Tsar's Part!
Altimari was incarcerated on January 5th, 2006. He pleaded guilty to 43 RICO predicates for a reduced sentence of 15 years and a fine of $3.8 million — effectively ending his position as boss of the Altimari Crime Family. It was all over the news. It seemed as though hundreds of American people breathed a collective sigh of relief. Only a few months afterward, it seemed as though no one gave a shit.

The doctor wore one of those button down shirts, the kind that belonged under a blazer, but he wasn’t wearing a jacket. Just the shirt and a tie. “Mr. Altimari, good to see you.”

“Bullshit.” A nasal cannula was coiled around Marv’s features, running down the front of his torso and into a portable oxygen generator. The chemotherapy had not been kind to him. Of his symptoms, the weight loss was most noticeable. He wasn’t a bodybuilder or anything, but he used to be a big guy, heavyset. During treatment, he lost over 20 pounds. It made him feel so frail, vulnerable even. It was like if he tripped and fell he might break into a million little pieces.

“How are you feeling today?”

Marv reclined in his chair, his arms snugly crossed, “You’re supposed to tell me that.”

“Well, I wish I had better news…” the doctor rested both hands on his desk, folding them, “The cancer has continued to metastasize from the lungs. The latest photos now show masses in both kidneys, the mediastinal lymph nodes, and the brain.”

The ex-mobster’s body was unmoving, wearing a stoic expression. He let his eyes wander to the photograph that hung on the office wall.

The oncologist continued, “We’re looking at stage IV small-cell lung cancer.”

The picture detailed the doctor and his family. Him, a wife, and two kids, all dressed up. The man even wore a blazer that day, it looked nice over his button down.

“Mr. Altimari?”

Marv blinked, his cold stare settling on the man across from him.

“Do you understand what I’ve just told you?”

A few silent moments passed. Marv let out a heavy sigh, “How long?”

“...I’d estimate about three months, give or take, but it’s difficult to say. I’ve seen some cases where--”

Marv stood, nodding to the doctor, “Thank you.” Two Marshals, who had accompanied him to the appointment, escorted the convict out of the office and into the parking lot. They all had a long drive ahead of them.

* * *

Everything was so flat. The walls were adorned with a dismal grey. The tables, chairs, and people that littered the visiting room did nothing to dull the suffocating emptiness that pervaded the space. Not even the windows. They may have been the worst part. He could see the sun, but he couldn’t feel its warmth on his face. He could imagine fresh air, but he couldn’t taste it, not with the window there. A glass barrier separating him from the reminder of everything he’d lost.

Marv was seated at one of the tables, his eyes watching the window.

“Uncle Marv!” A young voice called. A young body followed, its mother in attendance.

The man glanced over to his nephew. Now standing, he wrapped a tired arm around the boy, and turned toward his mother.

“Hey, Marv,” the woman approached, smiling delicately. She appeared to be in her late 40s, a bit younger than Marv himself. With age, her hair had become grizzled and her had body lost its shape. “You look like shit.”

Marv kissed his sister on the cheek, taking her hand, “Always with the compliments… Sit down, Diane, if your ass can fit in the chair.”

Each of them took a seat at the table. Diane set her purse in her lap, her boy settled beside his uncle. The woman’s smile faded as she looked to her brother, “What did Dr. Gordi say?”

Marv patted his nephew on the shoulder, grinning, “You got big. How’re you doing, Leon?”

“I’m good!” The child asserted, then frowned, “I miss you…”

The man’s expression softened, “That’s nice. I miss you, too. But that’s why you’re here to visit me, right? So we won’t miss each other so bad?”

Diane cleared her throat, getting the man’s attention, “Marv.”

He turned his head.

“What did Dr. Gordi say?” She repeated.

Marv’s smile faltered as he shook his head, “He, uh… he said...” The man took in a quick breath and glanced at his nephew for a moment. His eyes met Diane’s once more, his words were tight, strained, “I… I don’t know, Diane… I’m really sick.”

“Oh my god…” The woman slowly brought a hand to her mouth.

Marv shrugged, trying to console his sibling as she began to whimper, tears swelling in her eyes. “C’mon. C’mon now, don’t cry,” he wrapped his arms around Diane, “Don’t worry about anything...” The man closed his eyes as his sister cried into him. They gripped each other tightly, no consolation.

“No physical contact, please,” the guard called. He had been standing beside the window.

* * *

Even during the day, any light that crept into the room seemed almost hesitant.

“So, why are you here?” The older man asked, another inmate who had wandered into the room minutes before. His hair was entirely grey. An unkempt beard marked his jawline. He stood beside the stranger’s hospital bed, minding the medical equipment.

“I was accused of being associated with a certain Italian-American subculture,” replied Marv, who stared up at the ceiling. Half of his torso was concealed by white, featureless sheets.

“I know that. It was just all over the news awhile back. Marv Altimari. Pleaded guilty, right?”

“I had to.” He snarled.

“How’s that?”

Marv turned his head, an edge to his voice, “I was facing a massive asset seizure. Know what that means? It would have left me and my family fucking destitute.”

