Hello. This is PlatinumSkink.
I have been entering the WOTM for quite a while now, and I’ve won twice. So, I just thought I’d make a list of all my entries. Because I’ve written a lot of them. Some I regret, some I look at with pride, others I am entirely indifferent to. Some I think deserved to win, some were certainly outmatched. In any case. Here they are.
- - - Updated - - -
WOTM #12 - Machine
Personal Rating: 8/10
At first, I was nothing. I had no consciousness. There was just this desire to do things. I wanted to act. To do. To be useful. But… I was in no condition to do any of that. I couldn’t even communicate my desire to help. Because I was nothing. I was but an idea, a formless piece of information that had appeared in a kid’s mind. Maybe that was all I was ever fated to be. The child walked around with me, taking me everywhere. From time to time, he took me out, built a few details to me, added a few ridiculous notations and removed even more, then put me back into his memory. Carrying me everywhere, he sometimes forgot me in the depths of his mind. Sometimes, though, he would be reminded of me, and he’d build a bit more on me.
Years passed, the kid grew up. I followed him every step on the way. I was on the drawings of his childhood dreams, in varying shapes. He wrote texts about me, but I was discarded for a child’s foolishness and remained in the mind. I saw the child get disheartened about me, and put me away. And yet, he could not forget me. From time to time, I was picked out among his memories to be played with. He didn’t see any hope in me ever getting further than his fantasy-like papers. I remained, and watched him grow up. He started to educate himself in techniques which to me seemed oddly fitting should he ever consider to actually create me.
The young man was in high school, doing things associated with me, when he became good friends with another of his kind. I was ever present in the young man’s life, so I guess that was what heralded what came next. He told his new friend about me. I would be turned down again. There was no use. Spreading me never had any effect in the past.
… But the friend accepted me. Suddenly, I could feel my existence spreading and covering the minds of two people. They started excitedly talking about me, they made sketches about how I would look and they discussed how I would work. I was larger than I had ever been. No longer was I merely an idea in the head of a small child, I was now a vivid plan that just might work. The two students excitedly built up my theories and my schematics. I was now a document. A paper, detailing how I was to be created. It felt… great. I finally had progress. I was growing. A future… might await me.
School ended, the two friends graduated. They separated temporarily, me always hanging on to them as a piece of information. I felt how the different pieces of me split far and wide, but they were still constructing me. They were still adding information, looking into technical details they would never have minded when they were still kids. Over the course of a number of years, I became a complete draft.
The two of them met again. It was with childish smiles and excited gleaming eyes that they shook their hands. The reason for their meeting… was me. They had come to make me real. No longer an idea, no longer a paper. I was to become real.
So they started to gather equipment and pieces, metals and components. I felt how they assigned my different parts in my plan to different physical items, and I felt how my existence spread. I was taken out of the paper, and different pieces of me were each assigned to the many small components spread throughout the workshop of the two men. Once again, I had taken an extra step. I was now physical. In pieces. I had shape, and an idea bound the different objects together to the existence that was… me. Smiling to each other, the two men set out to bind my parts together with something more powerful than just the knowledge about what was to go where.
Many long days and nights they worked. My pieces were slowly but surely being processed, my existence becoming larger and more life-like than ever. Over time, more people joined. The child I had grown up with was now a fine man and he got married over the time I was created. I saw him leave me over greater periods of time, busy with his new wife. But the friend was still with me, and he was as excited and well-versed in how I was to look. The friend brought more friends, and they took in the idea that was me and helped too. But… they were not the ones I wanted to work on me. I wanted… him.
The idea that was me filled many minds, now. And my physical shape became more compact by the week. There was no question about it. I was a project, something they had spent great money on. I was a powerful enough existence that they were willing to provide so much to make me real. But somewhere out there, the mind that had originally contained me was now filled with the face of a girl. He still thought about me at times, but he was on a trip with his beloved. I was not the first thing right now. But… I wanted to be the first thing. I guessed something as incorporeal as me could not compete with a real girl. What did it matter to me? As long as I am completed, as long as I grow more real. It shouldn’t matter, right..?
I felt small tinges of pain. They were doing something wrong. Arguments ensued. They were still working on me, but they were deviating from the schematics. They thought they were making improvements, but to me it was as if they were trying to rip my existence. In the end, of course, it didn’t work. Many of the workers left. There was nothing good coming from them anyway. The friend kept working, despite the approaching deadline. Deadline? I had such a thing? I thought… they were doing this to complete me. Not to satisfy some customer. Was I… wishing too much?
