# September 2015 - LM - Recycled Parts



## kilroy214

*LITERARY MANEUVERS
*
*Recycled Parts*​
The winner will receive a badge pinned to their profile and given a month’s access to FoWF where you’ll have access to hidden forums and use of the chat room.  

This is a Fiction writing competition, and the prompt is 'Recycled Parts.' Pick your own title, write about whatever you want, as long as it's related in some way to the prompt. 

The Judges for this round are: Allysan, Amsawtell, ArrowInTheBowOfTheLord, and AtleanWordsmith.
 If you want to judge and I left you out, send me your scores by the deadline. If you're listed here and don't wish to judge, let me know at once (please).

 All entries that wish to retain their first rights should post in the LM Workshop Thread.

 All Judges scores will be PMed to kilroy214.

All anonymous entries will be PMed to kilroy214.


*Rules*




*All forum rules apply.* The LM competition is considered a creative area of the forum. If your story contains inappropriate language or content, do _not_ forget add a disclaimer or it could result in disciplinary actions taken. Click *here* for the full list of rules and guidelines of the forum.
*No Poetry!* Nothing against you poets out there, but this isn’t a place for your poems. Head on over to the poetry challenges for good competition over there. Some of us fiction people wouldn’t be able to understand your work! Click *here* for the poetry challenges. Play the prose-poem game at your own risk.
*No posts that are not entries into the competition are allowed.* If you have any questions, concerns, or wish to take part in discussion please head over to the *LM Coffee Shop. *We’ll be glad to take care of your needs over there.
*Editing your entry after posting isn’t allowed.* You’ll be given a ten minute grace period, but after that your story may not be scored.
*Only one entry per member.*
*The word limit is 650 words not including the title.* If you go over - Your story will not be counted. Microsoft Word is the standard for checking this. If you are unsure of the wordcount and don't have Word, please send your story to me and I'll check it for you.



*There are a few ways to post your entry:*




If you aren't too concerned about your first rights, then you can simply post your entry here in this thread.
You can opt to have your entry posted in the Workshop which is a special thread just for LM entries. You would put your story there if you wish to protect your first rights, in case you wish to have the story published one day. Note: If you do post it in the workshop thread, you must post a link to it here in this thread otherwise your story may not be counted.
You may post your story anonymously. To do so, send your story to the host of the competition. If you wish to have us post it in the workshop thread then say so. Your name will be revealed upon the release of the score.


Everyone is welcome to participate. A judge's entry will receive a review by their fellow judges, but it will not receive a score. 

Judges: In the tradition of LM competitions of yore, if you could send the scores one week after deadline it will ensure a timely release of scores and minimize the overall implementation of porkforking. Please see the *Judging Guidelines* if you have questions. Following the suggested formatting will be much appreciated, too. 

*This competition will close on:*

Tuesday, the 15th of September at 11:59 PM, GMT time. 

Scores would be appreciated by Friday, the 25th of September. 

Click here for the current time.


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## Harper J. Cole

*The Ship of Theseus* (646 words)


Lucy-XK33100 looked up as the warehouse door creaked open, her welcoming smile clicking into place. It didn’t waver a millimetre when she saw her latest customer, despite his startling appearance.

He was a ramshackle creation, a bizarre and asymmetrical assembly of parts. Legs of rusty old iron; one arm a gleaming titanium, the other a crude synthetic flesh job. The plastic face looked old, with lines and creases rather like the wrinkles on the human faces it was designed to emulate, though not in quite the right places. But it did boast top-of-the-range eyes – blue Apollo84s with full x-ray capabilities. Inwardly, Lucy throbbed with envy.

‘Good afternoon, sir. Welcome to Megahertz: second-hand parts, first-rate service. How may I help you?’

‘I’m here to collect an order.’ Nice clear voice.

‘Certainly, sir. May I have your designation?’

‘Theseus Black.’

‘I’m sorry, sir, but I need your unit number.’

‘I don’t have one. I’m a human.’