“Family? You mean a wife and kids…?”

“No.” Marv grumbled, “My sister and her son live with me.”

The man nodded, “I meant why are you here. What’s wrong with you?”

“...Cancer.”

“Mind if I look at your chart?”

“I don’t give a fuck…” Marv sighed.

The bearded man plucked the documents from the edge of the bed, quickly flipping through them, “Dr. Gordi…?”

“He was recommended.”

“What was his prognosis?”

Marv shifted a bit, “Three months.”

The man’s face contorted to show confusion.

“...What?”

“It’s just that,” the man flipped through the pages again, “With the treatment you’ve had, you should have a window of one to three years.”

Marv blinked, shaking his head, “But what about the masses? My kidneys, my head, it’s all fucked up. The metastasis--”

“You went through all of this, right?” The man presented the page to Marv, detailing his treatment history.

Marv glanced over the information and nodded.

“You think all that did nothing? Buddy, any cancer inside you has slowed way down.”

“But I talked to the oncologist, face-to-face. Said three months.”

The man smiled, “Doctor tells the patient three months, then he lives a year… Makes the oncologist look like he can walk on water. I’ve seen tons of people come in and out of here, cancer patients, living longer than their doctors told ‘em.”

Marv’s brow settled into a furrow, he slowly nodded. A sense of ease washed over him.

“Take care, Marv.” The man turned to leave.

“Wait,” the ex-mobster looked over, “What’s your name?”

“Shit, sorry, this fucking brain, huh? You forget things like manners when you get old.” The man held out a hand, “Tommy Colombo.”

After Tommy left the room, Marv returned his gaze to the ceiling. It looked different now.

* * *

“Marv?! What the hell are you doing?!” Diane called, entering the visiting room.

Marv was seated at one of the tables, a cigarette between two fingers. He sluggishly repositioned himself to face his sister. “What?”

“You’re smoking.” She scolded.

“So?”

Leon’s small head peeked from behind his mother’s side, “Uncle Marv, you said you were going to quit.”

“You’re on oxygen.” Diane reminded, still glaring at her brother.

The ex-mobster glanced between the two of them. He dropped the cigarette on the tile flooring, crushing it under his shoe, “Hey, Leon.”

Leon waved.

Diane put her hands on her hips, “Diagnosed with lung cancer and you still take time to light up? What the hell are you thinking?!”

“It doesn’t make a difference, I already have the cancer. I have to be irritable when I die, now?” Marv grumbled. His eyes settled on his nephew, who had started crying. “Hey… Hey, now, don’t be upset,” He reached out an arm, offering a hug to comfort the boy.

Leon stayed put, staring at the floor as he weeped, “I don’t want you to die...”

Marv struggled to get up from the chair, “Come on, Leon. Give me a hug. I’m okay. I’m right here.”

The boy ran up to his uncle, wrapping his small arms around his shoulders.

“My friend, he sees sick people like me in here all the time, and guess what?” Marv backed away from the hug, “Says I’m probably gonna live for a longer time than we thought.”

“Really…?” Leon blinked, his voice weak.

Marv glanced to Diane for a moment, taking notice of her frustrated expression. The woman and her son didn’t stay for much longer. On her way out, Diane smelled the unmistakable smoke of a cigarette. She didn’t turn around.

* * *

Hours and days seemed to blend together, but Marv knew weeks had passed. He hadn’t counted days nor paid attention to the calendars, but he could feel it. He had gotten more acquainted with some of the other sick inmates. The ex-mobster had a lot of stories to tell. He was fairly confident that he would never run out. Eventually, Marv started spending most of his time in his room.

“So, what were you doing there? In the room, I mean. When we met. Couldn’t have been just to give me good news.” Marv was motionless in the bed, save for the rising and falling of his protruding stomach.

Tommy frowned, letting out a shrug, “Had a friend. Good guy, met him way back when I first got here. Brain cancer. Stayed in the bed next to yours, actually… passed away a few days before you arrived, though… heh, it’s funny. I don’t really know why I kept going back after he died. Figured since I can’t visit his grave… might as well pay my respects that way. Just felt right, y’know?”

“It’s a little late, but… Sorry for… your loss,” Marv blinked, producing a lengthy inhale. Breathing was suddenly much more difficult. Tommy looked at his friend with a somber expression.

The ex-mobster wheezed, “I’m… dying… aren’t I?”

Tommy said nothing.

Marv managed a strained chuckle. His friend raised an eyebrow, visibly confused.

“Sorry… it’s just that… All my life... I thought… I thought I’d get killed by a bullet.” He explained, barely controlling his gasping breaths, “Not… like this.”

“I’m gonna get help,” Tommy ran out of the room to get the doctors. Marv remained in the bed. Alone. He wasn’t going anywhere.

* * *

“Leon, baby,” Diane whimpered, “I don’t think he can hear you.”




Marv Altimari died in prison, two months after being diagnosed with stage IV small-cell lung cancer.

