Challenge Your Fellow Writers!


New member
I'm going to be turning this into a mega-epic. You just inspired a new series.

Nice, didn't you write something like that before? I remember because I was supposed to get my face melted off by some sort of plasma gun.


New member
Nice, didn't you write something like that before? I remember because I was supposed to get my face melted off by some sort of plasma gun.

Yeah but this one is actually about TRMK. The other one didn't get started back up again because most of the characters kinda left the site.


Active member
Here comes a new challenge(r)!

Write a horror story involving a child wandering into a broken down horror house in the middle of a populated carnival.
The door disappears around him, he can hear the sound of a distant clown laughing, sees a feint light far off in the distance and can feel something staring at him.

Take it from there Johnnys :cool:

You say something about a challenge?

Micheal “Mike” Roper was written off as a delinquent by Philadelphia’s high school educational system. He made bad grades and gotten himself into many disputes such as fighting, vandalism, and even theft. So who in there right ing mind’s would allow Mike to go to the Ben Franklin carnival with his 2B class? His dumbass English teacher Mr. Henkel. Thought he could change Mike with a little class field trip. That dickless weasel can go eat a dry pussy for all he cared.

Mr. Henkel instructions were clear, no going alone. Mike wasn’t the group type of guy so he ditched them. It was like 20 minutes until he was caught for stealing some money while the guy at the stand wasn’t looking. Instead of getting into trouble however, Mike ran. He ran through the carnival while the overweight security guard tried to catch him. Yeah right, once Mike gotten some distance between him and the tub of lard he made a quick detour through an abandoned horror house.

That guy didn’t have a clue where Mike went. Satisfied with his successful escape Mike went to get out of the house. Funny thing was that the knob wasn’t there anymore. In fact, the whole damn door was gone. He wasn’t high so why was a door that was just there not there? While Mike was pondering this he heard something. A rustle maybe? Well whatever the hell it was Mike had to look for another door. Although the horror house was close down, the entire thing still ran perfectly. Ghost, goblins, and all that other kid shit did not frighten Mike one bit. He made his way through the horror house until finally he made it to the glowing red sign, “EXIT” with a door.

He gladly opened it and walked through it only to end up into another dark room. This room was dark as night. Mike could barely see anything in front of him, but he could hear all too well. At first, it was a low chuckle. Suddenly it was a full out laugh. It sounded like, “yuck-yuck-yuck-yuck-yuck!” Someone else was here, that’s not good. Mike was full on creeped out now. The laughing would not stop. The only thing he could do was sit there and wait. The laughing would change pitches as if it was coming closer. And closer. Out of nowhere it stopped. The laughing stopped along with a light in the distance. Mike trained his eyes on it until he was certain it read, “EXIT.” Thank God. Mike dashed for the door not taking any chances with whatever that thing was. Mike grabbed the knob and violently twisted the thing and swung it open.

Through the door way Mike could see sunshine and a beautiful green field. But. At the carnival it was dark. In a flash, Mike was met with a clown’s face out of nowhere. It’s red eyes piereced through Mike and it opened its mouth. “YUCK-YUCK-YUCK-YUCK-YUCK!” was the final thing Mike heard before the clown ate him.
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Robot Rock
Great job Yung


Would have been much better if you left out the 'before the clown ate him' part.
Leaves much more to the 'magination


New member
I got one.

In a completely serious and suspenseful tone, write about one man's horrific discorvery that he is out of butter. Then write about his epic yet realistic quest to the corner store to get some before his toast pops out of the toaster.

I'll do it! Give me a little bit.


New member
The Flash vs Kabal
Part 1

"Kabal, where are you?" Stryker shouted into his communicator. "We're under heavy tarkatan attack!" Kabal was just donning his black coat as his radio received the message. He attached the earpiece to his helmet.
"Kabal to Stryker. I read you, I will be there shortly." He said in his raspy, respirator assisted voice.
"Shortly won't be fast enough!" There's to man-" Stryker's voice stopped.
"Strkyer? Stryker!" Kabal ran out his door and into the street. He set the new GPS device on his wrist to Stryker's location. He took another breath, then sprinted towards the coordinates. He easily ran past every speeding vehicle in the street. He even jumped over cars that were slower than him. The sun was high in the sky with no clouds to be seen. Kabal's vision was flawless as he ran onto the highway. As he crossed over to the mainland of New York, he looked to the edge of the coastline where all the patrol cars were. He was puzzled though, no tarkatan. He ran into the other side of traffic and jumped off the bridge. His momentum carried him all the way to the street. He stopped, looking around at the scene. All of the tarkatan were stacked on top of each other, unconscious. The lesser S.F. officers were all crowded around someone. Stryker was leaning on his car with his arms crossed.
"Took you long enough to get here." He said, gesturing to the pile. Kabal just realized each one had handcuffs on.
"What's that supposed to mean? My shift wasn't supposed to start for another 30 minutes." Stryker pointed to the group of officers. They parted as a man in red and yellow tights walked towards them. There was a yellow lightning bolt on his chest and he wore a red mask.
"It means, we found someone faster than you." The super hero laughed.
"More like, I found you. The name's Flash." He held his hand out to Kabal. He pushed it away.
"I'm not going to thank some nut-job in a red suit." Stryker pushed Kabal over to the side.
"He just saved all of us. You're not going to push him away like that."
"Uh, hello? I'm still here." Flash said. Kabal shook his head. Then he walked over to The Flash.
"You think you're faster than me?" He asked. Flash shrugged his shoulders.
"I DID get here before you."
"You could have been closer than me." Flash smiled at him.
"How about a race?" Kabal looked at Stryker. "If I win, you have to admit I'm faster than you."
"WHEN I win, you have to leave town." Flash laughed, holding out his hand. Kabal fiercely took it.
"It's a deal."

