Posts from Voting for the 2nd stage of the “Mr. HeroesWorld 2008” contest.

7 stories participated in the 2nd stage!

It's less than I expected... But still, not bad! I'm glad that you, dear participants, gathered and came up with a story for the 2nd stage. It was not easy, because coming up with exactly that kind of story is difficult. But you managed it, and I am very grateful to all of you for that! :smile12:

So here is my story about the last day... or rather, it's not a story, but reflections on how it might be... I thought about this a lot, about what I would do, how I would spend it with my beloved girlfriend, but I couldn't decide, because it's hard to write about something that might never happen... after all, a person doesn't know when they will die (excluding cases with certain diseases)... here I am writing this story today, and tomorrow BAM and I'm gone, and I didn't even know it was my last day... if I had known, then naturally I would have spent it differently...

As I already wrote, there were many thoughts about what to do and what to say... there were enough doubts too, and the main one was whether I should tell my girlfriend that this is my last day or not? On one hand, she should know, because I love her and cannot hide this from her... and then again, without knowing about it, she wouldn't fall into a "depression" (I don't even know what to call the state when a person finds out their loved one will die in a day), and perhaps we would spend this day well... at least, I would try to make it unforgettable and fulfill all her wishes, if I didn't fall into that state ("depression") myself... so... as for the downsides... basically, I've already listed the downsides that could arise if I tell her about the last day. In that case, you definitely won't spend the day in a good mood... although it will feel like crap inside anyway, no matter what you do...
And in general, would I even want to be happy on my last day? Maybe I'll just sit stupidly on the couch and wait? Would I want to spend it with my girlfriend or someone else?... perhaps I would just go for a walk... alone, one-on-one with my thoughts... climb onto the roof of some high-rise and admire the sunset... although, at such a moment, having my beloved girlfriend nearby would be the most wonderful and joyful thing one could wish for on their last day...


For starters, I would get up early :) I'd make a list of the most necessary things that I could manage to do today (the most necessary). Then we would have a good breakfast (after waking my other half with kisses - if she hadn't woken up by then). After which we would go for a walk (naturally taking plenty of money with us, just in case). Further, there are 2 options for how things develop: go for a stroll around the city (parks, attractions, cafes); buy groceries and head out into nature (find a beautiful spot by a pond or river, build a fire, etc. etc.). Choosing the 1st option, we would first go to the park. We'd lounge on the grass, feed the ducks (or other feathered friends). Then we'd go to the carousels :). At lunch, we'd find a cozy cafe and sit there for an hour :). After that, we'd walk through the park again (visit the attractions we didn't have time for before lunch :)) In the evening, we'd sit in a little restaurant (small, cozy, and preferably on the shore of a pond). I won't describe the nature trip option; it differs from the first only by the absence of attractions and restaurants, well, and the fact that we would be alone :). In general, spend every minute of this day together and not fight. In the evening, admire the Sunset together and return home closer to midnight. Well, basically, that's all.

