Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Writing (01/11/07)
TITLE: The Runaway Writer
By Kenn Allan
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The novel in my mind;
A thousand plots spin through my head
(Though none have been outlined).
With confidence, I grab my pen
And lock the office door,
Encouraged by the how-to books
I'd skimmed the night before.
A ream of paper on my desk
Lies waiting, clean and white,
Then, almost like a living thing,
My pen begins to write ...
Upon a dark and stormy night
Beside a nameless sea,
A Hero treads upon the sand
For reasons known to he.
When suddenly a scream is heard
From somewhere up the beach;
The Hero sprints with nostrils flared
And brawn none dare impeach.
A Girl is fighting for her life
Against a dozen foes;
But thrashed by blazing martial arts
They flee The Hero's blows.
The Girl and Hero fall in love,
A most contentious pair—
Exchanging banter on the beach
To show how much they care.
In the meantime, far up north,
An earthquake shakes the pole,
When sunlight heats the ozone shield
And thaws a gaping hole.
A pirate ship with frozen crew
Glides from its icy tomb,
Defrosted with a vengeful dream
That carnage should resume.
Perched atop a tidal wave
Caused by the polar quake,
It sails a Caribbean course,
With ice cubes in its wake.
Meanwhile, back upon the beach,
With lipstick smeared and kissed,
The Girl observes an attaché
Chained to The Hero's wrist.
She queries about what's inside;
His answer is concise:
The case contains a prototype—
A nuclear device.
No sooner was his secret spilled,
The ocean's surface cringes
And vomits forth a tidal wave
With ice-encrusted fringes.
It lifts The Hero off the shore
Amid cruel pirate laughter,
And slams him on a rotting deck—
The Girl came tumbling after.
Oh, what a valiant fight ensues
As rusty sabers clash,
But not one pirate hits the deck
Beneath The Hero's slash.
As chunks of epidermis fly,
One pirate loses face;
These aren't buccaneers at all ...
But aliens from space!
They stun The Hero and the Girl
And share these fearsome facts:
They plan to microwave the earth
And use mankind as snacks.
The Girl attempts reciting poems
To woo the skinless crew,
But both were banished off the ship
By vote of 8-2.
The Hero drops his attaché
And flips a switch marked, "FIRE!"
Which starts them guessing which to cut:
The green or yellow wire?
He plops the Girl into a boat,
And drops both to the sea,
Then dives with pure Olympic grace
Near where she floated free.
Soon after climbing safe inside
And straining at the oars,
The Hero spies some dorsal fins
Of hungry dinosaurs.
Luckily, before they gnaw
The dinghy to a raft,
Some shots ring out from guns aboard
A naval landing craft.
Hooray! The soldiers save the day!
But each one fears his fate,
And shares sad tales of hometown bliss
Before it is too late.
The Hero comforts one and all
With super-sized conviction,
Reciting Scripture just enough
To deem this Christian fiction.
Then with a loud unnerving jolt
The transport runs aground,
And soldiers spill onto the beach
While bullets whiz around.
A sergeant taps The Hero’s arm,
With helmet in his hand,
And begs for him to lead the troops
To free this troubled land.
Up the hill the soldiers charge
Where angels fear to tread,
To face an enemy from hell—
An army of the dead!
Their evil leader spurs them on;
A wizard dressed in black,
Who casts his spells with deadly aim
Astride a dragon's back.
One of these curses hits the beach
And zaps the Girl in hiding
Who turns into an octopus
With tentacles a-sliding.
Then suddenly, a mushroom cloud
Glows in the distant sky,
And airborne bits of pirate ship
Rain down in great supply.
Like a spear, the mizzen mast
Impales the wizard's chest;
His body crumbles into dust
Along with troops possessed.
But sadly, at the water's edge,
The victory is flawed—
The Hero learns the Girl he loves
Remains a cephalopod.
Reflecting on their moments shared,
And kids not meant to be,
Our Hero rips free from her hugs,
And lobs her out to sea.
* * * * *
I scrawl "The End" and sheath my pen,
Exhausted without equal ...
Perhaps I'll take a little nap
Before I write the sequel.
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