You're gonna die! Creative writing assignment (split from What could go wrong?)
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Ok since we're turning this into an experiement in creative writing let's take it up a level.
Here's the exercise. I will write a few paragraphs of the tail of Bob and Karen and someone comes along and picks up where I left off and adds a few paragraphs.
Parameters:
- Anything goes as long as the story line can be followed.
- No aliens, UFO's or mythical creatures (you always need to say that)
- In the end Bob dies and the story ends.
Here we go:
==== the story of Bob and Karen (part 2) ====
After their near miss earlier in the day, Karen decided to sit out the second dive. She was sitting alone on the foredeck and chastising herself. "You're such a weenie," she said to herself acerbicly, "Bob is never going to want to go diving with you again.... or anything else for that matter." Her emotions were in full control and she knew that it was going to take time to regain her composure. Bob tried to comfort her but to add insult to injury she snapped at him, "go away. You're the last person I need around me right now." It wasn't what she meant. She was embarassed and and afraid of looking weak in the Bob's eyes. She was sure he was "mr. right" and sure that he didn't think that about her. "Who wants a girlfriend with panic attacks," she thought to herself, "it's like a car that backfires." Karen sighed deeply and sunk further into her frustration. She laid back and stared blankly into the blue sky.
Rick, a mutual friend who Karen and Bob had met when they were taking their open water course, was also onboard. He was nearly always the first one in the water. Rick said it was because he liked to be ahead of the group so nobody had a chance to ruin the visibility before he got there, but in reality it was because he hated diving with a guide. Guides were nosy and pushy. "Don't go too deep", "don't go too fast", "don't get fall behind", "don't get too far from your buddy", "how much air do you have"..."blah blah blah". Rick hated it. He dove to get away from being told what to do and that meant diving alone whenever he could get away with it. Rick was an electrician for a power company and an ex-soldier, which was the root of his dislike for taking orders. He liked to travel "off the beaten track" purely for the adventure. That was why he started diving and he soon found out that diving was the ultimate adventure sport. Karen called his diving style reckless. Bob was intrigued and secretly a little envious of the things Rick dared to do and he looked up to Rick like a boy looks up to a mysterious uncle.
Rick had seen Karen and Bob having trouble on the surface at the end of the last dive and he knew what needed to be done. They both needed to get back in the water immediately. In fact, he was on his way to get them when he encountered Bob coming back from the foredeck. "Come on," said Rick, "get your stuff on, you're going diving. Where's Karen"?
"She's not coming," said Bob.
Rick heard it but didn't say anything and tried to push past Bob. Karen was coming! Bob grabbed him by the arm and held him back until they made eye contact.
"She's really not coming, Rick," he said.
Rick frowned. This wasn't the right thing to do after something like that. "Ok," he said, "have it your way, but you are coming with me."
Bob agreed. In fact, he was glad to be going diving. Karen's reaction made him think she was mad at him for what had happened. She obviously thought it was his fault for kicking the camera and causing her mask to flood. He should have been more careful. He knew Karen had a weak spot and running it through in his mind again, he clenched his teeth, "dumb a$$," he thought, "you blew your chance with her."
The next dive was a wreck called the Cape Breton. She was a large ship, purpose sunk for divers, which meant easy penetration, and stood upright on her keel in 42 metres of water. Both Bob and Rick had been diving on the Cape Breton before. On the previous dive, Bob was diving with Karen and they spent most of the dive exploring around the wheelhouse, swimming over the huge oranage and white blankets of anenomies hanging from the railings and watching a big ling-cod swim back and forth agitated and flaring at passing divers. Rick had set off on his own and told Bob after the dive that he was in the engine room at 42 metres under the "sky lights". According to Rick, the elevator shaft under the skylights was big enough to drive a truck through and it was impossible to get lost. Bob had never penetrated a wreck before but this was a good way to start. Rick knew the way and if he was right about the elevator shaft then it would be safe.
