• eboyfly - June 22, 2012 10:52 a.m.

    The feeling of bitter sadness overwhelmed my body when I realized the contest was for UK residents only. I continued to fill out the comment box, eyes full of tears, running down my face like the rain the night Michelle was taken from me. My body trembled with rage like the day I couldn't stop Alex from being killed right in front of me. I might as well be dead, there's nothing for me here... but the pills and Kong Scotch gave me a reason to move on: drunken self-loathing. 'MERICA!
  • gazzc - June 22, 2012 10:52 a.m.

    So here I was looking into my one shot at glory, the grand prize just sitting there for the taking. But looking around I should have known... life was never that simple, at least not my life. What had started out as just an ordinary day had come down to this, a roll of the dice, a spin of the wheel. Lady luck was in the room but only time would tell just whose side she was on.
  • montage - June 22, 2012 10:50 a.m.

    My brain itched with a sharp, sudden ferocity, like a hobo with a scratchcard. What is it they were looking for? What would single me out? I had my eye on the prize but I also had more questions than a molestation vicim. It all sounded simple enough...knock up some words, throw in some metaphors and similes and tell yourself it was good enough. Therein lies the rub. It was never good enough. I had conviced myself that I was some kind of hero. Here I was, a decade later trying to justify myself as a winner and yet still they lay there, dead as ever. Dead as disco.
  • RaZmataZ - June 22, 2012 10:30 a.m.

    My hand was dead. The final entry was an exclamation mark to everything that had led to this point. I released my finger from the mouse. And then it was over. To make any kind of sense of it, I need to go back three minutes. Back to the time the pain started.
  • veryweirdguy - June 22, 2012 9:57 a.m.

    The cold trail of bullets and bodies had led me here, to the glowing white innocence of the comment box before me. As I typed in my comment, my brain silently ticked away. What if this was all part of the plan? What if I was just text in someone else's narrative? I'd been double crossed more times than a crooked ballot, and there was no reason to believe this was any different. The letters before me formed words, and the words sentences. There was no denying it: whether I was being played or not, this comment was happening. No amount of spilled blood could change that. The captcha only added more complications. 'forearm fol'? What did this mean? Has the pills caught up with me, unravelling my mind like a ball of yarn? I looked at the comments below - I wasn't the first here, and I sure as Hell wouldn't be the last, and something told me this journey could only end in disappointment. Like they all did. In the distance I heard a scream. Could it be her? I reached for my gun and hit 'post comment'. This night wasn't over yet.
  • Kelshaw1996 - June 22, 2012 9:33 a.m.

    The comment section was fuller than a Dutch call girls diary, I knew my chances were slim, but I'd gone to far to turn back now, as finish typing I see a gunman enter the room, why must all my conversations end with a gun fight?
  • TheChief - June 22, 2012 9:26 a.m.

    It's not often you get to look straight into your own eyes, but there I was, frozen in time like some goofy street mime with real bad taste; Bloodshot and booze-soaked, but offering me a second shot at something I was too stupid to pick up on before. It would probably go straight to hell, but then again that might just be a step up for me.
  • Colloquialisms - June 22, 2012 8:43 a.m.

    As I looked through the vast list of comments, one thing became clear to me; These people are just here to get something for nothing. The sweet irony was that I am just the same; Willing to exploit this system for a cheap buck of two. In the end we're all just baby's, suckling on the teat of faceless corporations, trying to further their sad little lives in this fucked up world...
  • Nimrod.Sanchez - June 22, 2012 8:41 a.m.

    Huh, that guy thinks he's got it bad. Try doing all of that with no hair as well.
  • Jrymanz - June 22, 2012 8:29 a.m.

    "A day full of killing can take a lot out of a man. I was going to need a drink."
  • beigeman - June 22, 2012 8:05 a.m.

    "Who the fuck made a statue of me?"
  • IRIsH - June 22, 2012 8:04 a.m.

    I'm not enrering this competition as I'm not a Max Payne fan but as iI said in my previouse comment UK comps Team UK
  • SirBlue - June 22, 2012 8:01 a.m.

    I had been trawling through the internet for hours, trying to find something to dull the pain that was worming its way through me. The pills were junk, my own fault for buying off the street instead of being a friendly smiling citizen and going to the pharmacy. The competition. Was this what I had been looking for? I didnt know anymore and to be honest I was past caring. All I had to do was right in my own voice? Easy, I'd been talking to myself for years. All I had to do was fight through the haze and for once put my own internal dialogue out into the big bad world...
  • IRIsH - June 22, 2012 7:59 a.m.

    Finally us loyal daily uk readers can enter a comp more of this please uk team
  • miked00d - June 22, 2012 7:44 a.m.

    The contest details screamed at me from behind the glare of the screen, like orders barked through a megaphone, filtered through the strobe of red and blue police lights. The prize itself stank of capitalism and excess, like fat politicians with their whores and fine cheeses, unaware of the work us cops do, running around like ants who were about to be washed from the city by a big hose or something poetic like that.
  • mrt876 - June 22, 2012 7:38 a.m.

    Looked like the odds were against me again, as I stared down into a sinking hole of despair lined with other peoples misfortunes. This day began like any other, sweat dripping from my forehead as I sat dazed at my desk wondering where all the years had gone, where the cumulative filth of all my sins had lead me. Brought here, an ex run-down old cop, overweight, looking down the bottom of a bottle over line after line of marks made by desperate fools all trying to hit the big time. White knight again I make my limp fisted mark upon the world, devoid of any notion of repentance or reward, just the desperate struggle of a dead to the world drunk. With a gun.
  • haford - June 22, 2012 7:14 a.m.

    I'm going to keep this short, just like your life if I don't win... (Maybe I'll just kill you for the fun of it though)
  • moakie - June 22, 2012 7:09 a.m.

    As I walked into the comments section. I could see many others just like me. All the forgotten, hoping to be found. A vague recollection. All faces turned to my arrival, then with distain turned back to their captha boxes. We had all seen the news, and knew why we were here. The big cheese, the grand prize, the last hope of salvation for any of us. My senses were in overdrive as my body responding purely on instinct. My body was not controlling what my fingers were typing, they were typing all by themselves. The Narrative slipped left and right, weaving itself around its own pitfalls in grammar and Spelling. We had no time for spell check, it was game time. After the dust had settled, a blurred flurry of words had assembled themselves on the page and there was only one survivor. Looking down to submit is entry, he typed the captcha phrase into the box and hovered over the "Post Comment" box. "Else invorg..." he rolled the phrase around on his tongue for a moment, nodded in seeming approval and hit the Post Comment Button. "Else invorg Indeed."
  • Gazanator101 - June 22, 2012 7:09 a.m.

    I can't do this anymore! [sigh] I need a drink. Or two.
  • gingermidget - June 22, 2012 7:02 a.m.

    Enter the competition, they said. You'll win, they said.

Showing 41-60 of 73 comments

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