Super Olympic Shorts (Collision Of Worlds)

Super Olympic Shorts

Sandra Giles

Copyright 2010 by Sandra Giles

Smashwords Edition

This collection is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening. Any similarities that may be posed by characters or situations are purely coincidental.

Copyright © Sandra Giles 2012

The right of Sandra Giles to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Synopsis:

This collection of seven short stories is truly out of this world, all showing an event of some shape or form that takes place fifty years in the future. Each competitor truly surpasses the talents of any athlete you have witnessed in the traditional Olympics. In theory, that is, because they may not be human, but they certainly don't know what they are doing. The only thing that enabled them to enter into something as well-known as the Olympics is a power they possess, be it magical, psychic, or something else entirely.

These Olympic Shorts may not have you drooling, but they are certainly gruelling. Not to worry, though. The strain of the supernatural world is squarely on their shoulders. All you have to do is pick a winner.

All proceeds made from these sales will go to the Paralympics.

Parental Guidance is recommended. This is not a collection strictly aimed at adults, but may be considered unsuitable for younger readers. Please be aware of this before carrying out a purchase for a child or young adult.

Contents

Opening Ceremony

Spell-Cycling

Healing

Thirst For Glory

Boat Race

Sailfish Finals

Aftermath

Opening Ceremony

We are taken fifty years into the future for a journey alongside some of the world’s finest athletes, only none of them are human. Great Britain is to host the first ever Super Olympics, a series of events created to test the abilities of an array of inhuman beings. This new form of an old tradition came about as an attempt to focus the energy of every species that has come to light. It had been shocking to discover the existence of supernatural beings, but more than that it was frightening. But why fear the unknown when there are other options? Get them to focus their energies on fighting among themselves, as opposed to starting a war with humans. Turn it all into a supposedly friendly match for glory and a medal. No one can deny that an award held in such high-esteem is a great honour. Not even someone of such otherness.

The Super Olympic village is set deep under the London underground, away from the downpour of rain that seldom relents in its ferocious attack on the city and the country. Most of the time it is light enough to avoid flooding, but there are no doubts about the fact that Britain can’t hope to remain for more than another fifty years. To many this is simply a problem for future generations, and Franklin Gardner is no exception to the rule. At sixty-eight years old he is hardly worried about a little rain. It’s not as though he will be around to drown with his country.

Franklin is the brains behind this new form of Olympics. He is among those who fear these beings of legend, and figured that their best form of attack was to make the creatures believe they were accepted. Pour some money into the Games, reward those with talent, and let some die in battle. Lure them into a sense of acceptance and let the competition take them over. They may not die out this year, but it will happen eventually. Every few years the Super Olympics will be held, and every few years there will be a decrease in these abnormal beings. He had yet to find a flaw, and yet there were many.

The opening ceremony for the Super Olympics was to be held in the main arena, directly below London’s centre. Anyone wishing to attend may do so for a price, and they can simply use the extended tube service as transportation. It’s more like a lift than a train, but is spacious enough to accommodate a thousand passengers. Even Franklin has to admit that it is impressive, and he rarely feels that way about anything.

The stadium itself is a magnificent achievement. The first supernatural losses came about during its creation, as spell-casters had been required to make the place fit for humans. They provided oxygen for the workers, only some had been so incompetent that they had neglected to leave any for themselves. The result had been premature deaths and a temporary strike, but things soon got back on track, and since then has come the arrival of a stadium larger than any other in the world.

The centre of the stadium is where the opening ceremony is to take place, with many other rooms and halls spaced about the place, ready for the Games. The village is set on the outskirts, circling wide around the entire thing, high above which sits an artificial sun that shines all day long. It’s much nicer than regular London, with its smog and nonstop rain. The stream of Olympic tourists still visit the area, though. They have little choice really, as there is nowhere for them to stay underground. But they seem to enjoy the historical perks of the place. It’s just a shame that the occasional oxygen mask ruins some of the photos.

Back to the stadium. The centre is actually referred to as a separate arena, as it is a vast creation holding tiers of seats for people to view events from. At present the stands are filled with people, all eager for the opening to begin. There is a four-sided screen floating in the centre of the arena, displaying past events and demonstrating how these will change in order to test this new breed of contenders. There will be everything from shape-shifting equestrian (involving the transformation of a shifter into a horse, where they will perform for a panel of judges) to apport javelin (people of this psychic ability will aim to move a javelin as far as they possibly can with just their minds). As with all events of this nature, there will be many bets placed and lost on various aspects. Winners, times, deaths. The usual.

The traditional symbol has been altered for these new events. It still shows the five united rings, but each one holds something to symbolise a supernatural race. There are fangs for vampires, a wand for spell-casters, the full-moon for werewolves, a crystal ball for psychics, and a question mark for shape-shifters. As strange as the last sounds, it’s actually the most accurate of them all, for there is always a sense of surprise when it comes to which animal the shifter will turn into. As for the others, well they have all kept to the legends, none of which apply to the actual creatures. No one has bothered to say as much. It just doesn’t seem important, all things considered.

