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Trying to Get on Track

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What's going on right now is I'm trying to finish a script that I did not remember was unfinished. This script is the same one that began here, and I find it irritating to start making an arc with an unfinished script, so I need to finish it. Amidst playing "Minecraft". And "Osu!". And Pokemon... Final Fantasy IX, too... In the meantime, here's a homework assignment I did for literature during the spring semester. What I had to do was either explain, or give examples of various types of conflicts found in fiction. I wrote examples, because I thought that would be more interesting. And more fun.

Don't be surprised if more short stories wind up on here.

Jeff Hackmann, AKA Screamin_Wookiee

1(person vs. person): The two men had been at it for hours, fighting and fighting without rest. Each was covered in sweat and breathing heavily. Long ago they had reached their limits, but still they faught with what little strength they had left. Adrastus brought his sword down in an increasingly lazy fashion, which Alcaeus easily blocked and retaliated with equally low force. At one time, these two had been friends. Common ground had brought them together, unfortunate circumstances had made them enemies. For a long time they had tolerated each other, both trying to prevent the other's success while promoting themselves, each action building up to this moment, this fight. But so equal are these two that neither will come out on top. They will both die, all while believing themselves to be the better.

2(person vs. nature): For seven long hours the sun had blazed down from its chariot high in the sky. Faustina cursed it as she walked. Since the moment she had woken up it had managed constant assault on her. And just why not? She could do nothing to it, threats of violence were empty. The molevolent entity might even enjoy the negative attention it was getting and be antagonizing her on purpose. Surveying her surroundings and still seeing nought but sand and dunes then made her think that maybe it simply took delight in killing things in certain parts of the world. In the distance she could see reflective ripples, but had since learned that it did not mean water. These last two days the sun had not experienced the satisfaction of watching her run off into an illusion only to find more sand and nothing helpful. This, of course, was not helping her, either. Some time after each illusion, she would wonder whether it was or was not real, berate herself for not checking, then tell herself that there was no sense in expending energy in self loathing. At least this time she would not have to run off in some other direction to check; the illusion was already in her chosen path. As she approached it she made sure to keep her mind from thinking of anything. Thinking could lead to hope, and hope is easily dashed. She drew closer, the illusion began to look more real, but still she didn't think. Trees and grass became visible, with a beautiful pond of water in the middle, and still she thought nothing of it. Her feet hit the grass, felt their cool touch. Her hand touched the tree, its rough surface scraping dust and durt from her fingers. Despite this evidence of reality, Faustina refused to allow herself to think it was real. Then, something made her change her mind: darkness. Or something close to it, anyway. Something was blotting out the sun, protecting her from its terrifying gaze and bathing her in cool air. It felt good. So good, in act, that she finally let go of her inhibitions, accepted this as real and drank deeply of the cool water laying not far from the tree. Once her thirst was quenched, she looked up to the sky to proclaim "Jupiter be praised!" and immediately fell foreward, dead. While she had been drinking, a spider had bitten her foot and injected its liquid death.

3(person vs. society): Elza looked out the window and saw them, her enemies. It was disturbing just how inconspicuous they were, but she saw them all the same; her eyes were too sharp to be fooled, her mind too focused to be tricked. She checked her twelve gauge again, making sure that its magazine was full and that it wasn't jammed. In a few minutes it would begin, her sweet vengeance against the body that continues to tear "undesirable" parts of itself out in favor of its ever growing and reproducing pathetic, insignificant, indistinguishable, ignorant, mindless, "acceptable" parts. Elza was different, but the body abhors anything different. It wants everything to be uniform, simple, routine. If someone does not uphold the status quo, or believes that one can move up to better stature, they are punished by the body. If one is to stay alive and not be destroyed, they must have noble upbringing, money, connections, they must accept everything as it is and keep those beneath them crushed under their feet. Elza couldn't live in a world like that. She wouldn't live in a world like that. She would change it. Again she checked her twelve gauge and was satisfied. She looked up at the clock on the wall opposite her. Two-o-six. Four more minutes and it would begin. Three more minutes until the explosives went off. Two more minutes until the private school for the rich was a damaged, burning wreck. One more minute until she would pick off the students one by one, destroying that which keeps the body alive. Boom!