Part 2
Kabal and The Flash agreed to a race. Kabal challenged him to race along the outer edge of the New York Subway line, all the way around the city. After Flash heard Kabal's terms for the race, he smiled and put his fists on his hips in a heroic pose.
"No sweat! I'll be around that line faster than you can blink!" Kabal crossed his arms, not entertained by Flash's enthusiasm and cheery attitude.
"The subway will still be running." Stryker said to the two of them. "So look out for the transit cars." Kabal looked at him and chuckled to himself.
"Are you just warning me because of your fight with Kano? You know, the one where he uppercut you right onto the tracks?" Stryker glared at him.
"It was a cheap shot, and I was lucky enough to get out before the train hit me. I don't feel like scraping my partner off the front of a train like roadkill."
"Geez. You guys just go off like I'm not here. Are we gonna do this or what?" Stryker and Kabal looked at The Flash, then back at each other. Kabal nodded and set the coordinates for the first station on his GPS. He dashed off to wait for them at the station as Stryker approached Flash.
"He is a little egotistical. We're also not used to see guys in bright tights and superhero costumes around here." He paused, bowed his head, and looked back up. "At least, not in public." He walked over to his squad car, laughing the whole time. Flash crossed his arms and thought about the comment. The moment Stryker sped off, he got it.
"A gay joke! Really?" He shook his head and followed Stryker to the station.

Kabal was already down on the subway platform, looking at the map of New York City and its railway. He traced his finger along the path of the race. He heard footsteps tread down the stairs that led to his platform. He turned and saw Stryker and The Flash.
"And that's the forty-third time I saved the city from certain doom!" He said to Stryker. Kabal could tell that Stryker was getting sick of the stories. The Flash was obviously full of himself.
"Took you guys long enough." Kabal said. The two of them looked at Kabal.
"Please beat this guy, Kabal. I don't think I can take another "epic tale of heroism" from this guy."
"But that's what they are!" Flash said, holding his arms out. Stryker shook his head.
"What ever. Tights, go take a look at the map. Then we can get this over with." The Flash smiled at Kabal, walking over to the map.
"Looks like the cripple has jokes!" He said. Kabal reached out and grabbed Flash's throat.
"Listen kid, you don't want to pick a fight with me. If we settled this like real men, you would be dead." He laughed again, holding onto Kabal's hand that was still wrapped around his neck.
"Alright, alright! Just let me go!" Kabal pushed him to the floor. He quickly jumped up and rubbed his neck. He looked at Kabal and Stryker, seeing the serious look on Stryker's face. "Whoa, you guys aren't joking around here." He walked over to the map, shaking his head in disbelief.
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Active member
I got one.

In a completely serious and suspenseful tone, write about one man's horrific discovery that he is out of butter. Then write about his epic yet realistic quest to the corner store to get some before his toast pops out of the toaster.

New York City, The Bronx. Coming from a long line of Italian descent, I was born into this world with despair all around me. My father died in a shootout and my mother being a heroin addict, didn’t really give me an all to pleasant childhood. However, this city and these streets have shaped me into an unbreakable stone. A stone that can’t be push, a stone that can get things done.

Always been an early bird. Wake up every morning around 7 am to these loud city streets. Mornings had its perks of course: seeing hotdog vendors set up their stands, newspaper shops opening up, and finally see my beautiful Darla fast asleep. Last night we made it official by tying the knot, jumping the broom, all that kiddie shit. Thankfully my boss came by to congratulate me, saying that Darla and me were gonna have a beautiful marriage together. In a business, that I’m involved with even I’m not that sure.

Around 7:30 my angel started to wake. Christ was she beautiful, with or without clothes. We took a shower, got dressed in our standard sized Bronx apartment and walked into the kitchen to make some breakfast. Normally I would grab a dog on my way out but boss said that I could take a week off since I married my Darla. A Bronx honeymoon is what Lenny “The Shyster” Williams would call it.”

Darla was making eggs and toast wearing nothing but one of my dress shirts. Darla was a damn good cook by the way. Darla asked me to get the butter ready as soon as she put the bread in the toaster. We both like our toast black so it takes longer to get that true-burnt taste in your mouth. As I reached the fridge and pull opened the door I grabbed the butter. It felt, light.


