Morning all, I hope your day is going fabulously well. While the heat is not as oppressively scorching this week I am still playing the game, how many meals can we make without turning the oven or stove on. It is an annual tournament that will last until at least Labor Day. I know, I do live a life of high drama and excitement. For now we take a break from meal planning drama and start our day with another writing prompt. So timers set for fifteen minutes and lets see what comes out of our brains today.
Why do I suspect that not everyone is going to survive this challenge? Which could be kind of fun to write in a strange horror story kind of way. Those sent to the island are part of a sacrifice maybe…Okay I may be thinking about this a bit more today. I haven’t written a good horror story in a while.
Wednesday, August 26th: It was a challenge.
It was a challenge. He always liked challenges. He adored puzzles and riddles and when younger spent a great deal of time playing around with cyphers. He also hadn’t been challenged in a while. He felt his excitement building. Looking around the room, however he could see that his excitement was not shared by the group.
“What do you mean it’s a competition?” Tyson asked. His voice was the same bored tone he long ago adopted for everything but underneath it John could hear the whine of annoyance.
‘Unsurprising,’ John thought. Tyson grew up with everything handed to him. He never had to work for anything. He had a team of experts who put effort into his life for him. John knew that even when Tyson couldn’t pass his exams his father made a donation to the school to ensure better grades went on his permanent record. It was easier to pay to have the grades changed than it was to convince Tyson to put any effort into studying.
Frequently John wondered what Tyson actually spent his time doing. He was always ‘busy’ but never seemed especially occupied.
Around the room others expressed the same question in different ways. It was just a general reshaping of the same question, but John noticed the tones shifted. Cicily seemed offended at being asked to compete. Trevor looked almost eager as though he thought he would be able to smash his way through any challenges and let his father pay for the damages later. Preston sounded calculating.
John knew that Preston would be looking for a shortcut, a way to bypass having to participate while still getting the prize. He was very good at finding short cuts. In fact, John suspected he thought that was the challenge of the competition.
“Yes a competition,” Mr. Wallace repeated. “You are welcome to refuse to participate but if you do then you are out of the running for the prize.” He looked around the room. Several of those he looked at dropped their gaze, not meeting his. John wasn’t surprised. All of them were here because their family sent them, John included.
John was informed by his father and grandfather that he would be participating in the event. That he was expected to do well was understood. His family may have been just as wealthy and powerful as the others, but they didn’t favor weakness. You had to earn your place or step to the side. While he knew most of the others skated through a lot of the things he was required to work for, he knew they didn’t choose to come on their own. They would have been given marching orders as well before they were put on the plane.
No one backed out.
No one refused the competition.
Mr. Wallace smiled. “Each of you has been assigned a room. It is a bare bones space, meant for you to sleep and plan. It contains only the essentials. Your personal luggage has been placed in storage until the challenge is complete. Basic outfits suitable for the challenges you will face and designed to be expendable have been placed in your rooms.”
John saw the shock of not having their luggage run through the group.
Ten til Midnight 