. Often he came across corpses of warriors face down, remnants of the Unseen One’s expedition force who had scattered and fled into this region to die alone and unmourned. There was no middle ground in this world. Kill or be killed. The Clan had repulsed this expedition force but soon word would get back to the Unseen One and efforts to locate them in their mountain hideout would be doubled. And it was all because of Avitus. One of their own. A warrior who had committed the ultimate sin. Betrayal.

The mud under his feet began to firm up. He was coming onto an island. He felt the release in his movements. A lightness, a joy, his strength returning. Around him the trees were alive, larger, the grass vital and bushes with berries skirting the clearing ahead. A perfect place for a warrior to rest. Only he wasn’t the first one there.

The warrior swung around. The black cauldron on his chest immediately identified him as a Visigoth. Avitus. Ganesh didn’t hold anything back and threw his lance immediately. Avitus stepped back but the force of it hit him on the shoulder. He fell back. Ganesh The Kabalist followed up with a spell which found its mark. He had five seconds to exploit his opponent who had frozen like an ice statue. Running forward he took out his sword and held it high above to bring it down. But not soon enough. Avitus spun a dagger at him and tumbled back out of reach. He was hit. He was raging. He lunged forward and swung again. Avitus couldn’t get away this time and the blow took out his leg. His power dropped. Ganesh went for the shoulder. Another dagger. He was dwindling, his power dropping as Avitus cast a sickness spell. He couldn’t last much more. He had to go for the kill.

His lion heart swelled. He stepped back out of the epicentre of the spell, feigned sickness. Avitus was up and coming at him. He buckled down. Avitus raised his sword as he approached. Then just as the sword started to descend he stepped under its arc and flicked his blade forward, driving body and sword with all his might into Avitus and taking him down. He rolled on over the fallen Avitus and away. Avitus was up after him but too late as Ganesh cat like found his feet and in the same moment swung round and started mercilessly hacking the surprised and off balance Avitus. Blood began to leak out of the Visigoth’s armour. His arms, legs, chest spilling. He was doomed. Ganesh kept on, all of Garth’s might going into the red button to punish the betrayer, breaker of the Seal. The Visigoth was stunned. Garth pressed the communal vision button and stepped back for the final blow. The scene was going out to both sides of the conflict, all live players in Asphodel Fields could watch this ultimate meting out of Justice. He waited a moment. He knew everyone would have hit freeze mode to watch the final wretched chapter of this family saga close.

Round 3 Challenge: Incorporate the death of a dog into your next passage. It should be no more than 400 words long.

Garth was feeling restless and had time to kill what with having had enough of the net. That was something new for him. Some terrestrial pursuit, a distraction was what he  needed. He made a call.

“Hey. Fido. How’s things?”

“Garth. What’s up. Long time no hear. Things are well. Been busy running my legs off with this courier job. It’s never ending. You finish one drop and the next is there. It’s endless. Still, I suppose I’m getting free exercise.” Fido was in good spirits and it cheered Garth up.

“Well I could use a bit of exercise myself. I’ve gotta unplug from the net. Its sucking me in and soon it‘ll be spitting me out. What about a ride down Bedford after work?”

“Look I’m making my last drop on DeKalb and can meet you at Bedford Nostrand in thirty so we can bike there together. Maybe grab a beer.”

“Sure thing.”

Garth flick his mobile closed. Things were looking up. He went into the dim kitchen and looked around for food, registering his own hunger. All he could find was some cornflakes at the bottom of an old box under some half eaten petrified pizza slices. It would have to do. He brewed up a coffee and ate, using water as there was no milk. It was already the end of the normal working day but his clock was out of sync. He took a shower to feel himself alive, recall the body his cyber self had taken over and now inhabited. He felt that it could be morning and he was getting ready to head out into another world, a second contingent life. The wires in his brain were crossed. He already missed the dark room, the hallucinatory screen, the other worlds he could jack into, the feeling of loosening these bodily ties with the decaying world around him for an electric, bodiless and  charged existence.

He swung his bike down off its rack and closed the door. He needed to get out while it felt good. Night was falling and he’d not got any lights. No matter, the station was close. He was looking forward to seeing Fido, that old rascal. They’d taken different paths since college but kept in touch. The city was too big for being all alone. Knowing there was someone out there you could call a friend mattered. He turned into a side street to wait. Then he saw Fido, wheels spinning frantically, gangly frame hung over his racer and his big lopsided grin. Garth smiled. Fido had both arms up, waving in exaggerated and easy joy, clown that he was. And then the smile froze on Garth’s face as he saw a dog run out in front of Fido. It all happened in an instant. The bike went over and then the horrid screech of truck tyres, metal grinding mercilessly against metal. His stomach buckled and twisted as a dragonish wave of horror rose through his chest. Blood busted into his head. He dropped his bike and stumbled into the road. The dog was a mangled truncated mess, the bike was mauled into a shape almost beyond recognition; and he couldn’t see Fido. He felt a black pit open up before him. He turned towards the truck in incomprehension, the twilight road the cars around him losing their substance, falling away, shimmering, prescient like a cyber battle zone.

Garth was feeling restless and had time to kill what with having had enough of the net. That was something new for him. Some terrestrial pursuit, a distraction was what he  needed. He made a call.

“Hey. Fido. How’s things?”

“Garth. What’s up. Long time no hear. Things is good. This courier job’s running my legs off. It’s like whizzing in a never ending rabbit run. And you finish one drop and another one comes up. The exercise is free though.” Fido was in good spirits and it cheered Garth up.

