WCT - The Writing Competition Thread [Short Story Results]

[Imagist]

The Writing Competition Thread

News

10/30/08: The results are in! Thanks to everyone who participated, not just in September's short story competition, but in all the competitions of the last year. It's been a fun ride, so it is with mixed pleasure and sorrow that I officially turn the competition over to GA Jedi Knight, who will be running it from here on out. I will miss everyone who has come, stayed and/or gone in my time with the competition. I have only one more word for you: write. Write your little hearts out!

Current Stage: SHORT STORY RESULTS
Contest Dates:
-->Submission: 12:00am PDT 6 September, 2008 - 11:59pm PDT 11 October, 2008
-->Voting: 12:00am PDT 12 October, 2008 - 11:59pm PDT 28 October, 2008
-->Judging: 12:00am PDT 29 October, 2008 - 11:59 pm PDT 31 October, 2008

General Info:
The Writing Competition Thread holds competitions starting at the beginning of every other month, with the submission, voting and judging stages usually lasting six weeks followed by a short break. There are three categories that our competitions fall under: short story, poetry, and freeform. Each competition focuses on one of these categories. We aim to be a non-threatening competition, and to help our entrants improve their creative writing skills. If you are interested, please enter regardless of your skill level. We try to give feedback and helpful tips for entered works once each contest is over.

Submission Rules:
- Late submissions will not be counted.
- Entries should reflect the category of the competition. If an entry is deemed to not fit into the correct category, it will be ignored.
- Instead of submitting old material, please write something new within the time frame of the submission stage. After all, the idea behind the competition is partially to promote creativity, and inherent in the idea of creativity is the act of creation.
- Only one entry per person is allowed.
- Finish your work before you post your submission, or if you make a revision, identify it clearly and do so before the submission deadline. Edits of submissions after the voting phase begins will be ignored.
- Remember to include a title, or at least something for people to call your work during the voting phase.
- Please post your piece directly into this thread! Otherwise, it may get overlooked.
- If your piece is too long to fit conveniently into a forum post, please find some alternate form of hosting such as Google Docs or fictionpress.com and link us to it instead.

Category - Short Story:
- No fanfiction. Fanfiction will belong in the Freeform category. Why? Because creating and developing your own characters in a limited amount of space is a significant challenge. Working with existing characters in existing universes is like remixed music; it's one thing to remix a song, but something completely different to make it from scratch.
- Fiction and nonfiction are both welcome.
- Please limit your submissions in this category to 2500 words.
- Feel free to label your work according to its genre, style, etc. This will help people understand and better judge your piece.

Category - Poetry:
- No fanpoetry. That is, nothing that qualifies as fanfiction, but in verse form. See above for the reasoning behind this. Also note that allusion is one thing; basing the majority of your work on another person's creative product is another.
- Poetry can be almost anything. You need not adhere to a particular form unless you wish to. Anything from sonnets to haikus to free-verse belongs here.
- Please limit your submissions in this category to 1000 words.
- Feel free to label your work according to its form, e.g., ballad, villanelle, palindrome, limerick, free-verse, acrostic, etc.

Category - Freeform:
- If it has words, it belongs here. Examples could be Maddox-style rants, journalistic articles, how-to documents, or really whatever creative idea you can come up with.
- Please limit your submissions in this category to 3000 words.
- Feel free to label your work if you think it will help.

Voting Rules:
- Early or late votes will not be accepted.
- Anyone may vote, even if he or she does not have a current submission. If foul play is suspected (i.e., an entrant finding a bunch of friends or alt accounts to artificially support their entry) an investigation will occur.
- When voting, you will award your allotted points to any two or more entries as you choose. Note: this means you may not award all of your points to one and only one entry.
- Scoring: If the voter has submitted an entry this round, he or she will be allotted 6 points to distribute. If the voter has NOT submitted this round, he or she will be allotted 3 points.
- A voter may allot up to one point to his or her own entry if he or she so chooses.
- Please submit all votes via PM to me (Imagery).

Judging Rules:
- After the deadline for voting has passed, I (Imagery) will tally the votes for each submission and post the results no later than the end of the judging stage.
- The submission with the most points will be declared the winner, and the submission with the second most points will be declared the runner-up.
- Winner and runner-up will both receive a custom signature badge so you can show off your achievement!

