The Instigator
Pro (for)
1 Points
The Contender
Con (against)
11 Points

Creative Stories (3000 characters max)

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Post Voting Period
The voting period for this debate has ended.
after 2 votes the winner is...
Voting Style: Open Point System: 7 Point
Started: 1/25/2015 Category: Miscellaneous
Updated: 1 year ago Status: Post Voting Period
Viewed: 515 times Debate No: 68908
Debate Rounds (2)
Comments (2)
Votes (2)




The first round is only for acceptance, the second round is for the story.
Most creative story should get arguments and sources, and the best spelling and grammar gets spelling and grammar, and conduct is assigned to the story the voter likes.


I accept and look forward to the story.
Debate Round No. 1


John was walking into a chamber, brightly lit on the back wall with two lights without a transparent lampshade. He immediately lifts his hand up to block the light, trying to see whatever is in the room with him.
He sees two men, one with lots of muscle mass, the other short, but holding a weapon. He instantly realizes he should leave, and he runs back to the door, when someone from the outside, looks and slams the door shut.
There is a chair, resembling a lawn chair, except it was metallic, and glowing hot from the bright lights.
"Okay, you got me locked in this room. What do you want?" John says.
"We don't know how to cook!" Says the person with the knife.
"Want some cooking lessons?" John asks.
"Yes, please." Says the person with lots of muscles.
He was coming home from the butcher, so he had some hamburger for his family.
"Okay, first you make a patty with your hands." John says as he starts making a flat slab of meat. "I'll give you a piece of hamburger."
He passes around 1/4 pound pieces of beef, and again makes a patty of his piece of beef.
They struggle with it, John having to try not to throw the beef all over the place in frustration.
They succeed, the frozen beef now almost thawed, when John fashions a pan out of the box, that was unwisely made of metal, and getting hot after spending lots of time in glow of the lights.
"Now, you toss it in the pan." He says.
"Pan?" The ripped guy says, "That's a metal box."
"Well, if you called ahead and asked for cooking lessons, I could have arranged something better." John replies, while being snarky.
The man with the knife suddenly bursts into laughter, so loud it startles John into dropping the patties in sideways, but he quickly bats it onto one side with a spatula he fashioned from the cardboard box holding the beef, as it also contained buns, and other burger fixings.
The chair was a great surface to cook on, making the burger a nice Pittsburgh Rare.
"Hope you like your burger Pittsburgh Rare, this is quite a hot surface to cook on."
John then waits until the outside is pleasantly seared, then says, "So, wait until the burger becomes as done you want, then flip it over, and cook it for an equal period of time. Afterwards, take it out and dress it up."
John then lets the two of them top their burger, then they start eating the burgers. After the other two finish eating their burgers, they see them off, and say, "Thanks for the lessons!"
"You're welcome!"

This entire story, including this entire sentence was 2521 characters.


It was almost like any other day of my depressing life. The same bullies, same homework, the same drama. I am at home. I stop in front of my wooden bedroom door and look down. My hari is skraggled, my shoulders are slouched, falling like they are tear drops. I look up and lift my right hand and place it on that brass doornob. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't go on. My body began to shake as tears began to fall. I noticed the 8 cuts on my left arm. It was about time that this cat took its nine life. I twisted the doornob and entered my room. The lights were off, but the light was seeping through the window. The light formed a ray that landed upon my jewery box. I go to my dresser. I look upon the mirror and brush my long black hair out of my face so that I may look upon myself with both of my eyes to establish a look that is true. On the side of the mirror is a photograph of me and my girlfriend. That was a great time together for the both of us. In 2007, her and I went on a vacation to Colorado Springs and visited the breath taking Pike's Peak. She would later die from a brain tummor. I return to looking at the mirror and barely recognize myself. My eyes were blackend and my skin was pale. I haven't been out much since she died. I opened up the jewery box and pull out my red pocket knife that she had given me before she died.

I flip out the blade. My carelessness got my hand cut. I could barely feel its pain over that of my depression. I look back at our picture and sighed. I crossed out my face next to her blacked out body in the photograph. I sat on my bed. I still held the knife in my hand as I put my head in my hands and began to cry, "God, why? Why? Why? Why?" I reached into my jet black High Sierra book bag and pulled out a pen and a sheet of paper. I began to right my little note.

"Dear Friends and Family, I'm sorry....."

I continued to right. As I finished I threw the pen as hard as I could against my door. Nobody cared! God had forsaken me and I am to burn in hell for not being there to protect her. I cut my arm one last time, marking the ninth time.The blood flowed out of my arm and I licked it as I inhaled that rusty tasting blood. Would the blood of Christ renew me in heaven? I laid back on my bed and swallowed the whole bottle of pills. My eye lids grew heavy and I closed my eyes for the last time.

Later my parents would come home. Dinner was ready and they sent my little brother into the room. He tried to wake me up, but to no availe. He ran back to go get my mother and she came upon my bedside and found the pills and the note. She reads through the note and the realization strikes her. She falls to her knees in tears. My father runs into my room and he instinatly knows what's going on. He shakes me, yelling at me to wake-up. He then embraces my mother and the cry together. Though my younger brother is to young to realize what is happening. He would be effected by this as my parents would always wounder where they went wrong.
Debate Round No. 2
2 comments have been posted on this debate. Showing 1 through 2 records.
Posted by Surrealism 1 year ago
bat9581 Sure, but it does make you think creatively. Arthur C. Clarke once had to write a story in 150 words to fit it onto a post card, but it's still an entertaining story.
Posted by bat9581 1 year ago
A 3k character story? That's awfully short!
2 votes have been placed for this debate. Showing 1 through 2 records.
Vote Placed by carriead20 1 year ago
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Total points awarded:06 
Reasons for voting decision: I wasn't a big fan of Pro's story, it was a little hard to follow. Con's was more realistic which I liked even if it had darkness to it.
Vote Placed by Blade-of-Truth 1 year ago
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Total points awarded:15 
Reasons for voting decision: Conduct - Pro. I liked Pro's story better because it was less dark. I've never been a fan of dark stories, so this is purely a subjective preference of mine. S&G - Tie. Both of you had good spelling and grammar, neither really stood out over the other in that regard. Arguments & Sources - Con. While I liked Pro's story better, I must admit that I found Con's to be more creative. It was very emotional, painted a very clear picture, and overall was one that I found to be more impactful. For these reasons, I believe Con's was more creative, even though I liked Pro's better due to it not being so dark. *This was really good from both sides, and ultimately I'd love to see another one of these between you two down the road.*