Short Story Contest

[Conserative Morality]

I'd like to see someone here making a new trope for each of those category. That I think would be creative.

That might be a challenge.

Well, alright I guess we can do that. I wanted to go a little easier on the contestants, but it is up to the other judges.

By the way, are there going to be prizes for the winners?

You can still go easy on them, just in another category.

And yes. Bragging rights.

If you have any other ideas for non-monetary rewards?

I suppose I could draw something from the winner's story?

Or should that be for the contestant with the lowest score?

[Norstal]

That might be a challenge.

You can still go easy on them, just in another category.

And yes. Bragging rights.

If you have any other ideas for non-monetary rewards?

I was thinking of giving a Steam game for the winner. Something under $10. But I already spent my monthly allowance, hehe.

Yeah, I don't have anything. :\

I suppose I could draw something from the winner's story?

Or should that be for the contestant with the lowest score?

Better leave that kind of stuff to TMR. *Runs*

I suppose you can draw a portrait for whoever wins the contest if you're up to it.

[Manahakatouki]

So I'm assuming we can edit our written stories up until the 1st? Or is what I made just then final?

[Conserative Morality]

So I'm assuming we can edit our written stories up until the 1st? Or is what I made just then final?

Edit them all you want, until the 1st.

[Manahakatouki]

So I'm assuming we can edit our written stories up until the 1st? Or is what I made just then final?

Edit them all you want, until the 1st.

Thank you, just making sure

[Norstal]

Edit them all you want, until the 1st.

Thank you, just making sure

Although I do plan to judge before college starts (as to avoid extraneous busywork). I won't post it here however. So, if you do make any changes, you have to TG me or something.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

I'll start my story.

Any day now.

I'll do it tonight. No lie. I will.

[Conserative Morality]

I'll start my story.

Any day now.

I'll do it tonight. No lie. I will.

You sound like me.

[Conserative Morality]

Although I do plan to judge before college starts (as to avoid extraneous busywork). I won't post it here however. So, if you do make any changes, you have to TG me or something.

When does College start for you?

[Norstal]

Although I do plan to judge before college starts (as to avoid extraneous busywork). I won't post it here however. So, if you do make any changes, you have to TG me or something.

When does College start for you?

January 1st. So, yeah.

[Norstal]

how many entries can we have?

Oooh, almost missed this. If you submitted two or more entries, I will only judge one. No exceptions.

I will also only read the passage you made in that one single post. Finally, I will use this method of scoring:

Characters - 25
Plot - 25
Setting - 15
Creativity - 15
Style - 15
Grammar/spelling - 5

If the other judges disagrees, well, they better come up with something better or else...

[Krakosov]

my dad told me a funny story about his cusin Sverre who is a teacher

he was sitting in a meeting with other teachers and social workers ect.
at the begining everyone was introducing themselves
my name is bla bla bla my position is bla bla bla.

he was a litle anoyed since everyone was going to forget
each others names at the end of the meeting anyway.

so when it was his turn to introduce himself he said
(my name is sverre and i am an alcoholic)

everyone started laughing
an i am sure that noone forgot his name
it is the funniest story i have ever heard.

[Ragnarsdomr]

-snip-

Never heard that one before, Krakosov. I'm sure Sverre had quite the imagination.

[Astrolinium]

Okay, so I've finally started my story.
Now to make a middle and an end.
And a second paragraph.

[Conserative Morality]

Okay, so I've finally started my story.
Now to make a middle and an end.
And a second paragraph.

Hey, I just started writing up my story today too!

[Astrolinium]

And now I need to scrap the whole first two paragraphs because I've decided the tale works better in first person past tense than with a third person omniscient narrator.

[Krakosov]

-snip-

Never heard that one before, Krakosov. I'm sure Sverre had quite the imagination.

yes he is very witty
he is very quick to see a humorus side of anything
he named his 7th dog syver wich is a name but it also means number 7 in some dialects
it is very funny if you are norwegian

[Steel and Fire]

it is very funny if you are norwegian

A maxim to live by, I'm sure.

This is a good idea and I would definitely participate if I had higher self-esteem and the dedication to finish something on time <_<
Will become a recurring tradition I hope?

[Conserative Morality]

A maxim to live by, I'm sure.

This is a good idea and I would definitely participate if I had higher self-esteem and the dedication to finish something on time <_<
Will become a recurring tradition I hope?

Probably.

[Maineiacs]

2000+ words, but I'm kind of stuck. Still hope to be done for the deadline.

[Yoite]

2000+ words, but I'm kind of stuck. Still hope to be done for the deadline.

Don't worry, your words carry weight that would crush a lesser man(/woman)'s jaw.

[Zeth Rekia]

It was during the first melting season in Winter that we moved to the house on Tennenbom Drive. It was a large stone castle styled mansion, surrounded by a large grassland and positioned upon a hill. I bought it with my state money, after being honorably discharged from the military. We arrived in the morning. Me, Dad, and Brother. Upon opening into the house, we went through a porch-like room and into the reception area that led to the living room. The interior was pretty average. Looking aged in most parts and actually somewhat unfinished in others. Dark green carpets, worn trim, dusty dusty dusty.

Father sighed, as he was so old and spent that he didn't want to do anymore home projects. I nudged him to assure him that he wouldn't have to. I preferred my homes natural. No need to fix something that isn't worth the money to fix, if it isn't broken.