Rick wasn't fond of briefings. They took too long and just listening to the self satisfied droning of the divemaster made him impatient. He said to Bob, "Let's get our gear on. As soon as this guy is finished listening to himself talk we're jumping."
Bob complied and helped Rick lift the heavy scuba gear onto his back. "Do you want me to check you?" he said.
"No, if the tank is on that's all I need."
"Are you sure, sometimes..."
"Bob, I'm not Karen. I know how to dive."
"That's not fair!", said Bob crossly and a little too loudly, and the Divemaster paused.
"Is everything ok?" he said.
"Yeah, sorry," said Bob and he turned and shot another sharp glance at Rick and said "Karen had a problem, that's all."
"I know," said Rick, resigning himself to the realization that Bob was infatuated with her and he would defend her regardless of the truth.
The divemaster was wrapping up his briefing and said with a big painted-on smile, "OK, let's go diving!"
"That's our cue," said Rick and seconds later they were overboard and swimming to the down line.
Here's the exercise. I will write a few paragraphs of the tail of Bob and Karen and someone comes along and picks up where I left off and adds a few paragraphs.
Parameters:
- Anything goes as long as the story line can be followed.
- No aliens, UFO's or mythical creatures (you always need to say that)
- In the end Bob dies and the story ends.
Here we go:
==== the story of Bob and Karen (part 2) ====
After their near miss earlier in the day, Karen decided to sit out the second dive. She was sitting alone on the foredeck and chastising herself. "You're such a weenie," she said to herself acerbicly, "Bob is never going to want to go diving with you again.... or anything else for that matter." Her emotions were in full control and she knew that it was going to take time to regain her composure. Bob tried to comfort her but to add insult to injury she snapped at him, "go away. You're the last person I need around me right now." It wasn't what she meant. She was embarassed and and afraid of looking weak in the Bob's eyes. She was sure he was "mr. right" and sure that he didn't think that about her. "Who wants a girlfriend with panic attacks," she thought to herself, "it's like a car that backfires." Karen sighed deeply and sunk further into her frustration. She laid back and stared blankly into the blue sky.
Rick, a mutual friend who Karen and Bob had met when they were taking their open water course, was also onboard. He was nearly always the first one in the water. Rick said it was because he liked to be ahead of the group so nobody had a chance to ruin the visibility before he got there, but in reality it was because he hated diving with a guide. Guides were nosy and pushy. "Don't go too deep", "don't go too fast", "don't get fall behind", "don't get too far from your buddy", "how much air do you have"..."blah blah blah". Rick hated it. He dove to get away from being told what to do and that meant diving alone whenever he could get away with it. Rick was an electrician for a power company and an ex-soldier, which was the root of his dislike for taking orders. He liked to travel "off the beaten track" purely for the adventure. That was why he started diving and he soon found out that diving was the ultimate adventure sport. Karen called his diving style reckless. Bob was intrigued and secretly a little envious of the things Rick dared to do and he looked up to Rick like a boy looks up to a mysterious uncle.
Rick had seen Karen and Bob having trouble on the surface at the end of the last dive and he knew what needed to be done. They both needed to get back in the water immediately. In fact, he was on his way to get them when he encountered Bob coming back from the foredeck. "Come on," said Rick, "get your stuff on, you're going diving. Where's Karen"?
"She's not coming," said Bob.
Rick heard it but didn't say anything and tried to push past Bob. Karen was coming! Bob grabbed him by the arm and held him back until they made eye contact.
"She's really not coming, Rick," he said.
Rick frowned. This wasn't the right thing to do after something like that. "Ok," he said, "have it your way, but you are coming with me."
Bob agreed. In fact, he was glad to be going diving. Karen's reaction made him think she was mad at him for what had happened. She obviously thought it was his fault for kicking the camera and causing her mask to flood. He should have been more careful. He knew Karen had a weak spot and running it through in his mind again, he clenched his teeth, "dumb a$$," he thought, "you blew your chance with her."
