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Weekly Short Story Contests > Week 381 (September 28-October 4) Stories Topic: Wish That Came True

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message 1: by C. J., Cool yet firm like ice (new)

C. J. Scurria (goodreadscomcj_scurria) | 4263 comments You have until the 4th of October to post a story and from the 5th to around the 9th of October, we’ll vote for which one we thought was best!

Please post directly into the topic and not a link. Please don’t use a story previously used in this group. Only one submission per person is allowed.

Your story should be between 300 and 3,500 words long.

REMEMBER! A short story is not merely a scene. It must have a beginning, a middle, and an end.

This week’s topic is: Wish That Came True

Thanks goes to M for suggesting the topic!

The rules are pretty loose. You could write a story about anything that has to do with the subject/photo but it must relate to the topic somehow.

Most of all have fun!


message 2: by Garrison (new)

Garrison Kelly (cybador) | 9459 comments That's quite the universal topic, M! As Ryan once said, "No excuse for an empty page now!" My story will be called "Robo Heck" and it'll go like this:

CHARACTERS:

1. David Masters V, Human Mech Pilot
2. Amalia Strom, Amazonian Viking

PROMPT CONFORMITY: By the end of this story, one of these two opponents will have his or her wish come true. Either that or they’ll have to wish for something entirely different as a form of compromise, I don’t know yet.

SYNOPSIS: David crash lands his giant robot on a tropical island and spends most of the day trying to fix it so he can get back to his military base. Amalia, the giantess who owns the island, wants to crush David underneath her foot and “make the world a better place for women”. In her words, men are responsible for creating war and David is part of the problem since he pilots a gigantic weapon for a living. With his mech only partially fixed, David has to fight off the Amazonian with what he managed to repair. He would also be better served to try and reason with his attacker before she completely obliterates him.


message 3: by Garrison (new)

Garrison Kelly (cybador) | 9459 comments AUTHOR: Garrison Kelly
TITLE: Robo Heck
GENRE: Science Fiction
WORD COUNT: 1,949
RATING: PG-13 for swearing and mild violence



“How in the hell did the mechanics fuck this one up?” blurted David Masters V as he twisted various bolts into his gigantic robot with a monkey wrench. Lost and alone in a remote island lush with tropical vegetation, David cringed at the smoke and steam floating freely from his machine’s engine. He tried rapping it several times with a hammer. Nothing. He tried pouring lake water onto it to cool it off. Nothing. He tried twisting even more bolts with that pathetic monkey wrench of his. Electrical storm that zapped the tip of his finger. The pilot sucked on his wound and murmured, “There’s going to be some fucking hell to pay when I get back to base!”

The earth shook beneath David and all he could think was, “Oh no, not again! What now?!” He frantically twisted bolts and screws with his monkey wrench thinking the big ass machine was going to explode in a cataclysm of fiery death. The engine smoked some more. The electrical storm zapped him in his other finger. While sucking on his new wound, he kicked his machine and ran off to hide in the bushes. The earth trembled some more and nearly flipped David on his back. All he could do was clutch the bush roots for dear life and ride out whatever the hell was going on here. Forget sucking his zapped finger, he should have been sucking on his thumb.

Just when he was ready to cry for mommy so many miles away, the ground ceased shaking. Slowly David released his grasp of the bush root and backed away with tender steps. He fell on his ass after colliding with something sharp, which turned out to be a toenail. “What the fucking hell?!” whispered David fearfully as he took one look at the sky above and saw a giantess standing over him with a menacing scowl on her face. David’s sick twisted mind, she could have been a looker if she was human-sized, with her braided blond hair, golden bra, flowing green leather skirt, and wicker flip-flops.

The giantess leaned her face towards David’s so that he could feel the venom and sickness washing over him some more. He shivered while trying to crab walk away from her, but a row of palm trees halted his path. “That’s it, I’m fucking toast!” he whimpered to himself.

The giantess aimed her treacherous gaze at David’s robot, pointed at it with her freight train finger, and asked, “How dare you bring this war machine to my island?!”

“W…war machine? War machine? Hehehehe! No, you have the wrong idea,” stuttered David as he used the tree bark to help himself to his feet. “I’m not a soldier. I’m just a civilian contractor. I’m a builder, that’s all. That’s just a cutting torch he’s holding.”

“Hmm…cutting torch, huh?” She yanked the machinegun out of the robot’s hand, aimed it at the robot itself, and blasted it to shreds until the weapon was out of ammo. David ducked down in the fetal position to avoid pieces of shrapnel slicing him to bits. They were already stuck in the trees and damn near knocked them over. And then the giantess tossed the unloaded rifle across the forest and watched it roll down a mountain hill before it crashed into the ocean and sank like a stone. “Nice cutting torch,” she mocked.