Waking up in the morning, a thought flashes through your head: "Oh my God!!! Tomorrow is almost the end of the world, and what could be worse than the end of the world??? Well, naturally, only your own death. Everything would be fine, but you have your other half, and on this last day, you need to do something unusual and extraordinary for your beloved and only one, just to somehow brighten your death tomorrow." But for such a romantic, even death cannot spoil today. You must act; time is running out. Mapping out a plan of action in your mind, you immediately call her, the beloved and unique one (to arrange a meeting). While you're calling, words flash through your head...
«And I want to hold you close
And I want to tell you so
That days and nights without you
Are just wasted, don't you know
But stay, please do not go
Even if the bridges are burned low
Just take me in your arms and hold me tight
And tell me of your love tonight»
... from a more familiar song, and with every beep in the receiver, your desire to spend this day with her as brightly and wildly as possible begins to intensify. And more and more truly grandiose plans for today's "last" day are born in your head. Well, finally, she picked up...
You: "Hello, my dear! I've finally broken free, albeit temporarily, from the huge whirlpool of daily problems. The room is dark and quiet, only beautiful and slightly sad music competes with the night rain, gently tapping on the windowsill... I forget everything and write you a letter... At this moment nothing and no one can distract me from thoughts of you. There is no one else in the entire Universe - only the stars, you and I. I know that thousands of kilometers separate us, but when I write to you, I feel like I'm whispering these words into your ear... And I know that you hear me..."
She: "Honey, you're always in your usual repertoire."
You (ignoring her): "I want to see you so much! But how soon that will be - no one knows... The only important thing is that we have enough patience to wait for the moment when the heart leaps from the chest, lips repeat a beloved name, and the brain like a clock performs a countdown, as during the launch of a spaceship. A ship that will lift us onto a white, soft, fluffy cloud of happiness, where we will chat with our legs dangling down... I'm waiting for you (you name the place and time of meeting)."
She: "Honey, you seducer of mine, how can I refuse such an offer? Consider me already there."
The meeting is arranged; now you must prepare for today's upcoming events, and without wasting time, you gather your things and set out to prepare the activities, thinking: "So that this remainder of the day spent with you remains forever in the memory of your other half, whom you love madly, consequently, the day must pass just as stormily, on the verge of madness, and leave shocking imprints of you in her consciousness."
... Well, the preparation for all planned events is finished, and you head to the place where you agreed to meet your beloved and unique other half. On the way, philosophical thoughts visit you again: "Why does this happen??? When such moments come, when having something – you don't appreciate it, but losing it - you regret and start appreciating what you had... but alas, as a rule, it is already too late." And from such thoughts, you began to increase your pace toward the place, the meeting place. Approaching the meeting spot, you saw that she wasn't there yet; this was for the best, as you decided to make some corrections to today's plan of events. You quickly (time was pressing) headed to a flower shop and bought everything needed. After leaving the store, you approached a guy and asked him to help you, describing the situation; he agreed. Having made an agreement, you headed to the underpass; it was your favorite meeting spot, and strangely enough, at this time of day, it is most deserted, which allowed you to be alone even in such an unusual place. You descended into the underpass and saw her; she was already waiting for you. Only a few seconds remained until the start of the most unforgettable day for her and you...
You silently crept up behind her and covered her eyes with your palms. Saying: "Oh my God, how romantic," she turned to you, and your gazes met; you looked into each other's eyes for several minutes. Then you hugged her gently and whispered tender words in her ear. Slowly but surely your hand slipped into a pocket where she felt the phone, and a moment later music began to play in the underpass (Tekhnologiya - Strange Dances)...
The unfinished melody I'll hear in my sleep,
Until morning my eyes will not close deep.
Without forgiving all that has passed me by,
You are awake, as am I now, beneath the sky.
In the midnight metro, in a circle of lights,
I dream of your shadow again through the nights.
A crazy night spent with her, so wild and free,
And once more the day comes for me to see.
And when we meet each other once more,
The quiet night wind will sing of its lore,
And forgetting for a moment what love is about,
You and I will begin...

Dancing together, strange dances,
We'll wait out the day, no need for goodbyes,
But at night we'll start, strange dances.
Dance in the rain in
The underpasses of underground stations.

You'll forget the question, but I remember the reply,
Without each other we will not die.
By the light of morning stars, our last dawn's glow,
It calls us and we shall begin...

Dancing together, strange dances,
We'll wait out the day, no need for goodbyes,
But at night we'll start, strange dances.
Dance in the rain in
The underpasses of underground stations.