The next dive was a wreck called the Cape Breton. She was a large ship, purpose sunk for divers, which meant easy penetration, and stood upright on her keel in 42 metres of water. Both Bob and Rick had been diving on the Cape Breton before. On the previous dive, Bob was diving with Karen and they spent most of the dive exploring around the wheelhouse, swimming over the huge oranage and white blankets of anenomies hanging from the railings and watching a big ling-cod swim back and forth agitated and flaring at passing divers. Rick had set off on his own and told Bob after the dive that he was in the engine room at 42 metres under the "sky lights". According to Rick, the elevator shaft under the skylights was big enough to drive a truck through and it was impossible to get lost. Bob had never penetrated a wreck before but this was a good way to start. Rick knew the way and if he was right about the elevator shaft then it would be safe.
Rick wasn't fond of briefings. They took too long and just listening to the self satisfied droning of the divemaster made him impatient. He said to Bob, "Let's get our gear on. As soon as this guy is finished listening to himself talk we're jumping."
Bob complied and helped Rick lift the heavy scuba gear onto his back. "Do you want me to check you?" he said.
"No, if the tank is on that's all I need."
"Are you sure, sometimes..."
"Bob, I'm not Karen. I know how to dive."
"That's not fair!", said Bob crossly and a little too loudly, and the Divemaster paused.
"Is everything ok?" he said.
"Yeah, sorry," said Bob and he turned and shot another sharp glance at Rick and said "Karen had a problem, that's all."
"I know," said Rick, resigning himself to the realization that Bob was infatuated with her and he would defend her regardless of the truth.
The divemaster was wrapping up his briefing and said with a big painted-on smile, "OK, let's go diving!"
"That's our cue," said Rick and seconds later they were overboard and swimming to the down line.
Continued From Rotuner...
Rick, in his attempt to show the Divemaster just what he thought of that spiel about taking a cutting tool and mono filament and penatr... or bla bla bla...something else did a front flip into the water as he called out to Bob, "That's our cue." He loved showing off. It made him feel alive. Other people just had to gleam with envy.
Bob smiled thinking what a crazy and knowledgeable guy he was getting to dive with. It is not every day that your buddy was dodging bullets in Iraq.
He looked down the mooring line with disdain that Rick had plummeted the 70' to the wheelhouse. He had to catch up. As he descended he looked back up the line longing to go back and tell Karen that he was sorry. He did not know why yet, but something felt odd.
Rick looked up from 75' near the skylights ad as he spotted Bob, he knew this would be a slow dive if Bob did not get his act together. I mean really, how long does it take to get down some freaking line? He motioned to Bob just as he prepares to penetrate to elevator shaft.
"Where did Rick go?" Bob wondered to him self. Things had begun to spin after a descent like that. Of course it was not too much for him. Like Rick always said, "If you have to think twice, you're nothing more than a pansy." The current also seemed a little heavier on this dive, or was that just his imagination?
Rick could see Bob right above him. Peering through the remaining portions of aged skylight, everything was cast in a painted glow. This was going to be perfect. He would come up behind Bob and scare any reservations he had about diving Rick's way out of him. It would be explainable as just a "friendly tap to get his attention" of course.
As Rick went to make his move, his leg jerked him back to where he was just hovering. Something was pulling him back. What the devil? He looked down and noticed some fishing line wrapped on a retractor holding his secondary light on the bottom of his BCJ. Dang it. "Well," Rick grunted as he reached for his old military knife strapped to his thigh. He grunted again as his right arm twisted in more line. What the heck? Not only had he missed his chance to wake Bob up from any delusions of fear, but no he was caught, not for long he thought, I can handle this.
Just as Bob enters the wreck, he hears what sounds like a bear coming from his left. He listens again and heard a curse. Rick. What was he doing over there in the dark? Bob shone his light in the direction of the commotion and saw Rick entangled reaching for his knife. Bob knew he had to help.
To Be Continued...
