Our first week post-merge, our challenge was to create a conflict between two characters.  The catch is that part one had to be from one character’s perspective, and part two had to be from the second character’s perspective.  The second catch is that we can’t actually show the conflict.  And here’s what I did.

A smile spread across McKenzie’s face.  Finally!  She practically had to beg him to ask her out.  They had been e-mailing for three months now.  He said he liked to take things slow and get to know her.  She was all for that, but now she was worried he was painfully shy or something.  At least he was sweet.  And he made her laugh in every letter he sent.

“Hey Kenz!” called her Mom as she entered the bedroom without knocking.  McKenzie minimized the window and hoped the butterflies wouldn’t betray her.  “We’re leaving in a few minutes!”

“Okay,” McKenzie said, heading to the closet to get a pullover.  It was royal blue, her favorite color, and one she usually saved for special occasions.  “Are we going out to eat afterwards?”

“Wasn’t planning on it.  Did you want to?”

“Whatever, just wondering.”

As her mom left the room, McKenzie smiled to herself.  Jake had wanted to go to Biaggi’s and she didn’t want to tell her she had a date.  Mom wasn’t against her dating, but she was afraid Mom would say no if she found out where she met him.

As she was putting on foundation (not too much), she felt herself shaking a bit.  She wasn’t that nervous about meeting a stranger (and after all, three months of e-mails and she felt she knew him more than anyone), but she was going to meet his parents!  Apparently, they needed to approve of her!  He told her not to worry, that they’d probably just say hi and shake her hand.  Still…

Securing the last earring, McKenzie noticed her Chloe Moretz poster was beginning to fall.  Checking the scotch tape, she flattened out the corner again.  Stepping back to check out her handy work, she nearly tripped over her stuffed walrus.  She picked up Nigel and went to set him back on the bed.  She paused, gave Nigel a once-over, and put him in her closet.

“Gussied up for a trip to CostCo?” her mom said as she put on her pea coat.

“I might run into someone from school!”  McKenzie shuddered.  She didn’t want to protest too much.  “Besides, what’s wrong with looking nice?”

“Just giving you a hard time, kiddo.”

“Hey Mom, can I spend the night at Hannah’s?”  Mom never said no, but McKenzie was nervous as hell.

“Just tell me one thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Help me clean the basement tomorrow?”

McKenzie smiled.  “Sure, Mom.”

“And we start at ten sharp!” She winked.  “I can drop you off after we’re done.”

“Thanks!” said McKenzie, exhaling as she turned around.  “Just let me get my toothbrush.”

*******************************

Jake had a date.  He looked sharp, no doubt.  Jake shifted his tie until it was straight.  Then he patted down his cowlick one more time.  It popped back up.  He told himself he was too much a perfectionist.  But he was still nervous.  She’d be here in twenty minutes.  Waiting was the worst part.  Once she got here, he was confident his nerves would settle.

Ripping himself from the mirror, Jake entered the living room and stood by the bay window.  The sun was setting, casting glorious shades of ochre and crimson across the sky.  The serenity did nothing to relieve the tension.  His lifted his right hand, trying to hold it still.  It rattled like a mechanical mouse.

Even though Jake had hated his parents, he was still lonely. Dad was always in some other country on business, but he’d call every so often and call him “Sport.”  Mom cared more about impressing her high-society friends, but she’d hug him.  If she wasn’t always trashed, and if her hugs didn’t occasionally get a bit weird, he might miss her more. If nothing else, they left him the house.

Jake headed towards the basement.  It seemed disrespectful to do so before a date, but the last thing he wanted was to appear flustered and clumsy.  Even descending the steps lessened his anxiety.  Reaching the bottom step, he took off his shoes and socks, placing them neatly together.  Taking the final step, he felt cool dirt embrace his toes.

He saw what he was looking for on the workbench.  As he crossed the room, he gazed at the east wall where he had erected a trophy case.  All of his prizes were there, except the most recent.  He was proud of the accomplishments he had worked so hard for since his parents were killed.  He wondered if they’d be proud of him.

