O/T 1000 word story

[bolt pp]

I dont feel like starting it though so crack on..............................

[Claw75]

I would, but by the time I finished posting someone else would have posted and my post won't make sense....I find that stressful enough on the two word jobby

[brad.strider]

i think tank should start

[bolt pp]

no cut, copy and pasting job either!!!!

[thetank]

I'm err... 250 word in so far.

[thetank]

So began the 1,000 word poker story. At Bradley Strider’s request, I’m giving it a bosch.

I’m writing it on a word processing package, elsewise counting all the words would be a ridiculously laborious task.. When I’m finished, (and I have trimmed or padded to bring the total to an even grand) I’m sure I will make use of the Ctrl + C/Ctrl + V feature. If bolt pp doesn’t like this, well, he can just bite me.

I remember the first time I discovered the ol’ Ctr  + C/Ctrl + V. It was back when I was 14 years old, and in a 2nd year computing class.  We were given a typing task, which involved writing the same thing over and over again.. The kid next to me, a spotty geek wannabe bad boy by the name of Cecil, was making use of it to make his life a little easier. He was only too happy to let others know about this, anything for a bit of attention.

At this point I’ll mention that his name wasn’t really Cecil. No-one in real life is actually called Cecil, I’ve changed it to protect  his identity. I feel this measure necessary as I’m about to go on and disparage his character.

You see Cecil was a particularly nasty vicious kid. No-one really liked him, even though he was desperate for them to be. He combated this by being  as cruel as he could to anyone whom he thought he could get away with it, at every given opportunity.  Sometimes I wonder if he was capable of killing  if he thought it may improve his social standing.

Anyway, back to that “computing” classroom. Having finished his assigned typing task in record time, Cecil had a bit of time on his hands for mischief. With some crafty right clicking (he really was a wizz kid with this kinda stuff) he changed the names of some of the pupils in the classes folders. A lady of large proportions was renamed “fat minger“, a small docile non-threatening boy by the name of Dave, was renamed “Dave shags his mum.”

All kids are a little evil, indeed I’ll confess to having laughed at the time. It stopped being funny when I saw how upset his victims had become though. I think that’s the difference between a little evil and pure evil. Those who are a little evil stop when things get serious, and they realise the hurt they are causing. Those who are pure evil see the hurt, and it spurs them on to greater heights of nasty nastiness.

The reason I mention all this, is to give you some idea as to Cecil’s character. You see, I’m going to go on and tell you a tale of how his business empire was overturned. I’m looking for a greater chance that the reader will view Cecil as being “the bad guy.”

Using his computer know-how, he was making a fair amount of money producing fake identity cards for his classmates. He sold these at £20 a pop. My older brother, always the keen entrepreneur, wanted in on this action. I was instructed  to obtain one of these false IDs, the plan being to scan it , and start knocking up our own ones.

Easy enough, but the last thing I wanted to do was put £20 in this guys pocket. Instead, I suggested a barter. He would give us one of his wares, and in return, we would give him a scores worth of the amphetamine known as speed.

Not that we were going to give him real speed, we ground up some lucozade tablets, added some bicarbonate of soda , sugar, salt, and anything else that was kicking around my mothers kitchen that seemed like a good idea at the time. I think some porridge oats even found their way in there.

There’s a lot to be said for youthful naiivity. When it came to making the trade off with Cecil, no alarm bells sprang in his mind. Twenty quid worth of speed does not weigh half a pound, nor is it bright pink. (The lucozade tablets we used were strawberry flavour.) Hey, he wasn’t to know, I think he was so determined to look like he’d been involved in similar transactions before, that he wasn’t going to question anything as being odd, for fear of looking silly.

So we had our ID, all that was left was to mass produce the bad boys, and punt them all over school at £5 each. Our technical wizardry was not parallel to that of Cecil’s though. We had no idea how to change the name on the ID, nor the date of birth.

But we were young, and we weren’t going to let details get in the way of a good plan. Within 2 weeks 100 lads aged 14-17 were running around our little corner of Scotland’s 3rd largest city with fake identities. Every last one of them called Jonathon Bulkely, and they all had the same birthday. Hell there were even a few female Jonathans chancing their luck for a bottle of Diamond White.