Rick, in his attempt to show the Divemaster just what he thought of that spiel about taking a cutting tool and mono filament and penatr... or bla bla bla...something else did a front flip into the water as he called out to Bob, "That's our cue." He loved showing off. It made him feel alive. Other people just had to gleam with envy.
Bob smiled thinking what a crazy and knowledgeable guy he was getting to dive with. It is not every day that your buddy was dodging bullets in Iraq.
He looked down the mooring line with disdain that Rick had plummeted the 70' to the wheelhouse. He had to catch up. As he descended he looked back up the line longing to go back and tell Karen that he was sorry. He did not know why yet, but something felt odd.
Rick looked up from 75' near the skylights ad as he spotted Bob, he knew this would be a slow dive if Bob did not get his act together. I mean really, how long does it take to get down some freaking line? He motioned to Bob just as he prepares to penetrate to elevator shaft.
"Where did Rick go?" Bob wondered to him self. Things had begun to spin after a descent like that. Of course it was not too much for him. Like Rick always said, "If you have to think twice, you're nothing more than a pansy." The current also seemed a little heavier on this dive, or was that just his imagination?
Rick could see Bob right above him. Peering through the remaining portions of aged skylight, everything was cast in a painted glow. This was going to be perfect. He would come up behind Bob and scare any reservations he had about diving Rick's way out of him. It would be explainable as just a "friendly tap to get his attention" of course.
As Rick went to make his move, his leg jerked him back to where he was just hovering. Something was pulling him back. What the devil? He looked down and noticed some fishing line wrapped on a retractor holding his secondary light on the bottom of his BCJ. Dang it. "Well," Rick grunted as he reached for his old military knife strapped to his thigh. He grunted again as his right arm twisted in more line. What the heck? Not only had he missed his chance to wake Bob up from any delusions of fear, but no he was caught, not for long he thought, I can handle this.
Just as Bob enters the wreck, he hears what sounds like a bear coming from his left. He listens again and heard a curse. Rick. What was he doing over there in the dark? Bob shone his light in the direction of the commotion and saw Rick entangled reaching for his knife. Bob knew he had to help.
To Be Continued...
I
idocsteve
Guest
LMAO.
Bob realizes that Rick is entangled in some monofilament, and it's bad..not only is the line wrapped around his retractor, but it's also around his throat, and any movements that Rick has tried to make to free himself has only tightened the line like a noose.
The line is so tight that there is a noticeable indentation in Rick's neck from the monofilament line and Ricks carotid artery is notably pulsating under his hood, threatening to burst with every pulsation. Rick's eyes are wide and he looks at Bob with a sense of helplessness.
Bob reaches for his knife but realizes that in the hurry to get back in the water, he left it on the boat. Rick's knife or other cutting implements are nowhere to be seen, because unkown to Bob, Rick had dropped his knife in his haste to get free and it lay just below Rick, hidden in the murky silt that now bathes the wreck.
Due to the stress of the situation both men are using their gas very quickly and the needles on their SPG's are rapidly approaching the red and there are no other divers anywhere in sight. In fact the only other life form is a goliath grouper, who watches the divers in a sort of morbid curiosity.
Herk_Man
Contributor
This is quite possibly the worst case of hijacking in forum history. Wow.
Herk_Man
Contributor
Giant Amazonian hijackers. Scantilly clad with huge... knives and really firm... rules about how to deliver the ransom money.
:banana:
That dude in the avatar to the right, btw, is moi, after I went down on the Hilma Hooker in Bonaire. Heh.
:banana:
That dude in the avatar to the right, btw, is moi, after I went down on the Hilma Hooker in Bonaire. Heh.
I
idocsteve
Guest
Note to Moderator
I'm not sure where to put this next one, it's a tough call as to whether or not some of my posts are "humorous" or plausible conditions that can effectively answer the scenario posed by the Op. I notice that some of my posts remain on this thread and others have been moved to the "jokes" section.
So I'll put this next one here, and if you or one of the other members of the fine ScubaBoard moderating team consider it to be of humorous nature, then please move it as necessary.