The seemingly nonsensical statement fritzed Lucy’s programming; she stared blankly at her visitor, her smile frozen in position.

He sighed. ‘I lost my legs when I was 18. I was’ – here his face twitched slightly – ‘involved in a car crash. I had alcohol problems after that … my liver was next to go. Or did I lose my right arm first? Never mind. Suffice to say that a mixture of accident, disease and good old-fashioned wear and tear have accounted for pretty much all of me over the past century or so. The only organic bit remaining is the left hemisphere of my brain.’

‘Ah,’ said Lucy, switching to the mournful, sympathetic expression which had won the XK model a gold medal at last April’s Global Retail Robot awards ceremony. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Black. Are you here today to upgrade one of your parts?’

‘No. I’m here for a left brain hemisphere.’

‘Oh!’

‘Quite. To be honest, the original’s done well to last as long as it has. It’s shown its age recently, though. Having one half of your brain operating with mechanical efficiency while the other slips into senility is pretty disorienting.’

Lucy found the pre-ordered hemisphere beneath the counter, carefully shrink-wrapped and packaged. ‘You’ve got something of a bargain here, Mr. Black. This part’s had barely five years of usage. Its previous owner malfunctioned and murdered eighteen people, but the problem was traced to the other half of the brain.’

‘That’s encouraging to know,’ said Mr. Black dryly. ‘Well, I’ve worse junk than this in my body, and having blown my savings on these fancy peepers a few years back, it’s second-hand or nothing.’

Lucy tried to empathise. It wasn’t easy – the XK model had finished a lousy 28[SUP]th[/SUP] at the GRR awards in the emotional sophistication category – but she tried.

‘I’m sorry, sir. It must be awful, losing the last of your humanity.’

‘Must it?’ Mr. Black contemplated the hardware in his gleaming hand. ‘It’s slipped away from me so gradually I’ve hardly noticed. But good riddance! The young man who … did what he did … should have died there and then; I’ve born his guilt for long enough. I’d hoped that it would perish with the emotional right hemisphere, but alas, the hurt endured. Not after tomorrow. Tomorrow, a robot is born. And I’ll be a better machine than I ever was a human.’

***​
Twenty-four hours later, Mr. Black opened his eyes. The operation had been a success; he knew that straight away. The cloud of senility that had drifted through his thoughts with increasingly regularity these past few months was completely gone, replaced with utter clarity.

But …

He heaved a sigh, air rasping through his now-redundant artificial lungs.

The hurt was still there.

The guilt was still there.

Theseus Black was still there.


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## Saeria

*Those Ain't My Rats*

“It’s not polite to throw dead rats into your neighbor’s yard.” My mother had chided.

   It was almost a month ago when I found the first carcass grinning as lifeless as my sun-scorched lawn under a swarm of fire ants. Since that fateful day I had been finding as many as five dead rats in my back yard a day.

   After a few weeks of throwing them in the trash I found a citation taped to my can with the words: “Please do not discard pets in the trash, it’s cruel!” As I dragged my trash can behind the house my neighbor stopped to ask if I too have a problem with rats. It seemed, however, our rat problem was very different. She had so many rats in her house she had to put down poison to get rid of them. It became clear the dead rat plague in my back yard was her doing. I did what any good neighbor would do; I pitched her rats back into her yard.

   They went undiscovered for quite a while. The rancid odor of rotting rat was testament to my neighbor’s disdain of the outdoors. By October the weather was beginning to cool a bit and the dead rats were increasing in numbers. I was pitching rats as many as four times a day now; at least I was until I was caught.

“What are you doing?” I heard my neighbor shriek from behind the picket fence.

“Just being neighborly and returning to you what is yours.” I said sweetly.

“Those ain’t my rats! They died on your property!” she screamed. That was my cue to head indoors post haste.

I decided to bring the rat feud to an end. I began digging little holes and burying them in my back yard. It seemed after animal control and waste management weren’t willing to help it was my only real viable option.  It was a bit of extra work, especially with so many coming over and dying these days, but I was fine with it. Then the court papers came.