A while later, it was just the friend working, trying to find what was wrong. I was almost complete. My existence was one big thing, no parts overturned. Through sheer effort, the friend had put together the childhood companion of my original holder. Yes, me. I was one mighty construction, finally standing somewhat prepared. But something was still amiss. Something one of those other friends had done. The friend was looking for it, but to no avail. Was this… the end? The deadline was looming. I thank you for all you’ve done for me… but it is enough already. I am very happy that you’ve accepted me to this degree. That you’ve been willing to spend this much time and energy for a thing that wasn’t even yours to begin with. But… isn’t this enough? You don’t need to… force yourself…
But the man kept on. I was amazed. He truly was this determined on finishing me. He wanted me to be complete. How could I deny such vigor? He smiled to me stupidly, the same way that young child once had done when he had drawn me on a paper. I could not do anything else than accept his efforts. Maybe… if I accept him… will I be complete? But… I wanted my original founder… but maybe this guy… is alright? Could I embrace him as the one who finished me, who made the final touches and let me free? The one that completed me and showed me to the public, finally, after all these years?
Yeah, I could. But there was a solution that was even better.
A sudden flash of light announced the arrival of someone from the outside. The friend turned his head to see who had come in. It was him. My childhood creator, back from his trip with his wife in tow. So happy I was to see him. And looking up at my mighty form I saw the pride he held for me. Pride filled the man as he watched his childhood companion take form before him. Was it pride? Did he feel the same way I felt when I saw him get married? No… this was different. A different feeling. He loved his wife, but his love for me was different altogether. It would be more appropriate to see the love for me as the love for his child. Oh, and look there. The girl was pregnant. Would that maybe be my sibling, then? Or am I just thinking weird things in my great happiness of seeing him again? I don’t know. Just let me be happy.
The two men smiled at each other, and got to work together. They exchanged ideas of what might be the problem, and together they came to the most logical conclusion. I did not care that they took me apart. They were doing it to build me together again, and this time there would be no mistakes. After they had disassembled me, they exchanged a number of parts, updating me to the new times. Then… they put me together again. Piece by piece. All the while, happiness radiated from the bottom of my existence. The two friends made me even better, and they were giving it their all. The pregnant girl watched the two from the back, gently patting her stomach. I was becoming whole again. I was becoming complete. I was becoming complete!
Sometime later, there was a large crowd. They were here because they were to watch something. Excitedly the large crowd awaited the star of the day as they gathered on the side. An announcer was entertaining them all, but that was not the reason why they were there. It was difficult to believe this was really happening. Had I really once been but an idea in the head of my creator? In that small child drawing on paper? The amount of steps before one arrived at the point which I was now… They were so many. It seemed like an impossible development. How many of my kind ever reached this stage? It was difficult to imagine them being many. There were so many times which I could have been just forgotten, so many times I could have been scrapped and so many times that my creators could have just given up…
And yet, here I was. My creators had not forgotten, I had not been scrapped and my creators had not given up on me even when I had myself. It felt impossible, and yet I was now so happy. The announcer was getting to the end of his speech, which would mean it was soon my time to enter the stage. The glorious moment which I had reached after so many years. I was so happy. My creator was so happy. His friend, whom he too was my creator, was so happy. We were all nervous. After all, this was the first time I would be shown in public. It was time to show them what I was made of.
The signal came. The newly-wed man and his friend sat down in me and started me. Soon enough, I was ready to go. C’mon, we had done this before in the test-runs. We could do it again, no problem. Slowly but surely we approached the gates leading out to where the public could see us. Would I be able to accomplish what I was created for? Of course I would, stupid me. Who did I think had created me?
I came out into the light, and people applauded. Was I really that impressive? Gosh, you’re embarrassing me. Or maybe it was just that they had heard so much about me. Ah, yes. I felt it. I could feel how far my idea had spread throughout the minds of the world. It was all over the globe now. I had stopped sensing my existence in the idea-stage when it had grown too massive, now I could only properly feel myself in my own form. But if I carefully tried to sense… yes, the idea that was me was all around. It was contained in so many people. Now, I was truly immortal. But, at the same time, I was only here. My body was only the creation which was now rolling before all these people. Now was the time… to give them a taste of a show they would never forget.
And so I turned, on my creators command that he gave me as he was controlling me from inside me. Then he made me gain speed. And then… after a while… I lifted.
