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Voting Style: Open Point System: 7 Point
Started: 8/6/2012 Category: Arts
Updated: 5 years ago Status: Post Voting Period
Viewed: 4,718 times Debate No: 25031
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This is a writers debate! The point of this debate is to shed creativity of both writers. One person will write a passage, and the next person will add on to the story accordingly.

Whoever creates the most interesting continuation/orientation/conclusion of the story wins the vote for "most convincing arguments"

Points for spelling and grammar are awarded as per usual.


1. 72 hours for time to argue.

2. 3 days voting period.

3. At the end of each round, each writer will state in bold, what challenge they have presented to their opponent to overcome.

EX: Jamie must figure out how to talk to her boyfriend about the drugs.

4. Must have completed 11 debates to accept.

5. Round 1 is for acceptance.

This debate will start in round 2.
Thanks in advance to whoever accepts! I look forward to this writers challenge!


Oh heck to the yes.

What many of you may not know, is that TUF's third debate on this site was with me on a similar topic[1]. Unfortunately, that debate was a bit of a flop.

I am very excited about this challenge and whole heartedly look forward to the forthcoming 'arguments'.

Debate Round No. 1


TITLE: 500 sleepless nights.

Chapter 1: Parametric Curves

Life is all about mathematics. I realize this more and more everyday, as I attempt to my hardest divulsions to truck through it. Getting through my walls. The barrier I have set up around myself, from anything bereft of sadness, self confusion, and pity. The thing is; I am generally not a pessimistic person, nor do I tend to feel sorry for myself. However the impending darkness forces itself around me. It creeps in, and makes it way into clouding my every thought, motive, and action. This darkness finds its way into everything I do, despite my best efforts.

It wasn't always like this. No, you could say my life was what most people would define as "Happy". Sure I had complications, road blocks, "Problems". I never liked that word though. The word 'problem' indicates some sort of complaint at the cards we've been given. I don't think like this. Instead of 'hardship', I prefer the word challenges. I could change my attitude at will, and completely implement a sense of self created ecstasy in my life.

That was three years ago though. While I have been consumed with darkness, I have been able to hold on to my principles. It is a "code" if you will. Something I hold on to dearly, and something that keeps me alive to this day.

Coping with the loss of a wife and son is a lot easier in the movies than it is in real life.

My relationships with anyone, and everyone, are a pseudo idea of what I call reality. I fake emotions, though I am eradicated of any and all emotions. I am a monster, born in my darkness, struggling with all of my integrity to fight bad dreams into lucidity. (1)

My job is like the boring straight line in a movie. I work in physical labor, to avoid human contact. I bury myself in hammer and nail, the noblest way to hit at something; anything, in order to deject this vehement (2) darkness. I want it OUT of me.

Today, as I wake, I awake from a dream of numbers, for the first time, in my 500 sleepless nights. A dream that didn't consist of the terrors I experienced from seeing my dead wife and son in that car years ago.
The dream was peaceful. The peace was frightening; an atonement for the dark passenger etched into my brain. But the feeling was, for lack of better words, nice.
The dream was meaningless, in all practicality, but it inspires me today. Floating numbers, equations, explements(3), and equations.
I awake feeling inspired, for some reason still unknown to me. Today is my day off. During a normal day, I would work out, running on a treadmill, lifting, anything to keep my mind away from darkness. This also helped me attempt to stay away from sleep. It's funny, sleep is a thing that most people go to, to escape reality. However for me, sleep has become a thing that has implemented a harsher reminder of reality. Its almost as if my subconscious is sending me a message: You can't hide from this, the truth of what we are....

But today I have developed a new concept train of thought, and that is one of parametric curves(4).

The concept is an ideal, maybe a futile hope for something that cannot be accomplished. Maybe. But I must first choose this for myself.
We humans work just the same as a parametric curve does. We are a straight line, until acted upon by some outside force, or equation. Other humans. They make us who we are. The brevity(5) of the concept is change is allowed upon by the manipulation of something else.
This concept, to me is scary. But I need to do this. I need to physically force myself into a situation where human contact can influence my parametric curve. It my last hope, if I ever want to rid myself of this dark passenger.

I take a shower, put on some clothes, and brush my teeth. It's time to go.

I leave my one bedroom apartment, in Miami, Florida, ready to attempt the impossible. Human connection. The concept has almost a similar effect to that of the effect kryptonite has on superman. But, I can't give up on this idea despite my dark Passengers eager attempts at pulling in my subconscious.

I am in my vehicle, an old, dull black 1992 Honda Accord.

The humming of the vehicles engine purrs rhythmically as I drive towards the coffee place. The name of the place is "Front Porch Café".