"The air is quite stuffy in here, actually. Think you bought a good house, Akira." Said Keven, setting one of his bags on the table to his left.
"Thanks, I hope it lasts." I responded.
"Wonder how many rooms are in this place, I should pick out a good one." Said father, rubbing his head inquisitively.
"Around 12, ranging from medium size to large. Think you'll have a good time picking." I said.

After we got our bedrooms picked, I moved in my computer and tried several broken internet hook-ups until I found one that actually worked. Which, was in the living room. With no one else around, I kinda sighed and sat solemnly against the wall and looking at the floor. I had nothing to do.

I got bored, later the night. So, I went poking around downstairs. The stairs weren't that bad, actually. They creaked and groaned, but were relatively sturdy. They went down quite a ways. Eventually, I reached a door at the bottom, opened the door, and gasped for air as I sort of fell backwards onto the stairs in phobia. As the heights pushed on my chest, I realized that the house was built over a massive cave system that had been dug through and lined with glass catwalks for people to walk on. Red, blue, green and purple paper lanterns were hung on the walls and ceiling and there were rooms dug out into the cavern walls with stuff in them as well. The ambiance was that of a low high bass rumble, which, made me feel rather uneasy. The ceilings was plastered with pipes and wiring, which lined the walls and went into the floor somewhere below me.

I walked down one of the glass walkways that led to a relatively unlit room to the right. Upon entering, my legging caught itself on a broken chair leg and I fell, right onto the old dusty wooden floor. Dust settling as I open my eyes to view across the floor of a small in-room. Littered with old trash, cuberts, and clad in spider webs. As I scanned to the top of my head I panicked and recoiled backwards, doing whatever I can to get away from the hand sized spiders that seemed to be approaching me, until I realized they were on their backs, hard as concrete and dead as nails. At that moment, a chicken strutted its way into view from the inside of the in-room.

It cackled around, with a rubber police baton strapped to its back as it asked me, "What brings you here? Have you come to defend me from the awful cat who stares?"
I laid there in confusion. Not only did it talk, but it was a bird. I immediately felt like saying no, but I played my polite card and said, "Possibly, why do you have a dildo strapped to you back?"
"Oh, my baton? I keep that for protection." Said the Chicken. He began to pervertedly poke my area between my legs with the baton, snickering quietly.
"Ah, alright." I responded, giving him a look of authoritarian disapproval. To which, he backed off and dashed off into the dusty darkness.

The next morning, I met the cat. He scampered around looking for a way to avoid my veiw, but I caught him. So, he stopped and gave in to my presence. He was a brown and black cat. He had nothing carried on him, as opposed to the chicken. He seemed to know what he was doing, contrary to the chicken... who seemed like he was obviously trying to be somewhere else all the time. The Cat sat there in the dark corner of the room, watching me. In the meantime, Keven walked up to me was I was just sitting down and crossing my leg to use the computer. He was holding the new iPod I got, and didn't seem very happy.

"Keven? Why do you have my iPod?" I asked, pressing the on button for my new crappy desktop PC.
"You came downstairs last night and put it on my chest while I was sleeping, you woke me up Akira." Keven responded.
"I never went downstairs last night." I said, contorting my face in a fixation of confusion.
"Yes you did, you came down, set it on my chest, then smashed it with your fists. I had to pick the glass out of your hand before you went back upstairs." He said, confidently.
"I don't remember any of this, Keven." I said. I didn't know what he was talking about, to be honest.

Keven seemed to be a bit upset about the ordeal, but I couldn't remember it. I'm guessing he dismissed it as a result of my trauma and let it be. The cat nuzzled my leg and drew my attention, and by chance, my brother's attention too. Keven smiled in a slightly disturbing way, like usual, when he sees a cat.

"Stray cat?" Keven asked me, pointing at the fur ball in the corner.
"Seems so."

Keven told me to put his daughter's toy downstairs. I felt dizzy right off the bat, and looked down at Cat. I wasn't sure if it was a god idea, he responded by shaking his head 'no'.

Later on the fifth night, my and my brother along with two of his friends, went to a movie called 'Urban Respite', a war movie taking place in Vietnam-like setting. The drive there was through the city passed the theater, because Urban Respite was actually large scale play, much like a war reenactment. I felt a bit out of sorts, going back into a location wherein gunfire was heard consistently for hours, due to my previous military career. But, alas, I pulled through, and so did our old beaten car as it drove us past the theater, passed all the Batman billboards and posters on the building walls, and out into the country where the grand play was being held.

The play was hosted in a large field that went on for miles, with several dips in altitude erratically located therein. There was camps set up in these inclines, and this is were viewers of the play were briefed on the situation, and given a role to participate. Keven and his two friend took the roles of machine-gunners. They were assigned a small hole to set up their dummy machine-gun in and shoot holographic targets coming towards them. I didn't have a role, so I simply followed them and listened to them talk about random things.

I eventually got bored and headed back to the nearest tent to listen to the instructor talk about things involving the story of the battle at hand. I nearly fell asleep sitting down at a table, until this one girl who had played the role of a nurse came in and started pestering the instructor. The nurse girl seemed frantic and out of sorts with her surroundings.
The nurse girl would approach slowly and stumble around, "I need help, help me I can't feel my body.'
"I don't know what you're talking about please stand back o I can get to you later." Said the instructor, assuming it was a part of the script.
"I can't see. I can't see-" The nurse girl aid as she stood up straight looking towards the instructor with a blank face.