Needless to say, it didn’t take too long for the local off licences and public houses to smell a rat. Within a month, the school had launched a crackdown on the trafficking of fake identities. The core culprit was to be found.

We were long since out of business by this time, Happy with our £300 quid profit (less expenses, and the fact that we gave a fair few away for nothing.) Cecil on the other hand, was still proudly punting his superior product. It wasn’t too long before the academic penal system was all over his ass like white on rice.

Now I’m no grass, it’s not in me to shop someone, however much I dislike them. I can’t remember the name of the girl who eventually did, but I do know that she doesn’t like being called fat minger. 

[Claw75]

(I've gone a few words over - so shoot me).  I think there should be a +/- 10% rule on this one!

Unbeknown to the tank, Cecil has continued in his quest for notoriety since the heady days of their youth.  In a castle on a cloud high above the Northern suburbs of Glasgow (just visible to the naked eye on a clear day) Cecil spends his hours surrounded by a vast array of machinery.  Some of the hardware is used for the core business, fake passports and the like, but perhaps more impressive, and more sinister, are the hundreds of monitors all along the walls of Cecil’s huge office, upon which he monitors the progress of his foot soldiers peddling his wares.  Cecil does not like mistakes.  Just ask that fat minger who grassed him up. 

With a small smile on his face Cecil thought back to the day when he had been hauled into his headmaster’s office at school having been busted for selling fake ID to those wishing to indulge in underage binge drinking.  At first, Cecil had been terrified at the prospect of explaining himself to the evil headmaster Mr, er, Evil.  He was strangely surprised then to be ushered in to the office with a warm smile, and the offer of a brandy and cigar, which he had accepted with some trepidation, and a small nod.  Mr Evil had explained that he had been waiting for nigh on 20 years to find someone in that sorry school with the wit, brains, cunning and lust for evildoing to aid him in his extra-curricular activities, and eventually to take over his empire. (He noted that his hopes had been temporarily raised in recent times by the news of a young entrepreneur peddling class Bs in the playground, but it had turned out to be some softy selling sweeties).  Mr Evil knocked back his brandy, and asked Cecil if he was interested in hearing more.  Cecil could hardly contain his excitement: he felt that this was the day he had been living for – his fate – his vocation.  Realising it would not be cool to gush, he nodded solemnly “tell me more”.  “tell you?  Let me show you, Cecil”. 

Mr Evil reached under his desk and produced a large, heavy briefcase which he placed carefully in front of him, before opening.  Cecil resisted the urge to lean round to see what was inside (money, drugs, fake ID’s?), but needn't have worried – Mr Evil could sense Cecil’s keenness and turned the case sideways so that they could both admire its contents.  Inside, the case was empty but for a small electrical device, about the size of a cigarette box, with a single red button set into it.  “Cecil”, began Mr Evil in an encouraging tone, “would you like to do the honours?”.

Cecil did not reply, but hunched over the case and gingerly pressed the button.  At that moment, it seemed as though the very fabric of the room around them took on a life of it’s own.  As if during an earthquake, the room had shuddered and then, unlike anything Cecil had experienced, a blinding white light filled the room and a spinning sensation took over Cecil’s mind leaving him completely disoriented.

Cecil could not now recall exactly what had happened during the minutes that had followed.  Either he had passed out, or Mr Evil had later erased that section of his memory.  The next thing Cecil remembered was being led through a large glass doorway that had magically appeared on the back wall of Mr Evil’s office.  There seemed to be little on the other side – a small room, perhaps 6 feet by 8 feet, with bare stone walls and floor.  However, there was no ceiling, and looking up Cecil could see what looked like a giant chimney reaching up for approximately 300 feet, with a glint of daylight at the top.  Cecil recalled thinking at the time how odd that was, given that the school building was only three stories high, but it seemed that rationale and logic were not the order of the day.  For only the second time since entering Mr Evil’s office, Cecil spoke “what is this place?”.  “This, my young protégé, is the doorway to your new life.  A life where you will be rewarded with great power, great riches and as many women as you desire.  Now, if you are prepared, close your eyes and brace yourself laddie.  MAKE US RISE ANASTACIA!”

