Thread: Writing Challenge [6/2/08]:

Writing Challenge [5/24/08]: The Classics
Type: Nonfiction/Fiction/Long/Rewrite
Posted: 09:44am (GMT -6)
Deadline: 05:00pm (GMT -6) 06/05/2008

Rewrite the entirety of one piece of classic literature from start to finish in 700 words or less in a completely inappropriate style (Pulp Detective Crime and Punishment, Sci-fi Horror Bible, etc.).

OK, this is a very rough, very bad version of the Bible as a kind of thriller. It's only some of it, too. It's unedited, as I couldn't be arsed
I didn't mean any offense to religious, and I understand that many acts in this story did not happen, but I re-wrote it to make a good thriller.


The intensity was causing a sweat to form on God’s brow. He floated on nothingness as he watched for the signal. All he needed was a spark of light to begin the process, but already the heat was too great. He moved his hands like a fan to his forehead, but it was no use.
Soon it would be too late.
But there was still hope.
The signal came in the form of a microscopic spark in a never-ending nothingness. God harnessed this spark, and let it grow. It pushed away the nothingness, and in a single moment the universe was born.
Gods’ arms suddenly seemed like lead, and he dropped them to his sides. His knees buckled beneath him and he fell to a single planet, unconscious.

It was a beautiful creation. God watched in pride as his world flourished with people. His arm lay against his chest in a hand-made cotton sling, and his once-handsome face was a mess of purple and swelling red. The fall onto a new planet caused a great pain inside him, and he was almost unable to recover, but he knew he would live another day.
He had to.

God’s people were not as they used to be. They had developed a way to think for themselves. They thought killing others was what he would enjoy. Many did not even believe in him anymore.
He watched in horror as his legacy was slowly destroyed. Along with his legacy God’s strength was being destroyed. He was on his knees from lack of energy. He knew that a final resort was needed: he must have a son.
God sent himself down to the world he had created, and contacted a young Virgin named Mary.
“Mary. It’s me.” He spoke, his voice shaking.
Mary spun around with hope in her eyes.
“Oh, God, it’s you!” she ran towards him, her eyes wide, and flung her arms around his neck. She kissed him tenderly on the cheek, “I never though I’d see you again.”
God pried away the gripping hands and looked down to Mary.
“I need a son, darling. I’m getting weak, and I know that soon I will be gone. You must help me.” He looked down to her with ‘please’ written all over his face.
Mary stepped back hastily as she considered this.
“You… you know I love you. I just don’t think I’m prepared to be a mother.” She never even looked in God’s eyes as she spoke these words, “I’m sorry.”
“Please, Mary. I love you, and I know this is hard for you, but I must have this son. Please, don’t take this from me.”
Mary hesitated as she re-considered this decision. God showed up on her doorstep after 20 years and expected a son. But he must have him. She knew this.
After what seemed like lifetimes, she turned back to him and looked him in the eye.
“Alright. I’ll do it.”

Jesus took his post at the frontline as the first Roman soldiers attacked. He brought bloodshed to many, and knew his strength was coming from his father. He drove his spear into another soldier with no face. To Jesus, all these soldiers were the same.
“Father! Help me!” he screamed at the sky as more hoards of opponents battered his defences.
A gap opened in the clouds as a misty being glided elegantly from the sky. The being stopped at Jesus’ side and rest it’s hand on his shoulder. Energy poured into Jesus, and he used it to fuel all his muscles.
Jesus looked to his father, a smile on his face.
“Thank you,” he said. At that moment, his love for God had never been stronger.
Their stares were interrupted as a shout ran through the opposing army.
“Get the leader! Kill the mist!”
Jesus didn’t have time to look over to whom had shouted the words, because a spear flew through the air. It soared gracefully, and lodged itself in the chest of the mist. Somehow, it stayed in place despite the lack of solids.
God fell to the floor.
Jesus dropped to his knees at his father’s side.
“No… no, no, no, no! Not yet! Not like this!” Jesus said through gritted teeth. He removed his old belt and wrapped it around God’s wound as he pulled the spear form its position.
God just looked up to his son with a look of pride. He moved his misty hand to Jesus’ cheek and caressed it lovingly.
“Thank you for making me happy, son. But I must leave now. Let my legacy live on.”
The mist disappeared, but Jesus still gripped at the air. He tried desperately to revive his father, but there was no use. He was gone.
"NOOOOOOOOO!" Jesus screamed into the sky, not expecting an answer.
God was dead.