Many years has now passed since this happened. My creator and his friend are long dead. I owe them so much, and love them with my whole being. I am now an everyday tool. I fly people to their desired locations, and I’m used by hundreds and thousands. In time, maybe they will forget my creators. Or maybe the memory of them will remain. I don’t know. What I do know is that I am immortal by now, and as long as I exist in the mind of even a single human, my memory of those people will forever remain. That much is for sure. And so, with cheerful memories of my success and of how many people I’ve helped, I continue to support people all over the world. It would never have been possible had it not been for those two.
I now continue my goal to help humanity, and be useful. I thank those two. I am ever grateful. I hope they know, should they be in heaven or wherever, that through me they have done this world… a huge service…
This was the first entry I entered this competition with, and it still stands as one of the examples of what I am capable of. I definitely think this text is an achievement, even though it didn’t win. The praise it was awarded confirmed to me that I truly do have the ability to write. As such, it holds a very personal value to me, and I treasure it for what it is. It was my step into the world of writing-competitions, where I now today feel quite at home. Thanks for that.
- - - Updated - - -
AOTM & WOTM Collab (with artist wXw) - Childhood
Personal Rating: 7/10
<--I specify that this was made by wXw, and the story was made to accommodate the image.
A world in peril. A world of a white sky, green fortresses and a never-ending plain of lush colorful green grass. A normally peaceful world that now was on the verge of destruction. Like always.
The monster had appeared out of nowhere, as if it was simply supposed to be. As if it had been a necessity for the monster to appear. It appeared to change size depending on what it was close to, as if shaped to fit into something. It shined bright orange, the small body put off by the exceedingly large mouth, adorned with a few oversized teeth which were mere extensions of the monster’s mouth. The humongous teeth which were too large for the creature were stained with blood for the necessity of looking grim and not because it had ever killed anyone. Without trouble it could tear down any wall, bite through any matter and emerge untouched from any attack. Any attack not made by that man.
To defend the world from the monster was a single man. He held no backup, no armor, his blue shirt the only thing he wore and the blade of his sword was shorter than his face. This was nothing strange, however, as everyone from this place had that size of their heads. Their legs and arms were nothing but thin lines, and their equipment replaced their four-fingered hands. But, there was only this one. He stood there, not because he needed to. No king had commanded him to be there. No wizard foretold of his coming. This was no collaborated effort to stop the monster; no genius plan was in motion. The man wasn’t even there by his own free will. It was just how it had to be, this one man was forever destined to face off against this very monster. It was the only way the world existed.
The intelligent monster which had entered the world from need to be rather than from a location looked at its opponent and accepted it. The monster which destroyed because that was its purpose found a greater purpose in fighting this man. The man felt the same, holding up his tiny blade. This battle was the single one reason both of them existed. The defense of the castle in the background was but an excuse, the birds in the sky merely a backdrop. Everything of this world centered around this battle which was about to unfold. All else had merely been put there to put meaning into the battle, but do not mistake it, the battle was all that mattered. This battle was the purpose of this world. On an endless field of green grass beneath the humongous sky of white, the battle began.
But yet it did not. In a way, it could never. Because would the battle end, the world would end. They were to fight forever. There was no sun in the white sky that could the end the day, no amount of effort could make the competitors tired. The menacing monster with teeth drenched in blood had never killed anything before, because it existed only for this battle. The small human defended only his right to exist; he never really was defending the castle. It was only to the viewer that it seemed like so. The sword could never wound the monster, because the mind who created the battle didn’t like wounds. Neither would the monster chew the man, as the man was an immortal hero, made a such by a fantasy. A fantasy which created this world.
‘I hope you are so quiet because you are staring in awe at an e-mail saying you got a new job!’
The uninvited voice of a guardian shook him mercilessly out of his imagination. The lazy eyes of this older man refocused again on the room in front of him. Things were lying everywhere. Clothes scrapped around. There was signs of but a half-hearted attempt at order in the shelves filled with months upon months if paperwork. The couch was dirtied by having had food spilt on it countless times. Candy-paper was lying untouched since who knows how long all over the room. And yet, it was the room he had to call his own… And on the desk, there was the one little drawing he had found beneath a paycheck from last year…
It was an ordinary drawing. A drawing made by a much younger him, far less troubled than he was now. Grunting, the man threw off his visions from the past, clearing the signs of fantasy from his mind. Today… he had to stay in the real world. It had been no accident he had found it today. It was because he had started cleaning today. The troubles had gathered above him, collecting and looming as he kept ignoring them. No more. He could not take it. Finally, two days ago, the misery of doing nothing had overwhelmed the misery of doing something. And so, he had started making order in his room and found this… this… this artifact of his younger self.