With that a huge gust of cold wind rushed up from the seemingly solid floor, sending Cecil and Mr Evil hurtling towards the sky at a rate of knotts.  Cecil could maintain his calm exterior no longer and screamed like a girl.  He also recalled that he might have soiled himself, just a little.  Although it seemed like an age, the journey to the top of the chimney and, ultimately, the castle which Cecil now called home, had taken only a matter of seconds.  Cecil was perturbed to find Mr Evil laughing at him, but was pleased to note that it was not the “mwahahahaharing” one would normally expect of one called Mr Evil, but a more friendly chuckle.  “you’ll never forget your first time son!  Invigorating, isn’t it!?”.  That was when Cecil had got his first glance of the woman who would later become his first wife – Anastacia.  Anastacia was the most beautiful woman you could ever hope to lay eyes on – perfect in every way, as indeed, were all the women who resided in the castle.  At this point, of course, Cecil had presumed Anastacia to be a mere human.  Haha – how much he still had to learn!

Cecil withdrew sharply from his reverie at the sound of a sharp knock on his door.  “Enter” he commanded.  Anastacia marched into the room, as young and beautiful (of course) as the day he had met her a decade ago.  “please forgive me for interrupting you oh great and powerful one, but I thought you should be aware that one of the spybots has confirmed a positive identity of a known adversary”.  Anastacia removed a small remote control from her breast pocket, and used it to switch on a large wall mounted plasma screen.  Cecil studied the image of the young man for a few seconds, a huge and, of course, evil, grin spreading across his face.  “well I never” muttered Cecil, rubbing his chin thoughtfully “there’s a face I didn’t expect to see again”.

[TightEnd]

(I wrote this one two years ago, and am halfway through a novel!) I've changed the beginning and end to follow on from Claw's

Thinking back to all those years ago, Cecil now shuddered as he remembered.

 He was running deep in a forest, trying hard not to look behind. The thick fog embraced him. He left a shoe behind - stuck in the sodden leaves covering the ground but kept kept on running. He stumbled and fell face down onto the soggy floor of the forest. Paralysed by fear, he waited. Nothing happened. Silence.

That's because nobody’s there, he thought, annoyed at his foolishness.

He pushed himself up and tried to clean off the mud and leaves. He shivered, the damp air was inside his clothes, chilling his bones.

He couldn't believe it was only half an hour since he had left work. He had been going to visit his mistress at a hotel an hour away. He didn't like driving on the motorway, especially in the fog. He had thought it would be safer driving on the back roads. A choice he now regretted.

Once he had reached the countryside, the fog was thicker. Visibility was down to a few yards. The tree had appeared from nowhere - or so it seemed. He had tried to brake but was too late. Cecil had braced himself for the impact and listened to the sickening sound of the car being crushed by the tree.

Shaken but not hurt, he had checked the car; it wasn't going anywhere. The map wasn't any help because he didn't know where he was. Grabbing the torch from the car he had decided to go for help. The batteries were dead. In the fog without the torch he had wandered off into the forest.

The whole episode had made him jumpy. Now, because of his stupidity, he was even deeper in the forest and further away from help. Cecil decided to go back the way he came; hoping it would lead him to the road.

The silence was broken by rustling sounds from the undergrowth. He stopped to listen, straining to hear if it was more than the forest animals. Holding his breath, hoping his heartbeat wasn’t as loud as it sounded to him. He carried on, treading carefully; ignoring the dripping branches which brushed his face. The silhouettes of the trees loomed up in front of him and the menacing shapes made him feel uneasy.

He had almost given up when he heard a different sound; a child’s laugh. He stopped and listened; He heard it again. He headed towards the sound. The trees started to thin out and in the distance he saw a faint light. He couldn’t hear the child anymore but decided to head towards the light. As he got closer he could hear the sound of running water.

It must be a river, he thought. The sound got louder. Cecil slowed down and tried to see the edge of the river. He edged closer and closer but the dense fog made it impossible for him to see. Suddenly, his feet gave way and he started to slide down the bank. He tried to grab the side but there was nothing to hold onto.