He had been smoking for 35 years. [/SPOILER]


Devi's part!
One of the things humanity have had since they first came onto the world, hope has helped us all strive to greatness and beyond as we never stop believing in the future. Hope has raised cities and cultures, but sometimes hope can be misplaces. Humans have always put hope into the higher ups, but in our era, we have finally started to put hope in ourselves. We’re slowly becoming more individual.

Sometimes however, you might live in a time where you put your hope into the wrong people, the people that won’t ever help them yet the hopers continue to believe. You could make an argument that it is how atheists believe god to be, I’m not here to take sides in that. I’m here to tell a story. A story about hope.

Our story takes place in medieval Europe, during the time when Christianity dominated the continent with it’s huge fist. This wasn’t the Christianity that we see in our day, this was the strict and cruel Christianity. Any people who didn’t believe in Christ were automatically labeled as heretics and severely punished, with use of burning at the stake or hanging. Everyone was scared by the church and were forced to become strict Christians. There was no possibility for disbelief and science was held back.

Our story follows a catholic peasant named Edward, and his hard times in the short life he had. His story is one of depression, as he forced himself to be hopeful after all the horrible things that happen to him. Enough talk now; let’s hop into the story.




“How’s the baby, Mary?” Edward asked his wife, gently patting her on the stomach with his right hand. Edward was not a very big man, in fact he was pretty skinny by our standards. This was however expected by a peasant, as they didn’t earn enough money to buy a lot of food. His lack of money clearly shown in the dirty rag like clothing he wore. His cloth started with a shirt like form then descended into a long droopy shirt part, with only some rags again to cover his genitals.

“He’s very well, he’s been kicking this whole time.” Mary replied with a large smile on her face, looking down to her pregnant stomach. Compared to Edward, Mary had much better clothing than her husband. She wore fine straight clothes, reminiscent to the same figure to nun clothes but with a dirt brown color. It was the clothes she had gotten when she and Ed had gotten married, as bride gifts.

Looking around, you could see the condition in which they both lived. The house was poorly made with holes on some of the walls and stone sticking out. Their furniture was no better, with one small table to eat and only one bed for both of them. The bed was once red, but you couldn’t see it because of how dirty and unclean it was. Once the room that was their house was beautiful with many colors, but after years of degradation had wasted it.

“Maybe he’ll be as strong as me someday.” Edward commented, jokingly flexing his arms to his wife. Mary giggled, which made him smile. His wife happy was one of the few happy things he had left in his life. Especially after having to start to serve underneath an unfair knight who took a lot of money as payment to “protect” them. Unfair amount being around 50% of all the gold they earned.

Most people at this point would complain or go on a work strike to show that they aren’t happy about it. But it would fall on deaf ears, this age you had to keep working or else someone else would take your land. We have it much easier with many more choices than people back then, peasants had to be hopeful just to keep themselves have any semblance of happiness.

“Haha, I’m sure he will.” Mary replied happily, but then she paused in thought. She quickly opened her mouth again, this time with a more concerned voice. “What did the knight say about giving you some extra gold to help us with the child?”

Ed gulped loudly. He didn’t exactly like the man he worked under; the Knight Reginald was not a man that many peasants liked. He took much money, and did not always hold to his promise, not a very honorable man. However, he was one who always had a lot of gold, so peasants and merchants continued to flock to him.

“He said no.” He said silently, looking down in shame as his body tensed in anger.

“What was that?” Mary asked, genuinely confused and worried, approaching her disturbed husband.

“He said no.” He repeated, this time loudly, his anger clearly showing in his face. Edward was enraged, his choler moving through his veins as he thought of less pleasing things that should happen to the knight. Looking at his wife however, he calmed himself quickly.

“Its okay, Edward. We’ll be fine.” She hugged him, her warmth reassuring and comforted him. Her stomach pressing on him gently as her arms wrapped around him like a blanket. Ed couldn’t help but cry quietly as he rest his head on his wife’s shoulder, as he sobbed.

After a while of crying, Ed left the embrace of Mary’s arm, smiling to her with a most genuine smile.

“I promise th

I honestly don't know who to choose at the moment. I'm going to have to vote on this later. Wow to both of you.

EDIT: After careful, careful consideration, I'm going to be voting on Tsar for this one. But, that takes absolutely nothing away from the amazing job Devi did. I honestly hope he gets a vote or two.

I'll be reading and voting soon! Kinda busy at the moment, unfortunately!

Man, what a pleasure both stories were to read. I always love the dialogue in Tsar's stories, and the settings in Devi's tales are always really interesting.

Tsar: There's a way that your characters talk that just makes them entertaining to read. Bitter and with a touch of sass. This was a quiet story, but it felt very real and human. It was a good read :)

Devi: I really liked this. There's something that I relate to; something that I fear myself when times are bad that this story touches on. Everyone always says that things will be alright in the end, but why is that true? There's no reason or force that ensures that everything will turn out okay. Life is unbiased and uncaring. All the hope and faith in the world didn't change that for this guy.
There were some typos and grammar errors, but every story has less of these. I'd still try to find 'em if you can!

My vote goes to Devi for this one, but both were great.