A Short Story Challenge

The thread lives! With some cool new additions, too...

UP!

 

mr. boddy, i have learned of a new form of writing today - drabble.
i give it 3 's - one for each.

 

mr. boddy, i have learned of a new form of writing today - drabble.

I should warn you that they can be awfully addictive. I've been writing drabbles since a bit over five years ago -- though the form was around about a decade before that -- and I still canna stop meself.

 

Haha!! MY turn!!

I?m a newbie, but I hope you enjoy this anyways.

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Always Second-Best

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Sabé dropped her crocheting as soon as the door slammed shut against the tropical wind. This planet was beautiful, of course. The best that money and influence could buy. Only the best for the honeymoon of the lovely Senator Amidala of Naboo and her newest boy-toy.

Her mistress was home.

Padmé flounced the room, hair slightly mussed, expensive and intricately sewn dress hanging off one shoulder. ?Help me take this off,? she commanded, imperious tones still present from her days as reigning queen of Naboo.

Sabé complied, silently as usual. Her mistress, no doubt, had been enjoying her afternoon walk with her new Jedi husband. And, judging from the look of her dress, had found some secluded corner in which to enjoy it even more.

The Jedi, of course, all innocence and naivete from his sheltered adolescence in the Temple, was absolutely smitten with his new wife who could, with the smallest smile, get him to do anything. With a simple declaration of ?love?, she had been able to seduce him away from the Jedi forever, making him break his vows of celibacy and bachelorhood. The depths of his devotion were somewhat laughable, and had, indeed, been the talk of many woman-to-woman discussions between handmaidens. Padmé Amidala (or was it Skywalker, now?) was enjoying her newest toy to the extreme, laughing scornfully over him in private during conversations that would have made a Twi?lek courtesan blush.

How many men, Sabé wondered, had her mistress broken over the years? Padmé had always had a gift with the male sex, feigning innocence and chastity as she twirled them around her little finger. Her façade of purity would have done the best holoactors proud. First, of course, had been poor Bail Organa of Alderaan. He?d never truly recovered from her rejection and even now tailed along, hoping to regain her favor. There were rumors, of course, of an affair with the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi, and, even, whispered about in the quietest voices, the secretest corners, about an ongoing relationship with old Chancellor Palpatine himself....

Sabé almost felt sorry for the boy.

Suddenly, Padmé?s hand shot out, grabbing her handmaiden?s hand as she struggled with a clasp. Sabé stifled a cry of pain. ?So...,? her mistress whispered. ?So.? She laughed, then, a bell-like bubbling that seemed utterly inappropriate for the cold-hearted woman it came from. ?You disapprove of my relationship with Jedi Skywalker, Sabé?? She turned her head, shooting an amused glance at her handmaiden.

?Not at all, Mistress,? Sabé replied quietly, quelling the little bubble of anger that rose inside her. The former queen?s games had long ago become routine for her, but the little Jedi didn?t deserve this. His was a loveable innocence, an endearing purity that meritted so much more than to be twisted and toyed with.

Her mistress just looked on, amused. ?He loves me, you know. Loved me since that first moment I stepped into his Master?s shop, when he was only a little boy of nine. ?Are you an angel?? ? Padmé lauged, giving the question the high-pitched voice of a small boy. ?I had his heart in my grasp from that moment. And I will do with it as I please, isn?t that right, Sabé?? She tightened her grip of Sabé?s wrist a little, digging her nails a little deeper into the skin. Quite suddenly, Sabé had the mental picture of little Anakin?s heart in those clawed hands, squeezed, pierced....

?Yes, Mistress.?

Padmé laughed again, unconvinced. ?You love him, Sabé,? she taunted. ?You love his endearing innocence, that darling purity. Those golden locks, those crystal blue eyes. You wanted him for yourself, didn?t you??

?No, Mistress. Of course not, Mistress. He is yours.?

?That?s what you tell yourself, of course,? Padmé said, dismissing her denial with a graceful wave of her hand. ?But he is MINE, little handmaiden. You could never get anything you wanted, could you? Always the tail, the shad

 

OOH! Dark Padme! I like!