He plunged into the water, caught hold of the root of a tree and held on. He tried to pull himself up; something was gripping his feet.

Someone is pulling me in, he thought, starting to panic.

He kicked out, frantically trying to free his feet and felt his grip loosen on the slippery root. He searched for something else to hold onto. He touched something; it felt like a hand and he held on tight, worked his feet free and pulled himself out.

Breathing heavily, he crawled to the top of the bank and collapsed. After a few minutes, he looked around but could not see anyone. He was sure he had felt a hand. I must have imagined it, he thought. Every inch of his body was cold and damp. Sitting up he looked for the light he had seen. Relief swept through his body when he realised how close it was. Reassured, he headed towards it.

The light came from a house. What an isolated place to live, he thought as he pushed the gate open. It scraped along the path, the weeds and grass growing out of the path prevented it from opening too far. Cobwebs adorned the downstairs window. The light which had seemed so bright to  him, shone gloomily through the dirty window.
He used the stained brass doorknocker and with each thud, flakes of paint fluttered to the floor. He began to feel uneasy; even from outside the house felt empty and cold. I haven’t got any choice, he thought, so I’d better make the best of it.

The door opened and from the gloomy interior a middle aged woman appeared.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm lost," said Cecil " Please can I use your phone?"

"Sorry," answered the woman. "I haven't got a phone, but you’re welcome to come in and get dry. I’ve a nice fire burning."

"I don't want to be any trouble," said Cecil, relieved that the woman appeared friendly.

"It's no trouble, come in." The woman showed him into a sparsely furnished sitting room. He headed straight for the open fire to warm himself up.

"I'll find you some dry clothes and get you something hot to drink." The woman left the room. Cecil looked round the room, noticing the black and white family photographs on the oak sideboard. He wondered if the child he had heard belonged to this woman.

The woman returned with a pair of trousers, a jumper and a mug of hot chocolate. "This should warm you up."

"Thank you. Are your children indoors, only I thought I heard a child outside?" Cecil said, sipping the steaming hot drink.

"It couldn’t have been my children, they are tucked up safe and sound," answered the woman, glancing at the photograph on the sideboard.

"My imagination seems to have been playing tricks on me all night," said Cecil, with a laugh. "I’ve been hearing all sorts of noises.

The woman smiled "I’ve made up a bed for you in the spare room, if you’re ready."

"Thank you for going to all this trouble." Cecil followed the woman down the dimly lit hallway to the back of the house. Away from the fire, the house felt cold and damp. The woman showed himinto the room and after saying goodnight, closed the door.

The house was silent. He felt like he had been wandering around for hours, but his watch said eight o’clock. Early for everyone to be in bed, he thought. He changed into the dry clothes and climbed into bed. The sheets felt damp and smelt slightly mouldy; but he was too tired to care.

The next morning Cecil was woken by a large dog licking her face. He tried to push it off but had little success. Opening his eyes, she saw a man pulling the dog off.

"He was only trying to wake you," said the man. "We thought you might be hurt."

Cecil sat up, startled by this intrusion. "What are you doing in my roo......?" The words trailed off as he looked around. The remains of a room was all he could see. The windows were gone, the brickwork had large gaping holes in it. He looked down, he wasn’t in a bed; he had slept on the floor. "W...W…Where am I, what's happened?" he stammered, starting to feel frightened.

"I don’t know," replied the man. "Maybe you got lost in the fog last night."

" Yes, I was lost and a woman gave me a bed for the night," said Cecil "She lived in this house - but it wasn’t like this."
The man looked puzzled. "Nobody’s lived here for 50 years - it’s just an empty shell."

"It did feel strange - empty and cold, but there was definitely a woman here," said Cecil, beginning to doubt his sanity.

The man helped him up. "Well, whatever happened, you’re safe now. My name's Ben, I live on the other side of the river. Come with me and we'll get you cleaned up."

Ben led the way to the bridge that crossed the river. Cecil noticed it had a plaque on which read 'In loving memory of Elizabeth and John.' Ben noticed him reading it. "The bridge was built after they drowned in this river. They lived in that old house with their mother. One night they were out in the forest, they couldn’t find their way home in the fog and fell into the river."

