Finish the story, earn 3 steembasicincome shares + SBD! Week #5
Dear friends and fiction-addicts, week n. 5 has come and this time I want to challenge you with a story based in Ukraina, Chenobyl nuclear plant. Can you handle it?
A contest with a pot of 3 @steembasicincome shares + the SBD payout? You're in the right place!
I write a story, you finish it, you get rewarded. Everyone will get a reward and enjoy each other stories! Not bad right? :-)
The Hollywood Effect
The still sky of February was a dirty white brick above the town of Chernihivs'ka, an hour and a half east from the Chernobyl nuclear power plant. That morning was so cold that even breathing was hurting.
The old lada advanced through the Desnyans'kyi district, directed to the Hollywood Mall like an uncertain icebreaker in spring along the Bering Strait. "Hollywood Mall, what a dumb fucking name," thought Hennadiy, driving his lada- icebreaker, crusted with old mud and ice. There was nothing further from Hollywood than that human agglomeration. Especially on a cold winter morning, at the end of a grueling nightshift checking warehouses, placing stupid "Dozor Security" cards under doors or windows.
At the intersection between Rokossovs'koho and Travnia Street, a bright colored billboard caught his attention: a flourishing freckled girl was estatically savoring a spoonful of instant soup antychni smaky.
"Lyubov is more beautiful than you," Hennadiy thought instinctively, and a lump in his throat suddenly formed.
Yes, Lyubov, with your high cheekbones and the blue eyes made of ancient ice, you were so beautiful that it hurted me and when I stared at you, my lost gaze, you used to burst out laughing, throw me a fist, then we made love. You were a fierce and joyous creature, never aware of how much your beauty could set those around you in awe. You.. we were many things before your light began to fade and your colors faded away too, like the sad fences I now watch from the fucking Hollywood mall. Until this nightshift will be over. Until you too will be finished, distant from me, in the hands of another lover named heroin. Thinking that everything had started as a foolish game, with that Nazar "the Spaniard", his feigned friendship and his pearls of wisdom like "After three times you have to stop otherwise you'll get the monkey". All our dreams went to hell, Lyuba, I let you do that, I let you slip away slowly together with our future.
Hennadyi finished the cigarette, throwing the stump, extinguished well before touching the icy puddle.
Enveloped in his thoughts, a memory suddenly surfaced bringing a glimmer of hope.
He remembered of that night when he finally faced Nazar and beat him hard, his face swollen by his fists after the fight: "If you really care to make a change in your life, why don't you follow me in the zone? I could have an interesting job for you. After that, you can buy all the smack you want for your Lyuba".
Hennadyi was seven years old when, in 1986, the reactor exploded, interrupting for more than a year his games in the yard and distorting the life of his whole family. His father, a surveyor, had worked on the almost impossible rehabilitation of the nuclear power plant, right in the area of reactor n.4. The coffin. They were called "liquidators" and it was thanks to their heroic and, unfortunately, unconscious work that the radiation was contained within the areas subsequently called "alienation zone".
The worst areas, with radioactivity exceeding 40 curies per square km of cesium 137, had been completely confiscated and closed. That exclusion was in force till today. For security reasons, at least this was the official version.
It was Wednesday, Hennadyi promised himself that in the evening he would go to the old canteen, the Dining Chernobyl n. 19, to meet that son of a bitch of Nazar and understand more.
For those that want to join the fun, here is how this contest works:
1. I write an unfinished fiction story
2. You finish it with a comment in the comment section or your own post
3. YOU WIN! For next round, I will donate at least 3 @steembasicincome shares, all to one or divided between more writers with the most engaging ending + Wednesday's post SBD PAYOUT will be rewarded between all the participants who won't get one of the 3 shares (I'm the unquestionable judge. Well, technically not me.. the bananafish voices within my head are).
It's super simple and most of all we'll enjoy our fiction ideas!
Nothing is mandatory here, but voting is highly appreciated. Just enjoy and prepare for a trip into my delirious fiction world!
The results will be out on Monday 2nd April, 11 pm avg., UTC +1 (i.e. California is UTC -8). Submission deadline: Monday 2nd April, 8 pm, UTC +1. There will be time for everyone to develop the fiction idea.
