[Writing Contest] - THE ARENA

Mr E

OK sounds good. I'll post a topic this evening after work.

Mr E

Topic: Airport.

The Mad Hatter

Mr E wrote: »

Topic: Airport.

Ah, interesting. Hopefully this'll help me shake the writer's block that's been annoying me all day...

Antilles

Ah, stories about Apple wireless configuration. An unexpected move.

Mr E

Heh... yeah, that's what I was thinking alright.

What's the word limit these days? 500-ish?

The Mad Hatter

Mr E wrote: »

Heh... yeah, that's what I was thinking alright.

What's the word limit these days? 500-ish?

600, as I understand it.

Antilles

The Mad Hatter wrote: »

600, as I understand it.

600 words. Anything above that and you will be shot.

me-skywalker

Antilles wrote: »

600 words. Anything above that and you will be shot.

My first time finding this thread. Great idea and look forward to facing a few internal challanges to beat you experienced combatants!

The Mad Hatter

It's Hong Kong, or is it Paris? Check the signs as I step through the doors. Spanish. Barcelona. It must be Wednesday.

Eighteen months earlier I read the job advertisement. See The World! it said. But everything looks the same in Airport Country.

In Nice, the hotel bus broke down so we had to cross to the hotel on foot. Sixty days of rain a year and we caught one of them. My street clothes are heavy with rain, but my bag is still under weight.

Pedro in Customs barely glances at me, but is that a little smile? The bag trundles along behind me as I go past the duty frees. The last few are closing their shutters. It's late, but I have time to pop in to one store and quickly get an animal set. The other girls go on ahead.

In flight, we absolutely cannot look bored. But having done the safety guide a hundred times I occupy my mind by trying to synchronise perfectly with the attendant in front of me.

Emergency exits are located at the front of the craft, at the rear of the craft, and above each wing.

In an empty airport, a small travel bag is as loud as a plane coming in. It echoes around the vast spaces of the terminal, penetrating every corner with sound. Some security guards and cleaning staff glance at me as I pass.

The girls are in the bus already, and I apologise for keeping them waiting. It's always one of us, and tonight it's me. Ours was the last flight in, and I was the last one out. Isabelle explains that her crew has another flight at five tomorrow morning. Poor girl. Her airline makes no allowances. It'll be a rough day for her tomorrow. She's already dozing in the passenger seat.

Please attend to your own oxygen mask before assisting other passengers.

Tomorrow it's Hong Kong. Yes, that's it. And then Paris after that, then home.

The hotel staff are courteous, and they have our keys ready for us before we even come through the door. The room is as Spartan as any hotel room, and I barely register it before falling face-first onto the bed.

In the event of an emergency, please assume the crash position.

I wake to sunlight through the open curtains, and realise that I've slept in my uniform. With a little improvisatory work with the trouser press I look presentable. The girls are more chatty this morning, though Isabelle and the rest of her crew are long gone. On the bus, we learn each other's names and gossip about annoying passengers.

In training, they warned us that the first few months are the hardest. On reserve, we can be put on any flight, and the hours are unpredictable and long. That was the first thing they told us, and the last.

Going through customs, sometimes, it's necessary for our bags to be searched, and the rubber animals must look strange on X-ray. As I re-pack my bag, I stop for a moment and run my fingers across the toy box. David is almost four now. When I get home I'll tell him about the giraffe and the camel and the crocodile, and the difference between a crocodile and an alligator. I'll tell him all about the countries I've visited and the people I've met. And just for a couple of days I'll sit with him playing at my feet while I read a book on the sofa. Just for a couple of days. For a couple of days, grounded.

Mr E

Mine might be a bit late this evening (I won't make the 7:30 deadline). I will be posting tonight, though.

Mr E

Third business trip in two weeks. Jesus Christ, I'm sick of airports. Check out this woman at the check-in desk. Flashing a vacant smile at me, no warmth. God this job would crush my soul.

I barely made eye contact, put my bag up on the scales and handed her my passport.

Here we go with the moronic questions.

"I just have to ask you some security questions. Did you pack the bags yourself?"

No. My daughter packed for me. God knows what she has put in there. Actually, I think she might have stowed away. I hope nobody notices.

"Yes I did."

"Were your bags with you at all times?"

Not really. I left my case in the taxi after I arrived at the airport. They guy brought it back 30 minutes later, but it was much heavier. I'm not sure about those red and white wires sticking out at the side. Maybe he put a TV in there for my daughter to give her something to do while she was in the hold. Or a bomb she can try and diffuse. She's a clever girl.

"Yes they were."

"Is there anything dangerous in your carry on luggage?"