Reaching the workbench, Jake took the shovel and propped it up against the wall.  The Ziploc bag was right where he left it.  As he opened it an erection formed in his slacks.  Carefully, Jake removed the cotton material and rested it against his cheek.  Glancing at the trophy case, he noticed there wasn’t a trace of royal blue to be found.  This was perfect.

Jake inhaled the scent of the material.  Expecting another rush, what he felt instead hit him like a truck.  She was perfect.  Not a bitch like the others.  While he hated her innocence, she had a spirit about her he had never seen.  She seemed to approach life as if she could just brush away its inherent cruelty.  She had even told him she cared about him.  His sorrow spiraled into a crushing bout of self-loathing.  He had let go his only chance to be happy.

After placing the material inside the bag, Jake opened the only drawer of the work bench and found the revolver. He kept it there in case the police ever paid him a visit.  He never thought he’d want to use it before then.  Almost unconsciously, he felt himself grabbing the gun and bringing it to his mouth.  Cocking the hammer, Jake felt a tear running down his cheek.

The doorbell rang.

That beautiful sound jolted Jake out his self-pity.  Placing the gun back in the drawer, a renewed sense of confidence practically burst out of him.  He sealed the Ziploc bag, then scurried to the foot of the stairs, putting on his socks and shoes.  As he looked up at the foyer, Jake straightened his tie once more.   Tonight was a good night.  Jake had a date.

Spooky: Fucking Christ, I hope I can forget this one. It’s a dirty trick to do this to a guy with two young daughters. Anyway, removing that from the equation (that’s not possible, but work with me here), this is a beautifully dark story to finish a week that started with a beautifully dark story, and everything in between was great too.

DK:  Whew. I kind of had a feeling I could guess where this was going (cause I kind of had a feeling I could guess the author) but it was not a disappointment at all. In fact, I think this one leaps off the page; it moves fast, it draws its characters perfectly precisely, and the emotional impact, for me, was pretty palpable.

I actually came up with the entire story about six hours after the challenge was announced.  It was probably the easiest one I’ve done to date, at least as far as flow.  I knew it wouldn’t be fair to Spooky, but I hoped that by the time his daughters are this age, he will have forgotten this story.

I won’t comment much, since the judge’s pretty much said it.  I will say the most time I spent on any one sentence in this story was to figure out which idol McKenzie would have on her wall in poster form.  I quickly eschewed Taylor Swift and Taylor Lautner, feeling McKenzie would think herself above that.  So I went with Chloe, who at least publicly presents the kind of personality I was thinking McKenzie would admire.

Oh, and one more thing.

DK: I’m going to give my immunity to (Beau).

Tonight was a good night.

This week, we had to write about the afterlife.  Yup.

“We’re gonna need to intubate!”

Morgan was floating just above consciousness.

“What happened to her?”

“Looks like a cocktail.  Valium, Klonopin, and Ativan.  Okay, let’s do this!”

Morgan fell under.

************

“Are you awake, dear?” The voice was upbeat but twitchy, as if the speaker was in a hurry.

“Mmm?” said Morgan.  She opened her eyes.  The room, or whatever it was, awoke her senses.  Bright white flooded the area.  Besides the man before her, she was the only perceivable…thing in the room.

“Wonderful!”  The man, wearing a suit and tie, smiled warmly.    “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Are…?” Morgan squinted at the man before her.  “Is this?  Are you?”

The look on his face beamed with anticipation.

“God?”

“Oh, lordy lordy, no!” he replied.  “But don’t worry, I’m not upset.  Nobody ever gets it right on the first guess.”

“Then are you…”

“Or the second guess for that matter.  Tell you what, since today is your lucky day, I’ll just come right out and tell you.”

Morgan raised her brow.

“I’m Ray Combs!”

Morgan raised her brow further.

“And it’s time to play…The Feud!”

From out of nowhere, a platform with a red buzzer appeared before her.

“Okay Morgan, now get ready for round one!  Buzz in when you have an answer.  We asked one-hundred people who recently committed suicide; would you like to go to Heaven?”

“Uhhh…” Morgan stared at him, wondering if he was serious.  “Yes?”

“Ah ah!” he said.  “Gotta hit your buzzer.”

Morgan pressed the buzzer.  It beeped at her.  “Yes?”

