Writing Challenge #1 - Alphabet Soup

[Moonlit Naiad]

Write a short story or scene in 26 sentences, where the first letter of each sentence is in alphabetical order from A to Z. (Writers in other languages may have to adjust the length of the exercise to accomodate different alphabet lengths.)

It should be cohesive and coherent. Don't just string together unrelated sentences to meet the requirements. Yes, some letters may be harder than others, but despite what works for the Abbr. Games in the Game Room, the letter 'X' must be treated as an 'X', not as an 'eX'.

Ready, Set, Write!

[Moonlit Naiad]

"Amazing!" Brad stared stared in disbelief at his television screen; what had been a simple fighting game had changed into something quite different when his friends had been sucked into the TV screen. Clearly some powerful magic was being worked. Doubtless something very powerful... Exactly what, he didn't know, but picking up a controller, he decided to find out.

For a while, he simply scrolled through the available characters, checking to see if he could play with any of his friends. "Gaaaah!" He nearly dropped the controller in shock - there on the screen.... It was hard to believe, but there it was in black and white (and thirty-two bit colour).

"Jessica, I'm sorry..." Keeping a firm grasp on the conroller this time, he stared at the screen in shocking, seeing his friend's name over a shirtless, male character. Looking at the character stats, Brad realized that this was the type of character he usually played in the games. More or less, the quick, agile, but not as strong as the other characters were the ones he was best at. Not knowing what else to do, Brad selected her - err, him - and starting the game.

Over the course of two hours, he fought battle after battle. Playing so long, though, was taking its toll on him, and he was defeated in a boss fight. Quitting, though, wasn't an option. Really, he was scared that if he didn't finish the game, Jessica (and his other friends) would be stuck in the game.

Since he didn't know what else to do, he selected "continue" and tried again to defeat the powerful boss. Though he was skilled with the sort of character Jessica had become, the boss was no pushover. Unless he came up with a new strategy, he'd continue to lose and have to continue to continue. Violating his own code of video-game ethics, he searched the web for an FAQ or hint guide. While it wasn't ideal, he did find a page that showed combos for 'custom characters.' X, X, Square, Circle, Roll from down to forward, Triangle Triangle, Triangle...

Yielding not to the temptation to look further in the FAQ, he took up the fight again, and mastered the combination attack within a few tries.

Zooming out from the screen when the final boss was defeated, Jessica (and only Jessica) joined Brad back in the living room - but not Jessica the High School girl: she still looked like she did in the game...

[Coruscate]

I made the challenge a bit harder for myself ^^

I don't think I'll make it this hard again ;-p

Always at the battle tower Arthur, was always watching for the enemies from Astor. Briefly through the foggy landscape he saw the brusk movement of the bulky battallion of broadsword wielding behemoths. Cascading down from the ceiling came arrows careening through the castle windows like death cast from the heavens above. Diamond tips pierced the darkness of the mists; dying troops disconsonant screams danced off one another until they formed a ghastly dirge of demise, demoralizing all that dared to stop and listen to the destruction. Everywhere everyone was embroiled in an escalating engagement of ever lowering odds, escape was not found, even when it was most essential. For it was not Astor upon which good fortune fell, but Arthur who found his fervent desire to fight an unfallible friend in a fitting time for fit men to fight that which was fraught with fiendishness.

Gone was the General who guided his gilded arm of glorious goons to gorge upon goods gained by an unjust, gutless and guilty grip. He fell on his knees from a hellacious blow to his helm, his head split from the harsh swing of Arthur's halberd. Instantly the ignominious defeat impacted the ingnoramouses in the imperial army, their ill conceived hate intimidating none that met them; a sense of impending doom crept across the iniquitous infidels. Just as the tides turn towards justice and jubilant victories over the jittering, jostled jerks from Astor, from across the jumble of faltering jejunes came a call of joy, a battle cry jounced above the jaunced ones. Kismet had frowned up the king, the killer kingpin who had liquidated the Katharian army and his sanguine legion crossed the knolly greens with the knowledge that their knavish tactics would strike panic into the Keltiquan knights. Like a lich lays life into those laid low and licked by battle, so the lasvicious looters levied new strength into the loutish goons who had lowered their heads and lances. Many men, monsters in their own right had been masticated by the mighty maw of the Keltiquan military, but many more Ketiquans would kiss the mounds of earth and leave mourners by the time the sun had set into the mountains.

