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EN World Short Story Smackdown - FINAL: Berandor vs Piratecat - The Judgment Is In!
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<blockquote data-quote="Starman" data-source="post: 4250926" data-attributes="member: 7663"><p>Round Two - Match Ten</p><p>Starman vs. Berandor</p><p></p><p><strong><span style="font-size: 12px">A Great Illusion of a Dream</span></strong></p><p></p><p>Mocking laughter dogged his footsteps. </p><p></p><p>“Seen any ghosts, Frank!” </p><p></p><p>“My grandma’s dead, Frank, but she’s not interested in you. Sorry.”</p><p></p><p>“Hey, Frank, I think my house is possessed. Can you come check it out for me?”</p><p></p><p>“Who ya gonna call, Frank?”</p><p></p><p>The bright, sunny day was in stark contrast to Frank’s mood. He was walking home from his job at the local amusement park where he worked as an “actor” in Dr. Faust’s House of Doom. Being an actor meant that he put on various monster costumes and scared – or tried to scare – people. Demonic imps, demented gnomes, evil elves; they were all on Frank’s resume. The job wasn’t so bad when he started it, but ever since the County Fair last year, he could hardly stand it. No one was scared of him now. Everyone knew who he was, even when in full costume and they laughed at him, made fun of him, smote him with plastic swords, and pushed him around. It was a thankless job, but it paid for his grungy apartment and Raman noodles. <em>What more could anyone want?</em> Frank thought sarcastically. </p><p></p><p>What Frank did want was to be more than just a “little person”. His thoughts were filled with rousing tales of adventure and love in which he was the titular hero. Dragons were slain. Knights were his to command. Above all, princesses were rescued and wooed. <em>Why can’t dreams be reality?</em> he wondered. <em>If there was any justice in the world they would be.</em></p><p> </p><p>For the last three years Frank had a recurring dream, a vivid, lucid reverie, that stood out over the rest. In the dream world, he was a noble, a prince of some mighty realm. This was very exciting for Frank except for the fact that his dream self was a tall, white guy when he was in actuality a short (okay, midget) Hispanic. <em>My dreams are as bad as Hollywood; all the heroes are white.</em> He did not pay too much attention to this detail, however, because it felt so extraordinary to be a man of power and virility. The first part of the dream would be about him running his kingdom and leading armies. Very exhilerating. The end was always puzzling to Frank, though. He would suddenly be walking into a wooded area alone. It was the middle of winter and an unnatural pall of silence hung over the trees. A phantom image of a beautiful woman stood ahead of him in front of a mighty tree. A snow owl with the same ghostly appearance was flying around the tree, but did not make a sound. The woman would beckon gently to Frank, but before he could approach her, the dream would end and he would wake in a cool sweat. </p><p> </p><p>The little Latino could not shake the feeling that this woman was not just an inhabitant of his dreams. No, she was somehow real. And she was trying to send him a message. He was sure of it. </p><p> </p><p>Not long after the dream started, the would-be hero began seeing phantoms in the waking world. It was rare at first and Frank chalked it up to lack of sleep or his hyperactive imagination. <em>A shrink would probably call it a symptom of “deep, disaffected loneliness” or something.</em> A shadow in the corner of his eye. A flicker of movement. The phantoms started to become more and more frequent and then one night, Frank recognized one. </p><p> </p><p>Home alone with a six-pack of beer, Frank was sitting on his couch watching TV, a typical evening for him. His eyelids were feeling heavy, but just when he was about to give in to their demands there was a whisper of movement outside of the window. It caught the little man’s attention and he shifted his head to see what it was. Expecting to see that it was just a passing car, he was shocked to see it was the ghostly woman in his dreams. Frank jumped off his couch. Or tried to jump off his couch. Being a little drunk meant that he tripped over his coffee table and fell forward on his face. When he struggled back to his feet, she was gone. It was her, though. Frank <em>knew</em> it. She had the same long hair, the same face. Now, Frank had no doubts. The woman was real and she was trying to contact him. </p><p> </p><p>After that, Frank saw her more and more, but never for long at a time and never was he able to talk to her. Sometimes she would wave to him or beckon to him. He would