Ray turned around, looking up at the white nothingness.  “Show me…yes!”

As the sound of an electronic bell filled the area, her answer appeared in bright yellow letters.  Next to it, the number 100.

“Yes!” shouted Ray.  “Now don’t go away, round two is coming up next.”

“But…” Morgan started.

“We asked the same one-hundred no-longer living people; what was your most grievous sin?”

Morgan continued to eye Ray Combs with caution, but hit the buzzer anyway.  “I once cheated on my husband with his best friend.”

“Good answer!  That certainly was sinful.”  Ray turned around once more.  “Show me adultery!”  A loud buzz filled the air, as well as a giant red X.

“I’m sorry, but it appears to be not as grievous as you thought.  You still have two strikes left.  Do you have another answer?”

“Um, well that year I taught English in the inner city school?  I slept with one of my students to get some cocaine.”

“All right, that’s good!” Ray said reassuringly.  “Show me getting in the sack with a black for some crack!”

The giant red X appeared again.  The buzzer seemed louder this time.

“Okay,” Ray said.  “I don’t want you to be nervous, but you now have two strikes.  One more strike and you know what that means.”  He looked at her, his brow furled with great concern.

“I’m going to hell?” Morgan asked.

“With a brand new copy of our home game!  But don’t worry, I’m confident you’ll get it right this time.  Now Morgan, think really hard.  What was your most grievous sin?”

Morgan bit her lip.  “Would it be my severe depression and anxiety that led me to taking too many pills this morning in hopes of falling asleep?”

“It might be,” Ray said.  “Show me suicide!”  The bell dinged, with the number 100 appearing before her guess.

“You’re going good Morgan.  This is the third and final round.  If you get this right, I am authorized to grant you passage into Heaven.  Are you ready?”

“Sure.”

“One-hundred sinful people just like you were asked this final question.  Who do you ask for salvation from and accept as your personal savior?”

Morgan laughed and hit the buzzer.  “You.”

“Why, thank you.  Let’s see if anybody else did.  Show me Ray Combs!”  The bell dinged.  Ray’s name appeared in the air, with the number 2 beside it.

“And those two people have a copy of our home game!  But you have another chance.  Do you have an answer?”

“I think I do Ray!”

Morgan knew the answer all along.  It was the hardest thing she ever had to do.  And Ray Combs helped her do it.

“My answer is Jes…”  Before she could finish, Morgan felt a tingling sensation.

“Damn it, not another one!” shouted Ray.  He watched as Morgan phased out of and back into the area.

“What’s happening?” Morgan’s look of peace had changed to fear.

“The doctors are bringing you back to life.  Now listen very carefully.”  Ray placed his fingers on Morgan’s temples and looked directly into your eyes.  “You will forget everything that’s happened here.  When you wake up, all you will remember is that you moved up through a tunnel that was filled with a radiant white light.”

And with that, Morgan disappeared.

Ray Combs sighed.  “Morgan,” he said to no one, adjusting his tie.  “I hope I never see you again.”

Spooky: Whoa. This is a riot, but also pops with drama, as Combs himself was a suicide victim (nice job assuming I’d know this already, Survivor; I do indeed have a twisted obsession with death). It’s a hard thing to use comedy to bring out this much of an emotional response, but here we are. Excellent stuff. 5

DK: This was funny and touching all together. Another great concept, and I really got a kick out of this case. I was hoping it was going to get even more towards dark humor for a little bit, but I don’t really have a problem with the way it ended up going. 3

I thought of this concept with four hours left until the deadline, and I wasn’t sure even where to go with it.  But I felt Ray Combs was an amazing game show host so it was easy to write for him.  I was surprised that I was able to fit some poignancy into the script.  Adjusting his tie at the end was a nod to the way he ended his own life.

Also, being that I work with people on a daily basis who contemplate suicide, I wanted to make a point in the story that one of the most dangerous things someone can do to someone who is considering suicide or has attempted is to make them feel shameful for doing so.  People who are at that point need love, compassion, and support.  Not judgment.

But I have to be honest.  I can’t stop giggling at the sight of Ray Combs yelling, “Show me getting the sack with a black for some crack!”