The drawing was a fabrication of innocence. It contained elements of what a child thought was cool in the style of action, but the pain and sorrow that usually came with blood and war was nowhere to be seen. A worriless existence, there cannot have been many pains in that child’s life. In a way, the man was awfully envious. How could that little twerp have lived so freely? It made his throat run dry. Another part of him was filled with nostalgic joy over the peaceful innocent happiness of the past, a reality which a so small and airheaded little critter deserved to enjoy life in before facing the truth. This image was proof of that innocence. And yet it did not stay. Why not? Why did he grow to face the consequences of being young a little too long?
Grunting again, he picked up the little treasure. Sighing, he walked over to the trash-can. He could not have further evidence of his past cloud his mind as he attempted to recapture his future. But looking at the drawing… It would be such a waste to throw it away, wouldn’t it? It was such a golden truth of his past. It was the evidence of a world he almost felt like he wanted to develop later. And some time maybe…
… An idea struck his mind. He turned on the spot and went straight out the door with powerful, determined steps, of which the like those feet had not taken for years. He ran into his cohabitant, who was clearly surprised by his sudden wave of will. Without a single other gesture, the smiling man stretched out the drawing to give to the cohabitant.
‘Lock this away.’
‘It is my treasure. Only let me see it again… when I have no more troubles in my life.’
‘Wha… like that will ever happen with how things are going!’
Seeing the determination in the man’s eyes, the cohabitant hesitantly took ahold of the drawing. Nodding in a satisfied manner, the man released and turned around to walk back into his room. Looking around in it, now with a smile on his lips, he found that he could not wait to look at that drawing again. If he found more, he’d give them all to his cohabitant. When his life finally was back in order, he’d take them all out again, and see what he could make out of it. Today, he was a much better drawer than he once was. Maybe he’d make a manga out of it. That would be cool. A true way to allow the fantasy of that little child to spread out to the world…
‘Yosh!’ Cracking his fingers, the man gave the room a glare that told it that the time had come for it to surrender to his cleaning powers.
‘Let’s get started.’ Saying that he bent over, searched the floor for the first possible inconsistency and picked up the first strap of chocolate-wrapping…
Collab with wXw. I wrote the thing, s/he drew the image. The image was made before the text was written, as I was planning on using it for inspiration. It worked like a charm. When I first saw the childish image, I was like “really?” Then I considered, then I looked at the image again. The more I looked at it the more I liked it. So it came to me, “This will work.” And I wrote a text for it that I remain proud of to this day. Thank you wXw, couldn’t have done it without you. Of course, we didn’t win, but the positive feedback heavily outweighed any other kind~
- - - Updated - - -
WOTM #13 – Inside the Mind
Personal Rating: 10/10 - WON
So, all I see is this land that stretches so far. It is a large universe, with so much content. It contains many different worlds, endless amount of people, countless geographic areas and places. I see warriors strutting around looking colorful. I see agents, going on their top secret missions. Large battles take place over and over, magic and laser-beams blasting all over the place. Mechanized human-like suits battle it out above some planets, wishing to gain supremacy over their enemies. Ordinary soldiers and generals repeatedly fight it out. Schools are spread out far across the worlds, and inside them countless dramas, romances and otherwise unsuitable action scenes including ridiculously young people fighting are commonplace. Magic and technology mixes without shame, but not all people know about the other despite living right next to the other. Also, over there is a forbidden corner you should not visit unless you are 18+. Really.
Every single one of these people in this universe has a story to tell. It is not any story like the ones you could share yourself, as almost every one of them is unnatural. Those that are not are almost all impossible in your world for reasons yet undisclosed. Even those living somewhat normal lives can probably outperform most in our world in the amount of drama in their lives. Always, there is some trouble, some problem, some conflict. Some love interest that got into trouble, some villain wishing different from the person, some emotional struggle to regain control of fate. And the stories repeat themselves, over and over. That… is part of this universe. More people drop in all the time, but very few people in this world note the new arrivals. The only ones that seem to mind are those that arrive at the same time with each other in the same part of the world. It can be so confusing…
Then there is another department. A department filled with more realistic faces, people someone could have seen before in life. In this department, one can see the faces of people one have seen all before. Relationships, past events, imagined future events, all can be seen here. A frequently visited place, here one can find all the experiences of a real life, and those one can imagine happening. Friends, family, acquaintances, enemies. All of them, rushing around in a large chaotic plain recreating the situations of the past. Tons of information, all here, ready to be collected whenever necessary. It will always be here. No matter how much time passes, somewhere deep inside the scenes still remain. This goes for both this department and the highly unnatural department. As long as the energy from the mind still holds strong, these worlds will stay intact.