[Imagist]

Current Submissions
for the September short story competition:

Persistence of Memory by TheHands (http://www.ocremix.org/forums/showthread.php?p=453091#post453091)

Revelations by Darklink42 (http://www.ocremix.org/forums/showthread.php?p=457944#post457944)

The Night's Apprentice by Opterion (http://www.ocremix.org/forums/showthread.php?p=458507#post458507)

The Golden Zither by ubernym (http://www.ocremix.org/forums/showthread.php?p=458890#post458890)

Classified Glow by just64helpin (http://www.ocremix.org/forums/showthread.php?p=459455#post459455)

At Last, Atlantis by ZeaLitY (http://docs.google.com/View?docid=dhkhnhs5_1fxgv26gs)

How to Fail at Practicing Good Kendo by GA Jedi Knight (http://www.ocremix.org/forums/showthread.php?p=463168#post463168)

(Each title is a link; follow it to read the corresponding entry.)

Results
for the September short story competition:

Runner-Up: GA Jedi Knight
1st Place: Ubernym

Here's the vote spread:

TheHands - 5
Darklink42 - 2
Opterion - 3
Ubernym - 14
just64helpin - 5
ZeaLitY - 5
GA Jedi Knight - 10

[Imagist]

Placeholding for current and past submissions...

[Imagist]

Placeholding for current and past submissions...

[Barnsalot]

Hey, I'm working on something! Hopefully, I'll be able to finish it by the end of this month. :P

[Imagist]

Excellent. Just so everyone's aware of the time constraints here, there's about a week left in this competition.

[Barnsalot]

This was pretty stream-of-consciousness, so forgive the obscurity of it all. But, I guess that's what free-form is for, right?

Anyway:

Mealtime
We had finished our prayers and I opened my eyes and stared down at my plate. A chicken sandwich sat there at the end of it, smoldering in a yellow cheese which dripped off the sides of the patty. It's bun was covered in Sesame seeds and was dented in a little bit from where I had poked it out of boredom a minute before. To the side of that was a green bean casserole steeped in a pungent mayonaise. The little green beans and crunchy offerings which poked out of it looked small, and utterly overwhelmed by the monstrous glob of white garnishing which I should think was a few years past its prime by the surreal scent it exuded. In any case, I could tell that it was cold, and I wasn't looking very much forward to that edge of the meal.
But searching inbetween the two lots I found something much more to my liking. It was as if I'd turned a corner suddenly, whilst lost and afraid, in a distant land, hungry and seeking refuge, and then before me had risen a bright and glorious citadel whose façade bore my name in letters, emblazoned as if burning by the fires of heaven. And there had been feasting in abundance, and service, and goodwill toward all. It was like that.
It was like that when I turned my beady little eyes to the center of the plate and beheld, soaking in their warm, brown juices, the petite mound of beans which had been serviced onto my plate, so as to play the part of the third piece of my meal. At that moment, it was all I could do to not flood my plate in a cascade of bewildered, anticipatory salivation.
I could not hope to take it all in. Then, in an instant, the plate disappeared from my view, and all that remained were the beans, spreading out from their epicenter, settling onto the plate, slowly, but surely. They took hold of my senses and tore from my mind the remembrance of things past. The sandwich and that wretched casserole were finished. They no longer held any place in my life. I was slowly descending into it- becoming one with sacred legumes. I couldn't stop it. I didn't want to stop it.
Then the episodes of my life flashed, like the blink of an eye, before me. The darkness crept in from around the corners and inched forward, curling into the center of my vision. The shroud came down, and all was over.

[Imagist]

A day left in the contest. Do we have any more submissions in the works, besides mine? If anyone's really working on something I can extend the deadline, which I may even extend through the weekend already just because I don't know if I'll finish my piece in time. Let me know what you want to do.

On another note, Doulifee and I are talking about setting up an archive for the website rather than having a massive amount of posts for the thread. That way we could have all old submissions and contest results up for everyone to check out. Good idea, confirm/deny?

[HalcyonSpirit]

Good idea, confirm/deny?

Confirm [ENTER]

Also:

Holy crap, it's already down to one day?! ****! I've been so wrapped up with my Thin-Walled Structures project that I completely forgot about it... Damnit.

This is the Freeform competition, right? I might be able to whip something short up today, provided I can stay awake (been up all night doing said project)... Maybe I'll submit my project report. ;-) (Nah, I wouldn't make you guys suffer through it, even though it's only 5 pages. :-P )

[JH Sounds]

Here's something:


Scrumtrilescent
Scrumtrilescent is a term coined by actor Will Ferrell as part of a Saturday Night Live sketch. It has since become a part of popular culture, and is commonly used to describe the indescribable. It should not be confused with cromulent, a word which originated from an episode of the television series The Simpsons to affirm the validity or acceptability of a word.