She eventually started bleeding from the eyes, I observed in interest as her clothes began to fall off, showing that her entire body had been eaten away to the bone and that her head was the only thing left intact. Her soon body gave way and fell to the floor as runny purple jell oozed out of her bones. I then turned my head to the instructor, who seemed to be convulsing and struggling against something of the similar nature. Then, as the other viewers started the same, I bolted. Leaving a tent that would soon become a fleshy mess. I ran to my brother and told him and his friend to go home. I, being the ex-military sergeant, grabbed Keven's hand and took him to the car, as his friends dispersed by other means.

Upon returning home, I was clawed on the leg by Cat, as he surely wanted my attention and to take me away from the reception room into the basement stairwell.
"Get the clothes off, it's on you. It's only supposed to be in the basement." Cat said frantically.

I responded by quickly pulling off all of my clothing and then throwing it into the depths of the cavern floor, over the said of the glass catwalk. I went upstairs to tell my brother the same, he looked at me wondering why I was completely naked, but I just kept telling him and he eventually disposed of his clothes as well. He quickly went to his room to put on new and probably wash up as well. I myself remained unclothed due to the fact that I usually forgot.

Upon father's returning home, he was covered in the purple jell. I started panicking and helped him tear off his clothing and get him into the shower as fast as possible. He was unaware of the dangers, until I told him in the shower. But, I honestly didn't know what the dangers were myself, because all I knew is that it would make your flesh melt off. Which, is why I wanted to talk to the cat in private.

Upon leaving father to finish dressing up, I sealed off the reception room by the Cat's orders. I then followed Cat downstairs into the caverns below. He seemed quite agrovated by the situation, but contained it rather well to avoid being rude. Eventually, we were out of earshot, and I began asking questions.

"Cat, What is this purple jell stuff? Does it make people melt?" I asked.
"Most of the time, yes. Your dad was lucky though, he lives in this house," Cat responded. He stopped in front of a large statue of a man with a sword upon a horse, in the middle of the glass catwalk network, "See, the Jell only eats those who don't live here. Chicken and I are the result of what happens when the homeowners are taken by the gel. They're turned into one animal, no matter how many people lived here, it's always only one animal that is incarnated after the homeowners have been killed by the Jell."
Chicken cackled in with his baton, pointed it at Cat, and said, "This cat is an entire family put into one animal. It resembles their likeness as people. My family was a bunch of cowards, so they got me... a chicken."
The Chicken point the baton at me, "But you- I have no idea what you would be turned into. By all definitions, you're a monster."
"Which is why we can't let you be killed or captured by the Jell, your family is a giving, but you... you're a walking disaster." Said Cat.
I sighed, "I guess I understand why that'd be. "
Cat sat and looked at Chicken, "So, what are we to do?"
Chicken gave him an awkward look, as if he wasn't sure why Cat would ask him that, "I don't think there's anything we can do, really."
I set aside the importance of the situation and asked, "Wait, if you guys are two families incarnated into different animals based on who the families were, then- are those spiders I seen in the room over there anyone?"
The cat giggled hoarsely, "Yeah, those used to be squatters."

[Theseonia]

Originally titled And she talked about the armies that marched inside her head and how they made her dreams go bad (a song lyric), I'm renaming it now simply to October which is significantly less insufferable.

October

The doors opened wide and the sidewalks greeted us with the sharp, familiar violence of the wintry air. I stiffened instinctively but the cold left her unfazed. The din of trite, aggressively loud conversations presently faded behind the closing doors and she spoke fast and lively for a while, as if she couldn't have withstood even a second of silence to fall between us, surely as ever afraid of what I might have wanted to say should it happen. I didn't mind, it gave me a reason to look at her. I never really looked at her specifically, I'd look at everything that was her, never missing a detail, the flawlessness of her peach cheeks, her lank, barely nubile figure, her jade jaded eyes, and at this moment, the thin vapor wisp that seeped from her childlike mouth as she spoke, that familiar shrewd expression on her face. The street was wide of its emptiness and dimly lit, in an hour or so it would be busy with the intoxicated tumult of night children dragging their own emptiness back home. For now we were the only ones disturbing its urban peace. I tread weary and heavy, she tread soft and young. As usual. She took a long breath.

"I've been thinking" she said
"oh....that's uncommon"
"shush you"
I smiled.
"Yeah, so you've been thinking"
"...I have"

I waited for her to follow but she left whatever thought she had hanging for a while. She loved it. My contained anticipation, my pretense of vague disinterest. She relished it and so she did this every time she had something of any matter to say. Surely because she knew what I was longing for her to finally say, though I knew it to be hopeless. I couldn't help wishing, reasoning that sometimes it's all you have, wishes. "If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets". And so we would.... But something ,I warily noticed, was different now, not just motivated by her habitual childish playfulness. Her tone, lower and hesitant. Something she was struggling to say. To mention. And for once I wasn't certain I wanted to hear that ever pristine sound of her voice

"I think whatever we'll do from now on, everything's changed" she started.
"How so?"
"Because that's just how it is"
"You're losing me already"
"No, that will probably be you"

She spoke in riddles as usual. It was an habit by now, speaking in hints and half sentences and severed thoughts. Some time early on in our acquaintance we had seemed to agree straightforwardness was banal and tiresome. Something only boring people bothered with. On the contrary, we were interesting, fascinating. We inevitably had to be, the world was too drearily conventional to want to be anything other than captivating and life too short to waste it being ordinary. Or so we liked to delude ourselves.

"Do you remember October?"
Her question was almost casual.
"Which part exactly?"
"The one...."
"Oh..."
".....yeah"
"...that one".