A past friend of mine calls out my high-school nickname as I close the door to the department of real memories. That is not the world I wish to lose myself in at this moment. No matter how blissful doing so would feel at this moment, that is not the purpose of my mission. I closed the door to the real world, and I turn to face the other one, the world which represents my fantasy. It is grand. No amount of words can describe everything in this world. This is the department I draw on when creating, imagining and acting out characters in other worlds. They are my creations and the creations of other people. I influence and create them as I please, but one rule remains forever. I can never delete. I cannot erase worlds or characters I have once created. That is why the weapon of the enemy is so powerful. Why it is so potent. It is a poisonous memory, a poisonous fiction. It corrupts my mind, and destroys me using my memories. And memories cannot be deleted. Even when imagined in another form, it only changed shape. But this… is beyond that.
“Colonel? Colonel, are you alright?” The question came from outside. The scientist of the Outer Mind Infiltration Department, OMID, or just the “mids” as they are called, is currently standing over my not quite asleep body. As I am not asleep, I can hear his voice clearly. Well. I heard that the transition into this world using the technology at hand would be hazardous, but is asking that question really worth it? I mean, I cannot respond. Everything that happens right now, is in my imagination. I am imagining walking around in a universe filled with all my memories, dreams and visions. I can interact with it, and so I can do something about the problem. Currently, trying to move muscles will only happen in my imagination, and as such won’t affect the real me. But since I cannot respond, that is the confirmation that I am alright.
“Good. It appears the transition went flawlessly. Alright, you know what to do. Seek out something that does not belong in there or don’t make sense. I know it sounds difficult, but do your best.” Easy for you to say. I would claim I don’t remember half of what I am seeing here. And yet, this mind takes in everything. Everything that I would claim I don’t remember yet would come back when I am reminded of it. And I am. Over and over, I am reminded. Yes, those soldiers over there are from that movie. Yes, those girls are from that show. Yes, those warriors are from that game. And those characters gathered over there… are mine. I created them myself, and they are currently interacting with their own worlds. I have to leave them there, because they should be there. No use trying to search for anything here, because as soon as I imagine anything it will show up right in front of me. What I’m seeking… I won’t remember, and as such I must seek it.
I walk past worlds of my own past, worlds which others have created and I have experienced through various media as well as worlds I have created myself. This trip could be holding a great backlash through sheer nostalgia, as I watch the little childish cartoons of my youth jumping around trying to humor their viewers. They succeed. I smile stupidly at them before turning to look around more while my imaginary legs keeps carrying me onwards. I walk through space while watching giant ships and lasers fly by, I walk through forests with elves ambushing opponents with arrows and spells and I walk through schools where people are chasing each other for humor and romance. To my right, I see two very old characters of my own, talking. They were supposed to get indulged into a romance with each other at some point in the story, but I never got there. I smile mischievously as I instantly correct the wrong by making the guy confess immediately while adding a day or so of gathering courage. The girl blushes, and is left speechless. A few moments later I leave satisfied, while in the background the two ancient lovebirds of my past imagination shares their absolutely first kiss.
“The poison is spreading. You must hurry up.” Alright, alright. I know. By infecting my imagination and adding memories it can turn me into a horrible person. I don’t understand exactly how it works, but I remember the records of past incidents. How people suddenly became murderous, how they started believing in horrendous ideals and what occurred afterwards. Truly, a rightfully horrible weapon. Illegal is only the first term to describe the use of it. Luckily, we had discovered the terrorist hideout and taken them into custody, ending their reign of terror. However, they did not let themselves get captured without first presenting us with a last surprise. I… took the brunt, saving most of my companions. Now, however… I am trying to do what so many have failed to do before. I am trying to save myself from the weapon.