The man stepped into the large hall. At every corner of the building were Roman guards, fully armed. Jesus had no idea how he was going to do this, and he knew the act he would take in moments’ time was suicidal, but it was for his father.
This was for revenge.
Jesus stepped up to one of the guards, who looked down to him in disgust.
“Filthy peasant,” the gruff voice said, “get out of here, or I’ll cut off your ears.”
Jesus turned away, knowing exactly what the guard would do. The Roman used his large shield to push Jesus away from him like a ram, but Jesus had anticipated his every move.
With incredible speed and accuracy he gripped the top of the shield with his hands, his back still turned. Jesus pushed off the ground, keeping all his weight on his hands, and spun through the air. His body ended up behind the confused guard, and he used his momentum to kick the guard in the back. Instantly, the Roman fell forward sprawling.
Jesus landed gracefully on his feet. He took the spear of the fallen guard and drove it mercilessly into the man's chest.
He waited for the other guards to attack, and let his body respond naturally.
He twisted and turned in the air, sending kicks and punches in necessary places. Before long, he had a pile of bodies lying around him, twitching.
More came, and he let these take him. He had avenged his father, so now it was time to join him.

The Nun’s Priest’s Tale from The Canterbury Tales as Ghetto Teen Lit


Chanticleer steadied himself. His talons gripped the edge of the henhouse as he let out his cry – a commanding call to all of his hen bitches. He wanted them to know that he was the most collar-popping pimp rooster with the most resounding cock-a-doodle in the whole yard. He was a fly rooster and he knew it. The hens had said he was hot. He didn’t exactly disagree.

There was one hen in particular that he was crushing on; her name was Pertelote. Pertelote was a bad chick with a crazy reputation. Chanticleer and Pertelote decided to go out and they hit it off big time. One day, they were out together and Chanticleer fell asleep in the yard. When he woke up he was scared and shaking.

“What’s wrong Chanticleer?” Pertelote asked.

“I had a dream that this dude and I got into this big fight in the yard. It was wack.” Chanticleer said.

“That’s it?” Pertelote asked, “I thought you had a real problem. I can’t believe you’re scared of some boy in your dream!” Pertelote liked her boy to be big and strong and she didn’t want a man who wasn’t ready to stand up.

“Nah” Chanticleer said, “It wasn’t even like that boo.” But the next day, he had the same dream and he was even more frightened by it.

“Duuuuuuumb!” Pertelote said, “You need to calm down. You keep getting twisted over some dumb dream. You know, if your cock-a-doodle-doo weren’t so prominent, we wouldn’t even be together. You know what though? I like you boo, so I’m gonna go find you some weed or something to calm you down.” And Pertelote left, in search of marijuana for Chanticleer. She came back empty handed. “I don’t have any pot but there’s something I gotta tell you boo. I just laid some eggs so like, we’re gonna have some babies.”

“Oh” Chanticleer said, “It’s cool ma. Don’t worry; we’ll keep it. I’m gonna be a good baby’s daddy, I swear.” And he kept his promise. She had the children but the dreams didn’t stop. They just got worse and worse. Chanticleer had a bunch of bitches who hung around the crib all the time. None of them compared to Pertelote though. But, one day, when Pertelote was away, Chanticleer was chillin’ with some other hoes.

“Yo Chanticleer” one of the girls said “someone’s here to see you.” Chanticleer turned around and saw the dude from his dreams.

“Say dog,” he proclaimed, “What’s up? You here to step up or what?”

“Calm down” the fox said “my name is Fox. You don’t have to be scared of me. I heard you could cock-a-doodle-do better than anybody else around here and I came to hear it.”

“Oh” Chanticleer said. He didn’t want to be so easily buttered but the respect made him want to pop his collar. “Well welcome then,” as soon as he started to turn to the hens, Fox grabbed Chanticleer in his mouth and ran off.