History
The term was first heard in an episode of Saturday Night Live in which Ferrell, in character as Inside the Actors Studio presenter James Lipton, arrives at a point in which he can no longer use standard English words to describe a guest's talent and skill. At this point Ferrell's character is forced to make up his own. "A performance so scrumtrilescent, I can barely move." He then sits motionless for several seconds.

Etymologically, the word scrumtrilescent is believed to be a portmanteau of scrumptious and transcendent. Also of note is the pronunciation, which varied between the dress rehearsal and live performances of the episode. Ferrell has stated that the word has no specific meaning and "I just said what I said." SNL alumna Molly Shannon stated "Will is usually very modest about that type of thing. That word he came up with really just brilliant". After being told that it was Tina Fey who wrote the sketch and devised the term, Shannon responded, "Oh, that explains it."

Like other terms derived from popular forms of entertainment, such as [i]embiggen, "this whomps" and crocrojio, scrumtrilescent quickly became an active part of the human vocabulary. In 2006, scrumtrilescent was printed in Gary Winter's Public Dictionary. The definition provided there is: "Adjective. A description of what is difficult or impossible to describe, especially in a emotionally positive sense."

See also
*Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

[Imagist]

Zeality sent me commentary and an entry from beyond the grave:

A website sounds great.

I guess mine will be the only poetry entry:

Pink Rukia

I lay my head upon a cushion soft,
And in my clouding sight, a woman forms --
Her slender figure dressed in silken garb,
Her hair slow-fluttering with pink aloft.
I take her hand, and meet her iris warm,
As high we fly into the youthful night,
Ascending frigid peaks in regions far
To meet the darkling morning's purple swath,
Where dreamy Sky caresses and adorns
A sleeping aura with a shroud of stars,
And stirs a gentle lake with fancy's tide.
She hovers near, with moonlit pallor cream;
Within her loving kiss, I dear confide.
Each night, I visit her in endless dreams.

My entry will have to wait until later tonight, and I'm even thinking of scrapping it and doing something else really quick...

[Imagist]

I'm going to call a three-day extension. Hopefully that will give GA and whoever else enough time to come up with something small. Also, I really like what I'm working on this time, but I'm going to a free screening of Sigur Rós's new movie now, so I won't be able to finish in time. Yay selfishness!

The new dates for each stage can be found in the first post. And just to be fair, those who have already submitted should be perfectly aware that they can submit revisions at any time up until the new deadline. Only the last version you post will be considered for voting.

[JH Sounds]

I'm glad I got mine in early, or I would have forgotten about the new deadline.

[Imagist]

I set the deadline and almost forgot, myself. There's still a little less than an hour and a half left in submission, but to be honest I'll probably accept anything posted in the next twelve hours (before I have a chance to get on tomorrow morning and compile all the entries).

Here's my entry:

Alligator Poems and More

I. Prophecies on the Rapture
We expected you to fall
into the sewer’s gaping maw
about as much as we expected
that alligator to eat your leg.

II. Forethoughts (Four Thoughts)
you know the way the street-light works
to bend those branches which are not circles
seem just so interminably I must be staring
at the horrid lovechild of a vampire and an
impressionist painting never was so real

III. Appendices
Magic is not always smoke and mirrors.
Sometimes it is just smoke, sometimes
just mirrors.
Other times it is something entirely different, not smoke not mirrors
but rather in between,
almost like God thought “what is not smoke?” and “what is not mirrors?”
and then “what is neither here nor there?”
Eventually He winds up where we began.

[Imagist]

All right, looks like we have four entries. They will be compiled in the "past submissions" posts as current submissions, but just FYI, here are the authors and titles:

Barnsalot - "Mealtime"
just64helpin - "Scrumtrilescent"
Zeality - "Pink Rukia"
Imagery - "Alligator Poems and More"

[zyko]

oh shit, i wanna do this!

do you guys do this every month??

[HalcyonSpirit]

oh shit, i wanna do this!

do you guys do this every month??

Every two months. We rotate between three different categories: Short Story, Poetry, and Freeform (aka anything that has words). This one now going into the judging phase is Freeform. If I'm not mistaken, January will bring us to Poetry, and then March will be Short Story.

In other news, I always take too damn long to write things (as evidenced by my update frequency for Eternal Legends)... Oh well, maybe next time I can kick my ass into gear and get something done the first week of the competition so I don't have the same problem again.

[Imagist]

GA is correct. The poetry competition will begin January.

Also, I'd like to remind everyone that all votes for this competition should be sent to me via PM.

[HalcyonSpirit]

Voted-ed-ed-ed-ed-ed

... ed.

