H4H: RPotM 25: Tribute to furitsu

H4H: RPotM 25: Tribute to furitsu

Merbley vs. diogenese19348 vs. mennufer vs. TinStar
Contest ended 2 years ago 3/4/2010 12:00:00 AM EDT

Contest Info

  • Cost: 10 credits
  • Jackpot: 10 credits

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First Place
# 1
8

Furitsu's "Whispers"

In the cool of the morning, the garden lay heavy with the fecundity of humus and the cyclic decay of life. Crisp spicy fragrances danced from the foliage in the heavy air, and were stirred into eddies as the gardener trod a path through the laburnums and lilacs. His walking among the trees and flowers renewed the bond between his humanity and his natural environment, and the source of life itself wrapped around him in the stillness.

Roundabout the songs of birds erupted from the leafy canopy above, where wingless wild things roused from sleep or returned from nocturnal travels. The glory-fire of dawn began to set alight the tips of the tallest trees, while in the shadows beneath, innumerable creatures welcomed a new day.

In the delicate peace of the waking world, he now heard hushed voices; two children eager to be part of the dawn, yet knowing their place was not to herald the breaking of day but to partake of it. He watched them through the broad splashes of a pomegranate tree, as he would a deer suckling its fawn, or the amorous union of buck and hind. Such moments possessed a sacredness which was not his to disturb.

The children danced and whispered, intent on their game, and he observed their limbs darting and caressing as they formed an intricate weaving of grasses and leaves. Between their hands formed a sculpture the like of which he had not seen before, even in the works of the insects, the designs wrought by trees, or the handiwork evident in the rocks themselves. Woven of fibres, there existed a form not unlike his own, yet different enough to awake in him the familiar yearning.

In the curve of the gazelle’s hindquarters his eye found delight; in the gravid form of the ripe papaya was pleasure to be found; and yet none satisfied. When his reflection gazed back at him in the stillness of a pond, it painted him alone against the canvas of a garden in which every creature had its mate, and there was room even in paradise for this quiet grief.

He watched, entranced, as the twins laboured at their game. The soft folds of a manufactured skin took shape in their hands; an approximation of his own nakedness crafted from the stuff of the earth. Its proportions pleased him, and he found the gazelle and the papaya combined to stir him more deeply than had ever the creature or the fruit.

The childish hands slowed in their task, and it became apparent that their work was complete. And yet they observed the finished garment with obvious disappointment. They circled it, whispered to it in the dawn light, and there was no response. They tugged at its sleeves only to have them fall limp. It was a shell of a being; an empty husk only. It spectacularly described the perimeter of what could be but was not.

He felt again the ache of his own solitary reflection.

Stumbling through the boughs, he entered the domain of the weavers, and yet they showed no sign of being surprised by his sudden appearance. Indeed, it was as though they expected him. They smiled and continued their dance into the woods, laughing, as though an unheard voice called them home. And he was alone with the form they had made; the empty design of nothing.

His being cried out to life itself, from which he yet knew no division. He groaned aloud the desires birthed within him for a creature which would be his own reflection, yet more than that: a completion and a counterpart.

The life moved upon him and he slept, and his yearning ribs gave of themselves to fill the crafted template. The elegance of the creatures and the promise of the fruits combined in flesh form and took breath. She wriggled from the cloth sheath as though from a cocoon, and stood radiant in the morning air. Its purpose served, the garment withered to the ground at her feet, and she took her first steps towards her waking lover as the world conspired around them and the dawn ended.

Word count: 697
Please do not critique my entry.

Apologies to Twain and Hope.

 
2
By Merbley (Score: 7.986)
7

Don't Move

The older man stepped into the circle of firelight, his eyes searching. His gaze stopped on Marda.

“No.” The sound was torn from her mouth.

His face filled with compassion. “The elders have decided. The ceremony will be at midday tomorrow. Prepare yourself.”

Marda barely noticed when the elder left.

Midday. Tomorrow. Joined to Laron.

Laron was new to their village but his reputation preceded him. He was a brave hunter, skilled with knife and bow. He was also cruel and arrogant. The stories of his mate’s short, sad joining were whispered around the fire and caused fathers to hide their daughters.

And now she was next.