... there everything was clear without words, and you merged as one in a slow and romantic dance, which began the stunning and romantic day that you would spend today. When the music ended, you continued to swirl for some time, as if enchanted. And when you stopped, you asked her to close her eyes for a couple of minutes, and when she opened them, a bouquet of flowers appeared before her, which you were holding out, and tender words poured from your lips addressed to her. She was simply delighted by what was happening, but only you knew that for such a trick you were grateful to the guy you met near the flower shop.
You left the underpass and headed toward the next object you had planned for today. The day was clear, and you decided on the way to stop by a park to walk with your companion. After walking through the park, you decided to go to the pond, especially since it's mating season for ducks at this time of year. And how romantic it is to watch them and compare their behavior during mating season, how the male courts the female in this period. And from time to time feed them bread...
After an unplanned walk through the park and visiting the pond, you had a racecourse on your plan, for horse riding brings no less memorable impressions to our memory. And so you headed to the racecourse...
While riding horses, it started to rain, and you decided to just walk in the rain; it's so wonderful and romantic, a walk under warm rain... time was approaching evening and thoughts visited you: It would be nice to "meet" the sunset, if only the rain would stop... And strangely enough, the rain ended, and you headed toward the last event you had planned, meeting the sunset. After seeing the sunset, you headed to your place to change and dry off, and only you knew that another surprise awaited her at home. Reaching your house, drying off and tidying up, you asked her to stand in the middle of the room and close her eyes again... Opening her eyes, she saw a large box before her, wrapped in a festive manner. Like a true gentleman, you helped her deal with the packaging. The climactic moment approached, and she opened it, and... many small balloons burst from the box and soared toward the ceiling, and only one large heart-shaped balloon stopped at eye level... While she stood there realizing what was happening, and while her emotions had not faded, you pricked the large balloon with a needle and then... she was showered in a rain of rose petals... She stood in the middle of the room, absorbing it all, and you realized: that it's not necessary to wait for this day – the last day of one's life, because such happy moments can be given every day.
Night fell outside; after today's unforgettable walk, you were quite hungry... and you invited her to the roof... where a romantic candlelit dinner awaited her and... live violin music...
I think that how she spent this day, she will never forget..

How would I spend my last day with her?... So many
questions... Well, in the morning I'll wake up, call her... And then? I suggested going somewhere into nature...
"People somehow remember nature, the forest, before they die..."- 17 Moments of Spring...
There is one place, in a village, there's a river, a field... For some reason, I think this day will be in autumn...
I'll take her there in the evening. Let's assume I can play the acoustic guitar. We'll build a campfire, take
only a blanket to lie down on... And the guitar. In the evening, we'll sit around the fire together. I'll sing her a poem about my
love... And we'll go to sleep... And I will comfort her... At night, around 3 o'clock... When she is asleep... I'll go into the forest and die alone...

Epigraph. Casting aside hypocrisy, I declare that the last day is built not for anyone else, but first and foremost for oneself. The point is to receive from a loved one those emotions that neither she (he) nor you ever experience in ordinary life.

Let's start with this: spending time sleeping on your last day is an indulgence and a luxury. Therefore, I will begin the narrative with the night. Furthermore, it is quite possible to combine pleasure with utility. Since considerable funds are needed to put further plans into action, we will follow in the footsteps of Bonnie and Clyde. If anyone thinks that I know how to plan armed raids, let them throw a stone at me. I don't know how and I don't like it. So, naturally, it's improvisation and luck (we'll omit technical details for now; nitpickers will find something to cling to, and I congratulate them on that).

So, let's assume the first stage is behind us: we have a bag of cash, an elephant-sized dose of adrenaline, and burned bridges. Banalities like restaurants, clubs, sex, and so on do not interest us for now; no one is surprised by those, and the emotions are quite familiar, so we'll put them off until tomorrow. What are these bills for? Spending them on oneself turns into some kind of materialism that is not needed for a damn thing. Who needs sensations in the afterlife? Therefore, in my view, the only correct way to use the money is the opportunity to change someone's life. Perhaps it's a bit vain, but it's certain: those emotions and memories that will be passed on are almost impossible to obtain in ordinary life. How about that, eh? A mercenary benefactor. Although if we're honest, the same "mercenary" nature here is only a vacuum. I think every person has someone they would like to pull out, something they would like to change.

And how do you do it? Come over, ring the doorbell and put down a bag with the words "here, friend!"? And then the newspaper headlines: "Fled from the police, ended up in jail." Moreover, a person must earn it; otherwise, it will be hard for them to live knowing that everything belongs to someone else. That is, roughly speaking, our task is only to give a chance, not on a silver platter. Giving a hundred bucks to a grandmother at the metro is certainly a worthy act, but not our method. Today we give opportunities, not alms. For each specific person, a different approach is needed; one cannot describe a universal cure for a "hard life." Therefore, I will not dwell on specifics.