I struggle to find a parking spot, but eventually find my luck into the crowded parking lot. As I make my way into the busy Café, I observe my surroundings. There are plenty of people here, a few families, some young couples, and a few people sitting alone at the bar. I figure the bar is where I will have my best luck. I sit down next to an older guy, who I presume is around 45 years old. I am about to say 'hi' when the waitress approaches me.

"Hi, what can I get you sir?" She asks robotically.

"Um.. Err.. Coffee, black, with cream please." I say.

She nods and smiles, though I know it is fake. "It'll be right out."

I turn my attention back to my neighbor sitting parallel to me. What do I say? My goal is merely to distract my brain. Create a separation, a distraction, or even a barrier between my passenger and my subconscious. I hesitate for too long. The man pulls out a few dollar bills from his wallet, and places them on the table to pay for his coffee, then leaves, completely destroying my opportunity.

Then I realize something important. Life is full of opportunities, and every second wasted, is as such; an opportunity wasted. My son, he was 16 years old when he died. He was my best friend, my inspiration. Everything I did, the person I was, was an apparition of the learned habits of my perfect child. Perfection doesn't mean he never did drive me crazy. He was perfect for me still though, as I learned so much from him. Everything. He was and is my mirror.

I make a commitment to myself now, not to waste anymore time. To become a mirror of him, to the ones I meet. If such a man could inspire me to such levels, why could he not do the same to everyone else, through me?

The thought passes through my head just as I get a new neighbor. It is a woman. She looks to be about in her mid 30's, and is really pretty. She has dark brown curls that she pushes behind the loop of her ear, as she orders her drink.
When she is done, I force myself to speak, such that I don't lose my opportunity again. Unfortunately, due to lack of preparation or thought basis, I start the conversation off in a completely weird and un-intentional way.

"I see you like black." I say.

She turns, and looks at me, confused. She is probably wondering, if I was talking to her.
I notice her confusion at my lack of clarity(6), and quickly rephrase.

"Um, I mean your coffee. I mean, I like black too." Wow. An utter failure. In less then 10 seconds, I have managed to make myself sound like a complete idiot. I decide it's time to stop.
Then something un-expected happens. She smiles, and then giggles. Then she responds.

"Then you will like the coffee here. The taste is really sweet, and almost makes me feel as if I am drinking in the feeling of Christmas. The snow, the cheer, and the love. All in one cup of coffee."

Just then, the waitress hands me my cup of coffee, and I nod in thanks, before responding to the woman.

"Snow? In Miami? I would love to see that. Or taste it, I suppose" I say trying to sound my best at being clever. It is only after I think about the statement twice, that I realize how dull of a statement it is.

She still manages a chuckle though. Phew!

"My name is Mandy. What's your name?" she asks genuinely interested.

"What a lovely name. My name is Patrick." I respond.

CHALLENGE: "Patrick is attempting to lift his dark passenger by influencing his parametric curve. He hopes that human contact will relieve him of his darkness, and set him free."



Title: 500 Sleepless nights
Chapter 2: Calculus

It was a rainy May afternoon. My mind rambled through my to-do list as I walked down the school hallway; pick up the check from Grandma, grab some rice from the store, study for calculus final. I've been so busy since mom had to pick up her second job.

Mom. She's always been such a kind, gentle woman. Sometimes I think that might be her biggest flaw. I remember how beautiful she used to be when I was younger; her hair was a deep brown and full of curls, her skin lightly touched from the bountiful Florida sun. It's hard to look at her now with her cast-iron steaks, her face worn out from stress. I remember how she used to sit me down in her lap and read to me from the books she would pick up at the women's center; Winnie the pooh, Little bear, Green Eggs and Ham.

"Geez, what am I doing?"

I pinch the bridge of my nose. I know I can't keep getting distracted like this, not with finals so close. I've worked hard to make it to the top ten percent of my class, if I screw it up now so close to graduation I know I'll lose my scholarship to Gainesville. I couldn't do that to her, not after how hard she's worked.

"I love the smell of rain."

I snap back to life.


"The rain. I love the way it smells after it rains."

"Petroleum asphalt..." I mumble.


"Rain doesn't have a smell, you're smelling petroleum asphalt."

"Why would I..."

"When rains the water vapor in the air makes your sense of smell more acute. You're smelling your surroundings, not the rain. It the road you're smelling right now."

I turn around. A girl with light brown hair and soft green eyes is staring at me. I recognize her from my statistics class.

"You really are smart aren't you."

I shrug it off, I can tell she feels uncomfortable but I hate it when people call me smart.

"I've gotta go, I can't miss my bus. It was nice talking to you."

She scurries off to the bus ramps, I'm left with my thoughts.

It was a little under two years ago that the accident happened. I remember the smell most of all. The roads were slick and Dad couldn't handle the car. He veered into a sidewalk and the car flipped twice. Mom broke her collar bone, I fractured my wrist and broke a few ribs. Dad hit his head on the dashboard and bled. A lot. Thankfully the ambulance arrived on the scene quickly, Mom couldn't stop crying. I was just lost for what to do.