The thread lives!

 

We can't just let this thread die!! Nowhere else will you find such a complete collection of villainous heroes 'n' heroic villains.... And where else are you gonna find an evil Artoo?!

UP WITH THIS!!

 

Holy smoke! I'd forgotten how powerful and intriguing was the premise of this board - and how incredibly diverse the responses.

TMJ - we're going to have to figure out some kind of award for you - for inspiring such really excellent work, in so many different formats.

CYN

 

*Sniffs* is this thread just getting old? I can't believe it hasn't been touched for so long.... It must be feeling so unloved.

I'm giving it an UP for old times' sake, not that anyone will even look at it again. *sniffles*

UP. =)

 

Sheesh, I hadn't seen that last story. I like your interpretation, vader_incarnate! The cold, calculating Padme... *shivers* Well written! Not so bad for a newbie!

Thanks, Cyn! I'm still working on your gauntlet, but it's coming along nicely.

 

THX. I wrote it, actually, after I realized that, sheesh, it'd already been done on the first page. I kind of followed Chaos_Rose here from fanfiction.net and skipped the first page or so. *sigh* oh well.

*sniffs* I guess no one likes this thread anymore....

 

Hey these are good. Also the way i see it. if someone wants to have in evil Padme do it. Also i might write one of these with a dark Padme. beign evil to one of the twins. muhahahahaha.

 

Wow, these are good! I like the idea and hope to see more

 

Wow! Awsome thread!

 

It may not be dead... just resting... I thought you all would appreciate this: my floor dubbed me the Jedi Princess.

 

I think that "chronic starwars freak" is one of the better names I've earned...

 

*grins sheepishly* Not really sure if this story could fit in here, but I figured that this thread was getting lonely. It's been done, kinda, but oh well. I THINK it could go, but I?m not quite sure. It would fit if the plot bunny hadn?t told be to put in the little twist and ... oops, near spoiler. *winks* Read and see.

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Comes the Night

= = = = =

It is said that whosoever could accurately predict Coruscant's weather even fifteen percent of the time would never be allowed at the sabbacc tables. They are just too lucky.

Too lucky, that is, or Jedi.

A lone figure stood in Coruscant's cemetery that night, the wind and rain raging at his dark form. Shrouded in darkness and cloaked in night, his solitary form appeared to be, to the untrained eye, no more than a shadow amongst the shadows, a darker spot amidst the gloom. He blended in perfectly with his surroundings, a silhouette only slightly darker than the stormy sky, face and body hooded and shrouded from all the world.

Or, at least, he would have blended in perfectly if it wasn't for the rose he carried.

It was a strange rose; beautiful but strange. Not as beautiful as the other exotic plants from all the other billions of planets in the galaxy, but beautiful with an innocent simplicity all the same. Two colors only, not the myriad of rainbows that decorated the more garish flowers, but only the red of the petals and the green of the stem. Not blood-red like most others roses, either, but a fiery kind of orange-red, the color of flame. The color a cheerful hearth at Yuletide as family and friends gather round. But, at the same time, the color of the dreadful fire that flared in this lone figure, a blaze that threatened to devour his very soul.

The rose, he reflected, was so much like her. Beautiful, of course, but dangerous. Especially when one did not watch for thorns. But, once one got past the thorns, one saw a beauty unmatched by any other in all the galaxy.

She didn't deserve to be buried here. Alone among strangers. She should have been buried with her friends, her adopted family. Her adopted homeplanet, even. Not here. Not on Coruscant, in some forgotten corner of a cemetery long abandoned.

He wasn't even supposed to be here. It was supposed to be impossible for anyone to get here. But, again, they hadn't counted on Jedi.

The storm that raged outside on the planet's surface was a perfect reflection of the storm that raged within the Jedi (former Jedi, perhaps? Fallen Jedi?) as he stood by his wife's grave. Conflicting emotions, anger, surrender, hate, love, despair, rushed through his slender frame as he tried to control them as he had been taught. To tame them, to direct them, to release them....