* * *
Following an uneventful dive, while at the safety stop, Bob gazed upon his obese wife, and sadly recalled the beautiful woman he married so many years ago, who had a body that would stop a conversation in a room, that most men would pay simply to have the privilege to gaze upon. But alas...a cheesecake and/or ice cream after every meal, eating at McDonalds so often that the pantry was filled with those free glasses that you get with every Supersize meal, pizza pies with all the toppings...a sedentary lifestyle that included not much more physical effort than clicking a TV remote...and how many times did he remind her that a treadmill is not designed simply to hang laundry to dry?
Bob recalled being told once upon a time that there's plenty to see even while hanging on the line. For sure anything beats the sight of his 300+lb wife struggling to hold an anchor line...at night you have the plankton that glow with the swish of a hand, during the day you might see a pelagic fish or even a curious shark circling the line. As Bob looked around him, he heard a sound off in the distance that he later described to be similar to that of a horn of a passing freight train..and then he heard it again, and again...as it came closer.
Karen heard it too, and they both turned to see a large shape suddenly looming up at them out of the hazy visibility. They both gasped as they realized it was a large sperm whale, and judging by it's erect fins and flared gills it had only one thing on it's mind- it was mating season and Karen was his target!
Karen turned and tried to swim away as fast as she could but even with her new split fins and streamlined rig due to having an Air 2 regulator on her BCD and air integrated computer which eliminate 2 hoses, she could make no headway. It was later theorized during the post accident analysis that the Spare Air she carried on her BCD provided just enough drag to slow her down. The sperm whale seemed to be having fun with Karen, swimming around her and displaying itself, and then gently nudging her back to where he found her.
Bob stared in morbid fascination and then he quickly came to his senses, and he unclipped his camera and strobe and turned it on, making the proper adjustments for the lighting conditions and using a setting that is optimal for rapidly moving targets. He recalled that in the past some of his pictures were a bit over exposed, so he turned the adjustment dial on his Sealife Universal strobe counterclockwise a few bars, figuring that if the pictures were too dark he could increase the contrast and brightness using photoediting software.
Following what Bob estimated to be about 10 minutes of courtship, the whale turned to expose it's underside...and Bob gasped in fascination at the sperm whales male anatomy which was approximately the girth of a steel 120 and perhaps 3x as long. Karen too was given a birds eye view, and the realization of what was about to occur gave her renewed energy (and desperation) and once again she struggled to swim away, this time towards Bob, her only possible salvation. Bob realized there was nothing he could do, and he shrugged his shoulders and gestured to Karen to please not come any closer lest he be unable to properly frame both her and the whale in the series of photos that were sure to make the front page of next month's "National Geographic".
The whole thing was over rather quickly, (much to Bob's disappointment), the whale moved in, there was contact between the two copulating partners, there was a scream, and blood rapidly filled the area, obscuring the water and preventing further photography. Bob realized that the blood might attract sharks, and he knew from his training that one scuba fatality is always better than two, so he rapidly moved to the boarding ladder and removed his fins. He took one last look behind him ...and saw a sight that would haunt him until the following evening, when he was at the hotel bar telling any woman who would listen about his narrow escape from the pack of killer whales. There was Karen, floating like a child's discarded rag doll, bent and broken and floating in a sea of blood..as the whale gave her a last curious nudge and swam off to rejoin his pod.
Back on the boat, there was confusion and disorientation everywhere. Tanks and gear were spilled around the deck...divers were bruised and bleeding...the Captain was on the radio trying to find the source of the series of "mini Tsunamis" that had rocked the boat and created mayhem and confusion for all. Bob got the attention of the divers and crew and said "I have an explanation for all of this, gather round!". As the divers circled Bob, waiting for the answer, he fired up his camera...only to find that he had failed to insert a memory card.
I'm not sure where to put this next one, it's a tough call as to whether or not some of my posts are "humorous" or plausible conditions that can effectively answer the scenario posed by the Op. I notice that some of my posts remain on this thread and others have been moved to the "jokes" section.