see a pile of leaves vaguely shaped like a heart or two faint stick figures in the dirt and knew she was telling Frank that she loved him. The Latino knew that he had to be vigilant for her signal and patient. Whoever she was, she would find a way to come to him. Was she a captive of some nefarious wizard? A lonely princess looking for a suitor? It did not matter to Frank. He was in love. </p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately, as so often happens when one falls in love, Frank became giddy and flighty. He had trouble concentrating on anything. He was frequently late for work. He began talking about his love. This last was the most unfortunate for Frank because he could not conceal for long the fact that he was in love with a ghost, a phantom. </p><p> </p><p>“You mean this girl you’ve been raving about doesn’t even exist?”</p><p> </p><p>“She does!”</p><p> </p><p>“But, you just said she’s a ghost.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, that’s what she looks like, but I know she’s real!”</p><p> </p><p>“Ha ha. Sure, Frank.”</p><p> </p><p>Soon it seemed everyone at work knew about his obsession with the ghost lady and Frank was regularly teased about his “ghost love.” That would have been bad enough, but then came the County Fair incident. </p><p> </p><p>Frank wasn’t even really sure why he had gone in the first place. He had no friends to go with, nor was he keen on the rides. Perhaps the spectacle of it all was what drew him in. That and the fact that he was one amongst so many, he could blend in and pretend to be anyone he wanted to be. Frank was doing just that (and drinking a bit too much) when he saw her. </p><p> </p><p>A girl, dark-haired, wearing a dark blue jacket was standing a short distance away as if waiting for someone. <a href="http://www.enworld.org/attachment.php?attachmentid=34363" target="_blank">Suddenly she faded and shifted and Frank could see the girl of his dreams in the woman’s place, her hair so light and perfect.</a> She held up a camera as if to take a picture of him. He cried out and ran to her. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s you! It’s you! My love, I’m here!” He threw his arms around her</p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing, freak!” Something cuffed the side of his head and he staggered back, his beer spilling over his shirt. The dark-haired girl was back and his dream beauty was nowhere to be seen. </p><p> </p><p>“Where did she go?” the little man yelled. “She was right here. You’re playing a trick on me!” </p><p> </p><p>“What are you talking about, you short prick?” </p><p> </p><p>“The woman who loves me. She was you. I mean you turned into her.” Frank ran up to the girl again, grabbing her, touching her. “Right here! Where did she go?”</p><p> </p><p>The girl again whacked Frank with her purse. “Get your grubby hands off me, sicko!”</p><p> </p><p>By this time, a crowd was circling around the two. Seeing a woman in distress, a shaggy, tattooed man in a leather vest stepped forward. With scant effort, he picked up the tiny man and flung him away. “The lady said ‘no,’ Shrimp. I think you better leave before you get seriously worked over.”</p><p> </p><p>Tears started down Frank’s face as he sat on the ground, a pathetic mess. “Why would she do this to me?” he sniffed quietly and then again louder as he struggled to his feet. </p><p> </p><p>“Why would she do this to me? She loves me!” The beer slurred his words together and the crying made it worse. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t care if no one believes me! I don’t care if everyone laughs at me! She <em>is</em> real! And she loves me.” The last sentence was not much more than a whisper. The whole crowd was silent for a moment, watching Frank, his shoulders slumped, his face puffy and red. </p><p> </p><p>The silence was finally broken by a laugh. It started with one person, but soon swept over everyone until it seemed to Frank that the entire world was laughing at him. With an inarticulate cry, he ran, his stubby legs not stopping until he was buried under the covers of his bed. </p><p> </p><p>Frank didn’t leave his apartment for a week. He had hoped that no one would have heard about the incident or forgotten about it if they had. Unfortunately, several people in the crowd recorded the whole thing on their cellphones and soon Frank was an internet sensation. His co-workers helped things along by sharing the things they had heard from Frank himself about his “ghost love.” The little man was now famous throughout the city as the crazy drunk in love with a ghost. Everywhere he went, kids laughed at him, adults pointed and snickered, and everyone cracked wise. Frank tried not to think about it anymore. The alcohol helped. He had not seen her since the County Fair and he was beginning to think that maybe he was crazy.