David stood up once again, but this time staggered around nervously and almost fell over. He tried his damnedest to be brave like the soldier he lied about not being, but all that came out were weak little squeaks. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done, missy? That was a million dollar piece of military equipment. The global government is going to be furious with you. There’s no telling what kinds of bombs they’ll drop on this place.”

“So you are a soldier, aren’t you? You had thirty seconds to lie to me and all you could tell me was that your assault rifle was a goddamn cutting torch. Maybe I should get a real cutting torch and seal your dick shut so that you can’t reproduce and create more war than there already is!” snapped the giantess.

David’s balls suddenly felt like they were the size of pumpkins when he took that insult. Arms akimbo, he shouted, “You know why they call me David Masters V? Because there’s five of us! Five generations of proud soldiers who would do anything to make this world a better place! You’re not only shitting on my family name; you’re shitting on the world as a whole!”

“So your idea of a better world is one where children and women are buried under rubble? Motherless children? Fatherless sons? You think you can win any argument with a war machine? It’s moronic men like you that made me want to stay on this beautiful island uninterrupted!” the giantess roared.

David chuckled, “For someone who hates war machines and how they kill tons of people, you look like you can just step on me and splatter my ass across the ground right now. What’s stopping you? Huh?”

“Trust me, I’d love nothing more than to stomp all over your military bases and government buildings, but if I did that, I’d be a massive hypocrite. Staying on this island is the only thing keeping me sane in times of war,” she said.

“Well, I hate to burst your bubble, Mother Theresa, but my superiors are going to figure out sooner or later that I’m MIA and they’re going to come looking for me. When they see what you’ve done with their million dollar robot, they’re going to bring the hammer down on your big ass! Bullets, missiles, bombs, you name it, they’ll drop it on your pathetic fucking island!”

The giantess gritted her teeth and scooped David in her massive hand while he kicked and screamed, “Put me down! You’re hurting me!”

“I hate to burst YOUR bubble, but your superiors aren’t coming to save you. You know why? Because you and that goddamn machine are fucking expendable!” the giantess belted, which nearly caused permanent ringing in David’s sensitive ears. “They probably think you’ve already died in the crash. They probably don’t even know this island even exists. You think you’re worth something to your government? Only in the form of yellow ribbons and god awful national anthem lyrics! If they cared so much about you, they wouldn’t have suffered you or any of your four ancestors to go to war in the first place!”

The more David Masters V squirmed in the giantess’s grasp, the softer his bones felt. The tightness alone made him feel as though his head would burst like a grape. Yet he remained defiant until the end. “You know how many times I’ve heard that crap from hippies like you?! My family has been protested so many times that we just shrug it off like annoying little gnats! Besides, what the fuck do you know about peace and love?! You’re squeezing me so fucking hard that I thought I heard my spine pop about three or four times!”

“I’m sure you’ve said this to your loved ones when they hugged you tightly enough that you couldn’t walk away from them,” said the giantess. David’s face grew solemn and long while she lectured him some more. “The reason us ‘hippies’ say these things all the time is because it’s true. You think I don’t feel the pain of war every single day? You think that just because I’m a giant that I can just shrug things off as easily as you? Wake up, dumb ass! I’m the enemy! I’ve always been the enemy! Anybody this goddamn tall is automatically a pariah!”

David tucked his chin to his chest in dark contemplation. His squirming and thrashing had ceased. His big fat mouth morphed into a big fat frown. He couldn’t believe he was feeling sympathy for someone who was capable of squashing him into jelly with one strong grip. He remembered all of the times he was picked on as a kid and during basic training. His mind felt like it was rubbed with Novocain all of those years, but when those memories came flooding back to him, he couldn’t resist any longer. Every swear word, every punch to the gut, every slap to the face, every obnoxious laugh, and every punch to the mouth flashed through his brain at a hundred miles an hour.

The giantess shook him hard to snap him out of his trance and he gagged at the gyro-psychotic sensation. “Sorry, I just…I just…Jesus, what the hell’s wrong with me?”

“It was all going to come out sooner or later, David,” said the giantess in a gentle tone reminiscent of a psychiatrist. “Nobody is immune to the ghosts inside their head, especially not in times of war. You can push them down as much as you want, but they’ll always come back stronger than ever. Your generals won’t admit it in public company, but it happens for them too. Believe it or not, it happens to me all the time. I can’t go out in the human world without getting a heedful of garbage. That’s why I like this island. It’s cool, it’s calming, and it’s perfect out here because I’m the only one.”

“Doesn’t it get lonely out here with just you here?” asked David while sheepishly turning his face away.

“As a matter of fact, it does, my friend. But it doesn’t have to be lonely anymore. And you don’t have to suffer those hideous thoughts anymore. You have no way of getting back anyways, with no war machine and no radio.” That last sentence was punctuated with a loving grin on the giantess’s face.