Honest answer? I have a really sharp metal ball-point pen. I would wait for an air hostess to bend over to pour my drink, and I’d jam it up her nose. I also have a laptop, one of those big Dell 17” Inspirons. The kind that are big enough to hold a door open – a Dell Door Wedge. That’d do some serious damage if I clocked someone over the head with it. Don’t forget the power cord too. Coil it around the neck a few times, and fifteen seconds of pressure would be enough to do anyone in.

"No, nothing dangerous."

I thanked the girl and headed towards security.

Yet another line. Look at these morons. Holiday-bound adults, wearing hawaiian shirts and bermuda shorts. Pasty white and enthusiastic now, but they'll be crispy red, peeling and raw by the end of the week. Wailing, tired, snot-nosed kids throwing crap from their strollers. God I hope they're not on my flight. Bleary-eyed business men in cheap suits, poking blindly at their smartphones.

A series of beeps drew everyones' attention to the front of the line.

Oh great. How old is this guy? 95? Now he has to go through his pockets, very slowly. It's probably World War II shrapnel setting off the metal detector. That little grey woman yelling at him from beyond the scanners must be his wife. How bloody adorable.

I got to a different scanner and went through the motions. Belt, watch, wallet, coins, phone, ipod - all into my briefcase. Jacket and briefcase in tray. Through scanner. 20 seconds in total. Routine of a seasoned traveler. No bullshit - just straight through.

I tried to figure out which I'd prefer on the flight - vodka for breakfast, or no kids.

Coin toss.

partnership

Mad Hatters was prob better written but didn't take my interest with the storyline, Mr E's was a bit more interesting but neither caught my attention or made me wonder but then I know it is hard to come up with something at short notice that is specific to the topic. Well done to both for their contributions.

pickarooney

Honestly, neither of these, though well put together, inspired much in me. I had a slight preference for the second one. Both authors are capable of much better, mean-spirited as it might be to point that out given the constraints.

Mr E

I know, Richard.

By the time I realised that it wasn't really working, it was too late to restart.
Unless the original idea is very strong, it's uphill all the way.

C'est la vie.

pickarooney

Mr E wrote: »

I know, Richard.

By the time I realised that it wasn't really working, it was too late to restart.
Unless the original idea is very strong, it's uphill all the way.

C'est la vie.

Yeah, at least that didn't happen 250,000 words in

me-skywalker

I'll make my first challenge. I believe its The Mad Hatter. My Topic will be; Challenges.

The Mad Hatter

me-skywalker wrote: »

I'll make my first challenge. I believe its The Mad Hatter. My Topic will be; Challenges.

I accept your challenges, sir.

Mr E: I actually really enjoyed your story. It's the only one on this thread so far that's made me laugh out loud, and that's not an easy thing to do. It felt like you lost faith in it part way through, though:(

pickarooney: Oof, but thanks.

Mr E

The Mad Hatter wrote: »

It's the only one on this thread so far that's made me laugh out loud, and that's not an easy thing to do. It felt like you lost faith in it part way through, though.

Yeah I know. It's probably obvious that my story was based on how utterly stupid those security questions really are (I mean who is realistically going to say that their bags weren't packed themselves or that they weren't with you at all times?). Plus anything can be dangerous if you're Chuck Norris. Or MacGyver.

I just didn't know where to take it beyond that.

me-skywalker

Ill prob get this up about midnight. I have the story and the general yearn and tone done and just need to piece it all together into a cohesive piece. I'm going to try avoid reading your one first as not to distract myself or get disheartened

me-skywalker

A whipping of light across the room. A beating across the air. A streak flashed across his eye lids, enough to raise a flicker. Slowly adjusting his eyes to the flashes. A short intake of cold air. He could feel the hairs on his arms prickle. His shoulders tightened. Another boom rolled in through the window right across the floor up his body, he felt it his stomach. He always felt it in his stomach. He could hear the rain fall on his roof. There was another streak of light, right across the side wall, scratching the edge of his wardrobe, along the bed, up across his cheeks. He wanted to reach out, wanted to see if he could touch it. He listened for the creaks in the other room. Silence. He stared at his favourite poster, Unknown Pleasures cover, it always made him want to dance. He listened again. Silence. He could hear horns. He shut his eyes, sucked in a slip of air. A streak scarred him again. His heart skipped. He could feel its beating. The rhythm eased his tension, it felt comforting. He opened his eyes again he could see the glimmering pale grey streetlight. When had they changed from the glowing orange he enjoyed as a boy, the fireflies they used to call them when he was allowed out late on summer nights, trying to out-run each other or hide from each other, sometimes talking about someplace they seen on TV they couldn’t pronounce. The horns stopped. He felt it in his stomach. He shrunk his shoulders down into the sheets to his chin. Let the rhythm beat inside his body. He sighed.