</p><p></p><p>He was nearly home when he heard his name.</p><p> </p><p>“Frank. Frank, can I talk to you”</p><p> </p><p>A man was jogging toward him. He must be a reporter, Frank thought, seeing a microphone and camera in his hands. I don’t want to talk to the goddamn media. They hassled me enough last year. </p><p> </p><p>“Look, pal, I’m tired and I just want to go home, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“You are Frank, correct? The one who attracted quite a bit of attention around here?”</p><p> </p><p>“You seen many three-foot tall Latinos around here, jackass?” Frank kept walking, barely glancing at the man. </p><p> </p><p>“I talked to her,” the reporter said.</p><p> </p><p>Frank almost ignored him, but something in the man’s voice stopped him.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean, you talked to her?” Frank asked, looking over his shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, I guess I should say she talked to me,” the man said coming around and kneeling in front of Frank. “She gave me a message for you.”</p><p> </p><p><a href="http://www.enworld.org/attachment.php?attachmentid=34362" target="_blank">Frank’s eyes opened wide.</a> A tingle crept up Frank’s spine. <em>She hasn’t forgotten me.</em> Then a sliver of doubt crept into his mind. He frowned at the man. “Look, if this is some kind of joke, it’s pretty pathetic. Don’t you think I’ve been belittled enough already?”</p><p> </p><p>The man smiled. “Look,” he said, pointing up to the sky. “That’s for you.”</p><p> </p><p>Frank rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help looking up. A gasp escaped from his lips. “It is true. She hasn’t forgotten me,” he whispered. <a href="http://www.enworld.org/attachment.php?attachmentid=34365" target="_blank">In the sky, at the bottom of a dark tower of clouds was an imprint of bright, red lips.</a> Her lips. Its beauty mesmerized him. </p><p> </p><p>“Well…?” The man was holding his microphone to Frank and had somehow found enough time to set up his camera. </p><p> </p><p>The dreamer forced himself to bring his gaze back down, but his eyes were still wide in astonishment, gazing far away. “I…I…what did she say?”</p><p> </p><p>“She says that when you dream about her tonight, you must go to her. Do not hesitate. When she beckons, you must answer.”</p><p> </p><p>“But, she hasn’t been in my dreams for almost a year!”</p><p> </p><p>“She will be there tonight and –“</p><p> </p><p>“But –“</p><p> </p><p>“Listen. She will be there and you must go to her.”</p><p> </p><p>A grin broke out on Frank’s face. “Yes!” He suddenly grabbed the reporter in a fierce hug. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” </p><p> </p><p>The reporter gently pushed Frank away. “So, you will go to your ‘ghost love’ tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, yes. Yes, I will. I knew she was real. I knew she loved me and wouldn’t leave me.” Frank was fairly dancing as he stood there. The reporter stood up. </p><p> </p><p>“I won’t keep you then.” He gestured that he was done talking to Frank. Once more the hero in his mind, Frank sprinted home. After he turned a corner and was out of sight, another man stepped out from a convenience store. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, that was great, man. What the hell were you pointing at?”</p><p> </p><p>The “reporter” chuckled. “Nothing. Whatever he thought he saw was all in his head.” Both laughed.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on. Let’s get this uploaded. This’ll be a hoot.”</p><p></p><p>--</p><p></p><p>Frank crawled into bed almost as soon as he got home, but his excitement meant that he lay there for a few hours before sleep came upon him. He had an ear-to-ear grin when he did. </p><p> </p><p>The dream came back for the first time since the County Fair. Again, it started with him as a mighty (but still white) king which Frank normally enjoyed, but this time he couldn’t wait until the next part. After an eternity, the second part of the dream started. He was walking into a forest on a serene winter day. Ahead, he saw the large tree, its massive trunk splitting into several smaller, but still impressive branches. In front of the tree, she stood, arms outstretched. </p><p> </p><p>Time seemed to slow as he ran to her and this time the dream did not end. Frank stood in front of her. She smiled and opened her arms wide. </p><p> </p><p>“I surrender to you,” he whispered, turning and falling into her. </p><p> </p><p>He felt her breath on his ear. “I love you,” she said. <a href="http://www.enworld.org/attachment.php?attachmentid=34365" target="_blank">He clutched his heart.