The doctors treated Dad's wounds but he just wouldn't wake up. He almost came to a few times, but all he would talk about was his work.

"The algoritm... Paremetric curve..."

Dad was an engineer. I remember him getting up me up each morning to take me to school, he was always dressed already and holding his trademark thermos. My parents loved coffee. Dad always took his black, but mom would put creamer and spices in hers. I loved the way the house would smell when I woke up each morning. The aroma of fresh ground coffee beans made the place feel more like home. It had finally become one.

Mom just buys the big cans of coffee at Wal-Mart now...

"Dammit." I whisper.

I shake my head. I can't afford to lose focus, Not with only three weeks left until graduation. I'm only 107 out of a class of 1,096, if my grades slip at all I'm out of the top 10. I've always hated Math, and now my future is riding on the three AP math classes I'm needing to graduate with honors.

I stop by Grandma's house and pick up a check from her, then by Wal-Mart to get the rice. It's 6:37pm at this point, I've lost thirty minutes. No matter how hard I try I can't quit thinking about Dad.

"Unless I go and see him, I'm never going to be able to get any work done."I think.
"God knows I haven't gone to see him in two months."

I arrive at the hospital and trudge to his room, there's no one in there but him. I glance at the empty bed, his roommate Mr. Param is gone. There are no vital charts, no messy sheets, no personal belongings; he'd been fighting stage 3 Leukemia since before dad got here. I can't stand to see the sight. I pull the seperation curtain to.

I turn to Dad.

His hair has grown so much since he came here, he had never let it get longer than a centimeter or two and now it was at least four or five inches long.

I don't say anything at first it's not like he can hear me.

"Mom had to get another job. She started working at that diner on north street. she's still working at the dry-cleaning place in the morning."


"I've been working really hard in school. I finally got into the top ten percent."

This feels awkward. I reach out and grab his hand, it's warm. I'm gentle lest I disturb the iv. drip.
I want to tell him that I miss him, but I can't stand the thought of admitting that we don't have him any more. He had finally begun to clean himself up before all of this crap happened. He quit drinking, he got a steady job, he wasn't hitting...

My eyes begin to well up and I realize how hard I'm squeezing his hand. I tell him I love him and leave.

By the time I finally get home it's well after eight. I decide to skip dinner and settle for a glass of milk, I really need to study before bed. Mom comes in at midnight and brews a pot of coffee, I sit in the dining room with her for a few minutes. She takes the pot and pours some into her cup, taking a deep drink; no creamer, no spice. I can see the exhaustion in her eyes, she manages to ask me how my day was. Her smile so warm, so bright.

We chat for a bit before I head off to bed. She begins to get ready for the dry cleaner. I know she won't get to sleep until this afternoon.

As I drift off to sleep I hear the rain beginning to fall on the rooftop. Why does Florida have to have so much rain?


Challenge: Patrick's parametric curve becomes erratic.
Debate Round No. 2


Chapter 3: Practice makes perfect.

I wake up, confused. What a weird dream...In the dream I was my son.... Hunter. Myself being in the hospital, and my wife being alive were also some oddities noticed in the dream. I sigh a pleasant breath of relief. I actually slept, for the first time in what seemed like ages. And had a good dream when I did. For the first time, when I slept, I actually didn't dream of death, sadness and bad memories. The dream was good. It almost seemed realistic....

I look at my alarm clock. Oops. My dream must have been too good, because I had overslept about 2 hours, and was late for work.

I quickly throw on a white Tee, and head off to work.

I arrive in about 20 minutes. I walk on to the construction site, under the big banner that says "Coastal Construction Group".

Bill the manager, is walking, yelling at everyone to get their work done faster as usual. He turns and sees me. Oh crap. He walks toward me shouting "PATRICK. Where in the hell were you!? You are 2 and a half hours late!"

"Err, sorry sir, I overslept. It won't happen again I swear." I mumbled out the excuse.

"I'll let you off the hook this time. Just because you have never been late before. Don't let it happen again, or I'll have to write you up. We have several different assignments today that we need to get finished before 5:00. I am putting you on Cosway construction since you were late. Get to it mate." The big man walked off to shout orders at others.

I breathed a sigh of relief. That went better than I had planned.

As I worked in the big tractor, piling dirt so we could smooth in out on the road, I started reminiscing on the previous day.

Mandy looked up at me and smiled. "Patrick, what a lovely name!" She said with a hint of sarcasm.

I smiled and laughed. "Is this more of the 'black coffee is sweet as Christmas' sarcasm from earlier?"

She started laughing. "Oh so you did catch onto that then. I was worried you didn't get the joke for a second there."

I hesitate for a second. Come on Patrick. Don't waste another opportunity. I have to urge myself to say it before there is too long of an awkward pause.