The ceremony sets off with a countdown, which has people beside themselves with fear and anticipation within seconds. With each number comes a vampire, who appears as if by magic somewhere within the crowd. Some of the people sitting next to an empty seat are waiting in anticipation for their vampire to appear, whilst others are begging their neighbours to switch seats. Each vampire flashes up on screen, a sombre look on his or her face, and a crimson splash on each chest to show the countdown. The entire arena is quivering by the time number one approaches, each one curious as to what will happen with his or her arrival.

And then it comes, a large shadow slinking through the arena, slow enough to see and yet fast enough to appear distorted. People gasp as it pushes past them, a cold wind lurking in their wake. All is silent, waiting for the face to be made clear, but instead there is no one to be seen. Not even vampires two through ten have stayed in their places.

Just when the audience can’t take anymore, a blood-curdling scream echoes through the arena. Some people echo it in true fear. Others laugh nervously. And then, suddenly, the centre of the arena starts to split in two. From the depths of the ground rises a cloaked figure, his hands clutching a struggling woman. It was undoubtedly her who had screamed, and yet no brave hero comes to her aid. Everyone is too stunned. Some people are asking whether this is part of the show, most are sure it isn’t. The tension builds.

Soon more vampires are appearing, each still splashed in their crimson number. They approach the centre of the arena, but not to help the woman. It’s clear to everyone whose side they are on.

She screams again, a long and pitiful sound. The crowd seem to be holding their collective breath. Not a sound is being made as everyone watches fearfully.

The prowling turns into a form of dance, each vampire moving with a type of grace that could never be mimicked by a human. The beat of a single drum fills the room, and everyone claps along to it, their breathing coming out in a rush as they realise this is part of the show. The woman is held up by the vampire. She wears white to show her innocence, but one bite from her captor and the dress is bathed in red. It’s not real blood, but instead a type of glistening fabric. This is true magic, performed by the casters who stand out of sight.

The performance builds into a fight for the woman. Every vampire wants a bite of her, but the central figure is unwilling to share. They dance, some fall, and the crowd love every moment.

It isn’t long before a member of the audience is standing up and drawing courage as though it were a sword. He leaps between seats, landing perfectly on the back of each one and startling whoever is sitting there. No one doubts that he is a vampire, but then he astounds even the actual vampires by bursting into fur before their very eyes.

The werewolf dives at each vampire as they perform their choreographed attack on him. It’s not until he reaches the central vampire that he falls, the same glistening red fabric covering the floor beneath him. Nobody knows what has happened to him until the screen zones in on the knife in his chest. The vampire flicks his hand, causing the knife to shoot back into it. Despite him being the villain of this spectacle, the crowd can’t help but cheer.

The screen goes to the face of the woman, which glows in the dark arena. She smiles down at the fallen werewolf and her dress loses colour. It turns to black as she finds her freedom at long last. It is then made clear that she is one of them. She’s a vampire.

It’s uncertain what she is seeking when she turns to face her male counterpart, but then she bows her head and they meet one another in a dance. It is slow at first, but speeds to a waltz as the music changes pace. The crowd begins to clap once more as they move gracefully, covering every inch of floor space available to them. The fallen vampires rise from their demise and find their own partner with whom they dance, so that the floor is filled with much twirling and swaying.

Soon a beam of light illuminates the only character to still remain motionless. The werewolf is taken into the air by the light, revolving gently as the vampires slow their dancing to watch. None stop moving, and so each turn is of the same pace. The vampires and the werewolf are united in speed, if nothing else.

The spectacle continues with a new hero taking to the stage. This one rides in on a horse, his small frame giving him the appearance of a jockey, but his splendid outfit resembling that of a knight. He dives around the vampires and stands on his horse, propelling himself into the air as he nears the centre. A chant fills the room, started by him and echoed by more characters, each standing in a tight circle around the dancers. The caster who is airborne flicks his hand, and suddenly he is holding onto a ring from which he swings. The murmuring builds and the caster dives, again grasping onto a hoop that appears just in time. It continues, each jump becoming more magnificent as he moves like the best of acrobats around the arena.

He reaches the light beam and touches the werewolf, making the fur recede and causing the man to reveal himself. His face is pale with death, and his body is wrapped in the same pure fabric as the woman had worn earlier. Slowly, he starts a descent towards the dancing vampires. The caster remains over him, much like a guardian angel. The song that fills the arena is one of harmony. The light expands onto the vampires, making them shield their eyes and retreat into the shadows. The waiting casters take their place, continuing a dance that in its own way is even more splendid, albeit much simpler.

The werewolf touches the ground and is met by the waiting horse, which makes the crowd laugh for the first time by licking the length of his face. That does nothing to help the werewolf, who sleeps on in what seems to be an endless slumber. Smoke starts to unfurl from the edges of the arena, making the forms in the centre distorted, whilst causing those around them to appear invisible. Through the smoke there is movement. The horse is rearing on its hind legs, and its body is changing shape. It is much more elegantly done than most shifting is known to be. There is undoubtedly magic being used to make the transformation more graceful than usual.

The smoke recedes as the change