“Well I could use a bit of exercise myself. I’ve gotta unplug from the net. Its sucking me in and soon it‘ll be spitting me out. What about a ride down Bedford after work?”

“Look I’m making my last drop on DeKalb and can meet you at Bedford Nostrand in thirty so we can bike there together. Maybe grab a beer.”

“Sure thing.”

Garth flick his mobile closed. Things were looking up. He went into the dim kitchen and looked around for food, registering his own hunger. All he could find was some cornflakes at the bottom of an old box under some half eaten petrified pizza slices. It would have to do. He brewed up a coffee and ate, using water as there was no milk. It was already the end of the normal working day but his clock was out of sync. He took a shower to feel himself alive, recall the body his cyber self had taken over and now inhabited. He felt that it could be morning and he was getting ready to head out into another world, a second contingent life. The wires in his brain were crossed. He already missed the dark room, the hallucinatory screen, the other worlds he could jack into, the feeling of loosening these bodily ties with the decaying world around him for an electric, bodiless and  charged existence.

He swung his bike down off its rack and closed the door. He needed to get out while it felt good. Night was falling and he’d not got any lights. No matter, the station was close. He was looking forward to seeing Fido, that old rascal. They’d taken different paths since college but kept in touch. The city was too big for being all alone. Knowing there was someone out there you could call a friend mattered. He turned into a side street to wait.

Then he saw Fido, wheels spinning frantically, a gangly stick insect frame draped over his racer and his big lopsided grin. Garth smiled. Fido saw him and swung both arms up, waving in exaggerated and easy joy, clown that he was. And then the smile froze on Garth’s face as he saw a dog run out in front of Fido. It all happened in an instant. The bike went over and then the horrid screech of truck tyres, metal grinding mercilessly against metal. His stomach buckled and twisted as a dragonish wave of horror rose through his chest. Blood busted into his head. He dropped his bike and stumbled into the road. The dog was a mangled truncated mess, the bike was mauled into a shape almost beyond recognition; and he couldn’t see Fido. He felt a black pit open up before him. He turned towards the truck in incomprehension, the twilight road the cars around him losing their substance, falling away, shimmering, prescient like a cyber battle zone.

Round 2: Write the opening paragraph of your novella. It should be no more than 300 words, not including your opening sentence, and should be about interactions that take place over the web

The street was semi – residential but felt semi-derelict no thanks to the vacant lots boarded up and graffiti infested, the countless beer bottle shards over the pavements, the unkempt grass and the half decayed trees grown wretchedly wild. The house was from a more prosperous era in the neighbourhood’s history, if history isn’t too grand a terms for the street. History passes by such places and usually  forgets them on its way to somewhere more interesting. And forgetting is just what Garth was trying to do as he sat in his dark, dingy room there. A ghostly light emanated from his laptop screen over his enervated features and hollow eyes. You could see him as a sickly elf, his straw mop, the lightness of his bones, his steady blue eyes; or a wide eyed corpse frosted in the morgue like a cup cake left over from a children’s party.

“Yeah. Where can I meet you?” said Garth into his microphone.

“Down by the waterfront near Greenpoint. At a quarter to twelve”.

“Ok” Garth said flatly. “I’ll be there”. He was disappointed that she hadn’t wanted to video with him or send pictures. He’d been trying to get her to go out for weeks since they met at an online chat room. He already felt it would be a waster and her choice of meeting point had sunk any hopes he’d had. He felt that the net sometimes sucked him dry of blood and juice. Just like the Matrix, he thought. Im living in a fantasy. Now Im gonna take  a walk and wake up to how shit this place is. Maybe I should just forget her,  find another avatar and go after some chicks who are more easy. But he knew he wouldn’t. There was something different about Candy.

The street was semi – residential but felt semi-derelict no thanks to the vacant lots boarded up and graffiti infested, the countless beer bottle shards over the pavements, the unkempt grass and the half decayed trees grown wretchedly wild. The house was from a more prosperous era in the neighbourhood’s history, if history isn’t too grand a terms for the street. History passes by such places and usually  forgets them on its way to somewhere more interesting. And forgetting is just what Garth was trying to do as he sat in his dark, dingy room there. A ghostly light emanated from his laptop screen over his enervated features and hollow eyes. You could see him as a sickly elf, his straw mop, the lightness of his bones, his steady blue eyes; or a wide eyed corpse frosted in the morgue like a cup cake left over from a children’s party.

“Yeah. Where can I meet you?” said Garth into his microphone.

“Down by the waterfront near Greenpoint. At a quarter to twelve”.

“Ok” Garth said flatly. “I’ll be there”. He was disappointed that she hadn’t wanted to video with him or send pictures. He’d been trying to get her to go out for weeks since they met at an online chat room. He already felt it would be a waster and her choice of meeting point had sunk any hopes he’d had. He felt that the net sometimes sucked him dry of blood and juice. Just like the Matrix, he thought. Im living in a fantasy. Now Im gonna take  a walk and wake up to how shit this place is. Maybe I should just forget her,  find another avatar and go after some chicks who are more easy. But he knew he wouldn’t. There was something different about Candy.

Round 1: Write the opening sentence of your novella

Round 1: Write the opening sentence of your novella

You had to go up a couple of high steps to get to the thin front door, as if the house had a certain disdain for the neighbourhood.

You had to go up a couple of high steps to get to the thin front door, as if the house had a certain disdain for the neighbourhood.