I had known what she meant right away. But it was my accepted role to pretend. Pretty October, damp October. Crimson evening, autumn air, her fireworks eyes, my craving fingers through her undone hair, her almost sickening warmth and her hands clenching my back and for a while I thought she might not let go. But I'd have liked that too much. October never came up. Better left alone, undisturbed. Silently agreed to just leave it be. To her, merely a mistake, I assumed, to me....to me...something else. Something else entirely. And yet days had passed. And weeks had passed. And she had been content in pretending it was forgotten. As I had been in humoring her.

"What about October?"
"It left...", her voice wavered, "something"
"Something?"
"Something"

The way she had said it. I knew October to not have been the safest but there was no way she could have lessened the effect either way. I plainly understood what it meant. It left me short-breathed, no, it left me unable to breathe. And wordless. A thousand images and outcomes passing through my head. Actions and consequences. Merciful for once, she didn't leave me pondering much longer.

"I'm not having it"
There was a controlled, almost reassuring firmness to her voice. As if she meant, expected even, the matter to be over right then.
"You seem....very decided"
"I've thought a lot about it"
"How long have you known?"
"Two weeks"

Two weeks. For such matters, a lifetime. Two weeks and she hadn't said a thing. As usual she wanted the decision to be hers. Like every single one. She'd never relinquish control to anything or anyone. She'd be leading her burdens down her own road until the bitter end. A stark contrast to my meek manners. She always was as black as I was white. Or was it the other way around? I couldn't really say. But predictably, at this time, my mind dabbled in petty concerns.

"I thought you'd have checked by now" I said.
"I had but it was too early to tell I think"
"You said you were on..."
"I wasn't"
"Then why did you..?"
She coldly shrugged with apparent nonchalance. The gesture wasn't lost on me.
"...lust"

And so she had said the word. And with it shattered any illusion I might have kept alive about October. It tore through me. Meaningless, me or someone else, all the same to her. Such a beautiful waste. Of mind and body. Of heart. Not better than any of the ones before, those I used to see in my head, bodies entwined, hers and theirs, in a cold, mechanical ritual. Soulless. Giving herself away. Now their image replaced with mine. Full of their emptiness, a perfect, useless waste. I felt grayed and sick. And so she'd keep her cold conscience to the end, I thought. I swelled.

"Not your best moment…"
"Trusting me with it wasn't yours either" she replied chidingly
"....easy to say"
"either way..."
"yeah, either way...."

Either way here we were. "Tragic victims of fate", I nearly smiled. A light snow had started falling, The kind that always, almost perpetually it seemed, fell this time of the season. I watched it float down in the crisp air for a moment. By the glow of the streetlight, I never ceased to be awed at the sullen peace it brought me. And it nearly did even then for a while. But unavoidably, sentiments had to carry through. And I found myself talking without being truly aware of what I was saying.

"I want it"
"Don't be silly"
She had responded quietly, remaining impassive.
"You owe that much to me" I said.
"I don't owe you anything"
"You knew what you were doing" My tone grew louder.
"So did you, to yourself at least"
"I didn't. And even if I did, you knew I wouldn't refuse you"
"That doesn't mean I owe you anything"
She was right but it angered me all the same and perhaps just to spite her now I repeated, "I want it"
"Forget it…"

She looked away. Escaping it again. Always working ways around it, as if it wasn't there. It left me wondering what was it she really wanted as she endlessly weaved in and out and around my cares and needs like some careful spinstress. Always at arm’s reach but always a world away. Like October.

"Just that once I'd like to see you acknowledge it" I said, careless now.
"Acknowledge what?" Again, pretending, always pretending.
"Don't do this again. Enough, it's enough now"
"You do “this” to yourself"
"Yeah, you make sure to lend me a good hand with it too…"
"I've never kept you from stopping"
She had raised her voice.
"You've never asked me to stop..."
She had nothing to say to this so I continued "...because you don't want me to"
"That's what you want to believe"
"I want to believe that there's a reason why you keep me around."
"It's not what you think"
"I don't know what I think anymore"
"Then that makes two of us"

If I'd have been anyone but me I'd have asked her what that meant. But ever scared as I was..... The truth was that parts of her had been staying in the recesses of my heart for already a too long while, ever shining a light when the glum and dreary of my days threatened to blanket everything under its darkness and yet also ever overshadowing everything else in the moments when I should have been cheerful. Unwanted residents, mostly. And now, for once, a part of me lived in her. At last. Yet not the way I'd have wanted it. But it made it exist, October for once couldn't be denied. And in some way, in some way I liked it. Whatever she did, from now on, we had once happened.

"Do you remember what you said that night?" I asked, mawkishly bitter
"I said many things..."
"You said you believed that if heaven existed, it would be made only of life's perfect moments. Endlessly reliving those tiny perfect precious moments someone's life is made of"
"....yeah" she scoffed as she sneered. I ignored it.
"That's what my personal heaven would be made of. One autumn night. Over and over and over"

A silence fell. Not just between us but it seemed from everywhere at once. The street had fallen completely silent at last. As if it had surrendered to the solemnity of the moment. She didn't say a thing, but her paces faltered. She hadn't wanted to hear it, and her whole self was trying to deny she had. The way she looked away into nothingness, the way she nearly sneered again at my words. It didn't matter. I didn't mind anymore, whatever she didn't feel. No matter what sort of half-hearted despise she might have held in face of it all. It just didn't matter anymore. I wanted to hold her still, under my hands and under my stare and beat it into her, into her head, into her heart, into her soul. No matter how futile, no matter how wrong. Love her until all that would be left for her to do would be to accept it and then give it back, even if I knew it wasn't the way the world went.