And what is the result? Empty pockets, but a sea of emotions and perhaps that rare feeling that the day was not lived in vain. Maybe this isn't what two people captivated by each other dream of, but it is clearly what all people so damnably lack.

"And what happens at the end?" the inquisitive reader will ask. Let's leave the romantic rubbish of Hollywood blockbusters for the poor. I won't put on Bruce Willis's courageous face while saving the planet. And I won't pretend that knowing the day is the last isn't frightening. And in the end, who can dispose of my own fate? Who imagined such nonsense? The day ends at 00:00? Wonderful, we will stand on the parapet together until 23:59. And then from about five hundred meters... They say, "when you dance with the devil, you have to listen to the music." Yes. Pixies' "Where's My Mind" would fit, I'm sure. "You met me at a very strange time in my life..." © FC. Two headphones for one player, and 30 seconds of flight. And essentially, more is never required, right?

It's not just writing about what wasn't. It is even harder to find the words when you realize that such a thing will never happen.
Do you think, having heard the exact date of my demise, I would decide to dedicate my last day to my other half? I, the very embodiment of care and attention, would certainly give her such a gift... Please, the preceding suggestion is merely irony, a tactless mockery aimed at foolish and naive dreamers living in a space parallel to the real world—a space generously strewn with pink petals of romance, the best place for losers and blind men who failed to notice favorable opportunities to become someone truly significant rather than a gray and faceless mass.
No. I will act differently. Not necessarily more cynically, but therefore more intelligently and practically. Even in such a situation—a situation where I have less than 24 hours left to live—I will not lose my head or panic. Sober calculation and harsh egoism, backed by faith in my own strengths, have saved me many times in business; they will help now.
As a lucky entrepreneur, owner of a large company, who had pulled off clever financial machinations many times, knew how to act unconventionally while finding a way out of stalemate positions and leaving competitors empty-handed, and possessed an excellent instinct for profitable investments, I managed over the years of my commercial activity to accumulate a considerable fortune (guaranteeing more than a comfortable old age) and keep a thick address book (a true treasure, yet a redundant attribute: as someone with a phenomenal memory, it was no trouble for me to remember several thousand phone numbers) containing names of partners—people who couldn't be said to love me unconditionally, but were ready to consider an offer promising profit...
***
...The clock read 11:35. The midday sun, so merciless at this time of year, relentlessly burned with its rays.
Less than half an hour remained until the meeting with E.B., an old acquaintance with whom I had collaborated closely at the dawn of my career (even before the appearance of my brainchild—the Trion Corporation).
The office of the pharmaceutical company "Cruxax," owned by E.B., was located not far from Central Square, and I, having parked my car opposite the city library, happy in the realization that I had managed to extend my stay in this world, decided to take a walk through the park leading to the building of the same pharmaceutical giant. I, who knows the count of time and am used to rationally using every minute, decided to grant myself an indulgence this time. This was my gift to me, having so cleverly bartered for a vaccine for a dying resident of a small port town (I prudently remained silent about the fact that the medications were needed for me), lost among the cliffs far north of N... the city where I had once long ago begun to build my business empire and in which I would soon defeat death itself. In no more than an hour, after all formalities are settled, the medicine will be in my hands. And I will not die. I will not die today. And I will live for a long time yet, for I am so young...
Walking along the park alley, I did not try to hurry. An internal sense of time developed over years, which had rewarded me with punctuality worthy of the Count of Monte Cristo, suggested that if I moved at this speed, I would arrive exactly at the appointed hour. Not a second later. This is what graces a businessman.
I was by no means admiring the view of the surrounding trees and shrubs, tended by the careful hands of a gardener diligently earning his salary. The chirping of birds did not concern me in the slightest. No, I am not that soulless. I knew how to appreciate beauty. My huge stamp collection and an equally impressive art gallery (consisting entirely of originals), which had a fabulous price, contained images of the most beautiful places on this damn planet. Simply, these things were not even secondary to me and interested me only as much as their acquisition was economically expedient and contributed to gaining a reputation in certain circles as a true connoisseur of art.
I was completely absorbed in thoughts about next week's visit from a Japanese delegation—representatives of the local automotive concern, one of the largest in the world. They were interested in establishing long-term partnerships with my corporation, and it was necessary to prepare seriously for this meeting. The Japanese are skilled negotiators, and it will not be easy to insist on my own terms.
It seemed that nothing could interrupt my reflections.
Until I met her...
She could not be called beautiful. She could not be called beautiful by the standard of beauty given to us by today's tabloids, full of filth, vulgarity and hypocrisy. Her beauty was not the kind of beauty praised in times of Antiquity. She lacked the perfection of forms that attracted Renaissance sculptors... But... she was lovely... There was something attractive about her, something that forced me to stop and for a long time not let her go with my gaze. Something that made the heart either beat wildly when I touched her non-ideal but incomparable hair with a tender look, or suddenly stop when she stepped... no, when she floated... Yes, yes, when she floated... There was neither grace nor refinement in her gait, but there was some kind of special lightness in her step...