</a></p><p> </p><p>“I love you, too.”</p><p></p><p>When Frank opened his eyes, he was sitting on a throne in an opulent chamber. Hundreds of men, some knights, some nobles, all finely attired were arrayed before him, kneeling. Next to him, on a similar throne, was his love. She was no longer an apparition, but tangible flesh and blood. She met his gaze and smiled. Frank’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest. He reached out to touch her and stopped in shock. His hand was dark! He looked down at his other hand and it was too! Frank started laughing.</p><p> </p><p>“What is it, dear?” his love asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing, love. Nothing at all.” He paused. “It’s just that I’m me now.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Starman, post: 4250926, member: 7663"] Round Two - Match Ten Starman vs. Berandor [b][SIZE=3]A Great Illusion of a Dream[/SIZE][/b] Mocking laughter dogged his footsteps. “Seen any ghosts, Frank!” “My grandma’s dead, Frank, but she’s not interested in you. Sorry.” “Hey, Frank, I think my house is possessed. Can you come check it out for me?” “Who ya gonna call, Frank?” The bright, sunny day was in stark contrast to Frank’s mood. He was walking home from his job at the local amusement park where he worked as an “actor” in Dr. Faust’s House of Doom. Being an actor meant that he put on various monster costumes and scared – or tried to scare – people. Demonic imps, demented gnomes, evil elves; they were all on Frank’s resume. The job wasn’t so bad when he started it, but ever since the County Fair last year, he could hardly stand it. No one was scared of him now. Everyone knew who he was, even when in full costume and they laughed at him, made fun of him, smote him with plastic swords, and pushed him around. It was a thankless job, but it paid for his grungy apartment and Raman noodles. [i]What more could anyone want?[/i] Frank thought sarcastically. What Frank did want was to be more than just a “little person”. His thoughts were filled with rousing tales of adventure and love in which he was the titular hero. Dragons were slain. Knights were his to command. Above all, princesses were rescued and wooed. [i]Why can’t dreams be reality?[/i] he wondered. [i]If there was any justice in the world they would be.[/i] For the last three years Frank had a recurring dream, a vivid, lucid reverie, that stood out over the rest. In the dream world, he was a noble, a prince of some mighty realm. This was very exciting for Frank except for the fact that his dream self was a tall, white guy when he was in actuality a short (okay, midget) Hispanic. [i]My dreams are as bad as Hollywood; all the heroes are white.[/i] He did not pay too much attention to this detail, however, because it felt so extraordinary to be a man of power and virility. The first part of the dream would be about him running his kingdom and leading armies. Very exhilerating. The end was always puzzling to Frank, though. He would suddenly be walking into a wooded area alone. It was the middle of winter and an unnatural pall of silence hung over the trees. A phantom image of a beautiful woman stood ahead of him in front of a mighty tree. A snow owl with the same ghostly appearance was flying around the tree, but did not make a sound. The woman would beckon gently to Frank, but before he could approach her, the dream would end and he would wake in a cool sweat. The little Latino could not shake the feeling that this woman was not just an inhabitant of his dreams. No, she was somehow real. And she was trying to send him a message. He was sure of it. Not long after the dream started, the would-be hero began seeing phantoms in the waking world. It was rare at first and Frank chalked it up to lack of sleep or his hyperactive imagination. [i]A shrink would probably call it a symptom of “deep, disaffected loneliness” or something.[/i] A shadow in the corner of his eye. A flicker of movement. The phantoms started to become more and more frequent and then one night, Frank recognized one. Home alone with a six-pack of beer, Frank was sitting on his couch watching TV, a typical evening for him. His eyelids were feeling heavy, but just when he was about to give in to their demands there was a whisper of movement outside of the window. It caught the little man’s attention and he shifted his head to see what it was. Expecting to see that it was just a passing car, he was shocked to see it was the ghostly woman in his dreams. Frank jumped off his couch. Or tried to jump off his couch. Being a little drunk meant that he tripped over his coffee table and fell forward on