   I was dragged into small claims court by my neighbor. At this juncture I was downright livid with the whole affair. Surely a judge would see the absurdity of this whole thing and dismiss the case. Unfortunately that was not the outcome. After a brief hearing that involved pictures of the dead rat pile and a very irate retelling of events I was asked a single question by the judge: “Can you prove those were her rats?” Slack jawed, hit with a left hook, I didn’t say a word. Had the whole world gone mad?

   I left the court with a $500 judgement against me and my neighbor’s words ringing in my ears. “Those ain’t my rats.”  I arrived home too exhausted to do a dead rat sweep before letting my dog out. She arrived back at the door a few minutes later with perhaps the biggest dead rat I had ever seen. I had had enough!

   One of my greater traits is that I become an evil genius when provoked. I concocted the greatest scheme of all time. I stopped burying the rats. Instead I spent my evenings carefully skinning and tanning their little mangy hides. By the beginning of December I had a decent pile of rat pelts. After a quick trip to the craft store and a bit of work at the sewing machine my project was done.

   I decided to bury the hatchet with my neighbor by bringing her a Christmas gift. She opened the box and squealed with delight.

“A fox fur coat! It’s beautiful! You made this?”

I nodded and smiled. 

“I love it. I will wear it all winter!” she exclaimed and danced around in her new coat. With a cheerful “Merry Christmas” I returned home satisfied. They were her rats now.


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## W.Goepner

*Grandma's Attic (640 words)*

No one ever knows what they might find in Grandma's attic. Many times it is a puzzle or a chest full of clothes Grandma wore when she was younger. One corner was always left unexplored, never to be entered. No matter the time or the day, Grandma always knew if one got too close.

Until she passed from this world, leaving all her treasures behind, to be sorted and removed to different locations. Everything was boxed and labeled, Charity, Storage, Yard sale, Attic, Uncle Robert's, Aunt Louise, and Unknown. In that box was the accumulation of that corner. No one actually wanted it, everyone kind of feared it. I was curious  about it, so I took it home and placed it in a corner of my attic. 

Time went by and I grew older, I was considered a spinster by the local folks. I would have the local ladies by for tea and a game of Canasta. Gentlemen would take me to dinner and stop by to visit, but none of them were actually serious about dating me. They were interested in my inheritance, more than they were with me. Oh I boost their egos now and again, but nothing ever came of it.

One day I was sitting and watching the birds through my front window. When I heard a small voice call my name. 

"Serine." it called. I perked up looking about.

"Who's there, who called?" I listened.

"Serine" it called once more.

Getting up I followed the voice to my attic steps. Wrapping my shawl tighter about my shoulders I climbed the stairs. Opening the door I looked about the space, when the voice called to me again. I located it in the corner where that box of unknown was stored.

The voice was small and polite, "Please Serine, help me." came from within the box. Curious as to what would need my help from within this box I opened it. 

I was not surprised at the white foam packing peanuts filling the box. Dragging over an empty box, I carefully lifted it and began to dump it into the other. "Thump!" something fell into the empty box. I looked into the small pile of packing to see the edge of a small box, setting the big box aside, I retrieved it. Looking it over I read, "A heart full of Hope." Setting it aside I begin to dump once more, "Thump!"

I look to see another box slightly larger than the first, I retrieve it, I look it over and read, "A mind full of Wander." Placing it with the first I continue the process. Each time a thump and another box, "A body full of Youth." "Legs full of Energy." "Arms full of Love." and last "A head to be filled."

I must admit I was scared of what I might find when I opened those boxes, but open them I did. I decided to start with the body. I opened the box to find what appeared to be a marionette body the size of an average eight year old, where the heart should go, a small compartment. 

Now everyone knows to assemble the body before installing the heart and mind and that is exactly what I did, attaching the limbs and head with eyelet screws.

Setting the small figure on a chair in front of me, I picked up the mind and heart in each hand, making sure that the compartments were open, I set them at the same time and closed them up. Once done, it began to glow, turning to a bright white before dimming. There smiling up at me was a little girl, long blond hair and a radiant smile. 

