Sacrifice Flash Duel Semifinals

Flash Fiction Contest
// 22 October 2018
Sacrifice Flash Duel Semifinals

Sacrifice Flash Duel Semifinals.

This contest is being held in honor of Late Joseph Blankson, a Nigerian man who died to save his co-passengers from a capsized boat. He may be dead but he is immortalized in our hearts.

12 finalists have emerged from a pool of beautiful entries. Now, three contestants are still standing. Their pens are drawn, poised and they are ready to battle in honor of this legend.

Today, the three contestants (Julie Onoh Ogechukwu Kanma Samuel and Daniel Niyi Mofobi) are in the ring going at each other’s throat, only two will move to the finals.

The writing prompt is – “300 words, A LONG WAY HOME.”

Sacrifice Flash Duel Semifinals Rules of Engagement

* Read the THREE stories to the end before voting. YOU CAN ONLY VOTE FOR ONE STORY OUT OF THE THREE.

*Visit the official voting page of the Sacrifice Flash Duel Semifinals, that is, Chioma Ngaikedi’s Facebook Wall

*Vote CLEARLY the story you think best interprets the theme or prompt.

* Critique if you can.

*Tag others to come read and vote the Story of their choice

* DO NOT guess who wrote which.

* DO NOT tell people which story to vote for.

Voting for Sacrifice Flash Duel Semifinals ends on Wednesday, October 24, 2018 by 5pm (GMT+1)

STORY ONE

IN BROKEN MEMORY

The 13 year old walked slowly, his little feet dragging him along. Commandant was in front, urging the boys to move. Timi couldn’t care anymore, he was tired. His gun hung heavy on his shoulder. Above him, the sun gloated from the safety of the sky.

“Stay sharp, boys,” commandant ordered.

Timi failed horribly at maths in school, but he knew they were more than 50 before the attack last night. Now, they were less than half that number.

A sound caught his ears; Timi froze and listened carefully, wading through the forest had taught him his ears were more important than the rest of his body. Hyper collided into him.

“What’s the problem?” Hyper hollered.
Timi listened for a while. Nothing. “Nothing,” he said and continued.

Hyper, he couldn’t be more than 12, vulnerable looking, and always trying to cover that with a forbidding frown on his face; he reminded Timi of his younger brother. Lost younger brother. As Hyper followed, the first gunshots exploded through the day, narrowly missing them.

“Down!” Timi screamed. His gun sprang into his hands. He didn’t know where to shoot, but he held the trigger anyway. His bullets distracted the ambush team long enough for commandant to come back with the other boys. Bullets whizzed and swished through the air. The enemy had men hiding in places the boys could not reach.

“Go! Go!” commandant screamed.

The boys moved back, retreating.

“Fucking move! Run!”

They turned and raced through the forest. A resounding boom shook the place, knocking the boys to the ground.

“What?” Timi thought with his head swimming from the explosion. The enemies were gone, but so was the commandant.

It had been 8 months, this war, littering bodies like broken memories along the way. And home was not any closer.

STORY TWO

HUMANITOPIA

Humanitopia, 2045

Anita was late. A dreadful thought seized Uyi. Had she been caught? Rustling leaves soon announced her arrival. “My love, I’m so sorry. I had to run a last minute errand for Master.”

“Did he notice anything?’’, He asked. She shook her head.

He enfolded her in his arms, drawing strength from her rosy scent. Life in Humanitopia was a nightmare. Worse, the world had no real knowledge of the truth, thanks to illusions presented through artificial intelligence. People assumed humans lived freely with humanoids, whereas, THEY WERE SLAVES. Slavery they had unknowingly walked into after visiting. Here, slaves were killed for copulating or even worse, getting pregnant. His hold tightened on Anita. They would cross over to the desert and be free. Losing all hope of communication with the outside world was a small price to pay for the life of their unborn child. Few humans ever succeeded in crossing but they had to try. It was the only way out.

Suddenly, they were surrounded by humanoids; hundreds of them. ‘’There she is. Told you the tracker was a great idea.’’ It was Rharon, Anita’s master.

Anita pushed him and screamed, ‘’Run!”

Uyi refused, though fear had seized him but she insisted, “One of us should live. They want me! Go!”

A humanoid rushed towards him, sword in hand, murderous intent fully displayed. Uyi needed no further prompt. He ran, quickly gaining speed – an advantage of humans over robots – Anita’s screams echoing after him. Finally, he reached the border and caught sight of his travel guide, George. Relief surged through him as he yelled, ‘’ Thank goodness. We must leave before those evil humanoids catch up with us!’’ His guide turned to him with a heinous smile. It was a humanoid in George’s clothes.

STORY THREE

THE PRICE

“OPEN CELL 58. Inmate 213, you are now a free man.”

Those words… It took me twelve years to finally hear them.

As I followed the warden out of the prison, the memories of that night, twelve years ago, flashed through my mind: The distress call from Omolola– she’d just gotten home, and someone was breaking into her house, or so she had thought. The five minutes drive to her house seemed the longest in my whole life. I loved her, and I couldn’t live if anything happened to her. I rushed into her apartment but I was a few minutes late. I met her sobbing bitterly, and lying dead in a puddle of his own blood was a man. Lola had just fatally shot the plumber, whom she mistook for an intruder. She forgot that she had ordered for his services earlier in the day, and even told him where to find the house key. Now a man is dead, and someone had to take the fall. I took the fall. I did it for love. Twelve years is enough testament of my loyalty.

I knew she was waiting for me by the gate of this prison. She promised she would. She owed me that. She owed me a fresh start. A home.

How much does love go for these days: A bouquet of scented roses? A ring? Or a casual ‘will you marry me?’ Well, mine cost twelve years of the best part of my life; and even as I saw my pregnant lover whom I hadn’t seen in four years, carrying a little girl and waiting for me by the gate, I knew I’d been cheated on, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t turning back from her. A dozen years is a long way home.

 

The top two contestants in this contest move onto the finals of the competition.

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