Night never was a time of nurturing, as if battle was a narcotic, nary a narcissistic leader gave quarter to his enemies nor rest to their knights. Over the evening under open skies odious orations to outplay, outrun, overpower an overturn their opponent's gains came every other moment, openly encouraging the neverending onslaught. Priests prayed with the Princess and the wives of the men pleaded and pressed for a peaceful resolution with the pugnacious, primitive pigs but the probability of such a prospect was not considered possible or pleasing by the Keltiquan potentate. Quietly the sun rose yet quickly the fortress walls quaked from boms as the knives were quashed and as the piker's troubles quintuplicated, they quivered and quit. Ripped asunder were the walls, the bowmen run ragged. Stricken into the ground, stomped and sorrowful were the souls of the serfs and sovereign.

Tyranny towered over the toppled empire, tied to the land and taxed beyond tolerance the thralldom's resolve was tempered by hard labor and their home became the tomb of their spirit. Under an undulating flag of an unbearable, ugsome usurper all were unhappy, undereducated, underfed and unsatisfied. Very few ventured to challenge the validity of the vicarious viceroy. Where was the warm hearted, warlike warrior spirit of Keltiqu which would wallop any waywar foe and walk from no battle? Xenografted away. Yellowed were their backs, only yesterday remembered the men who were not yes men who yielded uneasily. Zealoty ruled the day, Katiqua had reached it zenith and faded into history.

I won't be finishing this one ^^

I started to do it in the middle of the first one so I'd have a story that didn't involve violence.

Ally's ardent desire was to allay all that ailed those around her. Bursting with love for all those brought to her boutique for care, her beauty was her bountiful healing spirit beating beneath her breast. Calmly caressing with care as a mother would her child in a crib, those in her custody soon came upon good health

[Cutey Kerina]

*decides to give it a shot*

After all these years, I can't remember what living was like. Before telling you my life's story, I suppose I should tell you my death's story. Could it really be that I've spent more time as a specter than I have as a human being? Don't know, but I'm not one to mope on it endlessly. Every so often I run into another human being. For all my apologies in return though, I get nothing but screams of terror and even more lonelyness. Grim, isn't it? Hardly, I've gotten far too used to it. I know some ghosts who delight in teasing or tormenting their spiritual juniors but I got too much of that in life to want to dispense it in return. Juniors is term my 'friends' use for the living because they assume they are a higher developed form of life. Kind spirits leave the living alone, passing through them, going about their own agendas. Less kind ones like to camp out in certain areas and cause all kinds of discomfort and pain in the living. Maybe they just want to feel a connection with their juniors, maybe not. Not that it really matters to me, I've come to terms with the fact my life ended a long time ago. Opening the door to the next step is the focus of my time now. Perhaps I need to step back into a body of a junior, as many I know have done? Quiting, is what it feels like to me when I think about doing that. Reversing the wisdom I've gained in my post-life. Sure, being in a body does offer some advantages but here I can be anything, anyone or anything. To be stuck inside a physical form is a concept that grows more alien to me every moment. Unless...well there is a great and power bond between spirit and it's previous body, especially long after death and I won't deny that I do often feel a great comfort being near to it. Visiting my grave as a beautiful, young weeping widow often scares any of the juniors that happen to be nearby but I don't really have a great deal control over my form during those times. Weeping is more a formality, being a beautiful young widow is what tends to bother me more, especially when I look down and recall that I was actually male in my previous life. X-marks my spot as they say, and it's here that I remember the joy of having a body and being a junior. Yet still, I feel that same sensation that I'm quiting something. Zoe was my name once, will I ever have a name again?

[Coruscate]

Nicely done, Kerina. ^^

[Cutey Kerina]

Danke. I'm considering extending the story with either another alphabet set or a Z to A one.