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Hannadyi sat at his usual table, in the dark corner of that old canteen, sipping his vodka, watching the door.
He had become a regular at Dining Chernobyl, ever since he beat Nazar.
39 year old Hannadyi, had let a lotta things slip through his hands, but the one thing he loved the most, just walked through the doors, Lyuba.
She sat at his table and helped herself to a vodka, as Hannadyi just stared at her.
"I'm waiting for Nazar" he boasts.
Lyuba give him a puzzled look. "Who?"
"Nazar, that worthless piece of shit." Hannadyi responds.
Lyuba looks into Hannadyi's eyes and says, "Nazar is dead, somebody beat him to a pulp, and dumped him in the alienation zone." She questioned him, "are you alright?"
A smile came over Hannadyi's face as he remembers that night.
He passed her a little baggie, as she kissed him goodnight. "I'll see you tomorrow night Hannadyi."
"Yes you will my lovely Lyuba!"
This is a well written happy ending but I'm left with the curiosity of what's in the middle! 😉
Finish the Fiction Story Week #6 bombs away!
... Maybe get a bottle of wine on the way home. As he walked back into the Hollywood Mall he ached for another cigarette. His hands trembled under the cold of the winter morning. He reached down to the pockets of his coat. 'Just one more for the road' Hennadyi thought to himself. He sparked it and smoked it close to the door of the Mall looking at the sky. The weather report on the car radio said to expect a blizzard in three days time. He didn't particularly believe in weather forecasters but the probability of a blizzard was something to be afraid of. "Fucking days of our lives". He dropped the cigarette and stepped on it. Hennadyi then made his way into the mall. He passed the ground stores which stocked frivolities upon frivolities. He took the staircase as he did every morning. Never believed in elevators. He made it to his office and tried to open it with his keys. "You're late again" his boss, a fat short man said. "That's three times in a row. It's coming out of your paycheck." Hennadyi entered and slammed the door behind him "Fucking days of my life"
Very nice and well written! Altough you focused on his daily life, more than on the narrative ideas in the prompt, you perfectly continued the story's mood.
Finish the Fiction Story Week #6 bombs away!
Such ... surrealistic ending))
Since then, flew a year and now ..... Mushrooms! Mushrooms! Fresh mushrooms! Screaming wishing the lady, standing on the road Kiev-Rokytno. Cars amicably stopped and filled bags with handsome mushrooms and boobies ........ in the memory of my grandmother, time erased those sad events .... and mycelium remembered everything! Its task was to carry on further its radioactive disputes over the expanses of Ukraine, with which amateurs of mushroom soup perfectly cope ........
С тех пор пролетели года, и вот .....Грибы! Грибы! Свежие грибы! Кричала пожелая дама, стоя на трассе Киев- Рокитно. Автомобили дружно останавливались и заполнялсь пакеты с красавцами белыми грибами и подосиновиками........в памяти бабушки, время стёрло те печальные события ....а грибница помнила всё! Её задача была нести дальше свои радиактивные споры по просторам Украины, с чем отлично справлялись любители грибного супа........
Mushrooms and.. boobies? I'm curious about this association..
Yes, boobies, buy contaminated mushrooms, eat themselves and feed their children, buy where they are cheaper and resell ......... the saddest thing is that this is not a fantasy, so it really is. The trees close to Chernobyl are burned on coals, then this coal is packed into sacks and sold everywhere for a barbecue. Radiative dust does not choose where to fly it))
So I liked the ending of the story?)))
I often use fiction to exorcise the horrors of reality, which are usually deeper than those in an invented story.. To you goes all my respect and thank you for reminding us what a tragedy it's been.
I lived in the neighboring region for a long time, I built objects in the second and third radioactive zones. I remember well the day it happened.
I saw people who worked directly at nuclear power plants in those days, one worker met in twenty years after the tragedy, Thank God he was alive. But he has a lot of radiation burns.
What happened in your family and your daily lives right after? I was seven and far from that (north east italy) but i remember i couldnt eat vegetables..I can't imagine what it meant for you..
