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RS Story Contest - Survivor 2

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Venmi

Venmi

Posts: 14,744 Opal Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
This contest is now endorsed by the Novelists' Guild, so there will be one more reward for winning this contest.

-An automatic rank increase to Novelist within the guild if you are not one already.

~Mitch

26-Sep-2011 04:12:53 - Last edited on 26-Sep-2011 04:34:56 by Venmi

Old Gnomish
Jul Member 2023

Old Gnomish

Posts: 2,569 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
A child is a small, innocent soul that must adapt to its life through the pain and glory it will collectively suffer and enjoy throughout its growth. The child may be nurtured, cared for and respected. On the other hand, it may be punished, hurt and withdrawn from society. One way or another, the child will falter, regardless of the pathways it chooses.

Viola was a child. She was short, often mistaken for being the offspring of a dwarf, a species who tunnelled their way through the mines of Gielinor; often known for being obnoxious and rude to passers by. But Viola did not share this characteristic. Antithetical to the dwarves, Viola would spend days in the overgrowth, building dens and creating “potions”, or rather, dusty vials filled with mud and any fungi Viola would happen to collect as part of her daily walk. She learned to love nature, so much so that she became part of it. Her home was not in the village of Seers in a small home built of polished mahogany but instead in the overlapping ivy that surrounded her hand-built mud-house. Viola was a soft, happy child, which is why few would predict the path she would tragically choose.

Spencer, brother of Viola, spent his days with friends or, as he preferred to call them, “Infernalings”. Too much time out in the ruthless village of the Fremennik had shown nine year-old Spencer the true corruption of men. Growing up, he would spend his days hurling rotting vegetables at the defenceless tramps or joining in the swarms of the ‘Redemptionists’ - a group of vile Barbarians whose only aim was to group together before torching the homes of those believed to have the knowledge of Magic. Spencer lived a shameful childhood caused by the lack of attention his parents gave - his mother, Elisa, left when he was only months old, supposedly due to the violence inflicted by Spencer’s father Alim, a savage drunkard whose only real routine was a day at the tavern. Unlike Viola, many predicted Spencer to live the life of a
Snow
| Runescape Stories Forum |
Guildmaster - The Novelists' Guild

26-Sep-2011 17:26:59

Old Gnomish
Jul Member 2023

Old Gnomish

Posts: 2,569 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
mercenary.

Perhaps the real irony of childhood is that much of it seems pointless when compared to the struggles of adulthood. For few would believe that the innocent child could become devastatingly powerful or that the corrupted child could change his ways so much to the point where he allies with the force of good.

“I do not fear my sister,” Spencer spat at the cloaked figure stood above him. The figure had one foot pressed on Spencer’s chest, restricting any movement he attempted to make.

“But, you should, dear sibling. Fear means nothing when one is faced with a force so powerful that you know you cannot defeat it.” The cloaked figure removed her hood, unveiling a golden streak of hair that sat evenly each side of her head. She stood tall, remarkably tall considering the girl she once was was nothing more than the size of a dwarf.

“How many more societies do you plan to destroy?” Spencer asked, spitting blood out on the boot of his sister.

“As many as it takes, dearest brother. Lest not we forget, had society not been corrupted, there would be no need for so many deaths.”

“Society is not corrupted, y-y-you are.” Spencer replied, coughing as the force of Viola’s foot dug harder into his chest. “Zamorak has destroyed your soul; turning you into something you’re not.*

*No, I am not corrupted. I have been blessed by the almighty gods - I am the one to change society for the better,” Viola cleared her throat before continuing, “and that begins with your destruction.”

In a swift movement, Viola withdrew a phial from her belt. It contained a liquid, coloured an exquisite green. As Spencer began to cry aloud, she removed the cap, pouring the liquid into his dry, bloodied mouth.

“May the poison purify your existence,” Viola remarked. Her brother stood writhing beneath her. She continued to stare down upon him until finally, all struggling stopped. With a gentle sigh of contempt, she turned away, disappearing into the unknown as she walked forward.
Snow
| Runescape Stories Forum |
Guildmaster - The Novelists' Guild

26-Sep-2011 17:27:08 - Last edited on 26-Sep-2011 17:28:25 by Old Gnomish

Venmi

Venmi

Posts: 14,744 Opal Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
Thanks, Snow! :)

Guys, four more days left. Depending on how many more people post an entry or even express an interest and can't post this round, I may change the amount of people who gain immunity and the amount of people who get voted off.

Also, there will not be any hidden immunities until I can get in game with Leb and talk about how he worked that because I have no idea. That means Leb should get in game and talk to me. ;)

~Mitch

26-Sep-2011 19:07:56

Aeraie

Aeraie

Posts: 9,100 Rune Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
A young boy, no more than the age of ten, sat quietly in the back of his father’s van, ear phones in, Nintendo DS on. He and his scruffy brown hair and deep brown eyes were captivated by the screen. He made a puzzled expression before looking up whilst tugging out one of his ear phones.

“Pa, who are we going to see again?”

“Why, your Uncle Sam, of course.”

“Oh. Okay.” The boy responded, returning his attention to his game as the drive continued.

At last, they reached their destination. Both boy and father glanced up at the rundown shack of a home that was Uncle Sam’s house. A unanimous sigh passed through the car as the two began to clamber out. A quick knock on the door, and they were inside.

The young boy’s attention honed in on the man who was Uncle Sam. Uncle Sam was a fat man with a straggly white beard and straggly white hair in a black shirt covered in stains who was shoving as many chips as he could into his mouth. Uncle Sam had a smell to match his repulsive appearance. His eyes were black holes that bore into the TV screen. As the boy glanced around, he realized that his Uncle Sam kept his house and himself in the same condition.

“Sam,” The boy’s father breathed. There was no response.
The father coughed. “Sam!” He repeated, ina louder tone.

“Wha? Oh. Erughhh,” Uncle Sam said, lifting himself and his potbelly off the couch. The boy sighed twice: once because Uncle Sam had to be less than five feet tall and once because his dear Uncle Sam wasn’t wearing any pants.

“Heh. How’ve you been, Tim and…uh…” Uncle Sam puffed.

“Adam. My son’s name is Adam, Sam,” Tim, the boy’s father responded. Uncle Sam’s greasy eyes groped Adam’s boy for a moment as he breathed heavily.

“Adam. Right,” Uncle Sam said, plopping right back into the worn out, faded red couch. He continued to watch TV.

“Dad, this is awkward,” Adam moaned quietly.

26-Sep-2011 22:16:19

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