“Wait a minute…why are you…you’re not planning on….” David looked down at his groin and asked, “How exactly would that work?”

“It wouldn’t work, David. You’d be nothing more than a shit stain in the ground before you had the chance to blow.”

“Oh no, I wasn’t talking about that! I, uh…uh…” David’s face reddened like a strawberry at his own stupid assumption.

“On the contrary, my friend: I have much different plans for your permanent vacation therapy here. And while we’re on friendly terms, I have a name, you know: Amalia. Amalia Strom. But you can call my mommy if you’d like. Oh, do I have plans for you!”

David Masters V gulped a cannonball-sized lump down his throat while Amalia reached in her satchel for something that sounded fuzzy and leathery. Before the traumatized soldier knew it, his head was wrapped in a furry cap with pink bunny ears on top. Amalia cradled him in her arms like a baby and lovingly cooed, “My own little bunny rabbit! I will name him George and hug him and kiss him and squeeze him!”

After grimacing in pain from being hugged and squeezed, David formed a sweet smile on his face and said, “I loved that cartoon when I was a kid. And then I got spanked with a fucking belt for liking ‘faggot shit’. My bones hurt like hell, but keep squeezing anyways, Miss Strom!”

“And I will caress him and pat him and pet him and love him and rub him…”

David Masters V didn’t know if he felt warm and fuzzy inside because he could finally let go of his war trauma or because his organs were squishing together inside of him. For the first time in his life, his smile wasn’t because of a corny sex joke his drill instructor told him. His secret deep down wish came true after all.


message 4: by Edward (last edited Oct 04, 2017 03:42PM) (new)

Edward Davies | 1727 comments Title : Wishful Thinking
Author : Edward Davies
Word Count : 1533
Rating : PG

Sometimes getting what you wish for isn’t a good thing. Some people might want a lifetime’s supply of their favourite food, only to find themselves sick of it after having chocolate ice-cream for every meal for a week. You might want the girl or guy of your dreams to fall in love with you, only to discover that they are vapid and boring and you have nothing in common with them.

Or you might wish someone were dead.

This is the story of when Aaron Kearney wished someone were dead.

Not in so many words, but the end result was the same.

It was a Tuesday, a nothing special day during the school holidays, and Aaron had been rummaging through his parents belongings in their attic. He usually did this once or twice a month, basically whenever he got bored of playing video games or watching movies. His parents had been archaeologists in their youth, now running a museum filled with the things that they’d found over the years, but sometimes Aaron would find something of interest amongst the leftover junk they left gathering dust in the attic.

On that particular Tuesday he’d found a lamp.

Thoughts of Aladdin rushed through his mind, and he frantically rubbed the lamp, hoping a wise-cracking genie might appear and grant him his heart’s desire, but after a few minutes Aaron stopped rubbing and sighed.

Nothing had happened.

“Dammit,” Aaron groaned, putting the lamp down and heading down the attic steps.

When he reached the bottom step, he saw his dad standing there, his arms folded across his chest.

“Have you been playing in the attic again?” Mr Kearney asked, “Honestly, you should be playing outside and getting some fresh air.”

“I don’t want fresh air,” Aaron grumbled, “I’m happy with musty air, like in the attic.”

“Seriously, Aaron,” Mr Kearney sighed, “sometimes I just wish you’d go outside once in a while instead of pottering around the house.”

“And I wish I had a million dollars,” Aaron replied, “but we don’t always get what we want, do we?”

Mr Kearney tutted, turning and walking back to the living room.

In spite of what he’d just said, Aaron headed out of the house into the fresh summer air and walked down the street, moving in the direction of his friend Malcolm’s house. Malcolm had all sorts of cool toys and games at his house, and Aaron often wished that he had half as many as he did. But not today. He was too busy grumbling about his parents.

“If it’s not my dad it’s my mum,” he moaned, sitting down lazily on Malcolm’s living room sofa, “always insisting that I go out and get some fresh air.”

“It’s not a bad thing for them to suggest,” Malcolm said, managing his game controller with one hand while eating a slice of pizza with the other, “they just want you to be healthy.”

“Healthy?” Aaron tutted, “”Why don’t they go and do something healthy instead of working at that museum all day? Why don’t they go and get some fresh air? I wish they’d choke on it, I really do.”

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” Malcolm warned his friend, “what would you do if it came true?”

“Oh please,” Aaron laughed, “wishes don’t come true. If they did I’d be going out with Wendy Bachman and her boyfriend Steve would have died at birth.”

Malcolm chuckled, “That’s funny” he said, “maybe you should look for a leprechaun, or a genie.”