"Hey, I know you don't know me very well, but I was wondering if you wanted to go to lunch sometime?" I asked nervously.
She doesn't answer for a second, and looks like she is thinking about it. Shoot, shoot! I shouldn't have asked. I just made a huge moron out of myself. Then, just like she had several times already, she surprised me.
"You know what, I would love to. In fact, I have work off tomorrow, at 7:00. Could we do it then?" Her big brown eyes stare up at me expectantly. I am utterly shocked at her answer.

"Yes, yes, that would work perfectly." I say still confused as to how to react. I had separated myself from emotion and human contact for the majority of 3 years. Though I've done this before, I had all but forgotten how to react in these type of situations.
Then she pulled out a little note pad from her purse, and a pen. She started scribbling some thing on the paper for a second. Then when she was done, she handed me the slip of paper.

"I'm afraid I have to go to work now. But it was a pleasure meeting you Patrick, and I can't wait to see you tomorrow." She smiles, and reaches in her purse once more to pay for her coffee.

I stop her, "No don't worry, I have got you covered!" I say, and pull out a 10$ from my wallet, and pay for her drink.

"Oh you are so sweet. Thankyou." She smiles one more time, then she leaves the Café.

I snap back to reality, as I realize I almost lifted a load of dirt over the Cosway. Luckily, none of the other workers were paying much attention to me, as usual.

Could it be that my meeting with Mandy yesterday, had caused me to sleep? Something that I have had ongoing trouble with for a continued time over the course of three years? Maybe. But I didn't want to risk not finding out. After meeting with Mandy that day, everything else seemed to pan out. The world seemed a little bit brighter, more lambent(1).

I was actually happy. The thing I had strived for continuously for 3 years to achieve, all because of my meeting of one girl. It's not that I just wanted to see her again. It's that I needed to.

Work ended, and I couldn't be more excited. I rushed home, showered, and dressed up nicely; something I haven't done in a long time. Specifically, since a company meeting a few months back.

I unfolded the stick note that she gave me the previous day, which read: '1756 North Bayshore Drive, # 18
Miami, (786) 295-4769. Pick me up at 7:00!'

Her house was a pretty quick drive from mine, only being about 10 minutes away. I arrived at a nice looking apartment complex, called Bay Parc Plaza.

I parked my vehicle, and went and knocked on her door. She opened it within a couple of seconds, as if she was waiting for me to show up.

She looked absolutely beautiful. She was wearing a Striped Chambray 2-Fer dress. Her brown hair, that was curled the day before, was no straightened, and poured over her shoulders beautifully. The woman wore no make-up, but she didn't need to. Her face was the image of perfection, radiant(2).

Her brown eyes matched splendidly with everything she wore, and she looked like she could almost be a model. She was very skinny, for and good looking for her age.

She came out of her apartment, and locked her door.

"Hey you! You look... Geez, well, I am amazed, to say the least." I comment.
She blushes.

"Thanks. You look Amazing too!" She said sarcastically, poking fun at my choice of words.

Amazing definitely didn't describe me, though. When compared to her superfluous(3) beauty, I looked rather pale in correlation(4).

We walked back to my car, and started driving to the restaurant.
"Where are we going, if you don't mind my asking?" She asked inquisitively(5).

"Just a place that I used to love years ago." I responded.

The name of the Restaurant was "La Correta", a very fancy Mexican cuisine, that me and my wife used to go to on date nights.

We pulled into the parking lot, and she said "Ooh, I've never been here before!"
"Good, then prepare to be astonished." I said truthfully.

We were sat down at our tables and handed our menu's. Conversation came easily for us. We talked for an hour or so. I told her where I worked, and she told me where she worked. She was an artist, self employed. Surprisingly, she made quite a bit of money selling painting, statues, and other items that she had created and designed.

Then she asked me the question I was so hoping wouldn't come up. "So, have you ever been married? Do you have kids?"

I looked down solemnly. I try holding back tears, and put on my best approach at being strong, when I answer. I attempt to say the words, but they don't come out.
She looks worried, as she sees a single tear escape out of my eye, and role down my cheek.

"I had a wife, and a son. They died 3 years ago." I said solemnly. Why was it so hard for me to say? It happened so long ago, but it still hurt so bad, as I was being punished by some force for simply saying the words.

"I am so sorry... I didn't mean to-" I cut her off.

"No don't. I'll be honest, you are the first person I have ever told that to."

Her eyes looked appreciative, but she didn't know what to say.

In order to avoid an awkward silence, I feel will come if I didn't act then and there, I picked up the conversation.

"How about you? Were you ever married?"

"No." She says, this time her looking solemn.

I am generally surprised. "What? A pretty woman like yourself?"

"I have a secret too. I was diagnosed with cancer 10 years ago. The doctors say that I will die in less than 8 months. That is why I have never been married."

