WRiTE CLUB 2019 - Cage Bout #2

Reminder - You can follow along with all of the bout results right HERE.

Here's how this works. Instead of two writers competing against one another as was the case in previous bouts, now it's THREE AT ONCE. The contestants will be using the same writing sample that allowed them to get this far, the only difference being that now they're up against new competitors. You, the reader/voter, will have to choose one of the three to help decide who moves on.  There will be six daily bouts (Mon-Sat), and no saves this time.

If you voted in the preliminary rounds, then there is no need to leave a critique with your vote this time, however, if this is your first time seeing these writers we do ask that you leave a brief critique because that is one of the real values of this contest – FEEDBACK. Please be respectful with your remarks!

Even though there will be a different bout every day (M-S), because of time restrictions the voting period will be staggered somewhat, so please pay attention to the dates posted. The voting for today’s bout will close on Sunday, June 2nd (noon central time).

The piece that garnishes the most votes will move on to the next round where they’ll face a different opponent with a NEW WRITING SAMPLE. 

As always, in case of a tie, I’m the deciding vote.

Here are the voting guidelines –

1) One vote per visitor per bout.

2) Anyone can vote (even the contestants themselves), but although our contestants are anonymous, voters cannot be. Anonymous votes will not count, so if you do not have a Google account and are voting as a guest, be sure to include your name and email address.

3) Using any method (email, social media, text, etc) to solicit votes for a specific contestant will cause that contestant's immediate disqualification. It’s perfectly okay, in fact, it is encouraged to spread the word about the contest to get more people to vote, just not for a specific writer!

4) Although more of a suggestion than a rule - cast your vote before you read other comments. Do not let yourself be swayed by the opinions of others.

Like the man say's

Our contestants for this first cage bout (is random order) are -

Sicaria

Pulled by contestants' request.

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Contestant number two is Charlie St. James

“I have always played second fiddle to women like you.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Deb.”

I looked around the room at the others who were still frozen like deer, or just too narcotized by reality TV to realize that something bad was actually going to happen right in front of them.

Perhaps a more direct approach?

“Put the cake cutter down, Deb.”

“Already think you’re the boss around here, giving orders?” She waved the knife around as she gestured to the breakroom. “No, Cassy. I will not put the knife down.”

“You are going to hurt someone, Deb.”

“Not someone.”

She lunged at me and I ducked and used the only weapon I had on me. Chocolate cake.

I smashed it into her face, hoping for a distraction to get away, or that the sight of wasted cake would somehow unfreeze the others standing around the room like statues.

Being blinded by icing, she swung her long arms around and the edge of the cake server sliced my arm, drawing blood.

Who knew that cake servers were so sharp?

I stepped away from her, but she was quick, all those years of dance class she would tell me about over coffee, and she caught my arm.

I jabbed my plastic fork into her hand and she made a sound, something between a grunt and a howl, low and not exactly human.

She pulled her hand away and I had a clear shot for the door.

I darted toward the fluorescent of the hallway, but my foot slipped on the patch of chocolate icing, sending me crashing to my knees.

That was all the time she needed to recover. She threw herself on top of me and my chin hit the tile floor hard enough that I bit my inner cheek. The taste of blood filled my mouth.

She turned me over and I only had enough time to see the glow of green in her eye and the track of cake down her cheek before she rammed the cake server into my chest. I heard the thud as the hilt hit my ribs.

I’d never had to think about what being stabbed would feel like. Never lived a life where that was a possibility. Brain aneurysm in my sleep, maybe. Bus accident, maybe. But never being stabbed.

I really didn't think that Deb, even in this wide-eyed craziness, could manage the strength to get a Pampered Chef cake cutter through my rib cage and directly into my heart, but she did. Three times actually.

As I made a vain attempt to defend myself, my lungs pooled with blood and I couldn’t breathe. The track lighting grew a little dimmer and my arms grew heavy.

Deb sat on top of me, blood flecks mixing in with her faint freckles. The smile on her face slowly faded, as did the glow of green in that right half of her right eye.

Guess she really wanted that job in HR. 

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And finally, number three is Book-Keeper

“All clear over here.”  The disembodied voice added to the eeriness of the abandoned village.  I suppressed a shiver as more voices echoed the call. 

I’d known when we set out we wouldn’t find any life, unless you counted the brown and shriveled leaves of ivy, determinedly clinging to the village well.  The thick coating of dust on abandoned buildings told the story of a place too long without water. 

The rest of the search party was already moving on, the dust cloud from parched pathways obscuring their progress as they hurried away from empty homes, driven by hope that the next village would be different, would have life. 

I knew better. 

Alone among tumbleweeds, I knelt and rummaged in my knapsack.  I’d have to work quickly before my absence was discovered.  I set my tin cup on the edge of the well and added tea leaves.  Next came a roll of cotton batting; I pulled off a small piece before tucking the rest away.  Lastly, a battered compass.  Notches in the bronze case counted the empty villages we had encountered.  The cover flipped open into a rudimentary map. 

With a deep breath and eyes pressed shut, I pushed my consciousness into the ground.  Running water bubbled in my thoughts as I searched for the joyful streams that ran beneath the land, if you looked hard enough. 

And long enough. 

What I found wasn’t a joyful spring, but a sluggish creek, parched as the land above. 

I immersed myself in it, momentarily overwhelmed by the anguish of the stagnant water.  Gasping with effort, I flooded the tired trickle of water with memories of rain, reigniting in it a long lost love of movement.

I pulled my thoughts back to the surface, to the cotton batting before me.  The water followed, filling the cotton with moisture, until it doubled and tripled in size, forming a small cloud. 

So small, it wasn’t nearly enough to end the drought, but it would have to do.  Already it held all the water to be found; even the browned ivy crumbled to dust as the cloud drained all the moisture it could find.

I carefully lifted it off the ground.  It had one more service to perform here.  A gentle squeeze filled the cup I had set aside, swirling into light brown tea.  It was a necessary luxury; the work left me drained, and I needed stamina to catch up with the search party. 

It was the work of moments to check the bearings on the compass, before giving the cloud a gentle breath in the right direction.  I didn’t know how long the makeshift cloud would hold before releasing its load.  For the hundredth time, I wished there was a better way.  For now, I’d have to collect it again, each time bringing it closer to civilization. 

I added a notch to the compass before tucking it away.  There’d be many more stops along the way to reverse the disaster I had created.  

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Please leave your votes and critiques in the comments below. Again, be respectful of your remarks and try to point out positives as well as detractions.

We’ll be back tomorrow with another cage bout. Please help all our writers out by telling everyone you know what is happening here and encourage them to come vote.

This is WRiTE CLUB—the contest where the audience gets clobbered!