"You would really have it be born out of this mistake? Don't you realize the unfairness of it?" she said.
"The world is as fair as you let it be to you"
"Yeah you would know about this. And what does that even mean anyway? Jesus Christ, do you hear yourself sometimes?"
"It's that simple for you. You would just turn around and pretend it never existed. I can't do this. I'm not like you. Moments to me aren't gone as soon as they have passed like they are to you. You keep nothing and hope for nothing. You're never anywhere but now."
"It keeps my past from hurting me"
"And it keeps you from being…..real"
"I've been "real" once. There's just hurt in it."
"That's part of reality", I stated matter-of-factly
Her eyes rolled just so. "That's all you live through, hurt. Like you think it makes you noble or fuck knows what"
"You think I like this?"
"That you're here right now talking about it tells me that you do. You chose it to be this way. You don't have to be here."
"I chose nothing. I met you once. I had no choice in that and I never had a truly conscious choice since. I’m here now like I’ve been wherever with you every other time, because that’s where you are."
If she thought it pathetic or laughably sentimental, she kept it to herself.
"Well, I choose. And I don't want any of that reality you're talking about" she said instead.
"Well it looks like the reality you're so intent on escaping just caught up with you…"
"It'll be dealt with soon enough"
"Not if I can help it"
"You can't"

I knew she was right. For all the words I could speak I was helpless. As helpless as she had ever made me. Like that night when she had toyed with what I held sacred. Sometimes I despised her for it. Right now I hated her for it. Hate born out of love was hate all the same.

"Maybe you've let yourself be emptied of...your empathy that one simple thing that makes you human and makes you care...care for others and anything other than your own feelings and well-being..."
I paused a moment waiting for her to interrupt me but she didn't, as if suddenly rendered silent by the litany of my voice, I continued.
"Maybe you chose for yourself that this life didn't hold anything that was worth feeling for, trying for, maybe you chose for yourself that in the end it all doesn't matter, but you have no right to choose this life for others. You have no right to choose for its life"

She stopped. She looked at me, sideways as she often did, but long and hard this time. She looked at me for ages. Taking in everything. Unflinching, at least for a while. I noted everything. The way a too-lovely strand of her hair hid her left eye, the way her brows knitted darkly, the way her porcelain hands clenched and mostly, the way a tear suddenly ran down her left cheek and hung there. I never really knew precisely what it was shed for, a single perfect tear. She looked backward, searching for something down the street, I didn't turn to see what it was.

"Then I will choose for mine alone"

She turned towards me now, her gaze met mine, she blinked, held my gaze a moment longer, a light at the street corner flickered fast and died as did her eyes, she stepped backward unto the street and in that one fateful movement, the midnight bus was upon her. She left just a stifled sound and scarlet snow.

And October.

[Dragosovlkiav]

My first entree if it can be qualified is a few chapters of the book I'm writing called the dragon battalion.

"the fossil has been successfully moved to bunker 935 and is stable." said the Russian officer who was known as dreskov. "excellent der füer will be pleased at your success." said hirmstrov, the German contact that dreskov was posed to meet. " that pleases me greatly now were is my payment you had mentioned in Kiev." said dreskov in a slightly angry voice. " oh yes I forgot to mention your services are needed a little longer." hirmstrov said with a smirk on his lips. Before dreskov could react, a solder from behind with a gas mask restrained him. " YOU BASTERD, even Stalin woudn't restrain a man and shoot him!" dreskov yelled furiously. hirmstrov was to busy putting on a gas mask to answer him. once he was finished he looked at dreskov and simply said in German as gas started to fill the room. "gute Nacht Thema ein-drei-sieben."

" oh, my akeing head." subject a-3-7 said in a rather painful confused voice. he tried to get up but he couldn't. he looked to his left then his right. he was strapped down to a long black table. a-3-7 said in a loud voice which echoed around the room. "hello, can some one explain why I'm here." he looked at a camera, which he just noticed and just stared at it. 

in the observation room, hirmstrov stared at the screen. " doctor, he is awake. Should we begin the procedure?" Said one of hirmstrov's
chief advisers. " ja, he must be dying to meet his Friends." said hirmstrov sarcasticly.

a-3-7 herd a loud hiss of decompressing air, then a squeal of metal rubbing against metal. 
a-3-7 yelled in pain " gaaaahh!!, this is gonna kill me!!" finally it stopped and a bright light pierced the low lit room blinding him to the point of only seeing shadows, he saw four dark figures come in threw the opening with a tray. " good morning, a-3-7. How do you feel?" hirmstrov said with a smirk that, a-3-7 couldn't see. a-3-7 said in a rather frightened tone. " who are you!" hirmstrov replied in a laughing like voice. " your maker." then a strong pain shot into a-3-7's arm, the pain was so strong he nearly passed out. " doctor it's working!" said hirmstrov's assistant. " silence you fool! were not even sure if it's stable!" said hirmstrov angrily.  a-3-7 was feeling nautious, he then felt a pain so great he swore his bones were being broken, he then threw up all over himself. Just as he faded out of conciseness. He herd a man say. "seig heil! " 