She said my name, "Serine."

I knew right away who it was, "Grandma Anne!" I exclaimed, "We need more parts."


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## Arthur G. Mustard

http://www.writingforums.com/thread...rts-Workshop?p=1903409&viewfull=1#post1903409


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## 7zark7

*                  The girl with the balloons (639 words)*

Adam stands in front of his computer the glow reflecting in his glasses and reviews his tasks for the day, seventy-two new arrivals to process but first he has a visitor to meet. Visitors are rare and are almost never a pleasant experience.

Ten minutes later he is seated in the interview room opposite a lady whose blonde hair is pulled back tightly against her scalp making her appear older than her features suggest. 
Her clothes are drab & colourless and she seems to blend into the background of the room which is itself grey with paint peeling from the walls. They both sit on utilitarian plastic chairs in the middle of the room with a small metal table between them.

“So you see” she says, hands clenching and unclenching on the desk. He focuses on her nails which he sees are chipped and broken, anything to avoid her eyes. 

“I have some money” her eyes flit from her hands to his face, searching for a reaction.

“We really do need the them” she stares pleadingly at him, even though he is not looking at her he can feel those eyes.

Adam sighs and places his hands slowly on the table, not quite making contact.

“I really do want to help however; the rules are clear our …. parts”, he almost chokes on the word “…well they are allocated by a random lottery, no amount of money can make a difference”. 
He fidgets in his chair and feels the colour rising in his cheeks, reading off the same old official script never makes the delivery any easier. 

She reaches inside her jacket and takes out a small picture and places it gently onto the desk in front of him. He sees a picture of a young girl beaming back at him from a hospital bed with a stuffed teddy in her hand, lots of tubes and monitors surround her.
 Two half deflated shiny balloons are tied to the bedframe, he could just make out the GET WELL SOON lettering amongst the creases.

Without another word she gets up and walks out slamming the door behind her, the flimsy frame shakes. The girl in the photo stares back at him from the table reproachful yet still smiling. 
He carefully picks up the picture and places it in the top drawer of a grey metal filing cabinet and returns to work.

He is already behind on his count for the day as he slowly removes the organs from the first body. He thinks about the girl with the tubes and the teddy bear. Since anti-rejection therapy had become so advanced organ farming has become big business. 
The demand for body parts has outstripped supply, so it becomes a macabre lottery – who lives and who dies decided by a machine that doesn’t have to meet relatives who are both grieving and hopeful at the same time or see the photos they bring.                                                                                                           

Later than evening Adam finishes his work for the day and walks past the small office pausing for a moment, he can feel the girl in the drawer waiting expectantly; still smiling. There is still time she seems to say.

He walks to the cabinet and retrieves the picture, in the corridor outside the small office there is a large cork board with a mosaic of photographs full of smiling people, some in hospital some not. 
He finds a small space beside a happy family with a large dog, he thinks she would like that and carefully pins her picture alongside them.  He likes to think somebody on this board got to carry on their story, but he will never know. 
He hopes the girl with the balloons gets her wish, sighing gently to himself he closes the door and switches off the light.


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## Teb

*Then and now - 649 words.*

Then


I will never know who's grave I robbed that storm draped night, it was shallow with the body unprotected by a coffin, these clues alone should have warned me to stay clear. But into the soft ground I dug, revealing a man in white armour that weighed nothing as I shrugged it from his corpse. On his chest lay a strange talisman which I slipped around my neck. I donned the strange armour and reached for the small scabbard that lay at the side of the body. From this I drew a small wooden stick, ornate carvings flow and seemed to shift before my very eyes as I gazed upon them. As I held the wand, as I now realise it was, I felt the armour tighten around me.  

The very air chilled, my breath clouded in front of me and the wind died instantly, leaving me motionless. Then the very heavens opened with an angry roar, rain lashed down onto me as if to punish me, the wind tried to sweep me away as if disgusted by my very presence on this planet as I fled. For two days and nights I tried to remove the armour and talisman, but they were now a part of me. I suddenly knew spells, words and incantations to raise the dead. I soon learnt not to enter any place where I could expect to find life, a Necromancers life is not a social one.