"What happened to their mother?"  Cecil asked.

"She died two months later, a week before the bridge was finished," answered Ben. "When it’s foggy, some people think she watches out for anyone in trouble."

"I think she does," said Cecil, as he looked down at the jumper and trousers he had been given the night before.

Now, Ben’s face was staring back down at him, 25 years later, from the screen

[Claw75]

NB the following is Bolt's contribution - he's asked me to post it for him because he was worried about it otherwise becoming lost in cyberspace.  Unfortunately he wrote this before Tighty's entry, so this follows on from my earlier post

It was Hellmuth!!!!!

He recognised the crooked cap that was bursting with streams of unwashed hair; the blacked out sunglasses hiding the secrets of his true wealth; and the shabby tracksuit top holding it all together.

With a more pronounced act of irreverence than usual he gesticulated for Anastasia to leave the room, all the while concentrating on the screen before him.
Hellmuth was heads up in a tournament, which one? It didn’t matter to Cecil as he clicked his knuckles and shifted uncomfortably in his chair watching the inexorable hellmuth raise, check raise, re raise!!!
Cecil clasped his glass of brandy  and reclined in his chair  recalling the first time he’d met with the redoubtable Phil Hellmuth jr…………
It was 3 years after the fateful encounter with his headmaster that Cecil had gone to Vegas, he was a millionaire now and had used his knowledge of computers to become a competent hold em player, mostly to pass the time in between kidnap, murder and plans for world domination (plus he thought the crypto £10k was a bit of value).
Cecil, independent of his beloved computers struggled to grasp the dynamic of  a high stakes live cash game, he struggled with the advanced plays of the professionals, and he was getting the right hump at the $12 dollar brandy’s that take 15 minutes to turn up!!!
He was a broken man leaving Vegas, he’s ego shattered and his bankroll decimated.
It was at this time in Cecil’s life when his acts of supervillany exceeded even the expectation of Mr evil, he built his empire on his hatred for hellmuth, the player that had caused him the most exasperation in Vegas, the player who had taunted and ridiculed him, disparaged his play and criticized his table demeanour, the player who had some how managed to lay down aces full to Cecil’s quad FFS, and with this hatred he became the most powerful super villain the world had ever seen!!!!!! Although this is disputed by the green goblin who had a fight with Cecil outside a night club one Friday night. There was a lot of shouting and pushing, some punches got thrown, a lot of girls got involved and  it all got stopped when the police turned up and gave them an on the spot fine of £80 for disorderly behaviour, they decided it was a draw.
Cecil induced himself from his daydream and jumped to his feet like flushy when he fills up in a live cash game, he called for Anastasia and perambulated the room with evil ebullience.
Anastasia came rushing in and bowed in front of her master “what is it my lord” she asked “have Mr Helmutth brought here; tell him I want to play him heads up!!! Cash…………………..any stakes”!!!!!!!  “Yes my lord” replied a weary Anastasia.
The trap was set, for Cecil had another plan for helmuth which he ponderd over as he slumped back in his chair and descended into and unsettled sleep.

“my lord, my lord”…Cecil heard the faint words echoing through the room and a hand sliding across his, he woke himself from his sleep to find Anastasia  with today’s itinerary and progress report in her hands. “Shall I proceed my lord” she asked? “go on” replied a sleepy Cecil…….”well, the united states have succumb to your demands and the president is resigning, you take up office at your leisure, we retrieved the final nuclear weapons from Russia to complete our monopoly on the worlds wmds and a newly released time magazine list has you as the worlds richest and most powerful man; we have the trip to mars later where the first intergalactic hotel is near completion and the time travelling machine you had commissioned  is ready for use and is deemed to be a success”
Cecil exhaled a breath of disgust and rose from his seat, fists clenched and approached Anastasia, she gulped and held her breath, with a distinct calm he said” why do you do this to me, I don’t care about that stuff, WHAT ABOUT HELLMUTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! He screamed with chilling ferocity.
A shaken Anastasia replied “ he’ll be here Thursday my lord” as she ran out of the room leaving Cecil to smile a smile of loathsome revenge.
The days and nights merged and Cecil was soon awoken on thursday morning by the faithful Anastasia. “He’s here my lord” she said, “who, what” replied a confused and hung over Cecil “hellmuth, he’s in the upstairs living room waiting on you my lord”
“get out” shouted an indignant Cecil, dear god, where had the days gone, he hadn’t planned, he’d emersed himself in the idea of revenge but forgot to plan for the act itself, for Cecil’s true plans were to KILL phill hellmuth jr.
Cecil composed himself and picked up the nearest heavy object he could find, a cordless dust buster.