his face. When he struggled back to his feet, she was gone. It was her, though. Frank [i]knew[/i] it. She had the same long hair, the same face. Now, Frank had no doubts. The woman was real and she was trying to contact him. After that, Frank saw her more and more, but never for long at a time and never was he able to talk to her. Sometimes she would wave to him or beckon to him. He would see a pile of leaves vaguely shaped like a heart or two faint stick figures in the dirt and knew she was telling Frank that she loved him. The Latino knew that he had to be vigilant for her signal and patient. Whoever she was, she would find a way to come to him. Was she a captive of some nefarious wizard? A lonely princess looking for a suitor? It did not matter to Frank. He was in love. Unfortunately, as so often happens when one falls in love, Frank became giddy and flighty. He had trouble concentrating on anything. He was frequently late for work. He began talking about his love. This last was the most unfortunate for Frank because he could not conceal for long the fact that he was in love with a ghost, a phantom. “You mean this girl you’ve been raving about doesn’t even exist?” “She does!” “But, you just said she’s a ghost.” “Well, that’s what she looks like, but I know she’s real!” “Ha ha. Sure, Frank.” Soon it seemed everyone at work knew about his obsession with the ghost lady and Frank was regularly teased about his “ghost love.” That would have been bad enough, but then came the County Fair incident. Frank wasn’t even really sure why he had gone in the first place. He had no friends to go with, nor was he keen on the rides. Perhaps the spectacle of it all was what drew him in. That and the fact that he was one amongst so many, he could blend in and pretend to be anyone he wanted to be. Frank was doing just that (and drinking a bit too much) when he saw her. A girl, dark-haired, wearing a dark blue jacket was standing a short distance away as if waiting for someone. [url=http://www.enworld.org/attachment.php?attachmentid=34363]Suddenly she faded and shifted and Frank could see the girl of his dreams in the woman’s place, her hair so light and perfect.[/url] She held up a camera as if to take a picture of him. He cried out and ran to her. “It’s you! It’s you! My love, I’m here!” He threw his arms around her “What are you doing, freak!” Something cuffed the side of his head and he staggered back, his beer spilling over his shirt. The dark-haired girl was back and his dream beauty was nowhere to be seen. “Where did she go?” the little man yelled. “She was right here. You’re playing a trick on me!” “What are you talking about, you short prick?” “The woman who loves me. She was you. I mean you turned into her.” Frank ran up to the girl again, grabbing her, touching her. “Right here! Where did she go?” The girl again whacked Frank with her purse. “Get your grubby hands off me, sicko!” By this time, a crowd was circling around the two. Seeing a woman in distress, a shaggy, tattooed man in a leather vest stepped forward. With scant effort, he picked up the tiny man and flung him away. “The lady said ‘no,’ Shrimp. I think you better leave before you get seriously worked over.” Tears started down Frank’s face as he sat on the ground, a pathetic mess. “Why would she do this to me?” he sniffed quietly and then again louder as he struggled to his feet. “Why would she do this to me? She loves me!” The beer slurred his words together and the crying made it worse. “I don’t care if no one believes me! I don’t care if everyone laughs at me! She [i]is[/i] real! And she loves me.” The last sentence was not much more than a whisper. The whole crowd was silent for a moment, watching Frank, his shoulders slumped, his face puffy and red. The silence was finally broken by a laugh. It started with one person, but soon swept over everyone until it seemed to Frank that the entire world was laughing at him. With an inarticulate cry, he ran, his stubby legs not stopping until he was buried under the covers of his bed. Frank didn’t leave his apartment for a week. He had hoped that no one would have heard about the incident or forgotten about it if they had. Unfortunately, several people in the crowd recorded the whole thing on their cellphones and soon Frank was an internet sensation. His co-workers helped things along by sharing the things they had heard from Frank himself about his “ghost love.” The little man was now famous throughout the city as the crazy drunk in love with a ghost. Everywhere he went, kids laughed at him, adults pointed and snickered, and everyone cracked wise. Frank tried not to think about it anymore. The alcohol helped. He had not seen her since the County Fair and