Now


A low mist swirls around my feet as I stalk through the graves, pausing often and examining the soil for signs of how recent the burial had been. Eventually I find one that suits, a man in his twenties that had been in the ground less than a month. I stand back and tune my hearing into the night searching for anything out of the ordinary. Minutes pass and nothing filters through the sounds I know to be normal in a graveyard at the dead of night, if anyone was out there then they were being quieter that the dead, and I know from first hand experience how quiet the dead can be. I withdraw the wand from it's holder and take a deep breath before beginning the incantation in a voice I no longer recognize as my own. The spell finished I slump down onto the grass, by now I should have be used to the feeling of lethargy that comes over me whenever I commit this foul sin. I watch the clouds skim across the moon as though racing to pass over this place where evil was afoot. I hear it before I see it, a faint noise coming from below ground as it claws at the earth covering it, fingernails tearing from the decaying flesh as they scrape the ground from above them. A hand bursts through the soil, then another. They reach for the darkened sky, spreading out to find anything to help pull itself from the grave. One grasped the root of a tree, the other took hold of a handful of grass then the arms flex, the soil erupts, cascading away from the form that sits upright in the hole. The head turns towards me, it's eyes cold and lifeless. I wait until it's free from the ground, then climb to my feet and commanded it to follow me. It's joints crack loudly as they unfold, air escapes it's dead lungs and the stench of purification fills the air. These things have long since stopped bothering me, they have become part of my life as has having a cadaver for a companion. Corpses are not the best conversationalist around, but when your reviled by everyone you make do with what you can get. Together we set off into the mist, the sounds of my footfalls blending with the sound of my new friends feet dragging as he lurches along.


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## StephLondon

http://www.writingforums.com/thread...rts-Workshop?p=1905026&viewfull=1#post1905026


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## InstituteMan

*Parts to Number, Parts to Name (638 words)*

In the workshop.


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## bdcharles

*Recycled Parts, Replacement Hearts*


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## Riptide

http://www.writingforums.com/thread...Recycled-Parts-Workshop?p=1906240#post1906240

Car Parts


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## M. Cull

*Clearance*

"I'm pretty excited."

"Me too. Just dropped my body off."

"Same here. And man...it was time. So many wrinkles, so much weird B.O." 

"You got the funky smells, too, huh?"

"Big time. You buying something different this time?"

"Yeah, I got the model from two years ago."

"That was a good year!"

The two speakers stood in a long line of those just like them. Rich shocks of vibrantly colored hair, organic and all-natural, lay multitudinously styled upon heads, heads, and more heads, with nery a torso in sight. There was a (heavily subsidized) saying among these types: 'a new do - a new you!'  Charles, the first speaker here, sported a highly fashionable mullet.

"So what do you think Cynix will put out next year?" Charles asked his asian friend Li. Asians were lucky; they had better options. Caucasian corporeal offerings were mostly the same - tall, thin at the waist and broad at the shoulder. Boring, yes, but supremely in-tune with demand.

"Dunno. I hope they offer their cybernetics line soon, though. Looks cool." Li rotated to look at the others in line here in Cynix Life Fulfillment Center 6C. The living heads floated serenely along, carried on their mid-range headstands on a conveyor belt to happiness, while the sounds of a jazzy soprano saxophone wafted amid the moderately chic decor. "Probably too expensive for our line, though."

"Eh, just wait a while," Charles put in, rotating his own headstand to look out at the endless wall of advertisements. "That's what I did. See that? Screen 893 over there?"

"What, with the women's models?" Li sounded confused. "Didn't think you were that-"

"No, not 894. 893, the one that says 'clearance'." Charles shook his head, servos whirring pleasantly. 
"Honestly, Li, you-"

"Wait, you bought from the clearance section?" Li gaped.

Charles paused. "Yes?"