The figure pulled back his hood to reveal a handsome, finely chiseled face and unruly locks of tousled blond hair. Ice-blue eyes seemed to look far beyond the here and now, into a place where no others could see as he contemplated the Code of his Order:

There is no emotion; there is peace.
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.
There is no passion; there is serenity.
There is no death; there is the Force.

"No emotion," he breathed, his voice the hoarse whisper of one that had cried very recently. "Peace." No emotion. No anger, no sorrow. But, at the same time, no joy, no happiness. No bliss, no delight.

No, he decided. That was false. There was emotion. And he had yet to find peace.

"No ignorance. Knowledge." Another lie. Hadn't ignorance been what led him here in the first place. Ignorance of the ambush that killed her? The willful ignorance of the Republic that had led them to this crossroad?

There was ignorance, then.

"No passion. Serenity." No hatred. But, at the same time, no love. He had felt love. Had felt its liquid euphoria running through his veins, its ecstasy affecting his mind and heart. And the one he had loved lay before him, cold and still, bound in eternal sleep.

Passion, too.

"No death, only the Force." H

 

Oops, double-post.

Ignore this.

 

We've seen an unbelievable amount of quality posts in this thread, and for that fellow writers, I salute you. I'm going to give this my go, about my favorite wasted character....


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The airtaxi sped by into the flow of Coruscanti traffic, ruffling the dark cloak that covered the face of the Justice of the Night.

That was what the meek, the defeated, the forgotten of Coruscant's lower levels whispered in the night. Like Lord Nyax on Corellia, and, he thought with a small amount of genuine amusement, the Sith themselves, he had woven a myth, a tale for the commonfolk to tell. They claimed that Justice knew all. That he saw what couldn't be seen, and in the darkest moments of the night he would come for the wicked.

It was ironic, the Sith Lord known as Darth Maul mused, that he possessed a type of duality even within the realm of mythology. For he was Sith, something that the Galaxy as a whole classified as the ultimate evil; yet he was also Justice, the protector of the weak.

The Galaxy was an ironic place indeed.

Turning from the edge of the building that he had been standing upon, Lord Maul walked deeper within the shadows of Coruscant's deadly underworld, hunting.
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Within Maul, indeed within all Sith, there existed a quality that he had learned how to use and the Jedi had learned to repress. This quality and how it was utilized formed the dividing line that separated Jedi and Sith. That quality was compassion.

The Jedi and their preachings of love and acceptance...the very thought made a low growl rise from the cowled face, terrifying a prostitute who had started to approach him into running. The Jedi based their world, their perceptions on the flawed assumption that the world was inherently good, that the capacity for evil did not lurk within the heart of all living beings. The Sith knew better. They knew that the weak must be more than protected, more than sheltered, they must be avenged. Maul himself loved all beings. The unfortunate, the unlucky, the outcast...he loved them all. He loved them so much that he would kill their oppressors without a second thought for them. He would give them a second chance at life. As long as he had breath, Darth Maul would fight for what he loved. He would fight with his anger, his hatred, towards those that might harm anything he loved.

Protect, Maul thought. What were the Jedi protecting? Their ideals, more than anything. I am not a protector, I am an avenger.
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His Force senses on constant alert, Lord Maul was transformed into a super-predator. His senses, speed, strength...all were heightened. But it wasn't these abilities that made him so dangerous to the wicked. It was his ability to see the future.

The Force showed him glimpses, indeed it seemed to be directly aiding him in his quest. This particular night, the glimpse was stronger, more vivid, than he was accustomed to. That meant time was running short.

He closed his eyes and saw it. A sickly red glow from the neon sign hung lopsidedly at the entrance to a seedy bar. The Bantha Barroom. Maul knew where that was, well within his usual patrol range. It was then that the Force showed him what was happening outside this bar, and Maul felt his anger take over. A man, obviously drunk, twice the size of the girl he was forcing himself upon. She struggled futiley, managing to get in a knee to the groin of her assailant before turning to run down the alley, screaming for help that she knew would never come. The man, striving to remain upright, reached out with a meaty paw and grabbed her arm, yanking her back. Through the vision, Maul heard the pop of her shoulder coming out of socket.

