2025 NYC Midnight Rhyming Story Competition: Round 2

If you missed my post on the NYC Midnight Rhyming Competition is and round one details, take a look here!

The second round of the competition was a little more up my alley, and my story landed third place in my group. This time around, my prompts were to write a Fantasy/Fairy Tale story with a theme of "contrarianism" and featuring the emotion of "infuriated," all in 500 words.

The first thing that came to mind was the idea of the "Chosen One" that is so prominent in fantasy stories. Since the last story I wrote for this competition was so dark, I wanted to create something lighter, and this idea of two deities bickering back and forth over which stereotypical "Chosen One" should save the world sparked in my mind. I tinkered with a few other ideas (including a fae financial advisor who swindles magical beings out of their money), but this was the one I couldn't get out of my head. Once I started writing it, the words flowed easy, and I knew I made the right decision. If you want to read more about the writing process for this one, keep reading to the bottom!

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Choosing the Chosen

SYNOPSIS: As the forces of Evil threaten the land, the deities of the realm decide which of their chosen heroes is best equipped to save the world.

As the Enemy slashes and squashes and slaughters,

and the blood of all creatures turns red the waters,  

the Gods of all that is good look down, aghast.

Forests ablaze. Magic dying. Families outcast.

“The time has come,” they all agree, “to send down our prophecy.

The Chosen One must come forth, save the land, complete their odyssey.”

The Goddess of Trickery, tightening her greaves,

points to a young boy leading a small gang of thieves.

He twists through the alleys, he swindles and steals.

His friends follow suit, right at his heels.

“This one is an orphan, he has nothing to lose.

Swift with his feet, clever with a ruse.

He’ll gather his friends, sneak through the tower.

Before year’s end, he’ll collapse this Dark Power.”

The God of Waters, trident over his shoulder,

burbles his incredulity and scolds her.

“What’s going on in your tricksy little brain?

A hustler? A cheat? What are you, insane?

We need someone whose heart is as pure as a spring,

one who can flow with the chaos of things.

Promising is that elf in the temple—

his judgement will make the enemy tremble.”

The Deity of Harvest, sharpening their sickle,

scoffs at their companions, those opinions most fickle.

They gesture to a fairy with a babe on her hip,

hefting flour and water and futures in her grip.

“This one has something sacred to protect.

She holds a different kind of strength; cultivates respect.

She will inspire the people with love and verve,

and to us the Enemy’s head she will serve.”

The God of Logic and Learning, polishing his helm,

somberly shakes his head and scours the realm.

His brow wrinkles deep, his jaw clenches hard,

the game in his mind, he clutches his trump card.

“No, no, no, we should send the wisest!

One who can see the battlefield unbiased.

My old apprentice might do, the sage magician.

He would be a most advantageous tactician.”

The Goddess of Industry, with her hammer aglow,

clenches her fists with a fury she cannot forego.

Youngest of all, she still raises her voice,

“Stop your bickering about this silly choice!

Why not fly down ourselves? We can make it right.

With our powers combined, it would be a fair fight.”

But the argument crescendos, drowning her out,

burying prayers from below—every whisper, every shout.

Before long, darkness floods the world in a viscous nightmare.

Lives torn asunder, hearts broken beyond repair.

Those Gods of all that is good look down in defeat

at a land torn apart—the world’s ruin complete.

“The time has come,” most all agree, “to leave this trodden site.

We’ll start anew, create life again! Make everything alright.”

The youngest goddess, striding through battlefield muddy,

allows tears to fall for the bruised and the bloody—

surrounded by people who never surrendered,

forsaken by gods who will not be remembered.

“Now we’ve killed you ourselves, with infallible pride.

We would rather be right than fight by your side.”

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Initially, I intended the story to be purely humorous. It was going to end with the gods looking down at the devastation and saying "Welp, that's a bummer." The Goddess of Industry was not a character I had conceived in the beginning. However, as the story went on and I was editing, it just felt a little... empty. I re-read everything and realized I had no one to root for: there was no underdog, no sympathetic figure, no connection to the world below the gods. That is when I decided that there should be one deity who sees through the comedy and absurdity of the arguing and posturing of the gods.

I wasn't intending to write a lesson into this story; it appeared naturally as I considered the values and characterization of someone I would want dearly to win in the darkest of times. Those moments when the story seems to grow and flow into something grand, despite where it started, are exhilarating for a writer. Those are the "muse-touched" moments every artist loves.

The feedback from the judges was very encouraging, and they had some interesting ideas about how to edit or expand this story. One of them even said it would make for a fun YA graphic novel! I've never considered that medium for myself, but I have to agree with them; it would be a lot of fun. Any artists inspired?