NEWSLETTER SHORT STORY CONTEST HAS BEEN TEMPORARILY SHUT DOWN. SORRY GUYS. ;_;
The winner of this contest will have their entry put in the Newsletter!
The winner of this contest will have their entry put in the Newsletter!
THE VOTING HAS BEGUN! Please, do not submit any more entries. Thank you.
To enter...
-Write a short story, using the sentence listed as the 'Beginning sentence' as your first sentence.
-This story must be between 100 and 1,000 words, and have a title!
-Post the story in this thread.
-This story must be between 100 and 1,000 words, and have a title!
-Post the story in this thread.
Any entry that does not meet the required word limit will be disqualified. The writer of a story that does not include a title will recieve a pm from Cheese, asking them to give it one. If they do not, it will be disqualified.
Once you've entered...
-Cheese will include your entry in the list of entries so far.
-When we have enough entries, all the guild members may vote for the winner via the poll.
-The winner will recieve a prize, and have their entry included in the Newsletter!
-When we have enough entries, all the guild members may vote for the winner via the poll.
-The winner will recieve a prize, and have their entry included in the Newsletter!
Last Week's Beginning Sentence: N/A
Last Week's Winner: N/A
Their entry: N/A
This Week's Beginning Sentence: My eyes were glued to the window, trying to soak in the surreal scene I saw, unfolding outside the house.
This Week's Prize: Gold Tiki Window (Valued at 1000 gold)
Entries so far...
The killing of a camera
By Writingpen
By Writingpen
My eyes were glued to the window, trying to soak in the surreal scene I saw, unfolding outside the house. I couldn't believe my brother was doing this to me! My brother saw someone sneak over to our house the other night and took a picture with one of stupid cameras that he loves so much.
He was being Mr.Polite. He dragged poor, Jeff, over during his period lunch.. out in the court yeard so that I would see what was happening. He was playing big brother (even though we're twins) and was saying all that responsible stuff about not sneaking around girls houses and stuff.He would probaably throw in some dumb threat to top it off about not coming near are house unless the sun was up.
Yeah, right brother dearest! like you could hurt fly let alone my boyfriend a football player. Unfortunatley by the looks of jeff's hanging head slight frown that has always looke dcute to me my Bro has the upper hand. Well, that wouldn't last for long . I might not have known his plans but after all those forced photo shhots i know a camera flash when I see it.. espielly in the middle of the night.
This morning i wondered in the realm of my brothers room.I walked around room staring at all the cameras rememjbering the faces he made when he got each one. I finally found it stuffed in sock drawer(boys...) his precouus little minnny cam that he is always using for less than nice puposes, my picture has been taken a many times by the stupid thing.So I* lie it in my dad's "repair bin" the garage. By the time he is done "fixing" it won't be able to take picture of my boyfriend let alone flash.
The Reign of Winter
By Taibhrigh
By Taibhrigh
My eyes were glued to the window, trying to soak in the surreal scene I saw, unfolding outside the house. Beyond the weather-streaked glass and greying frame a deliberate sunset minced its dramatic way across the sky, dragging behind it the billowing indigo cape of twilight, studded as it was with riant stars. Swirling intensely, wisps of magenta and cream eddied in dizzying patterns throughout the indigo haze.
Amidst the shadowy splendour, downy clouds, splashed striking crimson and bashful orange and kissed by a stunning gold, puddled in fluffy heaps across the heavens; intensely, the sky echoed the colours of the earth beneath it, whose landscapes were bedecked in a vivid autumn coat.
Hoary trees’ delicate limbs supported dazzling canopies of leaves, the scarlet, orange, and ochre hues a final salute to summer’s glory. Occasional deciduous beauties preened here and there, deep viridian foliage visible from miles away. Craggy peaks, soaring so high that not even the hardiest trees dared claim them, arose to either side of the setting sun, cradling it in its departure. Ancient guardians, their sombre, ashen façades bore the scars of millennia
The sun itself was the lord of the sky. Glorious mien sagaciously sweeping the scenery, it grudgingly allowed its light to fade as it sleepily descended. Its magnificently bronzed rays gently surged over hill and tree as they leisurely followed their brilliant source to rest, creating oft-fluxing pools of dusk.
Almost overwhelmed by the splendid show, I remained completely still. However, a grim tendril of darkness wafted over my window, casting sudden chills down my spine. Glancing suddenly downwards, my disillusioned eyes were privy to a small movement: poignantly drifting at the behest of the wind, a solitary leaf had been lost from its family, sent to die on the cold floor of the forest…utterly alone.