So I'll put this next one here, and if you or one of the other members of the fine ScubaBoard moderating team consider it to be of humorous nature, then please move it as necessary.
* * *
Following an uneventful dive, while at the safety stop, Bob gazed upon his obese wife, and sadly recalled the beautiful woman he married so many years ago, who had a body that would stop a conversation in a room, that most men would pay simply to have the privilege to gaze upon. But alas...a cheesecake and/or ice cream after every meal, eating at McDonalds so often that the pantry was filled with those free glasses that you get with every Supersize meal, pizza pies with all the toppings...a sedentary lifestyle that included not much more physical effort than clicking a TV remote...and how many times did he remind her that a treadmill is not designed simply to hang laundry to dry?
Bob recalled being told once upon a time that there's plenty to see even while hanging on the line. For sure anything beats the sight of his 300+lb wife struggling to hold an anchor line...at night you have the plankton that glow with the swish of a hand, during the day you might see a pelagic fish or even a curious shark circling the line. As Bob looked around him, he heard a sound off in the distance that he later described to be similar to that of a horn of a passing freight train..and then he heard it again, and again...as it came closer.
Karen heard it too, and they both turned to see a large shape suddenly looming up at them out of the hazy visibility. They both gasped as they realized it was a large sperm whale, and judging by it's erect fins and flared gills it had only one thing on it's mind- it was mating season and Karen was his target!
Karen turned and tried to swim away as fast as she could but even with her new split fins and streamlined rig due to having an Air 2 regulator on her BCD and air integrated computer which eliminate 2 hoses, she could make no headway. It was later theorized during the post accident analysis that the Spare Air she carried on her BCD provided just enough drag to slow her down. The sperm whale seemed to be having fun with Karen, swimming around her and displaying itself, and then gently nudging her back to where he found her.
Bob stared in morbid fascination and then he quickly came to his senses, and he unclipped his camera and strobe and turned it on, making the proper adjustments for the lighting conditions and using a setting that is optimal for rapidly moving targets. He recalled that in the past some of his pictures were a bit over exposed, so he turned the adjustment dial on his Sealife Universal strobe counterclockwise a few bars, figuring that if the pictures were too dark he could increase the contrast and brightness using photoediting software.
Following what Bob estimated to be about 10 minutes of courtship, the whale turned to expose it's underside...and Bob gasped in fascination at the sperm whales male anatomy which was approximately the girth of a steel 120 and perhaps 3x as long. Karen too was given a birds eye view, and the realization of what was about to occur gave her renewed energy (and desperation) and once again she struggled to swim away, this time towards Bob, her only possible salvation. Bob realized there was nothing he could do, and he shrugged his shoulders and gestured to Karen to please not come any closer lest he be unable to properly frame both her and the whale in the series of photos that were sure to make the front page of next month's "National Geographic".
The whole thing was over rather quickly, (much to Bob's disappointment), the whale moved in, there was contact between the two copulating partners, there was a scream, and blood rapidly filled the area, obscuring the water and preventing further photography. Bob realized that the blood might attract sharks, and he knew from his training that one scuba fatality is always better than two, so he rapidly moved to the boarding ladder and removed his fins. He took one last look behind him ...and saw a sight that would haunt him until the following evening, when he was at the hotel bar telling any woman who would listen about his narrow escape from the pack of killer whales. There was Karen, floating like a child's discarded rag doll, bent and broken and floating in a sea of blood..as the whale gave her a last curious nudge and swam off to rejoin his pod.
Back on the boat, there was confusion and disorientation everywhere. Tanks and gear were spilled around the deck...divers were bruised and bleeding...the Captain was on the radio trying to find the source of the series of "mini Tsunamis" that had rocked the boat and created mayhem and confusion for all. Bob got the attention of the divers and crew and said "I have an explanation for all of this, gather round!". As the divers circled Bob, waiting for the answer, he fired up his camera...only to find that he had failed to insert a memory card.
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