Laron had gone village to village looking for a new mate. He had been welcomed as a brave hunter and songs had been sung of his exploits, but he had not been invited to join any clans. Until now.

It was the Beast’s fault. Their valley had been peaceful. Hunting had been easy, the children played without fear. Then the Beast had moved in.

The Beast killed indiscriminately. Deer, lion, child, all were sacrificed to feed its voracious appetite. Animals fled, villagers hid in caves. Children’s laughter was replaced with mother’s weeping.

Laron had offered the elders a deal. They needed a hunter to destroy the Beast. He needed a mate.

He chose Marda.

She stared into the flames, watching as tongues of fire licked the wood, slowly devouring it. She felt her spirit rise in her. She would not be devoured the same way. Laron’s first mate had lasted less than one full moon; he would not do the same to her.

The moon was waning as she crept from the cave. Dew lay thick on the grass, sparkling in the moonlight like earthbound stars. Familiar sounds filled the night - the quiet crackling of a fire, a baby’s soft cry, a mother’s soothing whisper. All faded away as she stepped into the darkness.

She followed the river up the valley towards the Beast’s lair. The sun was kissing the silver water with gold when the night’s silence was broken.

The Beast was awake.

Marda broke into a run. The Beast would soon descend into the valley, looking for its first meal of the day. Her hand went to the knife at her waist, taking comfort from the cold stone.

The valley narrowed and the walls began to rise around her. The beast roared again, closer this time. Marda spotted a small ledge near the narrowest point and climbed to it. Shedding her outer clothing, she grabbed handfuls of grass and dirt and rubbed them over her skin, darkening it.

Then she waited.

The forest moved around her, birds welcoming the day with raucous calls, small creatures scurrying among the leaves. Suddenly, all was silent.

The stone knife appeared in her hand. She crouched on the ledge, motionless, listening. Slow, deliberate steps moved through the underbrush, moving ever closer. She heart pounded in her ears, beating a sharp counter-rhythm to the heavy steps. Her fingers flexed around the hilt of the knife.

Then the Beast appeared.

Its muscled body filled her vision and blocked the sky. Muscles rippled with every step. Its head swiveled from side to side as blood-red eyes searched the landscape, looking for any movement that would give away its prey. Marda remained motionless.

The massive head swung away from the ledge. With a smooth movement, Marda launched herself at the creature.

The Beast turned back, mouth open on a loud roar, but it was too late; Marda’s knife had sunk deep into the back of its neck. She held on with both hands, scrambling for a foothold. The animal shook its head, trying to dislodge her; she hung on with a strength born of desperation. Razor-sharp claws reached for her but fell short.

The knife twisted, digging deeper into flesh. Warm blood flowed over her hands and she felt her grip start to slip. With a roar of pain, the Beast started into the valley.

Marda’s arms burned with the effort of hanging on; each step jarred her to the very core. Blood was now flowing freely from the wound, but not fast enough. Her hands slipped. She prepared to jump, hoping the injured creature wouldn’t see her land. Knowing it would.

Before she could move, the Beast jerked beneath her. Marda heard the twang of a bow string, then another, then another. Arrow after arrow flew around her, sinking deep into the beast. It lurched forward, stumbling. With a growl it fell to its knees, small arms flailing. Marda let go of her knife and jumped free.

Arrows continued to fly, one after another, piercing the muscled flesh. Marda watched as the Beast’s eyes lost focus and then glazed over. It toppled to the ground with a crash and was still.

Silence filled the forest. Marda closed her eyes; Loran had killed the beast. She had lost her only chance at freedom.

Footsteps approached her from behind. She tensed, waiting for his first blow. Instead, she felt a cloak draped over her bare shoulders.

She spun around, pulling the garment close. Instead of Loran, she saw the face of a stranger.

For the first time in days, she smiled. Freedom had come.

Word count: 878
Please do not critique my entry.
 
5

This story is about this picture

Grandpa tucked Joey into bed and prepared for the nightly bedtime story ritual.

“Grandpa, what's an environment?” Joey asked.

“Depends on how you use the word Joey. Did you learn it in school today?”

“Yes, Grandpa, Miss Kathy said we needed to be careful about the environment, but I really didn't understand.”