1-3-7 awoke from some quiet hissing and other sounds he couldn't identify, wait he could but being groggy made him miss interpret the voices. " get up will you, well be punished if we don't get ready in a few minutes!" said the voice in a harsh whisper. 1-3-7 opened his eyes a figure stood in front of him. he was confused he didn't know what was going on. " who are you and what's going on." 1-3-7 said in a rather annoyed voice. "trouble if you don't get up and get dressed!" said the voice in a harsh whisper again.  1-3-7 got up and was showed a German uniform. Which he put on rapidly. As he got dressed he noticed that something seemed amiss. He looked at himself in a mirror and realized he had scaled skin and wings, his legs were also a little awkward and he had a tail. He he let out a yelp of surprise. " what happened to me!" 
" be quiet the guards will here you speak draconic." said the other voice in a angry warning. the other creature as 1-3-7 came  to realize was like him but with a German like accent. "what's your name?" 1-3-7 asked in a low whisper.
the other creature bent down and grabbed 1-3-7's hat and put on his head straight. " the Germans list us by rank and number, my registration, as we call it is Wehrpflichtigen 1-3-6. But the rest call me vergaust. Out there outside of this room you need to refer to me has 1-3-6." vergaust said. 
" pleasure to meet you. but I don't know German." said 1-3-7 in a worried tone. "don't worry about that the doctor will fix that." said vergaust in a rather sad tone. vergaust then asked " what's your name?" 
" i don't know all I know is the number 1-3-7 and the word dreskov." answered 1-3-7 honestly. vergaust looked at him In shock and said. " my god, they captured a Russian!" then they herd a loud clang and a jangle of keys. Then a click. quickly vergaust said in a almost panicked whisper. " listen your the same rank as me, your family is now us. I'll call you when were here dreskov. ok." replied in a unsure whisper "ok."

just as dreskov said ok, they heard a Jangle of keys again then a squeak as  the door opened. vergaust raised his arm and said " seig hail." and a officer appeared raised his arm and replied " heil hittler." then he looked at dreskov. He lowered his arm slowly, Once officers arm was at his side vergaust dropped his arm and stood at attention. The officer said "Wehrpflichtigen 1-3-7 fallow me." then he turned and went out the door. " go quick before you anger him, he has little paitence." vergaust whispered.


once out side dreskov looked around for the officer. he was standing by a gate waiting. He saw dreskov and smiled. dreskov thought as he walked to the gate. He dosen't seem so bad. he looked to his left then his right noticing towers with guards in them and fences around the area.
" Guten Morgen die Landschaft zu genießen." dreskov said "yes." the officer frowned and looked at a clipboard he produced from his coat pocket. He then looked up and said in Russian " I see you haven't learned how to speak German yet." dreskov then smiled and replied " no, but you seem to speak russian very well."
" I try since its necessary, your our only Russian on campus and because I'm your monitor I have to speak it now let's hurry I don't want to anger the doctor."

after a short walk to a large building with the German falcon and swastika on it. A guard halted them "Passcode, Identifizierung und Abfertigung Rang Papiere." the officer quickly said a couple different things then pulled out a notebook that looked like a pass port and said " heil hittler." the guard checked the pass port and said " seig heil." then they went in. The main lobby was decorated in falcons and swastikas. There was even a copy of panzleid on a wall. The officer then took him to a set of stairs and said " go straight to the top floor and wait there." dreskov nodded and did so. When he got to the top floor he saw a single office at the end of a hall he could make out that someone was on a phone and obviously was angry. he then turned and saw the officer walking up the stairs talking to vergaust. vergaust then looked up and smiled he then said in Russian " I see that you and I both are in the same speaking class, but that's not why your here. you will get to meet the doctor and learn what we do hear just stay on his good side and you'll be fine." dreskov just simply nodded. " time to go, the doctor is waiting." said the officer. once drescov got to the doctors office the officer pointed to a chair and told him to sit down. dreskov immediately sat down the chair obviously made for the creature he was. a few moments later the doctor sat down in a chair across from him. The doctor simply looked at him and said in Russian  " good morning how do you feel."
" fine, but I'm curious what I'm doing here and what do you call the creature I am?" said dreskov.
the doctor replied " I call your kind progress, but my colleagues call your kind anthro drach."
" well at least I know what I am ." said dreskov. " what your doing here is learning and training." said the doctor with a rather pleased tone.
" and when you are done learning and training. Well send you off to fight for our glorious fatherland and der fuer."
" with what?" asked dreskov very interested." The glorious  panzer IV ausef d-2."answered the doctor. dreskov then nodded and said " amazing, out of pure curiosity what is your name?" 
the doctor replied with a smile and said " doctor hirmstrov, but please call me doc."    dreskov said " pleasure to meet you doc, so wha…" the doctor interrupted him and said " I'm sorry but I have to go, the officer that brought you in is just out side he'll take you to your speaking class, have a nice day."  dreskov got up and left the doctor as he went to a room he didn't notice before. " that sounded like it went well." said the officer as dreskov closed the door behind him.
" by the way, you will from now on are to refer to me as heer officer."
" yes heer officer." said dreskov
" good, now let's get you to class Wehrpflichtigen 1-3-7."

[Maineiacs]

Ok, here's what I've got. Yes, it's incomplete; I intend it to be part of a larger work I've been puttering around with (likely with much revision. I still have a ton of research to do). Hopefully, I actually get to some serious work on it one day.

If I had thought about the consequences thoroughly, I would never have said anything. I can only plea that I was caught up in the moment. It really wasn’t my fault that people reacted the way they did. Well, I suppose ultimately it was. Let me start at the beginning: it all started with making what should have been the greatest scientific discovery of this or any other age. I worked at an observatory as part of SETI (Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence). Between you and me, it’s mostly a waste of time. Millions of dollars to spend every night listening to the background noise of the Universe. Sure, we’d recently discovered hundreds of extrasolar planets, but most were gas giants like Jupiter, and most were too hot or too cold for anything resembling life. Even if there was life, we’d likely never find it. We’d certainly never meet them; the distances were (pardon the expression) astronomical. That was the conventional wisdom; no one except a few New Age crazies believed anything else.