Suddenly, I notice something wrong. I passed a world, a school, but in it… was a tragedy. The characters were killing each other, and sadness wreaked havoc. Insanity grew, and problems arose. Nothing solved it, and the entire story ended with the death of everyone. I would have missed it as just another poor memory, had it not been for the fact that I remembered who had created that show. It didn’t make sense. Those childish idiots would never have created a story like that. It was wrong. And yet, I could not possibly imagine how it would otherwise look like, as that was how my brain remembered it. It also remembered the positive critique about the happy little love-story. That… was not what I remember. Something is wrong. This tragedy… is not supposed to be here.
And yet, this was not what I was seeking. I was seeking something I had no recollection of whatsoever. This was a memory, something I remembered despite how wrong it was. This… was the effect of the weapon. This effect… was what it was trying to do with my department of real memories. I find myself on the verge of tears, remembering this tragedy that the writer never wrote. Such a horrible tale. And yet, I cannot deny that it is a very well written story. The scenario for the insanities, the backings of the kills, the underlying motives and interests… In a different use, this weapon is a masterpiece. It had created a new story, a tragedy, from scratch in the place where I should have remembered a happy tale. My praise to the creator. However, I cannot allow it to do the same to my real memories. If it can do this to these happy characters, I don’t want to know what would happen if it got ahold of real memories. It would be horrendous. It has already been horrendous to past targets. I cannot allow this to happen.
“… I can’t help you, because I don’t know how it looks like in there. But, I believe you should return to protect your real memories if you’ve discovered any twisted imaginary worlds. I am sorry to say, but your imaginary worlds cannot compare to the worth of your real memories.” Shut up. I know that. But… if this thing reaches the works that are my own… they will be lost forever. The original will not be out there, ready to be watched or read again. But, in any case. That poison will try to reach for my real memories, not my fantasies. These are collateral damage, fantasies that my opponent crossed on the way. I’ve gone too far. I turn back, and run. I must catch up to it, and stop it.
I curse my ineptitude. Or maybe, I’m cursing the speed of the poison. It seems to have a taste for destroying things on the way. No, that studio would not kill that character in the first episode. No, I remember clearly reading a comment about those two’s beautiful love in that book, and yet now I remember them never meeting due to one of them having a premature death. And I remember from blasted real-life history that Hitler did NOT win World War 2, stupid poisoned history-based movie!
And that… I saw something. It was my own character, an energetic girl in school who ends up in a dimensional war against people from other worlds due to her best friend being a container for a portal to other worlds. But, the friend died in the struggle, and a dimensional rift opened killing everyone on Earth while she became forever trapped between worlds, trying to escape to a real world but only does so by opening dimensional rifts that destroy the worlds she tries to go to. I would not make that kind of story. You dare change my own character’s history, without changing my love for the character? This means war.
I cannot stop it. It reaches too far. One by one, the stories fall for the poison. I can no longer cope with seeing what is obviously not the truth. I run, giving up what I treasure the most. I had to save myself. Once again reaching the door, I find my own memories undisturbed in the other department. But when I turn around, the entire fantasy world lies destroyed by the poison. This is it, huh? Very well. I will defend this door with all I have.
“*******.” I hear my name being called. It is a voice I slightly remember, yet cannot place. I look in the direction. It is a small girl in a school uniform. Straight purple would-be unnatural hair flows down on the sides of her hair, an inborn shyness is visible in her face. Identifying me after a moment, tears start flowing and she runs to hug me. She does so, crying my name over and over. She’s Ayami, one of my first creations, and one of my most loved ones. In fact, currently my most loved one, as she has survived the poison. She knows my name because I have often let her stray from her actual world to see me in my imagination. I guess that was what saved her.
“I-I’m so scared. Wh-what has happened to this place? I d-don’t understand. I don’t understand!” She cries out. Understandable, as her world is currently… a great tragedy. I gently pat her head, while keeping a steady look-out towards the world.
“H-hey. These are your worlds. C-can’t you just turn them back? If not just… create another one, one that looks just like it did before?” I would if I could, but unfortunately the poison twisted my original memories of the places. I cannot restore what I don’t remember. There is no way.
“St-stop kidding me! Y-you hold ultimate power over this place! I’d… I’d do anything for you… with you…” A slight blush covers my face. I loved her so much that I imprinted a pretty large crush from her to me as well. There… had been an embarrassing amount of times when I indulged myself with her in my imagination. Guess the Ayami that I am meeting here remember those times. Unfortunately, my powers over my own memories are fairly difficult to control. It is like trying to forget a nightmare. It can’t be done so easily. I wonder what the mids make of my blush. Hm, better not think too carefully about it.
