| General Fiction posted July 28, 2024 |
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The Switch contest entry
The Laptop
by DragonSkulls
I clearly grabbed the wrong suitcase at the airport because when opening it later at the hotel is when I saw the contents inside. It was nothing but a laptop computer. I removed it and placed it on the bed and then flipped the top open. It didn't ask for a password or anything. You would think with such valuable information inside it would. I actually started fearing for my own life from what I saw. The very first thing that popped up, a website, a website that I knew all too well...FanStory.
When Anthony opened my suitcase, what he found was my swim trunks, underwear and suntan lotion. I was on vacation and Clearwater Beach was my destination. A week of nothing but fun in the sun and hot sweeties on the heated, Florida sand. The bad part was that my hotel information was in there as well.
Somebody else had my beach clothes. No biggie. I could get more at the local Walmart and be on the beach by two, settled in my lawn chair and checking out the hotties by two-fifteen. But I was intrigued by what this writer had on Fanstory. Their latest post was for a contest, a maximum of a thousand word contest. The rules were about suitcases that got switched at the airport. I saw the contest a couple days ago and couldn't think of anything to enter so I just passed it up, but this writer had a phenomenal idea to roll on. Surely they'd win without even a close second place trailing. I thought to myself how odd this coincidence was.
Anthony hopped the next plane out. He knew his contest entry was unbeatable and couldn't dare risk the content falling into the wrong hands. Those wrong hands being my own. I decided to steal this author's original concept and enter the contest so I could, for once, actually prevail. I've never won a FanStory contest and thought about all the precious glory and acceptance of the masses should I finally, after all these years, become triumphant.
I already had the entry in preview mode. All I needed to do was to click "End Preview" and I would be golden. No other entry would stand a chance. The piece I stole would get me close to, at the time, twenty-seven-fifty in winnings. I was willing to give up all my morals and standards of life for just such an accomplishment. My index finger quivered as I reached. Was my beliefs, let alone my soul, worth this writer's entry, seeing as how it wasn't my own? None of that mattered. I reached.
That moment, my hotel door smashed open and a silenced .45 started popping off rounds. I dove between the bed and the wall, grabbing the desk lamp as I fell. I knew Florida was crime infested but what the hell? My assailant emptied his first clip and then went to reload the next. I jumped up and savagely threw the lamp at his skull while instantly diving across the bed. He parried the lamp as it smashed into the wall behind him but I viciously tackled him into the A/C unit just as he was reloading the magazine.
On the floor, I grabbed the gun as he tried aiming for my face and forced it to the side. Three more rounds, barely missing my cranium, shot through the ceiling. I pulled my weight upward and then thrashed down with a massive headbutt. That momentarily worked. He dropped the gun and I grabbed it and rolled. He gained his composure and started to stand as I was aiming the weapon at his chest. "I'll never let you steal my contest entry," he hollered as he lunged forward. I popped four rounds into his torso and he crashed into the standard La Quinta's bathroom sink. I pondered if there'd be an extra charge for blood on the bedspread and towels.
To the cops, the FBI investigators, and anyone else who asked, I lied about his motives. Later, on the beach today, I reread what he had for an entry. It turns out it wasn't really all 'that' great. I decided, instead, that the tale of this contest entry was way more exciting so, there you go.
This time I reached, without a quivering finger, and prominently clicked,
"End Preview."
The Switch writing prompt entry
I clearly grabbed the wrong suitcase at the airport because when opening it later at the hotel is when I saw the contents inside. It was nothing but a laptop computer. I removed it and placed it on the bed and then flipped the top open. It didn't ask for a password or anything. You would think with such valuable information inside it would. I actually started fearing for my own life from what I saw. The very first thing that popped up, a website, a website that I knew all too well...FanStory.
When Anthony opened my suitcase, what he found was my swim trunks, underwear and suntan lotion. I was on vacation and Clearwater Beach was my destination. A week of nothing but fun in the sun and hot sweeties on the heated, Florida sand. The bad part was that my hotel information was in there as well.
Somebody else had my beach clothes. No biggie. I could get more at the local Walmart and be on the beach by two, settled in my lawn chair and checking out the hotties by two-fifteen. But I was intrigued by what this writer had on Fanstory. Their latest post was for a contest, a maximum of a thousand word contest. The rules were about suitcases that got switched at the airport. I saw the contest a couple days ago and couldn't think of anything to enter so I just passed it up, but this writer had a phenomenal idea to roll on. Surely they'd win without even a close second place trailing. I thought to myself how odd this coincidence was.
Anthony hopped the next plane out. He knew his contest entry was unbeatable and couldn't dare risk the content falling into the wrong hands. Those wrong hands being my own. I decided to steal this author's original concept and enter the contest so I could, for once, actually prevail. I've never won a FanStory contest and thought about all the precious glory and acceptance of the masses should I finally, after all these years, become triumphant.