“Yeah, right,” Aaron grinned, “like those are real.”

Malcolm raised his eyebrows, “But wouldn’t it be cool if they were?”

After a few more hours of playing games and talking rubbish, Aaron decided it was time he headed home.

“It must be time for dinner by now,” he said, “I’d better go.”

“See ya later,” Malcolm said, not really looking up from his game.

Aaron began the short walk back to his home, and was surprised to see that, even though the sun was almost down on the horizon, none of the lights were on in his house. Approaching the front stoop, Aaron reached for the handle to find the door unlocked, and he slowly crept inside, turning on the lights as he went.

When he reached the kitchen he screamed!

His mum was lying on the floor, her hands clutching at her throat in a totally motionless position. Her face had turned a deathly shade of purple, and Aaron was horrified to see that she appeared to have choked to death.

“Dad!” Aaron screamed, “Dad! Quick, it’s mum!”

But there was no answer. The house was completely silent.

Aaron looked all over the house for his father, not even thinking about calling for an ambulance for his mother he was in such a panic, but when he did find his father, he knew something was terribly wrong. Just like his mother, Aaron’s dad had turned purple, apparently having died struggling to breathe. Aaron couldn’t understand what had happened; it didn’t look like anyone had actually strangled either of them, so the only thing that made sense would be if someone had sucked all the oxygen out of the room, which was ridiculous…

Or…

Aaron thought back to what he’d said earlier to Malcolm, about wishing his parents would choke on fresh air. Surely that couldn’t have caused them to die in such a horrible way.

That was when he heard the chuckle.

“Who’s there?” he asked nervously, “Show yourself.”

The chuckling stopped abruptly, and the house fell silent once more.

“I said show yourself,” he repeated, “Come out now, or I’m calling the police.”

“Do you think that frightens me?” a chuckling voice spoke from nowhere, “The police wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop me.”

“Come out,” Aaron spoke again, feeling a bravery that didn’t make any sense in his mind, “or are you afraid of me?”

“Afraid?” the chuckle in the voice was instantly gone, replaced with an anger that Aaron had never so much as imagined before, “I am afraid of nobody!”

There was a flash of light and suddenly a large man wearing a turban appeared in front of Aaron. The boy stared in disbelief;

“Are you… a genie?”

“I am a jinni,” the man said, “you discovered my lamp in the attic of this house, and as such I am compelled to grant you three wishes.”

Aaron scratched his head, “But… but you killed my parents!”

The jinni smiled, “Just as you wished,” he said.

“But… but you didn’t tell me… you didn’t warn me that I had wishes.” Aaron stared at his feet, “I’d never have wished for something so selfish, so horrible if I’d known I had wishes to be granted.”

“There’s no rule that says a jinni has to tell the person who frees him from the lamp that they have wishes,” the jinni said, “it’s just that, for simplicities sake, they always do in the legends. I prefer not to, to sit back and sit what arbitrary wishes you might ask for.”

“You killed my parents,” Aaron said again.

“Well, that is true” the jinni said calmly, “but you have one wish left, so you should use it wisely.”

“One wish?” Aaron sounded confused, “You mean killing my parents counts as two wishes?”

“The jinni do not discuss wishes once they have been granted,” the jinni said flatly, “now if you have another wish, then I shall grant it to you and be on my way.”

Aaron stared at his feet again, then looked at the jinni, “I wish my parents were alive again,” he said.

The jinni smiled, “Interesting,” he said, folding his arm, “most people simply wish they had never found the lamp, or that they had never made any wishes to begin with..”

“Okay then, I…”

“Granted,” said the jinni, blinking swiftly and disappearing in a puff of smoke.

Aaron stared at the spot where the jinni had been, then turned as he heard coughing coming from his father lying on the floor.

“Dad!” Aaron shouted, stooping down to check if he was okay.

“Hey, Aaron,” his dad said, “What happened? The last thing I remember was my throat feeling like it was closing up and then…”

“It was nothing,” Aaron said, “but I think we should check on mum.”

*

Later on that evening, Aaron went back into the attic to look for the lamp. No matter how much he searched, he couldn’t find it again, and he sighed deeply as he began to climb back down the stairs. As he began his descent, something caught his eye; a strange box he had never seen before. He took a step back into the attic and lifted the catch on the lid of the box, looking inside. There, in neat little bundles, was what looked to Aaron like approximately a million dollars in cash. As he stared in disbelief, he thought back to something he’d said to his dad earlier in the day;

“And I wish I had a million dollars,” Aaron had said to his dad, “but we don’t always get what we want, do we?”

Sometimes, Aaron smiled to himself, we do.


message 5: by C. J., Cool yet firm like ice (new)

C. J. Scurria (goodreadscomcj_scurria) | 4263 comments Polls going up soon.


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