Don’t worry, Ayami. I’ll protect you. Even if I fail to protect the entire rest of this world, I will protect you. This poison will not corrupt my memories of you as it has of everything else. No matter what, I’ll hold you precious. No evil memory will be able to touch you.
I pat the little girl, while smiling at her. With teary eyes, and a smile of relief, the little girl looks up at me and tightens her grip on my imaginary self. Really, am I doing this all over again? Protecting her from some great evil? I’ve done it so many times in the past. Will I do it once again, but this time for real? What an ironic twist. Very well. Come at me, great evil. I will defend this girl, as I always have. I’m used to this scenario by now. Come at me! Claim me! Attempt to and find yourself destroyed! As long as I am protecting this girl, I cannot be defeated!
“We are losing him. The poison has started to inflict the source. Prepare to nullify.” … Eh? How… am I being lost? I mean… I haven’t seen anything. Nothing unfamiliar that could be the poison. How am I supposed to combat something I’m losing to when I don’t know what it looks like? I look towards the door, and quite rightly, something appears to try to use its power to break through, a great purple mist. But… the source of that energy must be close. But… the only thing here is…
My heart sank. It was so obvious. Of course the poison would take a shape in which I would not recognize it at once. If it can manipulate my memories, why could it not manipulate itself, a poisonous memory? In the end… the poison gave itself away by inflicting too much damage. Only the cover it relied on remained. I turn my head towards the girl hugging me, leaning her head towards my body while crying with a satisfied expression of relief. Ayami… blasted poison, why would you do this to my Ayami..!?
I hug Ayami. She’s surprised, but she answers. It is her lover hugging her, after all. However, she probably hears me sobbing. “Wh-what’s the matter? Stop crying, you are scaring me.”
I’m sorry, Ayami. I could not protect you.
I send the signal.
“There it is! The colonel sent the signal! About damn time! Initiate the pulse! We are going to extract this!” I hear in the background how gears turn to motion and machines start up. I mark Ayami, and let go of her. Ayami herself, a figment of my mind, stares at me as I silently supply her with the knowledge I now hold. She needed to know. Ayami, acting in character, recoiled.
“N-no. That… that can’t be. I wouldn’t… I…” She starts to fling her arms around and shake her head in desperation. Then… her energy disappears, all too quickly. “… I… I must leave, then.” This… this is the case. All record of the girl Ayami has to be extracted from my mind. Then it will be destroyed, since it has been turned into a poison. Ayami, crying in fear of what comes, puts on one last brave expression and looks at me.
“Th-then… I guess I’ll… be happy that you will survive…” I’m sorry, Ayami. “B-bye…” The childhood imaginary lover spins around, sadness obvious in her eyes, and runs away from me. As she runs, her legs and arms gradually fracture as she splits up, then it goes over her body, and lastly… her head. I never get to see her eyes a final time.
Ayami left me… Aya… A… I don’t remember her name… I don’t remember… huh? What don’t I remember? All I remember is all these incredibly depressing tragedies. What..?
“Welcome back, colonel.” I come back to the lab, the machines which brought be to my inner world shutting off. “It was touch and go there for a moment, but you pulled through. Congratulations, colonel. You’re fine!” The gleaming smile of the scientist brings me no joy. Something is missing. While I maybe won’t kill myself or anyone else, I’ve lost something of great mental importance. I thank everyone on the site for their aid and find myself congratulated by my colleagues. I force a smile, and meet them all with the promise that I won’t leave.
I go home, my imaginary world in pieces. I guess at least something good has happened. I can become a seriously awesome tragedy author. Tired and sad from all the tragedies aflame in by brain, I get in and sit down at my computer. As it starts up and I insert the password, I warily stare at the screen, wondering if I should seriously start writing down these tragedies. I could become famous with these. But is that what I want? I warily glance over the desktop, feeling little energy to do anything. My imaginations, my worlds, they are gone. I’d have to make new ones, because I could never recreate them. There is no way I’d…
Suddenly, my eyes spy a folder. It is right there on my desktop. It is called “Stories”. I miss the mouse the first time I try to grab it, I must have moved too fast. I double-clicked around the folder a few times, I must be too excited. The folder finally opened. They’re there, row upon row of word-documents which titles I remember, but contents are entirely different. All of them are significantly more happy tales. The creator of them is… me. I glance over all of them, happy to see them, but among them there is a name I don’t recognize. Ayami. I quickly open the search bar and seek through my computer after said name. The results… stun me. So… many documents..? Hope shine through my depressed heart as I see the many, many documents piling up. I can’t make heads or tails out of the names of the documents. They seem to be the names of chapters. Grinning to myself, I pick one of them. A several page story is opened up, and from the file-size I can tell that the others are just as big. I grin to myself. I get to experience reading these pieces for the first time ever, despite being the writer myself. How amusing.