Thank God, our family has bypassed this misfortune. No one knows exactly how many people suffered. Then all was silent. On the day of the tragedy, Swan Lake ballet was broadcast on all two)) programs on television.
Finish the Fiction Story Week #6 bombs away!
"Vodka?"
"Comrade Hennadyi. A true Soviet. Please pour me a shot and lets drink our sorrows away," said Nazar slumping with hazy eyes.
Hennadyi poured the drinks while chainsmoking. He took two serious shots before Nazar took a sip with lips of scar tissue from his beating that night.
"And Lyuba. Where is she?" Demanded Hennadyi.
"Ha." Nazar laughed as if sighing. "You still don't understand do you. You work so hard comrade. In the cold, you work harder than all us Russian peasants put together. Your father a hero who saved us all. Only we don't want to work so hard Lyuba and me. We want to be stars in Hollywood. We live our dreams until the drugs are gone. Then we get some more. What's the point. Did you really think you would marry Lyuba and have children?"
Hennadyi drank some more. Smoked some more. All in silence. If they were playing chess then he couldn't find his move. He watched as "the Spaniard" slept and outside it began to snow.
I didn't expect this.. and I liked it! You created a perfect atmosphere and dialogue.. well done!
Finish the Fiction Story Week #6 bombs away!
LOL. Got to put my thinking cap on this week. Might try to find what you were listening to. It did make me think of The Lords of Hemp though. A story I've been working on since 2008. Want to project into the future.
Maybe we can write something together one day.. with @marcoriccardi we were discussing about making shorter stories for the contest..perhaphs it's better to keep it easy going ..🤔
Now Following @marcoriccardi. That might be a good idea. Difficult to write an ending to a story when it feels more like the middle of the story.
Uhm did it give you that feeling? Ok duly noted.. Marco is an editor of roleplay games and other stuff, a cool dude definitely and someone who knows a lot of stuff.
Definitely undervalued imho.. we need to find a way to exploit steemit. I'd write seriously if i know i could have some support..
Sounds good. I hear you. From what I've been reading it's all about the price of Steem. When low participation drops. When high everyone starts writing and posting stuff.
True.. even the voting power it's extra low but higher SP reward however. This crypto winter is healty, some rest from the hype is necessary. And it's good also for steemit, more space for genuine relations and contents ✌️
Hennadyi walked into the foul canteen. The flourescent lights flickered, and it smelled of cheap beer. Hennadyi squinted in the gloom. The canteen was empty except for three men in the corner. A man of average build was smoking a cigar. Beside him were two large men with shaved heads and dark sunglasses. Hennadyi approached and recognized Nazar with the cigar, though he was surprised to see the expensive suit and cufflinks. As he approached, suddenly the two large men stood up. Hennadyi stopped, and growled “Nazar”.
Nazar smiled a toothy grin, “Ah, hello my friend, please join us”. The two goons grabbed Hennadyi and roughly searched him, nearly tearing his clothes. Hennadyi struggled, but was quickly relieved of his .44 magnum. The goons pulled him into the booth, sitting on either side of him, each keeping a hand on one of his shoulders. Nazar picked up the gun and studied it, “American yes?, you must know that this is contraband comrade”. Nazar leaned in and whispered, “As a faithful citizen I should turn you in to the authorities”. Hennadyi was in shock, thoughts racing, trying to make sense of the scene. “Where is Lyubov?”. “Dead”, Nazar replied. Hennadyi lunged for Nazar, but the two goons held him down, and one slammed his face against the table, hard. Hennadyi briefly saw stars, his cheek burned from the impact. Nazar calmly exhaled smoke in Hennadyi's face, “I warned her that she'd had enough, but she was insatiable. In the end she even worked in the brothels, she should have listened to me”. Hennadyi's face contorted, “You killed her!, she never would have started!”. Nazar sat like a stone, eyes like black pools. “We all make our own choices, yes?”.
“Take me for instance, I work for myself. I supply the whole city. I provide the highest quality, and my customers are faithful. I don't have to steal bread from the market anymore, but some are jealous. That is why my friends here protect me, from my enemies”. His eyes narrowed, “but I cannot afford enemies, take him in the back!”