Many heads rotated to stare at him. Some gasped quietly. Others stared, eyebrows tactfully neutral. Some expressed their amazement by spinning rapidly in circles on their headstands. 

Li closed his eyes. "Tell me you read the fine print." 

"What fine print?" Charles' gaze flicked back to screen 893. Fine print!?

"Charles Williams," speakers from his headstand suddenly spoke at him. "Your order is ready. Confirm your availability please."

"Charles gulped. "Confirm."

In the next instant, Charles flipped upside down, hoisted upward on a robotic arm. Was he wrong to have bought his next model on clearance? But he'd gotten such a good deal!

Once in the transplantation bay, Charles was placed before a screen, where a man who'd been far too long without a transplant greeted him blandly, then began to read:

"We regret to inform you that the corporeal model you'd selected sold out this morning due to unexpectedly high demand. However, Cynix has awarded you an upgrade as compensation. We apologize for any inconvenience."

Charles smiled with relief. "Ah. That's nice."

"Sign here, please." 

Charles obediently offered his tongue, and the saliva reader, a permanently open set of luscious latex lips 
at the end of an extending rod, came and sucked loudly on his tongue for a few seconds before glowing green. "Signature accepted," came a sultry female voice from the reader. "Thank you, Mr. Williams."

"Here's your new body, then. Enjoy." The attendant left. The screen switched to the exhibition stand, which showed the headless body Charles and his mullet would soon grace. Only...

"No..." Charles' eyes went wide. "NO!" 

Skin a luxuriant olive tan, legs long and shapely, curvaceous hips below a bust with firm, perfectly proportioned breasts... it was even this year's model.

"Welcome to your life's fulfillment," the saliva reader announced, "and thank you for purchasing from Cynix."

Thus, before the procedure began and long thereafter, poor Charles came to appreciate personally one of the great lessons of his generation: never buy your body on clearance. Cynix can really nail you with that fine print.


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## rcallaci

*Buggerbites (650 words)*

Buggerbites 

A long, long, time ago in a land long forgotten, there lived a race of tiny little people, who lived in a tiny little kingdom hidden deep in the forest green. 

Now when I say tiny I truly mean tiny.  They were no taller than a baby mouse standing on its hind legs. Many a young man or women who ventured out of their forest kingdom alone and in search of adventure never found their way home again. They were either accidentally, or not so accidentally, stepped on and crushed to death by the big folk or dressed up as dolls and used as living toys for their children to play with. Being tiny and alone was a recipe for disaster.   

One would think that a people who were insignificant in stature and power amongst the many kingdoms that dotted the land, would be docile and accommodating to those who were bigger and more intimidating. But alas, this was not the case, as they were a vicious and ferocious people with nothing but hate in their hearts for those that were stronger and bigger than them. 

Their tiny teeth were fanged and deadly and their nails were razor sharp. They were agile, strong and fast and had a voracious appetite. They were deadly hunters. They were like locusts, a deadly swarm. They hunted in large packs and rarely came away without their prize. Unfortunately their prize was us. By us I mean normal sized humans. Those tiny little mouse midgets hunted us for our skin, meat, bones, hair and any other part you can imagine. Among other things we were their main food supply. 

Any who entered the forest knew of the dangers they faced. Those that traveled alone were rarely heard from again. The Buggerbites became feared throughout the Nine Kingdoms and many small and mid-range military contingents were sent in to rid the world of these tiny little monstrosities. They could never find the tiny kingdom tucked away deep in the forest. Many became lost and disoriented in the wood by the magics of the Buggerbites. Many never returned to their homes. After a while the Nine Kingdoms made the forest a Forbidden Zone. All who entered did so at their own peril. 

The Buggerbites preferred to capture their prey rather than kill them on the spot. They set up breeding farms, slaughter houses and butcher shops catering to their particular needs.  One normal was enough meat for over five hundred of the buggers. They utilized every aspect of the body. 