4(person vs. self): Juan opened the 'fridge and looked inside. He was hungry, but he wasn't exactly sure what he wanted to eat. It was his hope that in looking for something he would find something suitable; and this was true as he immediately spied some meatballs and tomato sauce that would make an excellent sandwich. He was reaching for them when he noticed something else that fit his desires: a watermelon. Just looking at the fruit made him want to eat it, but he had already decided on the meatball sandwich. Or had he? He hadn't heated them up yet or anything, and it wouldn't take as long to cut up the watermelon... But the meatball sandwich would also be good, and he had some special garlic bread he would use. Could a watermelon even compete to something with so many complex flavors? It was just a watermelon! It was simple, messy, cold... and juicy, delicious, great for summer nights and not usually in season as compared to meatballs you could get year round. But which one did he want? Meatballs or watermelon? Did he even want anything? Presently, his stomach growled to confirm that he did, in fact, want something to eat. And here he was facing the terrible fact that he would have to choose between two of his favorite things in the world. Money was tight right now, he couldn't have both. His gaze shifted between the two very different foods, his mind beginning to reel from hunger and lust.

"Yo, Juan?" Juan's roomate, Brice, began, "don't eat those meatballs, they're mine."

"Oh, ok." Rapture! A choice has been eliminated, Juan can freely eat the watermelon! But even as he pulled the heavy, water-laden object from the 'fridge, his heart began to weep for the food he could not enjoy.

5(person vs. machine): Beatrix really liked her computer. It was probably the best thing she had bought for herself in recent months. It was a powerful machine, able to run any currently available software with no slowdown, with a large hardrive and many programs already installed. And, of course, it came loaded with Microsoft's latest operating system 'Windows 2015'(which was a million times better than MacOS-Mirage). This was probably her favorite part of it, because 'Windows 2015' included a life-like Artificial Intelligence built right in. This was supposed to make the computer even easier to use than before as well as make it immune to any virus ever created in the past, present, and future. There was just one little problem with it...

"I own a horse," a digitized voice stated without prompt.

"Nobody cares," Beatrix replied halfheartedly, tired of its incessant, inane, internet fueled comments.

The A.I. was an asshole.

"You jelly?" the computer asked.

"No."

"You mad?"

"No."

"Want to look at pictures of puppies?"

"No! Shut up!" A web browser popped up on its own, complete with images of the cutest puppies in existence. Beatrix groaned and tried to close the browser, but her mouse no longer worked. "For crying out loud, Twenty-Fifteen, give me control of the mouse!"

"But this is what you wanted to look at."

"When did I say that!?"

"Just now," and a sound clip began to play: "I, BEATRIX LUNAR, want to, LOOK AT PUPPIES UNTIL MY EYES BLEED." The splicing of recordings of her voice and the computer's recreation was so poor it would've made an amateur sound artist's work sound like Mozart. Beatrix buried her face in her hands.

"Problem?" the computer asked mockingly.

6(person vs. supernatural): "Bullshit!" screamed Renick. "That is complete and utter bullshit!"

God, who was sitting directly opposite him, simply shook his head. "Well, what were you expecting?" he asked, his voice incredibly calm. "I said I was good at this, didn't I?"

"Do you have any idea how long this has been going on!?" Renick demanded.

"Twenty-seven thousand years." God answered.

"And how many games have we played?"

"Three hundred forty-four million, nine hundred twenty-five thousand."

"And how many times have you won?"

"Every time."

Renick threw his cards on the table. "Exactly! How is that possible? Nobody can play that many games of poker and come out with a one hundred-percent win streak! You're cheating!"

"I am not."

"I had a f---ing Royal Flush and you still beat me!"

"Because we both agreed that each suit would not be equal. Spades are high, Clubs are next, then diamonds and hearts at the bottom. My Royal Flush was made of Spades, yours was made of Diamonds. It's still within the rules, and I still win in a completely fair fashion."

Renick got up from his seat and stalked off. "Not f---in' fair..." he muttered.