Creative Writing, Writing Challenge

The only way to settle a decision

“Me? Why do I always have to be the one to go?” David clamored.

“Cut out that woe-is-me crap! This isn’t about keeping score; it’s about the facts,” Don held his hands up made a chopping motion with each syllable that followed: “You left the keys there. Inside that tent.”

David’s mouth went agape and he dramatically staggered back in the passenger’s seat, clutching his chest. “Never would I have thought, not once in the 27 years of our lives together, that my own twin brother would so falsely accuse me–”

“You had it last when you woke me up in the middle of the night to get the keys to the trunk so you could get some toilet paper, remember?” Don cut David off.

“Oh, that actually happened. I thought that was a dream,” David muttered, rubbing his head. As if to match his louder personality, David had hair that was at least 4 inches taller than Don’s clean crew cut. David’s hair was all over the place at the moment.

“It must’ve fallen out from your pants when you flung it off after you came back, idiot,” Don ribbed.

“Okay, fine, so I had the keys last because I sleep-walked and sleep-pooped with that lunatic out there in the woods. But who, Don, was the one that brought us here in the first place? Whose fault is it, Don, that we are currently shivering inside this car in the middle of nowhere because he decided that camping would be a great way to bond?” David shot back.

“Okay, so I picked the worst time and place to go camping–”

“When and where a serial killer is on the loose!” David shrilled.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions. All we heard was some strange noises and–”

“‘Strange noises’, Don? The scraping noises against our tent eventually cut it open! There was a boxcutter attached to the sound!” David cried. “And how do you explain this note that we found on your car after we ran inside?” David shoved the note that read, in large letters and apparently in blood, to Don’s face:

“Asians taste sweet, they’re my favorite.”

For a moment, the Yeun brothers sat in silence, clutching to their sides and looking outside the car windows. For the past half-hour, they had been alternating between arguing and being stupefied as to what was going on. After the box cutter ripped open the top of their tent, David and Don jumped up and nearly toppled over each other as Don frantically zipped open the tent exit. They had never run faster than they did in the next moment when they sprinted from the tent to Don’s car. They barely got the chance to take a breath before they noticed the terrifying note attached to the windshield. They were prepared to flee right then and there, leaving their tent, clothes, and camping gear behind, but alas, no keys.

However, in the time that had elapsed since that incident, there was absolute silence. They didn’t see anyone running away from the tent. No box-cutter lying on the ground. Not a sound for miles other than the rustling of wind. Don would have been convinced that it was just their imagination if not for the torn tent and the creepy note. In fact, Don had to roll down the window and grab the note from the windshield to make sure that it was real. The blood stained Don’s fingers and he dropped it.

“Goddamn it, David. Just get the keys!” Don shoved David.

You get the keys!” David shoved back.

Don closed his eyes and sighed deeply. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he put his left hand out, palms facing up, and hovered his right fist over it. David burst out laughing.

“Really, Don? What are we, 5?” David snorted.

Don opened his eyes and asked, “Got a better solution, brother?”

David stared at the face that was so much like his, yet so different. Slowly, almost reluctantly, David imitated his fraternal twin’s hand shape and position. “Best of three?” Don asked.

David nodded curtly. Simultaneously, the brothers pounded their right fists against their left palms thrice. David’s fist turned into the shape of a scissor while Don’s remained the same.

“Oh shit,” David scoffed.

“Scissor’s still your first go-to move, I see,” Don smirked.

David’s eyes narrowed as he resumed the first position of rock-paper-scissor. Don’s smile lingered as his eyes hardened and he did the same. The brothers took a breath together and then pounded their right fists against their left palms as if on cue. Don chose paper this time and David let out a guttural whoop. He had gone with scissor again.

“Snip, snip, snip,” David sang as he made the show of scissoring Don’s hand. Don jerked his hand back before David’s scissor could touch his paper. “Don’t be such a sore loser, bro!” David laughed.

“It’s not losing yet. Last round now. One for one,” Don said.

Suddenly, a heavy object dropped seemingly from the sky and landed on the roof of the car with a sickening thud.

“What the hell!” David screamed, slapping his left arm against Don’s chest.

The object made a sloshing noise as it slipped from the roof to the front window. A dark red-brown streak followed the object while its antlers scrapped down the window. The brothers held their breaths as a dead deer’s head finally rested atop the roof of the engine. A high-pitch giggle escaped from somewhere behind the car.

“We need to leave. Now,” Don said quietly.

The brothers wasted no time arguing about who should go. Hearts slamming against their ribcages, they picked up their shaking hands. They pounded their right fist against their left palm once. They pounded their fists a second time. And then they pounded their fists a third time.

They had only looked down for less than a second, before their minds could process the result, when a figure holding an axe rose from the backseat and cut the brothers’ heads off in one swift move.

They never saw it coming; the last thing that David and Don ever saw was the hand shape of each other’s right hands.

Writing Challenge 2/30: Describe the most intense game of Rock, Paper, Scissors to ever be played.


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