When Pertelote came back she saw that Chanticleer wasn’t there, “where my man at?” she demanded to the other girls.

They explained to her what had happened.

“Oh hell no.” Pertelote said, “It’s on now. Fox hasn’t met a crazy bitch yet if he thinks he’s gonna run off with MY man!” Pertelote gathered together everyone from the hood and went looking for Fox.

Meanwhile, Chanticleer knew they were looking for him “Say dog” Chanticleer said, while still in Fox’s mouth “don’t be a bitch dude. They’re coming for you. Man up. Holler back.” Fox was brave and wasn’t going to let some hens intimidate him, so he dropped Chanticleer out of his mouth to holler back.

As soon as he fell out of Fox’s mouth, Chanticleer ran up a tree and wouldn’t come down. “Come down dude. It’s okay.” Fox said “I just wanna see you cock-a-doodle-doo."

“Nah” Chanticleer said “I’m straight.” And he didn’t come down. Fox eventually had to run because he knew that Pertelote had a whole group of hens coming after him. Chanticleer learned his lesson and never let flattery get the best of him again.

Extending this to tomorrow at 11:00 pm for further entries in case anyone thinks they can top the excellent above.

Elric had tried to hold his cousin Yyrkoon back. But he could do nothing. Yyrkoon now stood at the entrance to the portal he had summoned. He jumped in, and Elric jumped in after. Cymoril shouted to them, but neither could hear.

The two of them found themselves in afleshlike room. In the center stood the two runeblades, Mourneblade and Stormbringer. Elric lunged for Stormbringer. Yyrkoon reached at Mourneblade. At the moment they touched the swords there was a flash of light and they were back in Elric’s throneroom.

Elric stood at the base of the alter to the ruby throne. His cousin stood opposite him. The two of them had their black swords drawn, each radiating with a sinister black light. Yyrkoon lunged at Elric. Elric parried the blow and leapt atop his ruby throne. He brought his sword up just in time to block another attack. The two blades screamed and howled, singing an evil death song.

From his perch atop the throne Elric jumped and lunged stormbringer down with amazing force. Yyrkoon was barely able to block the blow with his shield. Now Elric was starting to warm up. He swung with a mind-blowing combination of speed, accuracy, and power. Yyrkoon’s shield was torn to shreds. Yyrkoon was starting to sweat; he was beginning to get clumsy, as he lopped off the head of a Pikaraydian slave when he tried to block a blow to the shoulder.

Many minutes passed before Yyrkoon found a gap and took another swing at Elric. Elric easily blocked the blow.

Now Elric had an idea. He took a normal swing at Yyrkoon, and their swords met. Elric held the position for a moment, then suddenly swung his sword over Yyrkoons and put Yyrkoon in a headlock, sword at Yyrkoons neck. In surrender, Yyrkoon dropped his sword.

But no mercy could be spared for the traitor. A swipe of the sword and Yyrkoon was no more.

Even as Yyrkoon’s lifeless body fell to the ground, Elric could not control his rage at his late cousin. He hacked and stabbed the corpse. And soon, Elric was satisfied, and Stormbringer had fully fed on Yyrkoon’s soul.


That night, the Lord Arioch visited Elric in his tower.

"You did well against your kin; I could not have expected you to slay him with such trickery."

"I did what I had to. And he is not my kin."

"Even so," Arioch paused, "Your power and cunning have earned you a seat in the higher hell."

"I thank you, lord Arioch."

"Do not thank me just yet"

And Elric now felt a heat within him. That heat soon rose to the surface. It became very painful. Soon Elric could see it; he was burning from within. His body was engulfed in flame in seconds and Elric was alive for the whole time, undying until three minutes had passed. And Elric of Melnibone was no more. Only a pile of ash.

It was dark in London that night a month ago, dark and foggy. Fog was so thick young solicitor Johnny Harker couldn't see the streetlamp out his window. He was working late on a case when his boss had called him into the other office to send him here, to Transylvania. This guy, Count Dracula, had bought a boatload of land and Johnny had to go there to get the contracts signed.