They used the bones to make weapons, tools, and support beams for their homes and other various structures. Human hair was used as rope and thatch for their roofs. The blood that they drained from the carcasses as well as the living was distilled into a wine. Human guts were processed into a form of cat gut that supplied many of their musical instruments that needed strings. Their milk was supplied by the pregnant and lactating women they bred on their farms. 

The babies that were produced by these breeders went through a painstaking selection process.  Some went directly to the slaughter house and on to the butcher shops to be cut and sold as a delicacy, while others were bred to adulthood. The breeding farms were also a rich source of hair supplied by the stud males. 

They thrived and survived for thousands of years depriving the Nine Kingdoms of any natural resources the forest had to offer. Then one day a powerful mage offered the kingdoms a final solution. They agreed to his terms. For the purpose of this accounting they need not be known. 

With the wave of my, I mean his staff, millions upon millions of Buggerbites went up in flames. The forest still retained many of the Buggerbites magics and thus remained enchanted but buggerbite free.

Only the living toys survived...


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## aj47

Ransom's Secret Revealed


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## joshybo

*A New Journey (648 words)

by joshybo*​


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## Sleepwriter

*Fair Deal 612 words*

Ronnie Dugan was a hulk of a man with a booming voice and a fiery temper.   Few people were brave enough to try and cheat him and those that did paid a hefty price.  He was the third generation to run Dugan’s Recycled Parts, a local auto salvage yard. 

A year ago his wife was diagnosed with a rare kidney disease and now needed a transplant or she would die.  The medical bills sliced deep wounds into their bank account and soon, it too was on life support. 

Jim Beasley was what some called a real estate mogul.   Ronnie called him a snake in the grass.  He would buy up small businesses and bulldoze them so he could sell the land they sat upon.  Jim had been hounding him for years to sell, telling him he could make a fortune by selling his land to developers, but his answer had always been a resounding “No”.

The doctors told Ronnie that they weren’t having any luck finding a kidney and he should prepare himself.  His frustration exploded inside him like a volcano.  For all his strength he was helpless in stopping his wife’s deteriorating health.

Jim knew Ronnie would do anything for his wife so he had himself tested and as luck would have it his kidney was a perfect match for Ronnie’s wife, so he made his final offer. The deal was that he would trade his kidney for the property.  With his business and house mortgaged to the hilt, Ronnie was out of options.  So now he was on his way to accept the devil’s offer.

His square jaw quivered as tears welled in his steel-grey eyes.  He paused for a minute, trying to compose himself before entering Jim’s office.        

“Ronnie, it’s good to see you.” Jim said as he stood to greet his visitor.

 “Let’s get this over with.”  A crack in Ronnie’s voice caught Jim’s attention. He could see the defeat in the giant’s eyes.  He worked hard to fight the urge to smile.

“Yes, yes, let’s get the paperwork out of the way.”

 As Ronnie read over the papers, Jim thought he saw the corner’s of his mouth rise, but quickly dismissed it.  “Everything looks in order.”
Ronnie signed the papers then handed them back to Jim.  He couldn’t believe he finally got the property and all it cost him was a kidney.  He was going to make millions off of the land.  Hell, he could probably buy himself a replacement kidney.

“I hate to rush off, but I do have some place I need to be.”  Jim walked over to get his coat from beside the door.  “Say Ronnie, when do I need to go to the hospital to complete our transaction?”

He turned around when he didn’t get a response, only to see a giant fist flying towards his face then all went black.

 A few hours later Ronnie walked into the hospital and was met by an anxious staff.

“Where have you been? Do you have the kidney?”  Dr. Lei asked

“Sorry Doc, I got here as fast as I could,” he said as he sat the organ cooler on the counter.

“I still don’t understand why he didn’t want to come in and let me do the removal here.”

“He’s a busy man, Doc.”

Dr. Lei opened the cooler and gave the kidney a cursory look.  “Well it looks healthy and whoever took it out appears to have done a good job.  Nurse, take the cooler to the OR.  I’ll be there in a minute”
“Well, be sure to thank Mr. Beasley for me.”

“Don’t worry Doc, I thanked him good.”


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