There was something insanely simple about this woman... and real, something that linked her to Natasha Rostova: a certain kind and sincere carelessness, even a childish spontaneity... naturalness and purity. And at the same time, contradicting this bright ease, an almost imperceptible mark of great worldly wisdom could be guessed in her appearance. Wisdom given to a person who has survived many hardships, a series of ups and downs, countless deceits and betrayals, having known the bitterness of unfulfilled hopes. A peculiar seal of sadness was visible on her face... But because of this, she only became more beautiful... It seemed that the likely disappointment which may have befallen this woman very recently had only given her strength, teaching her to treat problems philosophically, making her even more feminine (another paradox!) ... and incomparable...
And I, inexperienced in matters of love, involuntarily thought: perhaps poems are written for such women, perhaps songs are dedicated to such women; yes, such women are showered with flowers; yes, the valiant knights of the Middle Ages called such women ladies of the heart and followed them unnoticed everywhere, ready at the first call to come to the aid of their beloved... Suddenly I wanted to become everything to her: a gallant cavalier, a courageous defender of her honor, and a pleasant conversationalist—everything.
My God!
For a moment I was frightened by my own thoughts. Was this me? I wondered how such thoughts could appear in my callous brain, saturated through and through with numbers. Desires so alien to my nature. An eternal bachelor, I had met many women in my bed. I was neither a beauty nor a clever seducer, but I truly had a lot of money. And I bought the satisfaction of my passions as one buys an ordinary commodity. This was only an extension of business: by day I concluded deals with men, by night—with women. I did not love any of them... Moreover, I harbored no feelings for them at all. Neither their problems nor their cares interested me. They were things to me, things that gratified my lust. And they understood this well and did not bother me with tedious tales of their hard fate. They did not bother me so as not to test my patience. Completely devoid of pride, they could not be called women.
Wh...res... and I myself am no better.
For the first time in my life, I felt ashamed. For the first time, what I had done before seemed vile and unworthy to me...
Meanwhile, the stranger turned, heading toward a small building of a peculiar appearance, and soon disappeared through the doors of a soft drink shop.
I followed her.
Pensive, she sat at a table drinking a cocktail. Her seat was positioned so that she was sitting sideways to the exit. I scanned her with my gaze again. Her profile seemed so wonderful to me, truly magical. I understand that it is a very ordinary profile, but her regally held head with a thin, slightly elongated face with sweet features, partially hidden behind snow-white hair, a correctly shaped slightly elongated nose, and the beautiful line of her lips could not leave me indifferent.
She was alone. It didn't seem like she was waiting for anyone. I looked closer at her attire. A light, pale dress with an intricate pattern, fitting her elegantly, gave her a certain shade of calmness. A shade of serenity, but not the strictness of a soulless business lady. Airy, it fell, covering her slender frame. Bright but not flashy, it dissonated with the pompous outfits of socialites. Different from the glamorous attire of screen divas, it harmonized with the stranger like nothing else and seemed flawless on her.
There was not a gram of obscenity in this woman; she was far from the cliché of everyday life; she was... more than unusual.
I wanted to approach and speak with her. However, some force held me in the doorway. A man who had hitherto known no obstacles suddenly lost all resolve. The enthusiasm with which I took up any new business, the courage with which I took any risk, had now vanished somewhere. Like a fifteen-year-old boy, timidly, I remained motionless.
It would have been much easier if I were drawn to this woman by that lust—now shameful to my soul—rather than genuine admiration and interest.
Finally, overcoming my fear, literally spellbound, I approached her. The eloquence of a talented negotiator, polished over the course of frequent business conversations in my life, failed me for the first time. I could not utter a word. I just stood and looked into her sky-blue eyes. And she—into mine. And I felt that these eyes were sincerely glad to see me. Another strange and unfamiliar feeling for me.
- You... You... Will you go with me to Paris?
Damn! I wanted to say something completely different. I wanted to say all the things I thought while looking at the lovely stranger... But I uttered some nonsense...
But she understood everything. She read it in my eyes. She knew that words did not matter.
- Let's go, - the woman answered me, slowly rising from the table.
Having paid the bill, we went out.
We walked and talked. I held her hand exactly like a schoolboy. But this didn't embarrass me. I was simply glad that we were together. We talked about what we should have talked about. We spoke of those places where we would like to be together, but where we could never end up... as two. In our minds, we visited the most wonderful corners of the Earth; in our minds, we found ourselves in the most mysterious, most romantic parts of the planet. In reality, we were never to be there. Never to be there TOGETHER... In our fantasies, we attended the most remarkable plays, the most exquisite dramas. In our imagination, we were the most magnificent couple...
I was HAPPY. Until this day, I could not think that one could be happy simply by talking with a woman, simply spending time with her. Apparently, fate itself wanted me, even at the end of my life, to understand this, and therefore she, fate, introduced me to the pleasant stranger.
The clock ticked relentlessly. I remembered that death awaited me soon. I wanted to sob. Sob not out of self-pity. Cry because I had spent so little time with my lovely companion. Shed tears because we had even less time left... But I only smiled. And she responded in kind.
In the pocket of my trousers, my mobile phone rang insistently—E.B. was looking for his late friend. But I did not answer, knowing that soon my business partner would have to cease his meaningless attempts. Death had lost its meaning for me.
I said goodbye to my charming lady. I promised to call back. I promised that we would meet again.
I lied to her. And she didn't believe me either. She knew that I would never call, that we would never see each other...
__________
Today was counting down its last seconds.
Tomorrow, I was gone..