CHALLENGE: Patrick likes a girl who is set to die in less than a year. Can he face any more death in his life?



Chapter 4:

*Bzzt Bzzt Bzzt Bzzt*

My alarm clock goes off. Reluctant to get up I continue to lie down as I stare at the rotating ceiling fan above me. Streaks of light pour in between the gaps in the blinds.

'5:45' my alarm clock reads. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and slip my feet into an old air of flip-flops. I shower, get dressed and head into the kitchen.

It's June the 22nd, the day of my 18th birthday. I see a note and some money on the table.


I love you so much, I can't believe my little baby is finally 18 years old!
You won't see me until late tonight. Sorry! But tomorrow we'll go out to
La Correta for your birthday dinner. I know how much you love that place
I've left you some money to buy something with..."

I trail off. It's a typical note from a mom to her kid
I check my phone, it's 6:13. I start to fry an couple of eggs and put a piece of bread into the toaster.

"The hospital called yesterday. Your dad isn't in good shape. I want you
to go an see him when you get off of work."

My eyes widen. I Finish up with my breakfast and head out the door, knowing that the next eleven hours will be the longest of my life.

"I had a good time with you again tonight."

"Me too"

It had been three months since Mandy and I started dating. Sleep was coming more and more easily, I hadn't had any more nightmares since my dream with hunter that night. Mandy had been doing better too, but I could still see her getting weaker and weaker everyday.

I get home and sit down at my computer. I go to Google and type in her name 'Mandy Dormis' just as I had every night for the last three months; she's brilliant, simply brilliant. I don't think she'd ever forgive me if I told her what I'd been up to for these last three months, if she new what I'd found out abut her. She had graduated at the top of her class at UF Gainesville with a BS in Secondary math education. She went on to get her masters from Baylor University and her PHD from UC Berkley. She had received so many awards for her contributions to high school math programs and instituting STEM dual credit programs across the U.S.

It was hard to believe were she was now, teaching remedial math classes at a high school in Miami. But then how could I really be surprised, look at what happened to me after Jennifer and Hunter died. We worked hard, both of us so that could get an education and provide for them. I was an accomplished engineer, I had made something out myself, now I'm working in construction.

Jennifer had always wanted to be a teacher herself, she gave that dream up for me. She worked two jobs to help me get through school...

She had almost finished her certification program when the accident happened.

It was getting late. I knew I needed to get to bed soon unless I wanted Frank to chew me out at the site tomorrow

6:00pm, I clock out. Miami traffic is awful, especially this time of day.

I begin driving towards the hospital, by my old high school and through a residential area near dad's old firm. I Drive carefully through this part of town there are a lot of potholes in the ground.

"When is some-one going to patch these holes up?" I think to myself.

I get to the hospital, park my car and begin to head inside. I begin to feel a bit guilty as I head inside, I hadn't gone to see Dad since before I graduated. I make my way up to dad's room, counting the doors as I walk along; 248, 249, 250... I see that the door to dad's room is already open.
There are some people in the room speaking Farsi or Arabic when I walk in, Dad has a new room-mate. They stop talking and I feel a little awkward.

"Um, sorry. I'm here to see my dad" I say pointing towards him.

They say nothing. I'm not sure if they speak English or not. I make my way towards Dad.

His hair is shorter than it was the last time I saw him, one of the nurses must have given him a haircut. I pull the curtain to and stand there staring at him. The family on the other side of the curtain has stopped talking as well and my desire to be there is dropping by the second.
I want to tell him how I'd managed to graduate in the top ten percent of my class, how I'd gotten the full ride scholarship to Gainesville. I say nothing.

*Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep...*

I wake up to see that I've overslept. I dreamed about Hunter again.

This shouldn't be bothering me as much as it is. It's been almost four years since that day, I shouldn't be this shaken up over a dream like this. I get dressed and head out to the site, uneager to see my boss.

"PATRICK! You're fvcking late! What has been up with you, this is the second time you've been late this quarter. And don't think I haven't seen your work slipping either"

"I'm sorry sir. It won't-"

"Won't happen again? That's what you said last time wasn't it?"


"Just get over to Cosway."

I begin working, my mind still not wanting to cooperate to task at hand. After about an hour has gone by Frank is waving me down.

"You got a call from Jackson Memorial hospital."

I freeze, terrified at the possibility that something has happened to Mandy.
I take the phone.


"Is this Patrick Aarons?"

"Yes" I answer.

"You're listed as an emergency contact of Ms. Mandy Dormins. I'm afraid she passed out while at work today, we wanted to notify you as soon as possible. She's in room number 251"

"I understand. Thank you..."

I hang up, tell Frank and leave.
I arrive at the hospital, and head to Mandy's room. She's in bed, a nurse is tending to her.
The nurse leaves and Mandy and I are left alone. She's so beautiful, not looking at all like she'd been battling cancer for 10 years.