Hennadyi was dragged into a back room, and thrown on the floor. He heard Nazar locking up the canteen and turning off the lights. Nazar walked in and said with a sneer, I've always wanted to fire one of these”. Hennadyi felt the cold muzzle against his head, then everything went black.
Hennadyi awoke to cold water splashing his face. His head felt like it was in a vise, and the ringing in his ears was disorienting. Through the fog in his brain he saw a large shiny head. “Boss!, wake up” One of the large bald headed men was kneeling over him with great concern. Hennadyi slowly sat up, struggling to understand. “He's awake!, said the man with obvious relief”, “We buried him in the yard, with the others. Nobody saw a thing, are you hurt?” Hennadyi grunted, slowly realizing his “insurance plan” had worked. He had not intended to kill Nazar. Long ago he had customized a .44 magnum to fire backwards, the bullet would emerge near the top of the handle, after bursting through a plug of candle wax and soot. It wasn't foolproof, if anyone opened the chamber, they would see the bullets facing backwards, but fortunately Nazar hadn't checked. Nazar had shot himself in the face, it must have been messy. Why did the goons bury Nazar? Hennadyi suddenly understood. He reached up and pulled the bald man's sunglasses off, and saw his sightless eyes, focused towards the ceiling. The man was surprised, saying “Boss?” Hennadyi didn't speak, but groaned and dropped the glasses, to make himself seem delirious. The bald man immediately followed the sound and retrieved his glasses. The huge man lifted him and laid him on a luxurious bed.
It all came together, the two goons were flash blinded by the nuclear explosion in 1986, and ever since they had relied on the image of strength to maintain their usefulness. Now that Hennadyi knew their secret, their puppy-like vulnerabiltiy and loyalty was almost touching. They naturally thought the dead man was him, so they buried Nazar, and now believed he was Nazar. Hennadyi had been knocked out cold by the reverse recoil of the huge gun held against his head. Hennadyi assumed a false raspy voice and said, “we are leaving today, get the money and the guns”. The bald man obediently left his side to comply. Hennadyi wept silently for Lyubov, not even knowing where she was buried.
Maybe there was justice in the world, not many had a chance like this for a new start. Within 20 minutes the three were on the road. He imagined a quiet cottage in the mountains, the fresh air would do him good. He laughed as he passed “Hollywood Mall”, and never looked back.
Great! The deus ex machina of the customized reverse gun is a stroke of genius.. and I liked how your ending matches with the beginning, closing a circle plus it fits perfectly with the title.. bravo giddy!
Thanks f3nix, it was a big deus ex machina, but it is Easter. ;-)
Finish the Fiction Story Week #6 bombs away!
Mantenerse un momento más en aquella estructura le causaba repugnancia y algo de nostalgia. Todos los recuerdos se le venían de golpe desfigurándole el rostro en una mueca de rabia, tal vez de tristeza. Un mirar lejano le devolvió la estampa última de Lyubov. Se había metido la muerte en las venas y con ella la belleza se le había marchitado como las hojas. Su memoria era limo acumulado en la orilla de una playa. ¿Sería bueno entonces encontrarse con Nazar? Allá a lo lejos una luces de neón es sangre en la mirada. ¿Por qué tantas luces, por qué tanta gente? La vida es un espectáculo -pensó Hennadyi. El tiempo era inclemente afuera, pero inhumano y duro adentro de su corazón. Suspiró.
Hola Nancy! Can you please translate it in English? I know it's bothering but try as we all like to understand your story 👍
Ok, I will treat. Thank you
Staying a moment longer in that structure caused her disgust and some nostalgia. Him they were coming all the recollections at one stroke disfiguring the face in a grimace of anger, maybe of sadness. Looking remotely gave him the last impression of Lyubov. Death had gotten into the veins and with it the beauty had vanished like leaves. His memory was slime accumulated on the shore of a beach. Would it be good then to meet Nazar? There in the distance a few lights of neon it is a blood in the lost look. Why so many lights, why so many people? Life is a spectacle, Hennadyi think. The weather was inclement weather outside, but inhuman and hard inside of his heart. Sigh
You really got the mood of Hennadyi's flow of thoughts without translating the prompt into action.. brava!