Until that night. About 2 a.m., I was manning the radio telescope as I do day in and day out. That’s when I heard it: it sounded at first like the same static that we always get -- the never-ceasing symphony of random noise the Universe subjects us to. But this was different -- very different. Lately everyone’s attention had been on Kepler-22, a fairly non-descript G-type star in the constellation Cygnus. Right Ascension 19h 16m 52.2sec and Declination +47deg 53min 4.2sec. Searchers had found a planet orbiting the star. A planet within the star’s “goldilocks zone”. That meant it likely had a temperature able to support liquid water, and where there’s water, there’s life. The tabloids immediately started reporting that researchers had indeed discovered a planet that harbored life, and the usual gullible faction that believes anything their favorite rag tells them automatically believed it. NASA, of course, issued a denial and clarified that we still knew nothing of Kepler-22b’s composition: whether it was rocky, whether it had an atmosphere, and of course just because temperatures were right for water did not mean that there was water. But that wasn’t the entire truth. NASA knew far more than they let on. Kepler-22b did have water. Our spectroscopy was detailed enough to confirm that. More than that, we had confirmed oxygen. The only way for there to be a significant amount of free oxygen in its atmosphere was photosynthesis. There were plants on Kepler-22b. The men in black suits who don’t officially exist (no, not Will Smith) showed up to warn us that we could not say anything to anyone about our discovery lest we cause worldwide panic, and to vaguely threaten dire consequences if we didn’t toe the line. Well, they didn’t need to tell me twice. I quickly signed the pledge they stuck in my face. That was where I made my mistake. I shouldn’t have signed it, in fact I should quit my job right then and there and gone off to farm turnips somewhere. Then the world would have been better off. Ignorance is bliss, after all, and it’s not as if the knowledge of what was out there helped us in the end. But no, I had to get caught up in the thrill of discovery. So I was there, listening to the sky around Kepler-22b. I had just made a boring job even more so by staying in one place listening to background noise instead of sweeping the sky at random listening to background noise.

Two months of filing reports that, boiled down to basics, read “12 o’clock and all’s well” were about to come to an end. At first, I assumed that the equipment had gone down, because the noise stopped. But then it started again. I listened to make sure it wasn’t going to go out on me again, then I noticed it: a pattern. A definite pattern. Little bursts of sound then a pause, then more sound. The pattern was obvious. The sound bursts were coming in a pattern of 1 then 1 then 2 then 3 then 5 then 8 then 13 then 21. The Fibonacci series. I felt like Jodie Foster in the movie Contact. Stunned for a minute, I quickly called my supervisor on the phone.
“Sir,” I said. “this is Dr. Martin. I have something I think you should hear, sir.”
He agreed to see me at 8 a.m. I spent the next six hours pacing back and forth trying to decide the best way to tell my boss what I had found.

When old man Franklin got there, he said “You said you have something to show me, Dr. Martin?”

“Yes sir,” I said. “It’s from Kelper-22b, sir. Listen to this.” then I turned on the recording.

He recognized it as soon as I did. “You’re sure of this?” he asked.

“Yes sir. I’ve been checking it all night. The first 8 numbers of the Fibonacci series.”

The first thing Franklin, as unimaginative a pencil-pusher as ever there was did was to follow protocol. Calls to the National Science advisor. Calls to the director of NASA. Calls to every functionary even remotely connected to the project. By the next day, half of D.C. had converged on our little observatory. I and the other staff were compelled to remain on site. By this time, even a retarded field mouse would have been able to guess that there was something important going on, so none of us could leave and give the press a chance to corner one of us and pump them for information. The next several days were spent debating what to do next. I came down on the side of those advocating trying to make contact. What harm could there be? I thought. Kepler-22b is over 600 light years away. We’d get our reply, if any, sometime in the 33rd century. Plenty of time to get people used to the idea of us not being alone in the Universe. None of us could have known just how wrong I was about that.

After about a week of ordered-in food, no showers, and Men in Black keeping the press at bay, the blips and bleeps coming from Kepler-22b changed. The Fibonacci series was replaced by a more complex pattern. We of course set immediately to deciphering it. The answer shocked and even alarmed us: it was the very same message we had sent out on Pioneer 10 and Pioneer 11 and the content of the “Golden Discs” sent along with Voyager 1 and Voyager 2 in the 1970‘s. Not only were we not alone, they knew we were there. This, of course set off a new debate among those of us gathered there (including now some people from other institutions). How did a civilization 600 light-years away come across probes that were barely out of our Solar System? How did they create a message to us and send it and how did we receive it less than 40 years after we sent the messages ourselves? Many of our impromptu panel declared it a hoax right then and there. It was obviously impossible, they said. We’d been had. Time to call the FBI and have them track down the perpetrators of this not-funny practical joke.