A flicker of light streaked across the room. Starting lower on the ground amongst the legs of the bed the wires , cables and bags. A wave sweeping up over his sheets and engulfing his face with a bright glow. The lines on his face tightened. He moved his head away from the brightness. He heard a thundering at the window. She coughed. He held his breadth. He listened, pretended not to hear. He needed to exhale. Eventually she won. He opened his eyes to she her eyes beaming across at him. She smiled and walked over. An elegant silhouette framing the light from the window. She was bearing down him. Touched his hands. He flinched. She leaned in, her eyes were red and puffy, she looked tired. He felt it in his stomach. He wanted to reach out, wanted to see if she was warm. She walked back to the window and opened it. He could hear sparrows as they chased each other. He heard a plane in the sky. He heard a car screech past. He shut his eyes, sucked in a slip of air.

She picked up his music player and pressed play. Just as the first line, ‘Take me out tonight’ rang out, she sang while she done a small twirl back to him and tilted her head. He felt it in his heart. She leaned in again. Her eyes full of age and weariness. He didn’t know those eyes. He loosened the crows on his skin and his lips released like a spring. He couldn’t remember the last time he kissed her. She was warm. He look right into her, cherishing this firefly. He grinned at her and looked at the wheelchair and back knowing today was one of the good days.

The Mad Hatter

It had been many years since I had been challenged when the boy came. From my home I could see the land for miles around. I watched him through my telescope, his the face of youthful arrogance. His armour was well-made: light and durable. It was not the shining crockery of some challengers, but worn and battle-hardened. He was dangerous. But the preparations had been made. When he passed the marker on the road, I settled into my trap above the courtyard. From there I could see him without being seen. I watched. I waited. I lay.

When the boy drew close I sprang, but he was fast. He drew his sword even as mine fell, and our blades met and rang like churchbells. The fight was more exhilarating than any I remembered. A true battle is not a challenge of force, but a challenge of intellect, experience and skill. He fought wisely. He attacked relentlessly, using his youthful energy to his advantage, cutting, slashing, thrusting, his blade a blur of movement. But I know how to defend myself. I parried his blows with smaller movements and, despite my age, I did not grow tired faster than he did.
We fought throughout the home I had known for so long. Sensing that he preferred to fight in open spaces, I let him push me to the narrowest halls. In these close quarters he had no room for flourish or style. I could counterattack. As he lunged I moved to one side and with what force I could summon in the space I brought up my blade and wounded his side. He stumbled, but regained his footing before my next attack, his back to the wall. I saw an opportunity in his stance: his heart was exposed. It would take a precise strike. My blade swam through the air. But he with the slightest movement turned my strike aside, forcing the sword into the wall, and before I could react he hammered me with his free hand. He had used my own home against me, and from then it was easy for him. Dizzy and unarmed, I fell to one side, supported by the wall. I felt crimson pain in my shoulder, then in my stomach, then in my chest, but he did not deal the killing blow. He held his sword to my throat, and I admitted defeat.
He went to his bag then and retrieved some medicines, which he used to tend my wounds, and then his own. After he had finished, he took me by the arm and helped me to the bed which would tonight for the last time be mine. I lay down.

“Well done, young man. We were matched, I think, in wit, but you were more skilled and more resourceful than I. This place is won and lost in blood. In the courtyard where we first fought, you would see the bloodstains of my predecessor. It is the duty of the young to take the place of the old, and the duty of the old to make way for the young. This place is yours now. You may do with it as you wish. Explore it. Find its secrets. Tear down what you do not need, build what you desire and keep what you want. My time here is done. I lay down my arms.”

Mr E

Both really good. Although there was some strange turns of phrase in me-skywalker's story (He opened his eyes to she her eyes beaming across at him.), and I had to read it a few times to figure out what was going on, it drew me in more than Hatter's...

Well done to both.

Mr E

So I decided the winner on this, all by myself?

pickarooney

Haha, talk about voter apathy!

The Mad Hatter

Mr E wrote: »

So I decided the winner on this, all by myself?

Looks like Does pickarooney's vote count? Was it too late?

Either way, I think I'll bow out for a while, as I want to concentrate on some other things. It's been fun, though.

pickarooney

No, sorry, I got mixed up with the time difference! I removed it to avoid confusion.

The Mad Hatter

pickarooney wrote: »

No, sorry, I got mixed up with the time difference! I removed it to avoid confusion.

Heh, well, thanks for the vote anyway

Well done, me-skywalker. I look forward to reading your next story.

coffee_cake

crap i forgot to vote and i was out all day sorry

me-skywalker

Well looks like we'll call it a draw!

I actually wont find much time this week. To be fair to everyone, I remove myself from challenging or being challenged just to leave the way for two other people to go ahead with it.

Enjoy!

pickarooney

He's thrown the belt in the bin!