[Imagist]

Ok, we've got votes from all participants. I'm just going to keep the voting open through the deadline in case other past contributors would like to vote. (Hey G_D! Hey Jam! ;-))

[HalcyonSpirit]

Send them a PM reminding them of the voting. If they have their settings set for it, they'll get an e-mail, so they won't have to remember for themselves to check the thread.

[Jam Stunna]

Sorry guys, I totally forgot about all of this. Creating this forum has seriously been detrimental to these contests, but that's a rant for another time. My votes:

First Place
Zeality- Pink Rukia

Runner-Up
Imagery- Alligator Poems and More

Reviews:
Barnsalot- I really liked yours, up until the ending. I felt like it had good comedic value up until that point. You're a little generous with the adjectives, so watch out for that.

just64helpin- I suppose your entry is freeform, but I don't see how anything creative was communicated here, and I feel like that's an essential part of the contest.

Zeality- I will be the first to admit that I suck at writing and critiquing poetry, but I really liked the imagery you used. Also I like the format, this is a sonnet right?

Imagery- Cool entry, I like the creative aspect of it, although I didn't think that section II was as good as the first or last sections.

I'm going to try to start hanging out around here more often, and hopefully I'll even be able to enter something next time.

[JH Sounds]

Wait, aren't the votes supposed to be PMed?

Anyways, almost all of my entry was made-up nonsense.

[Jam Stunna]

Oops, my mistake.

[Imagist]

Not a big deal, Jam. Appreciate the votes anyway.

Voting is now closed. I have the results, but I'm going to keep writing my papers now and hold off posting them until I can get sig badges for the victors. Should be up Wednesday night at the latest.

[JH Sounds]

Why do get the feeling I lost hard?

[Imagist]

Why do get the feeling I lost hard?

:|

THE RESULTS ARE IN!

Runner-Up: Barnsalot
1st Place: Zeality
Here's the vote spread:

Barnsalot: 9
just64helpin: 3
Zeality: 13
Imagery: 5

Doulifee hopes to have sig badges for you two by the end of the week (and yes, I know Zeality can't post here, but he can still flash it at the Compendium :<).

On another note, I want to talk about the voting procedure, but right now I've got to clean up and get packed so I can fly home tomorrow morning. If I don't post about it before the end of the week (which, knowing me, I probably will), someone post to remind me about it so I'll see the thread has a new reply.

[JH Sounds]

Yep, fourth. My Spider-sense was right on target...

[Barnsalot]

Oh, sweet. Nice work Zeality.

[Imagist]

All right, so here are my thoughts on the state of the competition:

Writing participation is no problem. Sure we've only had 4 entries for the past two comps, but even though a couple more would be nice it's not like we're hurting for more, and besides, over the entire history of the competition since being delegated to a sub-forum or a forum off the main group, we've been averaging about 5 entries (with as many as 7 at a time). So, I feel confident saying that writing participation is no problem.

Voting is another story. The only votes we seem to get are the entrants and maybe one non-entering veteran. It seems that we wind up with the same opinions having the same enormous sway on the results. I'd really like to see some fresh voices placing votes, or perhaps a more dynamic voting system that better accomodates the quality of entries into any given contest, or heck, why not both?

For the first idea of getting more people in to vote, I was thinking of allowing anyone and everyone who wants to a vote. To combat against any concerns of stuffing the ballot with alts and such, we could perhaps stipulate requirements on those who haven't entered before, such as posting in the thread first to let people know who they are. Then if there are any concerns, you guys can bring it up with me in PM and I'll check it out. For true alts, after all, mods can check IPs. Overall, I think the benefit of giving others a say in things would outweigh possible foils.

As far as changing up the vote system, I was wondering if the static idea of "first place, runner up" is just too stale. In other competitions (mostly at other places) I've seen it work where every voter gets X many points to distribute between the entries as he or she desires, so you could put all your eggs into one basket for an entry you really like much better than any other, or if you feel quite a few are really close in quality you can give them all an equal share. Given that some contests inevitably fall into these situations rather than a clear winner with a clear runner up, such a system really intrigues me.

But we are a competition of the people. What do you guys think? Any of these ideas really pop out at you, or do you have any of your own ideas you'd like to see implemented? It is the start of a new year, after all, so now's as good a time for change as any.

[Barnsalot]

every voter gets X many points to distribute between the entries as he or she desires

That might be a good idea. If we change it, that's what I'll vote for.

[HalcyonSpirit]

Agreed. If there's going to be a change, that one would probably be the best option given the limited voting pattern. I would also be open to opening up the voting to "outsiders," but I'm not sure it would be necessary. I'll leave that decision up to you.