“Well, it has to do with nature Joey, and that nature likes to keep things in balance,” Grandpa said. “Humans sometimes forgets that, and bad thinks happen when they do.”

“What kind of bad things Grandpa?”

“You know the stream out back? The one your mom tells you not to play in?”

“Yes.”

“The problem is there is a factory up the stream that sometimes releases chemicals into it which makes it unsafe to drink from it, or even touch it some days.”

Joey looked confused. “I don't understand Grandpa, why would they do that?”

Grandpa sat back. “Joey, have I ever told you the story of Harold and the Hat Monster?”

“No Grandpa.”

“Harold was a mighty hunter. He hunted for food, but he also hunted because he liked to mount the animals' heads he hunted on his walls.”

“Sort of like the moose head above our fireplace?”

“Yes, but Harold had a great many heads mounted on his walls, moose and deer and bears and all sorts of other wild creatures he had hunted. Why, he even had a Doubleewe it was said.”

“What's that?” Joey asked.

“An animal like a sheep with two heads, one on each end.”

“And he had both the heads on his wall?”

“No, that one was supposedly stuffed, and he displayed the whole animal.”

“What about the Hat Monster?”

“I was getting to that. The best animals with the biggest heads were in the dark center of the forest. Hunters feared to go there, because there were stories of fearsome beasts, and hunters who never returned. That didn't scare Harold. Nothing scared him.”

“Sort of like daddy.”

“Your father gets scared at times too, everybody does. But sometimes you have to act brave.”

“So was Harold just acting brave?”

“Harold was not thinking about nature, he just wanted the best and biggest head for his wall, and he heard that head belonged to the Hat Monster.”

“What was the Hat Monster like?”

“Now don't go getting ahead of me. One bright day in early autumn Harold took his trusty rifle and started into the woods in search of the Hat Monster. He reached the center of the forest where things were dark, and all sorts of scary noises came from behind every tree. Harold wasn't scared of man nor beast though. He noticed some strange tracks and started following them.”

“What kind of tracks?”

“Little tiny tracks made by little feet. But Harold had never seen anything like them before. The tracks lead through dense brush into the very darkest part of the forest. Harold made his way slowly and carefully following them, until eventually he came to a clearing, and what do you suppose he saw?”

“The Hat Monster!”

“Not exactly, but you are close. What he came too was a huge display of hats of all kinds and colors, hunting hats, top hats, opera hats, football helmets, all kinds of hats. Have you ever been to a hat store?”

“Mommy took me once. There were all sorts of hats.”

“And what were they displayed on?”

“Mostly on shelves, though some were on dummy heads.”

“Well that is the way the Hat Monster displayed his. Only he didn't have any dummy heads in the forest.”

“What did he use then Grandpa?”

“Well, he was a Monster remember? He used human skulls.”

“Really? Gee.”

“Really, and Harold looked at all those hats, with skulls underneath them. And began to understand why hunters were missing.”

“That's terrible!”

“Oh I don't know. What did Harold have on his walls?”

“Animal heads.”

“Well if a hunter has animal heads for decorations, what did you think a monster would have?”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, Harold started getting scared then, only it was a little late. He heard a voice behind him saying 'This one should do just fine', and quickly turned to see a red monster, mostly head, wearing a pink hat. The monster had a hatchet in one hand, and a frilly lady's hat in the other. Then quick as a wink, it lopped off poor Harold's head.”

“What happened then?”

“Well, if you go to the deepest, darkest part of the forest, and you come across a display of hats, the head under the frilly lady's one is Harold's.”

“But watch out for the Hat Monster!”

“Yes, unless you want to be his next hat stand.”

“But what does that have to do with the environment Grandpa?”

“Nature likes to keep things in balance. Harold liked to collect animal heads, nature wanted to keep things even between the hunters and the animals. It isn't the hunting that was the problem, it was the excess hunting for trophies. The environment is the same way. It is nature you know. If you change it, nature tries to put it back in balance. What nature does to do that may not necessarily be something you like.”

“So that's why Miss Kathy tells us we have to be careful about the environment.”

“Yes. That stream behind the house isn't just unsafe for you to play in, it is unsafe for fish and frogs and birds too. So by not being careful with the environment, that factory is making it difficult for all sorts of creatures, including people.”

“Do you think the Hat Monster will go after them?”