Hey f3nix, I think spell check struck again, there is an extra e on the end of heroin, you might want to change that. Thanks for another challenge!
Great! The bloody spell-check.. thanks my friend.
The poorly lit canteen hides the ugly details of the place; the dusty furniture and litters, remnants of splashes of liquor drunken men conservatively left behind and other intangible tragedies only reflected in faces among garbage that much needed to be taken out. In this cesspool of dissonant figures there was one piece of garbage Hennadyi felt needed to be taken out but, he was a rational man. His eyes somersaulted in the dim room and an iota of joy jumped out on his face, perhaps a reward of familiarity or control, as he saw the Spaniard, followed by a dull anger and flickering anxiety. He sat across Nazar and rested both his arms on the table as an act of faith. Nazar spoke in his usual tone of cocktail of overconfidence and narcissism, "I told you you would come around, didn't I tell you that? I did. didn't I?" "No doubt, he's drugged out.", Hennadyi contemplated. "I need money.", after much deliberation and silence Hennadyi spoke grimly swallowing his pride to which Nazar visibly rejoiced. "Remember that muddy playground.. by the school.. with green and yellow seesaws and.. ", Hennadyi interrupted "Yes! the Playground, what does that have to do with me?" "Meet me there tomorrow after your shift. bring a big bag" "Lyobov?" Hennadyi's voice shakes. "She's fine, she's... fine."
"My wife has become a slave to a stalker and a grave robber and I am doing his chores.", Hennadyi spit in disgust as he leaves the canteen. "No matter, I will cure her at any cost." His routine takes over and time drones on with few cigarette breaks. He reminds himself to carry a knife and a bag to the playground tomorrow before he falls asleep.
Hennadyi waits for Nazar at the playground a little anxious and distracted by his own thoughts. Nazar arrives with three more goons to which Hennadyi reacts by naturally assuming the worst, "is this the bottom of dishonor in you heart?" Nazar laughs and reasons: "I knew he'd think that. Didn't I tell you guys? I did. I did. Relax. I'm not a murderer.", Nazar points to himself, "This. Man. Is. Not. A. Murderer. The loot needs big arms that's all. And you. It needs you. The center of the mystery. The chosen one." Nazar contemplates a while and speaks again erratically, "Do you remember where your old house is? we're going there first. A lots of money is involved." "The drugs have eaten through your brain. That place will kill us.", Hennadyi argues with reason. The goons quizzically look at each other's faces. "Follow me and you'll be fine. Each of you gets 1.5 million.. DOLLARS ok 1.5 MILLION dollars." All four follow Nazar quietly as he expertly tread in between the radiation spots and slow static ticks of Geiger counter fills the cold February night. The old familiar shapes resonate with Hennadyi's memories but, traveling this deep into isolation zone is no excursion to stop and cherish. Hennadyi quickly takes the team to his old home. Nazar takes out flash lights from his bag and starts looking around the ground. "The basement. Where is it?". "Right there.", Hennadyi confidently points to a wooden plank. Nazar raises the plank by the hinge and where there should've been a dim flight of stairs was a faint yellow golden glow to Hennadyi's surprise. All five rush through the flight of stairs to this place resembling an imaginative palace or treasury of fairy tales' creatures. Gold everywhere, Vials and vials of gold before a large metallic pipe toward east, facing the reactor. "Your father did this." Nazar whispered to Hennadyi still in awe and speechless. "My father did this."
The gold had formed by slow neutron bombardent on mercury. This phenomena was proved in 1941, years before chernobyl.
Man.. this is rich and shows talent but the deadline was yesterday! You would certainly have been rewarded. I'll read it better with calm and comment more. Come tomorrow for week #6 one!
That's a bummer. This took me whole evening. Well! Maybe I'll post the whole thing in my blog see if it grabs an eye or two.
I know it's a bummer.. it's understandable that you took time. Unfortunately there was the deadline.. You may partecipate to this new one and - if this is your quality of writing - I'll make sure to reward you. Sure thing you can publish it with my part too, just quote me as the author of part 1 ✌️
Certainly.
However this was brilliant, especially the ending.. at the point I regret I didn't think to this myself lol..did you get a curie vote so far for your works?
Not really. I write poems mostly.