This is the writing sample of my work in progress I sent to @nateaguila that got me hired as a narrative designer at Splinterlands. three-and-a-half years later, it's still a work in progress, but oh what a ride it's been!
It takes me a second to realize the others have stopped. I glance at them over my shoulder. They’re staring into the distance ahead of us, and I follow their gazes to find a figure careening out of one of the side streets. Nearly two blocks away, but even from here, I can tell it’s a man. Long beard and scraggly hair, he’s wrapped in some kind of dingy bedsheet, wearing it like a makeshift toga. He trips and goes down and scrambles to his feet. Then he turns, sees us, and waves his arms.
“The end is nigh! Prepare for judgment and pray for your souls, ye blasphemers!”
Liviana shakes her head. “Someone needs to clue this nut job in. The end is already here.”
Something massive bounds from the side street from which the doomsayer stumbled. Elongated shadows contort its features. It’s covered in a shaggy and matted coat of fur. A bear? No, its legs are wrong. There’s too many of them. Long and multisegmented, they’re not like a bear’s at all.
As we gape in disbelief, three more of the creatures appear. They’re not bounding, they’re skittering. Deep, throaty growls resound as they race toward the doomsayer, who’s still waving his arms at us.
“The end is nigh, the end is—”
The first creature leaps, wrapping its legs around the man as it slams into him. They hit the ground with a thud and roll through the street. The beast comes out on top and rises over him on a tetrad of rear legs while its two pair of forelegs poise in the air. At its mouth, a pair of grotesque and hairy appendages part to reveal massive, jack-knife fangs.
The doomsayer flails at the thing. It strikes, fast, and he screams. Then the other creatures skitter around him. They dart in, fangs flashing, and dart out again. He writhes and twists, trying to escape.
“Are those… giant spiders?” Liviana says, her face ashen.
“Their legs, faces.” Ryu shakes his head. “Their bodies, though, they look like bears.”
But I’ve already figured what we’re looking at. Gene splicing, genetic engineering, biotechnology run amuck. The hubris of humankind.
Liviana is right, but so is Ryu. “Spiderbears,” I say. “They’re spiderbears.”
We stand, frozen in horror at the sight of them. They continue circling the doomsayer, forelegs raised, striking and retreating. His screams fade into feeble moans, and his struggling slows until he is still and silent. His days of doom saying are over.
You call a bunch of bears a sleuth. Spiders are a cluster. But I don’t know what to call this other than bad news. They converge upon their fallen prey, snarling and fighting over the remains. Wet tearing sounds ensue. One of the spiderbears tosses its head back and swallows a chunk of bloodied flesh. Only instead of helping itself to another serving, it goes rigid, the moonlight reflecting in its eight black eyes. They stare straight at us.
I don’t dare move. Not an inch. Out of the corner of my mouth, I say, “Now might be a good time to run.”
The spiderbear chuffs. The other three stop feasting and swivel and spot us. Turns out the doomsayer was right. He was just an appetizer, and we’re about to be the main course. The end is most definitely nigh.
Liviana draws the hilt of her katana and extends it with a flick of her wrist. The blade gleams in the moonlight. She tenses.
I gape at her. “Are you insane? We don’t stand a chance against those things.”
Ryu takes a slow and hesitant step backward.
The spiderbears lower themselves to the ground and crawl toward us, the measured pace of their multisegmented appendages sly and sinister.
I eyeball the facades of the surrounding skyscrapers, which right now seems oh-so far away. “On three, let’s hightail it for that building there. One—”
“Pi Rho will never make it,” Liviana says.
I frown at the android’s semifunctional legs. “He might.”
Instead of arguing, Liviana whirls her katana above her head until the tip points at the ground, wraps both hands around the hilt, and drives it into the street with all her strength. The blade sinks into the earth with a thunk.
The spiderbears let out an earthshaking roar. And as one, they charge.
My breath catches in my throat. My heart hammers against my ribs. I grab Liviana by the arm and try to pull her away, but she jerks free.
“Help me, you fool,” she says with a grunt. She strains against the katana’s hilt. I glance down its length. The blade lodges into the earth along the outer edge of a rusted sewer-hole cover. She’s trying to pry it loose, using the katana as a lever. “Help me!” she repeats, louder this time.
Ryu and Pi Rho leap to grab the hilt. Then Liviana and the android pull from one side while Ryu pushes from the other, their feet scrambling for purchase in the dirt. They strain and grunt. The cover doesn’t so much as budge. After however many centuries took turns welding it in place, I doubt it’s going anywhere. The katana, meanwhile, bends at an impossible angle.
“The blade’s gonna snap,” I say.
Liviana grits her teeth and tugs harder. “She’ll hold.”
The ground trembles as the spiderbears gallop down the street toward us. The others strain at the katana, but the sewer-hole cover remains fixed in place. They’ll never lift it in time. I cast a longing glance at the doorway of the nearest high-rise. If I cut and run now, there’s still a chance I’ll survive long enough to die some other day.
Instead, I rush at Ryu, lower my shoulder, and slam into him. He lets out a surprised grunt of pain. The screech of wrenching metal fills the air. The katana pops free. Ryu and I go flying. We bowl into Pi Rho and Liviana, and the four of us tumble to the ground in a heap. I land on my back, on my duffel, and struggle to sit upright.
In the middle of the street, a round hole leads into blackness. The cover lies next to it. The spiderbears are nearly on top of us. I can’t see the whites of their eyes, but only because they don’t have any whites. They’re utterly black, four sets of eight fixed on us with greedy hunger, and I sure as Deus can see that.
“Come on!” Liviana grabs her katana and scrambles toward the sewer hole on her hands and knees. Ryu and Pi Rho scrabble after her. Me, I feel like a damn overturned turtle with this duffel on my back. I slip my arms free of its straps, flop onto my belly, and bear crawl (the coincidence not lost on me) after them.
The spiderbears roar again, so loud and so close I can practically feel it. Blood smears theirs bristling maws as they bare their fangs and race toward us. Liviana throws herself headfirst into the hole. Ryu and Pi Rho follow, and the three of them disappear into the darkness.
Then the first of the spiderbears leaps into the air, legs splayed wide as its hairy torso descends upon me. My eyes about pop out of my head. I throw myself sideways into a roll. The spiderbear crashes to the ground, missing me by inches as it skids past, skitters around, and crouches to pounce.
I turn to run, but the other trio of spiderbears are between me and the sewer hole now, cutting off my escape. They rear up, forelegs extended as they tower over me.
I spring into a three-point stance and use every ounce of strength I have left to explode forward, racing straight at them. One of them strikes. I juke, and its fangs tear a gash through the back of my shirt. Another lashes out. I spin away from it. And straight into the waiting maw of the third. As it leaps at me, I drop into a feet-first slide, skidding through the dirt beneath its hairy belly and into the sewer hole.
My shin bangs against the rim, and I cry out in pain. Then I crumple through the opening. There’s plenty of time to wonder how far to the bottom and what’s waiting for me when I get there. A broken leg? A broken back? More gene-spliced abominations? Maybe all three. But it’s too late now.
I plummet into darkness.