Like you mentioned, Imagery, we've been kinda struggling ever since our move outside the main forum. Not many people come to the Competitions forum, especially now that it isn't even listed as a sub-forum of Community. Most just come for a specific thread, and given our less-than-well-known position, it is regrettable that we're probably not going to get much more in the way of participation in anything related to the competition for the foreseeable future. We need a way to get the word out other than just our signatures.

[Imagist]

Happy Christmas everybody! Here's a present for our latest winners from Doulifee.

Sorry for the delay.. Christmas :)

http://img120.imageshack.us/img120/7613/barnfc3.png
http://img206.imageshack.us/img206/6303/zealxc6.png

[Barnsalot]

Thanks for that! :)

[Nicholestien]

Can I still submit?

[Imagist]

The latest competition is over. However, the competition runs bi-monthly, so you can come back for the next round, which should begin... oh my. Next weekend it looks like. That's fast approaching indeed.

While I'm thinking about it, I might as well work out the dates for the next competition and put them up now.

[Imagist]

So here's what I'm thinking for the new voting system:

Those with current submissions will get 6 points to distribute among the entries as they choose. They can only place 1 point on their own submission, but it is up to them if they would like to do so or not. All 6 points may not be used on the same entry (even if it's just a 1/5 division, they should still be split up between two entries).

Those who have submitted in the past will get 3 points to distribute as they choose. No restrictions. Currently not working in votes for outsiders.

What do you guys think? If you want to question the reasoning behind any one of these stipulations, feel free to do so. If you'd like to suggest something else, please provide your reasoning when you do. I know it's short notice--the contest is set to begin tomorrow at midnight PST, and then it won't be long before we need to be voting--but any feedback would be appreciated.

[Imagist]

Less than two weeks left. Anyone still alive?

[HalcyonSpirit]

Alive and... well, maybe not kicking, but twitching, yeah.

I'll see what I can come up with today and tomorrow (no classes tomorrow).

Also, suggestion: in the first post, when saying what stage we're in, I think it would be wise to mention which competition we're currently in (Poetry, SS or Freeform). That way, people that haven't been keeping up with the thread (like people new to it) know what we're currently doing.

[HalcyonSpirit]

Um, Imagery... we're in Poetry right now, not Short Story. SS is next time. :lol:

[Imagist]

Hrm. I've had it in my head that this is short story time for quite a while, but now that I look back, I can't see any reason why except my last "news" bit. Well, you are correct. It really is poetry time. If I have managed to delude anyone else and they have been working on a short story already (or has been working on nothing at all, as I know some of our entrants tend to submit nothing but poetry), let me know and we can work something out--an alternate submission, or a deadline extension. Something, to be sure.

It also occurs to me that I never secured an ad banner or did much of anything for this competition. And with just about a week to go, I don't see the point in doing it anymore. But I would like to extend my apologies for how sloppy this competition has been, because I don't have an honest excuse related to some outside workload like G_D. Next one will be better, for sure.

[HalcyonSpirit]

Next one will be better, for sure.

Well, next one is SS, so it'll definitely be better. I can personally guarantee that you'll at least get a submission from me. So there's at least one entry. :)!!

As for this one, I'm halfway through what I hope will be submittable poetry. I am hoping I can get my work for the weekend done in short order so I can finish it on time.

[Leon K.]

Sunset -

Her look and countenance evinced to me
that this Lady was a lonely sunset;
Held to her fate - stifled by the thought
of static inevitability.
Sunset, can't you look, see in front of you?
Or are you blinded by your own twilight?
If you could hold on, I could show to you
That after your sad descent, is sunrise.
I hear you say, "Have to hurry down, Yeah -
Hurry down Sunset, get dark like wine, won't
see - won't find any suffering." But why?
Do you think being alone will make it fine?
There is no need for you to keep yourself
at bay; - no need to shine brilliantly
and fade away, simply because you're afraid.
Perfect Sunset Star - Haha charade you are!
As for me - Chasing sunsets ain't my speed.
Much too elusive, fair as falling leaves
crushed under my feet.
Something so beautiful and fragile,
Must be always viewed from afar.

[Darklink42]

You have to wake up early
dress in clothing you'll only wear on that one day of the week
eating Sunday breakfast (the only thing I don't mind)
spray on your fancy cologne, but not your fanciest
(don't forget the extra spritz in case you meet a new woman)
Get in the car, drive a couple of miles away
Everyone knows you there, a few grunt hello
still tired you suppose
It always starts out slow, everyone relatively quiet
but someone will step up and when they do
You raise your voice in joyful exclamations
shouting praise fit to tear down the heavens
to the the One thing above all others


Football

I would have submitted a sonnet, but I've had so little time to work on it that it'll have to wait until later. Sorry guys.