he was beginning to think that maybe he was crazy. He was nearly home when he heard his name. “Frank. Frank, can I talk to you” A man was jogging toward him. He must be a reporter, Frank thought, seeing a microphone and camera in his hands. I don’t want to talk to the goddamn media. They hassled me enough last year. “Look, pal, I’m tired and I just want to go home, okay?” “You are Frank, correct? The one who attracted quite a bit of attention around here?” “You seen many three-foot tall Latinos around here, jackass?” Frank kept walking, barely glancing at the man. “I talked to her,” the reporter said. Frank almost ignored him, but something in the man’s voice stopped him. “What do you mean, you talked to her?” Frank asked, looking over his shoulder. “Well, I guess I should say she talked to me,” the man said coming around and kneeling in front of Frank. “She gave me a message for you.” [url=http://www.enworld.org/attachment.php?attachmentid=34362]Frank’s eyes opened wide.[/url] A tingle crept up Frank’s spine. [i]She hasn’t forgotten me.[/i] Then a sliver of doubt crept into his mind. He frowned at the man. “Look, if this is some kind of joke, it’s pretty pathetic. Don’t you think I’ve been belittled enough already?” The man smiled. “Look,” he said, pointing up to the sky. “That’s for you.” Frank rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help looking up. A gasp escaped from his lips. “It is true. She hasn’t forgotten me,” he whispered. [url=http://www.enworld.org/attachment.php?attachmentid=34365]In the sky, at the bottom of a dark tower of clouds was an imprint of bright, red lips.[/url] Her lips. Its beauty mesmerized him. “Well…?” The man was holding his microphone to Frank and had somehow found enough time to set up his camera. The dreamer forced himself to bring his gaze back down, but his eyes were still wide in astonishment, gazing far away. “I…I…what did she say?” “She says that when you dream about her tonight, you must go to her. Do not hesitate. When she beckons, you must answer.” “But, she hasn’t been in my dreams for almost a year!” “She will be there tonight and –“ “But –“ “Listen. She will be there and you must go to her.” A grin broke out on Frank’s face. “Yes!” He suddenly grabbed the reporter in a fierce hug. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” The reporter gently pushed Frank away. “So, you will go to your ‘ghost love’ tonight.” “Oh, yes. Yes, I will. I knew she was real. I knew she loved me and wouldn’t leave me.” Frank was fairly dancing as he stood there. The reporter stood up. “I won’t keep you then.” He gestured that he was done talking to Frank. Once more the hero in his mind, Frank sprinted home. After he turned a corner and was out of sight, another man stepped out from a convenience store. “Oh, that was great, man. What the hell were you pointing at?” The “reporter” chuckled. “Nothing. Whatever he thought he saw was all in his head.” Both laughed. “Come on. Let’s get this uploaded. This’ll be a hoot.” -- Frank crawled into bed almost as soon as he got home, but his excitement meant that he lay there for a few hours before sleep came upon him. He had an ear-to-ear grin when he did. The dream came back for the first time since the County Fair. Again, it started with him as a mighty (but still white) king which Frank normally enjoyed, but this time he couldn’t wait until the next part. After an eternity, the second part of the dream started. He was walking into a forest on a serene winter day. Ahead, he saw the large tree, its massive trunk splitting into several smaller, but still impressive branches. In front of the tree, she stood, arms outstretched. Time seemed to slow as he ran to her and this time the dream did not end. Frank stood in front of her. She smiled and opened her arms wide. “I surrender to you,” he whispered, turning and falling into her. He felt her breath on his ear. “I love you,” she said. [url=http://www.enworld.org/attachment.php?attachmentid=34365]He clutched his heart.[/url] “I love you, too.” When Frank opened his eyes, he was sitting on a throne in an opulent chamber. Hundreds of men, some knights, some nobles, all finely attired were arrayed before him, kneeling. Next to him, on a similar throne, was his love. She was no longer an apparition, but tangible flesh and blood. She met his gaze and smiled. Frank’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest. He reached out to touch her and stopped in shock. His hand was dark! He looked down at his other hand and it was too! Frank started laughing. “What is it, dear?” his love asked. “Nothing, love. Nothing at all.” He paused. “It’s just that I’m me now.” [/QUOTE]
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