As it plunged, my eyes caught yet another small movement—a tiny, silver snowflake fluttered eagerly downwards, the beautiful object marred by the graveyard of skeletal leaves to which it would cling.
The sad reign of winter had begun.
You Can't
By Feilyn
By Feilyn
My eyes were glued to the window, trying to soak in the surreal scene I saw, unfolding outside the house.
It wasn’t real. This I knew. But if, for a while I could pretend?
That would be fine.
I see him. Laughing, turning his head to look back at Mother.
She was smiling, that day. For the first time in a long time.
For the last time.
I’m only reminiscing. I’m aware of that. But as I sit here, the same place I sat all those years ago, I cannot help but wonder…
What would it be like? If she hadn’t tried to save him? If she had just…let him die.
What can you do, when there’s nothing you can change?
Imagine.
I do. Every day. She jumped in front of him – she died instead. I watched it happen, from the safety of the house. I can still see it now.
Her blood on his hands.
He tried to stop the bleeding, but she was dead before she hit the ground. The cold, barren earth. Eleven years old he was, sitting there drenched in Mother’s blood.
That was what changed him. Made the voices come and whisper in his air during the blackest night.
If he’d just stopped to think. But that was never his strong point. I wonder if he ever stopped and thought things through before he acted.
I doubt it.
What can you say, when there’s nothing to make it better?
Nothing.
I remember when my eloquence deserted me. I, a wordsmith of the highest class, speechless in the face of his madness. I should have spoken then. I should have said something, anything. I thought he could tell. I thought my silence spoke volumes for me.
But it only made him worse.
Maybe—
No. It would have always come down to this.
Why is what’s right and good never what is easy?
Because.
He craves revenge. In the deepest, blackest corner of my heart, I admit that I also desire vengeance.
But not at the expense of his sanity.
Because that need for revenge mutated, multiplied, until it no longer concentrated on one man, but the entire world.
A world including me.
Twenty years it’s been. I know what he did – what he’s doing – is wrong. I know he deserves this. But it could have been different, oh God, it could have been so different. He wasn’t always like this, I remember. Lost in the insanity somewhere is that laughing little boy who was never given the chance to grow up.
I miss him. Once again, words fail me. There is no word in any language that would suffice, for how does one describe the indescribable?
So I miss him, and leave it there.
There is no time for pointless reminiscing. The image in the window is no longer there, and I must be ready.
How do you prepare to kill your brother?
It wasn’t real. This I knew. But if, for a while I could pretend?
That would be fine.
I see him. Laughing, turning his head to look back at Mother.
She was smiling, that day. For the first time in a long time.
For the last time.
I’m only reminiscing. I’m aware of that. But as I sit here, the same place I sat all those years ago, I cannot help but wonder…
What would it be like? If she hadn’t tried to save him? If she had just…let him die.
What can you do, when there’s nothing you can change?
Imagine.
I do. Every day. She jumped in front of him – she died instead. I watched it happen, from the safety of the house. I can still see it now.
Her blood on his hands.
He tried to stop the bleeding, but she was dead before she hit the ground. The cold, barren earth. Eleven years old he was, sitting there drenched in Mother’s blood.
That was what changed him. Made the voices come and whisper in his air during the blackest night.
If he’d just stopped to think. But that was never his strong point. I wonder if he ever stopped and thought things through before he acted.
I doubt it.
What can you say, when there’s nothing to make it better?
Nothing.
I remember when my eloquence deserted me. I, a wordsmith of the highest class, speechless in the face of his madness. I should have spoken then. I should have said something, anything. I thought he could tell. I thought my silence spoke volumes for me.
But it only made him worse.
Maybe—
No. It would have always come down to this.
Why is what’s right and good never what is easy?
Because.
He craves revenge. In the deepest, blackest corner of my heart, I admit that I also desire vengeance.
But not at the expense of his sanity.
Because that need for revenge mutated, multiplied, until it no longer concentrated on one man, but the entire world.
A world including me.
Twenty years it’s been. I know what he did – what he’s doing – is wrong. I know he deserves this. But it could have been different, oh God, it could have been so different. He wasn’t always like this, I remember. Lost in the insanity somewhere is that laughing little boy who was never given the chance to grow up.
I miss him. Once again, words fail me. There is no word in any language that would suffice, for how does one describe the indescribable?
So I miss him, and leave it there.
There is no time for pointless reminiscing. The image in the window is no longer there, and I must be ready.
How do you prepare to kill your brother?
You can’t.