[Imagist]

Less than 24 hours now. Anyone else considering a submission should get a move on. And also, does anyone have any comments on my suggestion for rehashing the voting system? If I don't get any feedback I'll just go ahead and implement the idea as-is for this round.

Floorboards

[EDIT: Poem removed for personal reasons.]

[Darklink42]

Well, how what is your suggestion on how to re-hash the vote system. I don't have any better ideas at the current time, but if you've got somethign you think would work, it might be worth a shot. Especially if it promotes a larger voter base, which is always more unpredictable but also contributes more diverse opinion.

[Imagist]

So here's what I'm thinking for the new voting system:

Those with current submissions will get 6 points to distribute among the entries as they choose. They can only place 1 point on their own submission, but it is up to them if they would like to do so or not. All 6 points may not be used on the same entry (even if it's just a 1/5 division, they should still be split up between two entries).

Those who have submitted in the past will get 3 points to distribute as they choose. No restrictions. Currently not working in votes for outsiders.

If I were to work in votes for outsiders, I think I would just weigh them equally with those who haven't currently submitted. I figured I would give it more time and see if I had a more thought-out plan next round, but if everyone else is in favor of increasing the voter base for the competition in progress we could do that too.

[Darklink42]

Well, that sounds good. I have a question though. Does that mean that a past submitter, if they've submitted this time, gets 9 points, or is it simply a non-stackable (yeah, I played Magic) bonus for those that did not submit this round but have otherwise contributed?

[Imagist]

Well, that sounds good. I have a question though. Does that mean that a past submitter, if they've submitted this time, gets 9 points, or is it simply a non-stackable (yeah, I played Magic) bonus for those that did not submit this round but have otherwise contributed?

No no, no stacking. They're categorical, just like the way we used to do it (anyone who ever submitted could vote, but those who submitted to the current contest's votes get weighted more).

[HalcyonSpirit]

I approve of the new voting system. And I wouldn't mind at all letting in people who haven't submitted in the past. I'd actually like it. However, we don't have to do so this time around. Perhaps give it some more thought for next time, see if anything better is brought up. But that's not necessary. Decision is ultimately yours, Imagery.

By the way, I will have a submission ready before midnight tonight, guaranteed. However, I may not post it until the last minute, as I'm going out until 11 right now (go go Stargate: Atlantis!) and I'm still trying to think of one last thing to put into the poem. I'll either edit this post with it later or make a new post as appropriate, so expect my submission. Yay! :)!!

EDIT: Finished! Mostly. Everything is done, but I'm not sure about its name and some of the formatting. I've never been good at titles. But for now, I've called it Purity. So here it is, my first poem in over 5 years:

Purity

Sun rising,
a cool night warms,
light kisses flowers blooming.
She smiles,
a beauty to behold,
upon the shallow hills.
Breeze flowing,
a touch of life
whispers among the leaves.
He grins,
a joyful smile,
happy as can be.
Peaceful day,
a scene of life,
nature’s beauty among them.
She whispers,
a loving voice,
her tender kiss soothing.
Birds singing,
a soft, tranquil tune,
the melody of living.
He sighs,
a gentle touch,
her hair running through his fingers.
Blue skies,
a cloud not found,
on a beautiful summer day.
Eyes shut,
a warm embrace,
two souls brought together.

[Imagist]

Okay everyone, submission is now over and voting has begun. You will find all 4 of our entries compiled in the second post. Also, please be mindful of the new voting rules--you can find them in the first post under, well, "Voting." You should all be aware: anyone can vote.

Anyone can vote.

So encourage them to. That is all.

[HalcyonSpirit]

Voted-ed-ed-ed-ed-ed

... ed.

[Darklink42]

I cast my ballot.
Really good stuff this round guys, good job.

[Imagist]

Only one entrant yet to vote. I also rounded up the names of all the people I could find in the archives that have either entered or expressed interest in doing so before and sent them PMs inviting them to vote. Hopefully we get a bit more of a turnout by Wednesday's end (there's only one non-entrant vote so far).

[Imagist]

Voting is now over. To everyone who was worried about whether or not they figured out the voting system, everyone did it exactly right. And thanks to that...

THE RESULTS ARE IN!


And hooo boy are they a doozy.

Runners-Up: Darklink42 AND GA Jedi Knight
1st Placers: Imagery AND Leon K.