He opened his eyes, and in the space of one breath and the next, he became the hunter.
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Through the lower levels of Coruscant, the Dark Side of the Force nearly gave him wings. A dar

 

Wow! Go away for a few days - and all kinds of excellence happens.

JMA - really thought-provoking - and a totally unique slant on Maul. Well written and original in raising some interesting questions.

Vader_I - chilling and immaculately logical; the surprise leaves one feeling that one should have expected it. Nicely done - and I wouldn't change a thing. It's much more gripping as is.

CYN

 

Hey thanks a bunch for the kind words Cynical. I agree, this thread is fantastic! Epic stories, which this forum is known for, are absolutely great, but I'm really really enjoying all of these new writing styles and perspectives crammed into a single thread. It's awesome, kind of like a SW Fic quick-fix, you know? I'm hoping to write another. Writing evil characters from a good perspective is certainly interesting!

JMA

 

up!

JMA

 

Oooo. I loved the Luke/Mara story. Did you ever think of continuing it? What happens next? Is he redeemed?

(oh, yes, where are my manners?) Great work EVERYONE!

 

something i toyed with, i hope it works for the rules.

I am a big Luke fan, as well as Anakin was always good, he defeted vader kind of guy.

Like Father, Like Son

Luke stood; the lust of the power filled him. He just used the fullness of what his father had embraced many years ago. He nodded at his father, and he understood. It was time.

Luke turned to the laughing Emperor, malice in his heart.

?Your anger has made you powerful? hissed the Sith Lord.

?Yes it has? Luke answered looking at the elderly man standing in front of him.

?So you will join me, taking your father?s place??

?No, I have better plan, one in which I take my father?s place and he takes yours?

Shock came across the Emperor?s face.

?How dare you threaten me, I am more powerful than you can even imagine.? A bolt of Force lightning exploded from his finger tips, but stopped by Luke?s green blade.

?You are weak old man, far past your years; you?ve even begun to think irrationally. Why would I want to follow you, a frail pitiful old man, when my own father, my own flesh and blood can be my Master? I am sorry your highness, but its time to die.? With a swift motion of his blade, Luke burned through the emperor?s neck, slicing and burning away the life that still remained. The head rolled to the floor as the body fell limp at Luke?s feet. He stood there, savoring his victory and moved to his father.

?Father, Master?we must get you to the medical unit.?

?Luke we must leave this place, the rebels have taken control of the battle?

?No father, I have stopped them, for what they don?t know is that the explosive they carry are duds. We should be safe.?

Under the mask Vader smiled, his boy was his apprentice and now he could teach him all he needed to know to harness his great power.

Luke helped his father to the medical ward, where they helped heal the wounds that he had suffered from the battle.

Word soon spread that there was a new Emperor, and for the first time in twenty five years Vader used his real name. Emperor Skywalker, as his son took his old name, and became the new Lord Vader.
*****************************************

Yoda

 

Yay! The thread lives!!

TMJ, do you have any idea how addicting this little plot bunny of yours is? THX!! This is so much fun....

JMA- Whoa. Very, like CYN said, thought-provoking. It kind of forces you to rethink everything about Maul and the Sith in general.

CYN- THX!! I had lots of fun writin' it, too. Didja catch the name-game? I'm "Vader-Incarnate". I just resurrected Vader...

Rima- Yet another THX! Actually, yeah, I did think of continuing it. *grins sheepishly* It's not really the point of this board, I guess, but I really want to go on with that story. I'll add it to my sig if I do.

Yoda- *Gasps!* You turned Luke evil!! ... Just kidding. Nice work. Like father, like son indeed.

 

Wow! Three compelling new tales!

Kudos to the authors, you all did a great job.