I already had the entry in preview mode. All I needed to do was to click "End Preview" and I would be golden. No other entry would stand a chance. The piece I stole would get me close to, at the time, twenty-seven-fifty in winnings. I was willing to give up all my morals and standards of life for just such an accomplishment. My index finger quivered as I reached. Was my beliefs, let alone my soul, worth this writer's entry, seeing as how it wasn't my own? None of that mattered. I reached.
That moment, my hotel door smashed open and a silenced .45 started popping off rounds. I dove between the bed and the wall, grabbing the desk lamp as I fell. I knew Florida was crime infested but what the hell? My assailant emptied his first clip and then went to reload the next. I jumped up and savagely threw the lamp at his skull while instantly diving across the bed. He parried the lamp as it smashed into the wall behind him but I viciously tackled him into the A/C unit just as he was reloading the magazine.
On the floor, I grabbed the gun as he tried aiming for my face and forced it to the side. Three more rounds, barely missing my cranium, shot through the ceiling. I pulled my weight upward and then thrashed down with a massive headbutt. That momentarily worked. He dropped the gun and I grabbed it and rolled. He gained his composure and started to stand as I was aiming the weapon at his chest. "I'll never let you steal my contest entry," he hollered as he lunged forward. I popped four rounds into his torso and he crashed into the standard La Quinta's bathroom sink. I pondered if there'd be an extra charge for blood on the bedspread and towels.
To the cops, the FBI investigators, and anyone else who asked, I lied about his motives. Later, on the beach today, I reread what he had for an entry. It turns out it wasn't really all 'that' great. I decided, instead, that the tale of this contest entry was way more exciting so, there you go.
This time I reached, without a quivering finger, and prominently clicked,
When Anthony opened my suitcase, what he found was my swim trunks, underwear and suntan lotion. I was on vacation and Clearwater Beach was my destination. A week of nothing but fun in the sun and hot sweeties on the heated, Florida sand. The bad part was that my hotel information was in there as well.
Somebody else had my beach clothes. No biggie. I could get more at the local Walmart and be on the beach by two, settled in my lawn chair and checking out the hotties by two-fifteen. But I was intrigued by what this writer had on Fanstory. Their latest post was for a contest, a maximum of a thousand word contest. The rules were about suitcases that got switched at the airport. I saw the contest a couple days ago and couldn't think of anything to enter so I just passed it up, but this writer had a phenomenal idea to roll on. Surely they'd win without even a close second place trailing. I thought to myself how odd this coincidence was.
Anthony hopped the next plane out. He knew his contest entry was unbeatable and couldn't dare risk the content falling into the wrong hands. Those wrong hands being my own. I decided to steal this author's original concept and enter the contest so I could, for once, actually prevail. I've never won a FanStory contest and thought about all the precious glory and acceptance of the masses should I finally, after all these years, become triumphant.
I already had the entry in preview mode. All I needed to do was to click "End Preview" and I would be golden. No other entry would stand a chance. The piece I stole would get me close to, at the time, twenty-seven-fifty in winnings. I was willing to give up all my morals and standards of life for just such an accomplishment. My index finger quivered as I reached. Was my beliefs, let alone my soul, worth this writer's entry, seeing as how it wasn't my own? None of that mattered. I reached.
That moment, my hotel door smashed open and a silenced .45 started popping off rounds. I dove between the bed and the wall, grabbing the desk lamp as I fell. I knew Florida was crime infested but what the hell? My assailant emptied his first clip and then went to reload the next. I jumped up and savagely threw the lamp at his skull while instantly diving across the bed. He parried the lamp as it smashed into the wall behind him but I viciously tackled him into the A/C unit just as he was reloading the magazine.
On the floor, I grabbed the gun as he tried aiming for my face and forced it to the side. Three more rounds, barely missing my cranium, shot through the ceiling. I pulled my weight upward and then thrashed down with a massive headbutt. That momentarily worked. He dropped the gun and I grabbed it and rolled. He gained his composure and started to stand as I was aiming the weapon at his chest. "I'll never let you steal my contest entry," he hollered as he lunged forward. I popped four rounds into his torso and he crashed into the standard La Quinta's bathroom sink. I pondered if there'd be an extra charge for blood on the bedspread and towels.
To the cops, the FBI investigators, and anyone else who asked, I lied about his motives. Later, on the beach today, I reread what he had for an entry. It turns out it wasn't really all 'that' great. I decided, instead, that the tale of this contest entry was way more exciting so, there you go.
This time I reached, without a quivering finger, and prominently clicked,
"End Preview."
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Writing Prompt Two passengers mistakenly switch suitcases at the airport. Write a story about what happens after. Comedy, horror, romance, mystery, etc....your choice. 1000 words max. |
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