I'm about to leave. As I turn to make my way out, I hear some-one mutter something. The other family on the other side of the curtain hasn't said a word since I arrived.

I turn and face my dad.


Challenge: Patrick must decide between the woman he loves and the family he thought he lost.
Debate Round No. 3


Chapter 5: Poison.

Cancer. The word seared into my mind, like a burning torch being pressed firmly against my brain. I am so encumbered by thought, that my brain fails to process the meaning of the words that were said to me. I open my mouth to speak, hoping to return a reply, but nothing comes out.

Mandy looks upset. "What? Why are you not talking?"

I try. I really do. But I don't know what to say. My face is compressed with stress, and agitation.

Mandy grabs her purse from the ground, and gets up, ready to leave.

"Stop." I finally say.

She does, though her back is still turned to me.

"I- I don't want you to go." I say awkwardly.
She turns back towards me looking like she was attempting to hold back tears.

"I have separated myself from humanity, for three years." I start.

She sits down.

"I haven't been able to sleep well for those three years. The times I do sleep, I just have nightmares of what happened. I know I just met you, but last night, after meeting you, I was able to get the first real sleep, that I have had in a long time. There's something about you Mandy. I know we don't know each other well right now. But I would be honored if I had the chance to."

Mandy Smiled.

"Hey you." I say with a cheerily.She feebly musters up her pretty smile. "Hey stud." I chuckle. "I missed you." She says."I saw you yesterday, remember?" I respond."I remember. Doesn't mean I didn't miss you." She refutes. She offers me her hand weakly, and I take it. We've only been dating for only 3 months, but I felt so close to her. I wanted to stay there, all day. "How long do I have with you today?" I ask.Mandy responds casually. "The doctor said I have 15 minutes, before they have to put me back to sleep for the night."I breathe a sigh."Don't worry. I'll be out of here on Tuesday afternoon." She omits."Good. I want to take you somewhere. I think you'll like it." She looks out the hospital window, up at the nearby building, obscuring the view of the ocean. "Sounds exciting. No chance you will tell me now?" Mandy asks expectantly."Not a chance. It's a surprise." I mock scold her.She is silent for a few minutes, and I just hold on to her hand tightly. Finally she speaks."I am scared. Of death. Of losing everything I know and love. I feel.... Lost." She starts to tremble. I hug her. What do I say? It was hard enough to deal with the harsh punch of reality when it took my family away from me unexpectedly. It happened, and I had no control over the quickness of the situation. I dealt with knowing death can take away everything you are and know in less then a minute. But this... This was torture. Knowing that it was coming.
"No matter what happens, I will be here. For you. Making every minute of your life as great as I can until-" I stop myself. Before I say something that might be mis-construed. Too late.

"Until the end?" she finished.

I don't say anything. I don't know how to deal with this. I maintain my composure the best I can though.

"Listen, Mandy, you are special. Don't you forget that. I will never give up on you."

I stayed with her for the remainder of the time we had left. I was sitting in an uncomfortable position on the chair next to her bed. My entire body was twisted, so that she could lay on my shoulder. I didn't care though. We stayed that was until I could tell she was asleep. When I was sure she was out, I gave her a peck on the forehead.

"Until next time, sleeping beauty. I lo-" I stop myself.

"I lo-" Why couldn't I say the words? It's not like she was conscious to hear, or even understand the words that I was saying.

Three words, that was all I needed to say. Why couldn't I say them? I felt them. I think.

Suddenly, the door behind me opens,

"Patrick, It's time to leave." Said a stern doctor voice behind me.

The voice seemed to blend into the world, echoing in my head. I felt weird. The room, it seemed to crash around me, and pull into a vortex.

"Patrick" The voice reverberated(1) through my soul.

The dim hospital lights became a blur. Everything was shaking. I fall to my knees. What is happening? Why is everything... so....

"Patrick!" The voice is louder this time.

What!? I want to shout, but I don't know who to.

Finally the entire world around me comes crashing down. I feel like I had just cannonballed into a swimming pool, and everything was different.

"PATRICK! STAY WITH US PATRICK! We're losing him. Get him some more morphine stat!"

Okay, now I am confused.

Then it happens. I break, and suddenly my world is gone.


I tremble, as I watch my dad writhe in pain, with the surgeons, and doctors around him, busily trying to calm his vitals.

What's going on? Why is he in so much pain? I hated to watch this. Absolutely hated it. But it was an odd feeling, to see him move. He had been still in that bed, for 3 years. Not even a twitch. And to see him move now, so aggressively.... Was frightening. Moans escaped his lips, that were deafening(2).

I look at his heart monitor in fright. The little line, is jumping at massive heights, and falling to really low ones rapidly. No, no. This can't be. Please stop! Stop now!