What’s with the low participation in the voting? Only three people… Come on, everyone, join in! The participants put in a lot of effort!

I'll make a small correction: 4 people!
However, in my opinion, the participants still tried to do more.
Ah, they don't appreciate art on our forum.

With indignation,
Gur

I was thinking about it for a long time... I was torn... There are several excellent options... each story has its own unique charm - that's undeniable! However, after some thought, I decided to vote for "the last day" #6 (there was also an almost irresistible urge to click on button #7... but in the end...). 30 seconds of flight did the trick! ;)

No. 5 or No. 7... a difficult choice, the first one is more poetic, the second one is more interesting).

...I thought for a long time about which one to vote for – the fifth or the seventh... Both touched me... They are very beautiful. In general, everyone did a great job, guys, and I'm sure that each of the stories will appeal to someone ;)

:) Interesting 6th entry, the others were good too. But no more contests like this, please :D

I liked story number 1. It touched me somehow... The ideas are interesting, that's why I voted for number 1.

Added 2 minutes later
Everyone did a great job!!! They probably spent a lot of time... They could all be writers.

The author of the first one clearly likes using ellipses... :)

Dear forum members! I'm afraid my message number five was misinterpreted. Let me clarify: 10 votes is still a small number. Ladies and gentlemen, let's vote! With a call to action, Gur

Well, you still need to read them. The sixth one – I liked it, and I think if I were to write something similar, I wouldn't stray too far from its core content.

Numbers 6 and 7 were the most enjoyable... as the most mature.
But... but... there are things I can't resist. And "Where is my mind" is definitely one of them.

Thank you, #6.

but we don't need any more contests like that

I agree. But something tells me that there's no limit to sadism. :)
I hope we won't have to die in emoticons in the third stage. :D :D A kind of hybrid :)

sorry for the off-topic