Yep, that's right. Two two-way ties! Here's the vote spread:

Darklink42: 5
GA Jedi Knight: 5
Imagery: 10
Leon K.: 10

Believe me, when I added in my vote (since I set it aside before counting up the others' votes) and saw it all align like this, I was as surprised as any of you. We should have sig badges in short order, assuming Doulifee doesn't throw a fit about being overworked and refuse to make four badges for just one competition... :|

[HalcyonSpirit]

Congrats to Darklink42, Imagery and Leon K! Looks like we're all getting a prize this time. :tomatoface:

This is the first time I've gotten anything for my writing, even if it is tied with another person's for Runner-Up. I don't mind. At least this is one piece of good news on this stupid day. :-)

[Leon K.]

:D


This is like my 4th win. I'm back in the game son.

ug, I don't even have all my sigs anymore. Damn the two image limit for sigs.

[Doulifée]

Damn the two image limit for sigs.

Contact me i can merge that properly in one pic if needed ;-)

http://img264.imageshack.us/img264/4279/darklinkam9.png

http://img178.imageshack.us/img178/599/jedims5.png

and the last two:

http://img178.imageshack.us/img178/9828/imagerymp5.png

http://img178.imageshack.us/img178/6118/leonkam5.png

[Imagist]

Thanks for the badges, Doulifee.

Note: I have added the dates for March's short story competition. It begins next week!

[Imagist]

The competition is begun, as of a little over an hour again. Get to work, everyone!

[Darklink42]

Hey, I was thinking. If we did an odd number instead of an even in terms of voting, would that help prevent having a double tie again? Haven't done the math or anything, but I was thinking it might help. Anyways, I'll start cooking up a story as soon as I finish this stupid essay.

[Imagist]

I don't think so. For one thing, the fact that the votes can be split up between anywhere from two to six different entries means each entry isn't necessarily getting an "even" number of points. For another, even if having even points to distribute were to have some effect, this would be negated by the fact that outsiders get an odd number. It was just a really huge coincidence that the votes turned out the way they did. And is that really a problem? After all, perhaps it's just an accurate reflection of evenly matched skill in the writers--writing skill is, after all, what the whole voting system is supposed to measure.

[HalcyonSpirit]

The competition is begun, as of a little over an hour again. Get to work, everyone!

*salute*

Aye aye!

[JH Sounds]

I've been thinking about converting a comic book I'm drawing into a short story, but I not sure if it would qualify. I've been working on the comic for the past two days or so, but it's sort of a continuation of original stories and characters I had drawn in the past.

[Imagist]

As long as they're your original creations, if you can introduce characters and work a story with them in the contest limit (2500 words), feel free to submit it. Just don't rely on the comic book to explain the story or anything like that.

EDIT: My reasoning for this, in case anyone is going to ask, is that the regulations of the contest stipulate that "you should write something new within the time frame of the submission stage" (emphasis added). This has no bearing on whether or not your ideas are fresh during that time frame. That would, after all, be a ridiculous rule, since it's fairly difficult to a) come up with any completely original idea, no matter how long you're given, and b) do so on command within just a few short weeks (and then write a polished story with the idea). So, since it's quite a challenge to convert a full-fledged comic book (the idea) into a independent short story (writing the idea), given the time and word constraints we have here, I would allow it.

[JH Sounds]

Great. I might even set aside the comic and just devote my creative energy to the short story. I believe the idea is strong enough to carry the story through without graphic illustrations.

[Manic Cinq]

My latest doomed project is a Japanese webcomic. The notion came to me around late January and I've spent most of my creative time since then designing characters. I think my entry will star them, doing their stuff.

My point is that I didn't realize we didn't have to make absoloutely everything from scratch. (oh, wait, did I submit a poem about "Avatar: the Last Airbender" one time or was that something else?)

I think it's cool that a regular to these contests could have a little author-verse that they set their writings in. Not that you'd have to be a regular to do it, but who would notice otherwise?

e: By the way, I do realize that every entry needs to be able to stand on its own.

[Imagist]

You didn't submit a poem about Avatar here, because that would have been rejected. ;-) But as long as the characters and setting are your own design, and the story hasn't been written before, anything will qualify (whether you make them stand on their own, without outside explanation, is of course a challenge whether the characters and setting are recycled or not; that's part of the difficulty in writing anyway).

[HalcyonSpirit]

Just as a reminder to everyone, the last day to make a submission for this month's Short Story competition is one week from today, March 28th.

Let's hope we get plenty of submissions! I know I'm almost done with mine.

[Imagist]

I was going to post that. :razz:

I'm almost done with my submission as well. Just fleshing it out from my last barebones draft so the subtext comes out more effectively.