The only reconciliation I have in this moment, is the knowledge that my dad doesn't feel any pain, and that he isn't conscious of anything.

I can only hope that he lives through this. I miss my dad. I need him to survive this. I know he is a better person now. He can't leave us....

"Stay with me dad. Please."


Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,
Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain,
Have put on black and loving mourners be,
Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.
And truly not the morning sun of heaven
Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east,
Nor that full star that ushers in the even,
Doth half that glory to the sober west,
As those two mourning eyes become thy face:
O! let it then as well beseem thy heart
To mourn for me since mourning doth thee grace,
And suit thy pity like in every part.
Then will I swear beauty herself is black,
And all they foul that thy complexion lack.(3)

I snap back to reality. I am driving, home. It is late. My car radio reads 9:45 pm. These dreams... They are so strange. They feel so real, yet part of me knows they are a pseudo falsity. A play on the emotions, to what is going on in my life.
I don't know why this is happening, but if these dreams, mean that I don't dream of death and sadness, and I will take them gladly.

I don't remember leaving the hospital though. This is strange. I don't remember even getting in my car even. The last thing remember was the doctor asking me to leave. She called me Patrick. Something about this seems weird to me, though I don't know why. Patrick is my name. Why wouldn't she say it? I don't remember even telling her what my name was... No... But I had to. I must have signed in with it, or something. How would she have known my name if I didn't sign something. Maybe Mandy told her. It doesn't matter. I let the thought leave my brain, and drive the rest of the way home.

Tuesday comes, and I go and pick up Mandy from her home, excited that she was let out for a week.

I arrive at her apartment, and as always, she is ready to go, already out the door.

We talk, and I drive for the next 35 minutes. I can tell she is excited.

We are at west point, 35 miles from the base of a big hill. The hill is 13 miles from the lowest point of Miami, near the ocean. It is still early, and the sun is now rising. Right on time. The orange glow reflects off the pacific ocean, creating an iridescent(4) glow on the water.

The scene is absolutely beautiful. Mandy lays her head on my shoulder, smiling. Finally the smile turns into a frown as she speaks.

"It's getting worse Pat. The doctors say I only have 2 more months now."

Challenge: Patrick is struggling for happiness, but Mandy's imminent death haunts him. His dreams are becoming worse, despite his choice to ignore them.



This debate just isn't any fun to me anymore.

The only reason I debate here on DDO is for my personal enjoyment. At the point a debate is no longer enjoyable, posting feels more like homework than anything else.
I don't really want to finish this round. To be completely honest I'm not even really sure what I would/should/could write at this point on, it's become obvious to me that TUF and I have inconsolable writing styles.

It would take me at least three or four hours to write something interesting, and I really don't want to put forth that effort to ultimately have my contribution made out to be a dream.

I hope any one who has read this debate up until this point has enjoyed what they've read, if not... Sorry :/
I'd ask that voters vote based on the completed rounds since this is more of a tag-team story than a debate, although if you choose not to do so I would understand.
I'd also like to apologize to my friend TUF for bailing on him like this. I'm just not feeling what's going on between Patrick and Mandy. I'm not much of a romantic and it wouldn't be doing any favors for you or your characters.
Debate Round No. 4


Agh, I should have PM'ed you. I was thinking about it. I didn't want to make your story out to be "a dream". I had planned on a cool flip ending where we find out that Patrick is in a coma, and the life with Mandy is a pseudo idea created from his coma. I kind of thought that's where you were going with this, and thought it would be a trippy ending. I do appolagize that you have lost interest. If it makes any difference, I did have fun in the rounds that were made, and enjoyed your responses thoroughly.

I wish you luck in your further debating endeavors, and appolagize that you lack the time and interest to continue forward.

Due to the forfeit, I urge the voters to vote pro.

Thankyou, buck, and thankyou audience.


= This is for TUF (but you can read too) =
That's the route I was wanting to go as honestly, Patrick being in a coma and living out his desires through his life with Mandy. But based on your chapters from round three on, and what we did talk about via PM I figured you were trying to scrap Hunter's story and were trying to get me to continue with the Patrick and Mandy arc.

I won't lie (although I don't mean this to offend you by any means), I was a bit disappointed in how much symbolism I planted in my chapters that you seemed to drop completely in your responses; the coffee, construction work, math, La Correta - I honestly worked hard on what I wrote.

On that note I'd also like to point out that I didn't forfeit, nor am I all too pressed for time; I felt that or story debate had become boring. (I don't think there's a way to say that bluntly without sounding rude. >->)

= This is for everyone =
As I said in my last speech, I would ask that those reading please vote on what rounds of this debate TUF and I did complete. I've put about eight or so hours worth of time into this debate crafting my chapters to be interesting and relevant to this game as a whole.