Well then, I better get reading. Oh, yes. I have a lot of reading to do~~
I consider this, so far, my masterpiece. I love this text. I poured everything into it. The text came out perfect, exactly the way I wanted. And that exact month I faced only two poems and nothing else. In Advanced. Needless to say, I won. I received barely any reviews, a number of vote, and a thoroughly unsatisfying victory against no text even barely equal my own. I was… more than slightly disappointed in that it turned out that way. But I can still consider this the best text I have ever written for WOTM.
- - - Updated - - -
WOTM #14 – Friendship
Personal Rating: 1/10
I’m sorry. Let me just start with that. I know you probably will most likely be reading this in pure disgust of me right now, but just hear me out, okay?
We’ve always been friends. Ever since we were small, small little girls. I remember that we came to visit one another at the meager age of five. You, me and Megan. We cherished one another, played together and did stupid things to one another. Some plays more recommended than others, but we had fun all the way. I’m pretty sure we gave our parents hell to deal with, and I’m proud of it. That was a friendship which I’d never, ever want to break. I always wished for your best, and for the best of Megan. I support you whatever you want to do with life. And what happened now… it should never have happened, really.
I swear, I wasn’t interested in him. When you came to me and told me about your crush on him I was all for it. Aaron was to be yours. I had decided it myself. You, Abigail, my dear friend, had decided to make him yours, and as I support you I also decided that he was to be yours. All those times when I gave you tips to how to claim him were not to make you believe I was on your side to cheat behind your back. It was just… I’ll just state it as it is. He is a professional seducer. I noticed that I’d been… targeted by him a few weeks ago. Aaron started straight out stalking me. I couldn’t really stop him. At first, I was appalled. But… it wasn’t the bad kind of stalking. He gave me things he mysteriously knew I wanted and offered his help at well-timed places where I needed it. I guess I fell for him too. Then he was allowed to visit me by my parents… and then things just happened.
That was what happened. I apologize greatly for this. It was never my meaning to betray you. I know that last time we met, you were really angry at me. It pains my heart to recall your grief and rage-struck expression directed at me. We almost scared Megan out of her mind. My chest still hurts from the place you shoved me, more out what the shove meant than out of the physical pain. You are usually so bright and expressive, so energetic and willful. I’d never want to tarnish that personality. So please, Abigail. Can you forgive me? You are worth far more to me than any boy will ever be. I’ll kick Aaron out of my house next time we meet, and I can set him up so he somehow runs into you. I can do anything. I want our friendship to last forever. Megan does so too. I’ll do anything you want me to. So please… can you forgive me?
Let’s kick jealousy in the gut for trying to separate us, k’?
Meet me at the station. Saturday. 12:00.
Bring Aaron with you.
I know you said “Rachel is a real catch” when I told you that I had a crush on her. However, I really wish you would have told me what you had meant with “catch”. I mean, I not sure about this. It appears that they are serious about this. I am the only one that is confused. Somehow, I understand why no-one has tried to claim her before, if they knew this would be the result. I mean, I can’t really complain about the attention. Who could possibly? But, you know, it really isn’t normal. And while my desire for girls is as healthy as that of any man my age…
I’m not sure if I can handle two girls at once.
I mean, they appear seriously dedicated to sharing me. I had no say in it. I only planned for Rachel, but her best friend Abigail went in and… um. What should I do? You, my best friend and otherwise worthy adviser of my cause. What should I do with these two stubborn girls..? It is not that I don’t like both of them… it is just that… the two of them at the same time is a little…
Could you not have left one for me?
I was bored one day, and wondered “What’s up in WOTM?” I saw the theme was friendship, and being as bored as I was I wrote something nonsensical to rid my boredom. As expected, it got nowhere and ended up critiqued by those serious people who considered it as seriously as the other entrys. Well. I made a few people chuckle. So overall, I don’t regret it. Though, it is hardly up to my standards.
Also, now that I consider it. I entered Casual with this, despite the fact I had won Advanced earlier. Huh.
IT’S A SECRET TO EVERYBODY.