I ripped open the top of the yellow container and was met with nothing. No dairy spread to put on our black toast. I dropped the tub and ran back to our room, ripped opened the first drawer of our dresser and grabbed my wallet an Glock-47. My angel asked me what’s wrong but I didn’t respond. I pointed at the butter and walked out the door grabbing my black winter jacket. As I went down the hallway towards the elevator door, I heard my gal scream in terror. God help us.

I blazed down 13th to the mini market five blocks from my apartment in my black convertible. Almost ran over a kid in a suit trying to get to some business meeting. I was able to swerve and park in front of the store. All I had to do was get the butter and get back home, our taste buds deepened on it.

I walked into the store, nodded to the Chinese lady smiling at me, and walked to the back of the isle. The frigate section was in sight and all I had to do was reach for the handle.


Damnit! I duck to the ground as low-grade chips and snack bars get blown to hell by the Tommy spewing lead bullets. After a few more seconds the barrage finally ended yet I was unscathed.

“Come out here Marlow, I know your over-greased ass in there! This is Cornello property; nobody makes moves on Cornello’s property!”

Of all the things in the world, Vincent Cornello had to show up. This little prick was Donny Cornello’s younger brother who did big things back in Italy yet Vincent had the small problem of thinking that he ran things around here.

Brushing the debris of snack food of off me stood up to face these bastards. As before, I had been right that it was in fact Vincent, with his small circular sunglasses, dirty blond neck length hair and that damn full Cheshire grin full of gold. Next to the prick was two body guards with two Tommy guns ready to spray me down .

“Ah yeah this’ll be a hit of the century! Killing the Enforcer of the Borneo family will surely put me on top of these streets. Any last words before my boys make you into Swiss cheese?”

Before I gave my response, I had to smile at this buffoon.

“You should know, the store clerk doesn’t like it when guns are brought into the store.”

From under the counter, the Chinese lady had her double barrel pointed at one of the goons and fired yelling, “It’s against store policy!”

The barrage of bullets from the double barrel destroyed the right side of the goon’s head killing him instantly before he even hit the ground. I pulled out my Glock and open fire on the other goon dropping him in 5 shots. Of course the little weasel ran once the first goon died so I didn’t get a shot on his fleeing ass. I reloaded my clip and took cover behind the ice cream machine in the back.

“Harvey! Lee! Get the Dragon Breath!”

Dragon Breath? To answer my question a blast of fire shot out to set ablaze the greeting card section. Where did they get that from? I tried to shoot through the flames with my Glock but it had no effect.

“A special present from Russia shit face! How about we cook the fish’s food for them? AHAHAHAHA!”

Another blast shot out getting closer to my cover spot yet I didn’t sweat as the flames licked at the ice cream cooler. Just a little closer, closer… Now!

I shouted across the store at the cash register counter in Chinese to the store clerk. A second later, the double barrel shotgun came flying in my direction as I caught it with one hand. I shot up in a standing position and took aim at the Dragon’s Breath gas container.

As I took the shot, I saw the asshole’s face form into a surprised and terrified stare. Pulling the trigger never felt so good.


Bits if car and human exploded everywhere on the scene making it a store clerk’s worse nightmare to clean up.

Vincent was obviously dead meaning that would piss off the Cornello family to no extent but that was important. Turning to the left and pocketing my Glock, I had open the handle to retrieve the butter. Walking through the clutter f!ck of food I reached the counter and placed the shotgun on the counter for the cashier to take. I was beginning to pull out my wallet but the store clerk stopped me, signaling that it was free. I thanked her in Chinese and told her that I’ll give a call to some of the boys to fix the shop up.

I ran down the street back to my apartment thankfully avoiding the pigs as the rode by to investigate the scene. I reached the door and stepped back into my home calling Darla’s name.

I stepped into the kitchen and found her biting her nails looking at the toaster. She looked at me and at that moment, the toast popped out of the toaster completely black as Vincent’s charred body. Darla looked at my hand as I held up the butter. She immediately smiled and ran up to hug me.

It was only the first day of our honeymoon and I was already making my angel happy.

Score please :proud:


New member
Right, I challenge anyone to write me erotic poetry involving Goro, Sonic the Hedgehog and Dr Robotnick/Eggman. This must be written in Arabic or it is void!

Good Luck and happy writing poppies! Who knows you could give birth to a new hit erotic fiction that loveless women read to fee liberated.


Robot Rock
You get a 8/10.
Hilarious story
"It felt, light.


Had me laughing hard :rofl:

Loss of points, not too man, but still loss because I felt as if you didn't need a shoot out. Just had to make ordinary life seem much more suspenseful. Lots of hyperbolas and freakouts over small things. Still went above and beyond though. Great shit


Active member
Damn, something at the back of my head said, "A shootout, nah. But hey fuk it I'm still writing it."

Ah well thanks for the rate man :D