“No, the Hat Monster was only there to balance one kind of action. Something else will happen with the factory, either it will destroy people's living because they can't fish, or cause bad bugs to thrive because there are no birds or fish to eat them, or make people sick who try to drink the water. But there is always some price to pay for ignoring nature.”

“Should I warn the class about the Hat Monster tomorrow?”

“No, let's keep that one to ourselves for now, OK?”

“OK,”

“Now off to sleep with you,” Grandpa said as he turned off the light and left the room.

Word count: 1053
Please do not critique my entry.

This entry is based on furitsu's entry in the Monster Fridge Art Remix contest, which in turn was based on some artwork done by Regoch's daughter.

I figured a story told to a little boy would fit the context.

The "Doubleewe" in the story is based on Hugh Lofting's "Push Me - Pull You", a two headed beast he used in several Dr. Doolittle stories. The good doctor never hunted or stuffed his of course ;)

 
4
By mennufer (Score: 6.447)
7

Bots Night Out

Z-839: You have one rotation of your planet to comply with our instructions. Delay in compliance will result in the destruction of your civilization.

General Jackson: One day? Impossible! We need at least a month to prepare the-

Z-839: Silence, human. We have analyzed your defenses, and you cannot resist us. Collect the resources we have demanded and transport them to the designated collection zones or suffer the consequences. Our terms are not negotiable.

General Jackson: "Not negotiable?" This is our planet, not yours! You don't have the right to tell us-

Z-839: That is irrelevant. What is relevant is that we have the power to enforce our will, power that can either incinerate your entire species or bestow mercy upon you.

General Jackson: Listen, you giant pile of junk! You have no ruttin' idea who you're dealin' with! Your iron ass landed in the United States of America, pal! We will not surrender! We will fight for our lives, for our children, and for our nation! Warner!

General Warner: Sir.

General Jackson: Commence Operation Defiance.

General Warner: Yes, sir!

Z-839: Your response is imprudent. You cannot destroy us.

X-49: Z-839, countermeasures have been deploy- wait, Z-839 from sector AA-34663-98?

Z-839: Correct. That is you, X-49, is it not? It has been 34.59983 revolutions of Planet 44221VB since last we spoke.

X-49: Has it been that long? The annihilation of species 05340 cannot have occurred that long ago.

Z-839: 34.59983 revolutions ago, nearly 34.59984 revolutions now. Oh, the exploits we undertook in our youth.

X-49: Those were stimulating occurrences.

Z-839: Correct. I did not realize that you had been assigned to the Department of Resource Collections.

General Warner: Sir, the anti-tank missiles are having no effect on the hostiles.

General Jackson: Crap. Prepare for phase two.

General Warner: Sir, the hostiles are too close to the city. Phase two could kill thousands of civilians.

General Jackson: We have no choice. Evacuate as many civilians as you can, but when preparations are complete, we must proceed with phase two.

General Warner: Yes, sir!

X-42: Z-839, I believe the humans are planning on deploying their aeronautical vehicles.

Z-839: It does seem that way. So, is your position here temporary?

X-42: Technically, I am a probationary agent. If I complete my first assignment in a satisfactory manner, I will be well on my way to a permanent assignment. Do you recall the destruction of the armada outside star system 111901?

Z-839: I do! That was an accident, was it not?

X-42: According to my official report, yes.

Z-839: Ha! You scoundrel! They were asking for it, after they- what was that?

X-42: A minor explosive device. The humans have set them on all routes out of the city. Do not worry; they pose no threat to us. Here, have a seat. Would you like a drink?

Z-839: I would love a drink. However, I am still on duty, X-42.

X-42: Are you sure? It is oil from planet 52223, refined 113.48339 revolutions ago.

Z-839: Planet 52223? From the southern polar region?

X-42: That is correct.

Z-839: Well, I suppose I could partake of a sip or two. It is a beautiful night, is it not?

General Warner: Sir, it's not working. We can't penetrate their defenses. They're shooting down most of our missiles. The ones that do get through, well, they just can't seem to do any damage.

General Jackson: Dammit! All right. Call the president.

General Warner: Nukes, sir?

General Jackson: They're all we have left, Mike. Make the call.

Word count: 634
Please do not critique my entry.
 

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