Johnny had arrived in Transylvania, a dark and dirty place, late last night and the innkeeper's wife had served him up a steaming hot dinner as if he'd been expected. She was an ugly old bat, but she cooked a hell of a mutton. The next morning over tea and a biscuit that was as hard as a rock, Johnny asked her how to get to Castle Dracula.

She began to stutter. A high-pitched whine came bubbling out of her throat and she ran from the room screaming for her husband. They both came back in and begged Johnny not to go.

Johnny would have to take a coach to Borgo Pass where another coach would meet him. When he arrived, after a day and half a night of traveling over rough roads and trails, the second coach was waiting. The horses were wild-eyed and stamping their feet as the black-clad coachman swung down from his seat and easily stowed Johnny's heavy trunk. The driver then put his hand on Johnny's arm and with a grip like steel, put him into the coach.

The inside of Castel Drakul was darker than an alleyway in South London, and Count Dracula was crazy old man. He signed the contracts quick enough, but made Johnny stay with him for weeks. He was strong, Johnny could tell, as strong as three men, and he had weird, long teeth like a dog's. He hated the sunlight more than a drunk waking up with a splitting hangover and couldn't stand the sight of a crucifix.

Johnny knew something was up. The Count made him write letters that he was on his way back to London, and Johnny had to escape or be eaten by the Count and his twisted concubines.

------------------------------------------

Johnny did get out, but barely. After a spell in a looney bin, he made it back to London and his wife, Mina. Little did he know the Count was now in London, too.

Mina's friend Lucy had been acting strange lately and was suffering from a weird form of anemia. Dr Von Helsing, a friend to Lucy and Mina, connected the dots of Lucy's illness and Johnny's experience and tells everyone that Count Dracula is a vampire! They knew they had to put a stop to the Count's evil ways once and for all. Some thought Van Helsing was a nut, but

Johnny andVan Helsing raided the Count's hideouts armed with holy water and wooden stakes, but the slippery devil escaped and ran back to Transylvania.

------------------------------------------

Van Helsing knew what had to be done and made all the plans. He snuck into the castle and killed the concubines while Johnny and some others attacked the Count's coach.

They could see the coach coming up the path, heading towards the castle. The coach is speeding as fast as the devil horses could pull it and the sun was almost setting. They have to kill the Count before sunset, or he would get out and escape.

It was a bloody scene, Johnny shot up the Gypsies desperately protecting the Count until the rest ran away. Then they tipped the coach over and pulled the Count's coffin out of the back. They opened it and saw the Count lying in dirt packed inside and, as his eyes opened as the sun finally disappeared below the mountains, plunged the wooden stakes into the Count's lifeless heart.

They stood around the pile of dirt that was all that was left of the Count and knew they no longer had to be afraid of the dark or any evil that lived there.

[SoNickSays] Bible Thriller
Upside: Kung-fu Jesus (Jew-do master?)
Downside: Felt like it should have been comical but the language didn't reflect that as much.
Favorite Line: "NOOOOOOOOO!"

[AnnoyingAlliteration] Canterbury in the Hood
Upside: Language was mostly genuine and it flowed quickly, easy fun read.
Downside: The word 'Wack'.
Favorite Line: “Say dog” Chanticleer said, while still in Fox’s mouth “don’t be a bitch dude. They’re coming for you. Man up. Holler back."

[David Reinold] Elric Revised
Upside: Nice and conclusive, quick flow.
Downside: Not sure if this counts as a classic, but then, I wasn't very specific.
Favorite Line: Elric could not control his rage at his late cousin. He hacked and stabbed the corpse.

[velo] Dracula Revised
Upside: Pretty much covers the entire story arc in a few paragraphs.
Downside: Doesn't do anything more then that.
Favorite Line: She was an ugly old bat, but she cooked a hell of a mutton.

[The Winner]

AnnoyingAlliteration's Ghetto Canberbury was my personal favorite. It took a real traditional classic and recreated it in a completely inapprorpriate way. As the winner of this Challenge, AA can send me a message with a suggestion for the next Challenge and judge it.

Thanks to all the entrants!