But, as everyone in the world has figured out by now, it was no ruse. It was part of the plan. News of this magnitude cannot be kept secret forever. It quickly became obvious to everyone that something was being kept under wraps. Speculation ran rampant. It soon became obvious to even the most secrecy-minded people in the government that something would have to be said. So then, whoever makes these sorts of decisions set about crafting what would be said to the public. I’m sure they intended to say something that they felt would be least likely to cause mass panic, but they underestimated the power of group-think. People in many countries seemed to simultaneously reach the conclusion that 70 years of “flying saucer” conspiracy theories had been right all along. They decided that governments had been hiding knowledge of aliens for decades. Calls for “full disclosure” met with increasingly agitated officials denying any foreknowledge of alien civilizations. The denials were met with rising fear and anger. Demonstrations became riots. Riots became martial law. Martial law became chaos. There were runs on banks. Financial institutions began to panic, then collapse. Trade was disrupted as nation after nation fell to the grip of hysteria. Oil shipments stopped, and shortages became critical. Mankind was quickly retreating back to a state of barbarism. Governments collapsed, and society began reverting back to the tribal stage. Many places descended into civil wars that took uncounted lives. It was amazing how little time it took for everything to simply come to a grinding halt. Less than a year, and nearly all of mankind’s achievements had been wiped away. There had been much made about how the Mayans had supposedly predicted and end of the world for 2012. Man’s never-ending capacity for self-destruction had made that a self-fulfilling prophecy. Then, things got really bad.

It was to this battered world that the aliens came. They had been monitoring us for centuries apparently, and had built forward attack bases among our solar system’s neighbor stars, no more than a few light-years away. By the time the first ships appeared in orbit, there was little left to resist them. Armies were hastily re-assembled by what was left of the world’s various governments to meet the common threat, but a few quick high-altitude EMPs and we were rendered helpless; all of our electronic equipment -- radar, targeting systems, radio transmissions, even automobile ignitions were fried, never to work again. After that, the conquest was short and brutal. Some cities, like New York, were destroyed. Others, like San Diego, were occupied. The world was soon brought under their heel. It was incredible to think how quickly they enslaved us. Now, all our eons-long squabbles over resources were pointless. Nearly everything this planet had went to our conquerors; the Ristan Empire. There were, of course, many pockets of resistance but most of them were being sniffed out. And for every resistance fighter, there were just as many Quislings.

But I, for one, did not welcome our new overlords. I felt responsible, in a way, for how things had become. I was the one who discovered their existence, and I felt I had a responsibility to do something to make amends. So I found myself joining a resistance group in California founded by an ex-Marine calling itself the “Free California Militia”. We planned a number of hit-and-run raids on Ristan depots and similar facilities, and we had a few small-scale successes. Logistics were difficult now after the EMPs had knocked out the world’s electronics, so things tended to move slowly; a few explosions, a hijacking or two. To be perfectly honest, these attacks were no more than mosquito bites in terms of how much damage they were doing to the Ristans’ operations, but a swarm of mosquitoes can be a major nuisance. The Ristans were beginning to take notice of groups like ours, and they were not amused. Retribution was swift and brutal. For every attack, 10 civilians were executed. We had moved our base of operations up around Big Bear Lake; it’s a small town, and since the Ristan conquest, there was no tourism to speak of so we would be more or less left alone, for the time being at least. The next raid we had planned was against a Ristan depot and a nearby barracks in San Bernardino. It struck me as needlessly suicidal. It was the biggest attack we’d planned yet; there were over 1,000 Ristan troops there. Their planet (which they of course called Ristan) was larger than earth, and its gravity was greater. The Ristans were bigger and stronger than we are. They looked like something out of Ridley Scott’s nightmares. They also had a vast technological advantage, since their EMPs had knocked us back almost to the horse-and-buggy era. The Ristans were a warlike race. Their home world was deficient in several minerals, so they had evolved a society based on conquest and exploitation, with an armed force commensurate with that. We would be badly out numbered and out gunned. Worse still, without internal combustion engines, our retreat back in to the mountains would be painfully slow.

I had argued long against this idea, but since they knew of my role in first contact, my opinions didn’t exactly carry a lot of weight. So now, I was part of a raiding party on our biggest target yet. There were several Ristan checkpoints along the major roads leading into San Bernardino, and as we didn’t have a good reason to be there, we planned to avoid major roadways like Highways 38 and 18, since they were sometimes used by Ristan convoys. The winding trails through the mountains and chaparral were less used, and with good reason; they would effectively triple our travel time. The raid was also going to nearly deplete our armaments. Guns and ammunition were hard to come by since the conquest and we were desperately short. Lt. Harris, our group’s leader had a few connections, but such transactions were always risky for all parties. Get in, steal supplies, blow the rest up, get out. That was the plan. Simple, right? The ulcers I was developing were churning in my stomach, but I figured that asking to be excused would not be met favorably.

Winter is the rainy season in California, and it was pouring buckets making the journey through the mountains all the more dangerous. Our dilapidated wagon got stuck more than once on the way into San Bernardino. We were all wondering if maybe this hadn’t been a bad idea. When we reached the outskirts of town, we hid out for awhile in an abandoned school. Some of our party were chosen to scout ahead to our target location; a warehouse that was being used as a storage depot, with the barracks nearby housing at least 100 troops. I, of course, was chosen to be in the scouting group. As we approached the warehouse, we saw that this was not going to be easy. The building was guarded by no less than two dozen Ristan guards, more than twice the number of our whole raiding party. We ran quickly back to our “base” at the school to warn the others about what we were up against. Our leader decided that distraction was going to give us our only shot at success. We were to split into two groups: one group, of three or four was to set off a few explosions nearby. Hopefully, Several of the Ristan guards would go to investigate. The rest would then attempt to take on the remaining guards and take any arms or ammo they could carry. Then the idea was to destroy whatever was left.