Again, I do understand if the readers decide to voted down, but I do request that if you would vote against for my lack of desire to continue the story arc TUF and I had going, that you please make that clear when voting. If the only feedback I get is "Forfeit" "FF" "Etc." then this debate was pointless; especially since I'm not forfeiting.

Since this isn't a traditional debate, I won't close with voting issues (that would be kind of trashy). Instead I leave you with this request; vote based on who provided a better story.

In closing, thank you to TUF for instigating this debate, thank you to those who have taken the time to read it and thank you to all who take the time to vote on this debate.

I urge a vote for the Con
Debate Round No. 5
34 comments have been posted on this debate. Showing 1 through 10 records.
Posted by ShortWinded 5 years ago
Haha classic case of "two" many chiefs and not enough indians!
Wicked concept though attempt you two.
GG nonetheless
Posted by haert09 5 years ago
Hello My Dear,
I am well pleased to contact you after viewing your profile today through my mail contact mail address is
hamisikipkalye(at)yahoo(dot)com) give me your mail for easy contact send it directly to my mail box now and i will add you ok
God bless you.
Yours friend.
Posted by buckIPDA 5 years ago
@Voters concerning RFD's; Much Better :-)
Thank you all for your criticism and critique!
Posted by wiploc 5 years ago
I was going to link to the humorous story purporting to be the joint work of a boy writing about space battlecruisers and a girl writing about chamomile tea, but can't find it. Anybody know of it? Have a copy or a link?

Also Harlan Ellison has a book of short story collaborations. In the accompanying notes, he explains how they did it. One method:

One of them would be upstairs typing, the other lounging around downstairs. No communication between them; no planning. When the upstairs guy came down, the other guy went up, and carried on from wherever the last guy had stopped, which might even be in the middle of a sentence.

One time Ellison developed a character and situation, and turned it over to his collaborater, who added something like, "That was when Joe fell dead," and immediately went back down, leaving Ellison the task of turning that unpromising start into a salable story.
Posted by TUF 5 years ago
Thanks YYW for the feedback. I am not open to doing a second debate TBH. Buck had his chance here, and unfortunately didn't enjoy the debate enough to continue (I doubt he would be more interested in a second debate for these reasons). But I digress, it was fun for how long it lasted, IMO.
Posted by YYW 5 years ago
While both PRO and CON put fourth laudable effort in this debate, and I was disappointed by the fact that CON forfeited (which was exactly what happened). Granted, the two writing styles were irreconcilable, but that is often what makes these story debates interesting -because to do it successfully you have to get inside your opponent's head and figure out where they are wanting to go.

Even though CON later claimed in Rd. 5 that he did not "forfeit" and admonished judges that the debate would have been worthless if that was all the feedback he got... this was a five round debate that CON conceded because he didn't want to continue writing. While I empathize (for reasons I can clarify better via PM), I cannot in good conscience disregard the reasons CON provided in Rd. 4.

Two options:

(1) If, however, PRO and CON would like to start a new debate, continuing the same story, I would be happy to judge that debate (of however many rounds) independently of this.


(2) If both PRO and CON would like to conduct a two round debate, finishing this debate, I will void my ballot and cast the final vote on that.

PRO and CON should feel free to PM me with regard to anything mentioned here, but I would ask that both PRO and CON be included in PM.
Posted by buckIPDA 5 years ago
No, it' not.
I don't care if you vote for TUF, but I'd like it be based on the entertainment value of our stories; I'd also like some criticism for what was written.
Posted by 1dustpelt 5 years ago
@Round 4 is not a forfiet?
Posted by buckIPDA 5 years ago
I doubt people are even reading it now.
They just want a reason to vote.
Posted by TUF 5 years ago
Unlikely. If we had finished this debate, it would be ver very difficult to get any votes on it.
4 votes have been placed for this debate. Showing 1 through 4 records.
Vote Placed by wiploc 5 years ago
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Reasons for voting decision: Hard for me to judge the story. Pro seems to have lush lyrical style, but many of his sentences don't scan. Random words are used in important places, making comprehension impossible. I'll give Pro persuasion points for the forfeit, and Con S&G. My sympathies to both. Collaborations can be difficult.
Vote Placed by 1Historygenius 5 years ago
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Reasons for voting decision: I thought that this was a good debate. To me, TUF did better.
Vote Placed by YYW 5 years ago
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Reasons for voting decision: I did enjoy reading what of this, that was written. CON's stated that "I don't really want to finish this round. To be completely honest I'm not even really sure what I would/should/could write at this point on, it's become obvious to me that TUF and I have inconsolable writing styles. It would take me at least three or four hours to write something interesting, and I really don't want to put forth that effort to ultimately have my contribution made out to be a dream." Cont. in comments.
Vote Placed by 1dustpelt 5 years ago
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Reasons for voting decision: Removing vote until Con clarifies if R4 was a concession.