He wanted to surprise hellmuth, nice and quiet, bash him quick.
He ascended the old stairs of the castle, and one by one they creaked with conspicuous frequency, he tried to be delicate but at a time when he needed to be light he felt as heavy as kev after half price pie day at tescos!!

He reached the door and tried to sneak inside but hellmuth spun around and with his usual irritating vocabulary said”hiya pal ready for a re match”
Cecil flew at him and delivered the fatal blow to Hellmuths skull sending the big guy crashing down.

Cecil stood over him as hellmuth gasped for breath and tried to talk.
“What is it” said Cecil, “what are you trying to say” and with a last gasp of air helmuth  leant up and said ”you’re an awful murderer, how can you kill me with a dustbuster, I cant believe how bad you are!! geez, I cant believe I have to deal with these armatures its sick, I mean a dustbuster the guy doesn’t even know what he’s doing, I cant believe this is the level of supervillany these days”. And then died.

Cecil turned around to leave the room but noticed a silhouette in the door way, it was Anastasia, she looked different, not withdrawn but proud, not crumpled but upright, not weak but strong, not scared but confident, and she was holding a…………….




 

[thetank]

This entry was originally intended to follow on from Tightend’s, but now bolt pp has added something. To save further confusion, I’ll stop this at under 400, and we’ll carry on from the end of bolts. (I really wanna know what Anastacia is holding)

The vivid memory had left Cecil somewhat disorientated.. He couldn’t understand why he was having flashbacks from 25 years ago when he knew he was still a child at school. Mr Evil. Observed the perplexed, almost pained,  look on Cecil’s face with some amusement.

“What the hell is this?” demanded Cecil

“Why, don’t worry about that” Mr. Evil reassured him “It’s only my cognitive vortex shield”

Cecil was well versed in the ways of MS Dos and Windows 3.1, but he had never heard of this mechanism of which Mr. Evil spoke. He made further inquiries as to the nature and rationale behind what he had just experienced.

“What in the name of blue hairy hell is a cognitive vortex wotsit,”

Mr. Evil explained that a vortex is a spinning flow, like what you get around the plug hole when you empty the bath. It is also a rather cool sounding word, that science fiction authors add to random things they just made up to make them sound more plausible. Essentially, it was an anti-theft device, designed to plant false memories and such into any would be intruders mind, to make them either turn back, or go insane.

“There are many weird and wonderful, very very evil things in my castle. Think of it as Harry Potter without the ginger people” Mr. Evil explained “A greater degree of security is necessary here, to prevent all my evil inventions falling into the wrong hands”

“So that was all just a mind trick?”

“Yes”

“So why is my face covered in dog saliva”

“That, urm, that was me”

Cecil put that little revelation aside for the time being…

“So who is this Ben fella? Is he real?”

“Oh yes, Ben is real. He is my Butler, I hired him for the alliteration”

“Ben the Butler”

“Yes, anyway, we must make haste. The cognitive vortex shield may take a another swing at you. We must get inside at once”

[TightEnd]

 

[Claw75]

might i suggest that, if anyone intends addiing to this thread, they leave a small 'marker' post saying something like "i am working on the next entry", which they can then modify when their entry is ready?

[matt674]

blimey and i thought i had too much time on my hands in work!! 

(ok so thats only 14 words but counting isnt one of monkeys strong points!!)

[Claw75]

does no one fancy doing the next chapter then?  I'm desperate to find out what happens next!!!

[bolt pp]

I couldnt do the follow on from mine........ shes holding a pair of handcuffs and a whip and it all gets a bit explicit!!!