[Manic Cinq]

osnap time to get started :tomatoface:

[Barnsalot]

Not a lot of spare time right now, but I thought I'd try to do at least something.

A Soulless Proposition

"A million?" The boy's eyes grew wide as saucers.
"One million dollars," Ferris replied evenly.
"But," the boy stuttered, "But, I don't understand. Why?
"Why not?"
"Because it doesn't make any sense! You'll pay me one-million dollars to have a car wreck? And then what? That just doesn't make any sense. It endangers my life, the lives of others, and it accomplishes nothing! There's nothing in it for you!"
"Sure there is."
"What?"
"My own amusement."
"Your own amusement?" The boy was taken aback. He didn't say anything for a minute. "That's sick," he finally breathed.
Ferris only grinned as if he had expected such a response. "Yes, that's right. You help me with my sick amusement and I'll help you with yours," he said, and extended his bill-fold.
The boy glanced to the side, at the green, rusting car, which was his. It was an '87 Toyota Camry, not worth a dime anymore, except that it was worth a million dollars.
"I'll have the news on tomorrow around four o'clock," Ferris said, then turned and left.

"Doug, you've hardly touched your food tonight. What's wrong? It's Thanksgiving dinner." She was leaning over the table, arguably too small for the family of five seated around it, and frowning at the boy's plate.
"I guess I'm just not hungry tonight," Doug replied, and winced at the cliché he knew wouldn't be accepted as a very suitable response. He stuffed a potato wedge into his mouth, though, and began to chew it laboriously. That seemed to please his mother, and she sat back on her haunches and began commenting on the weather, or some such pointless subject. Doug couldn't hear a thing that was being said. His mind was elsewhere.

When it happened, there was a collective gasp from the entire community. An eight car pile up, file miles north from connector three on I-75. Two dead-on-arrival, three critically injured, and another hospitalized for the shock of the accident, alone. Doug had been one of those critically injured. His kidney had ruptured with the initial impact of the crash and three of his ribs had broken with the successive impacts of the cars piling-up on the wreckage. He had been pried from the mashed-up pile of green, rusty metal which had once been his vehicle, and had been rushed to the hospital, incapacitated, by the paramedics.

He woke to the slowly methodical, high-pitched beeping of the cardiogram, and rolled over onto his side. He twisted back with a wince of acute pain and gritted his teeth. The feeling was slowly returning to his body, but it was perhaps the most unwelcome visitor he would see all day. His injuries were confined to his abdomen, but for some hellish and mysterious purpose, it wasn't his abdomen which screamed at all, but his whole body, and his mind. They raved, "You fool! Look what you've done to yourself! Was this worth it? Was all this pain and trauma, these deaths that you've caused, these injuries, these funerals...! Were they all worth it!?"

He grunted, and clenched his fist, half in pain, half in anger. Anger at what, he had no idea. Something crunched and crackled within it. His interest piqued, Doug tore the IV from his forearm and lifted his hand to his face. It was an effort, but when the blur of his vision cleared, the small slip of paper in his hand suddenly began to make sense. It read, "Pay to the order of Doug Johnson..."

"Was it worth it? The deaths, the pain...?" The raving hadn't stopped.

Doug smiled and let his arm fall back to the bedside. He laughed, ignoring the tearing pain it sent in ripples up and down his body. "Yes," he said, "yes, it was worth it..."

[JH Sounds]

Finished with time to spare:


More Than Human

“Initiating experiment 5E: Equipment set, recorder on. Hope I look good on camera.” The empty corner of the laboratory housed a video receiver that focused on the professor Zed Cecil Horkuff. The inventor proudly proclaimed to be the most handsome great thinker of his age, despite wearing inch-thick glasses and a hairstyle comparable to a soggy pineapple. His logic lay in the notion that most scientists are quite ugly beings. He looked to his vanity mirror a final time before resuming. “The Matter Constrattor is finely tuned to properly manipulate and reconstruct subject B, i.e. the westward wall.”

Indeed, Horkuff’s experimental device had been set to face one side of his apartment, with the intent to re-form it to a handy bureau for his trinkets. Whether it was worth a sizable portion of his life savings to fund such an impractical device was kept off the record. Glancing once again to the wall, he noted: “The landlord probably won’t mind.” His precaution in the event that she in fact minded was simple, as Horkuff had built the Matter Constrattor into the very camera used to record the experiment for easy disposal. He pressed the “Play” button to fire the wave cannon.

Although the Constrattor was relatively quiet, the yawning, crumbling hole created by the psychedelic energy blast was far from inconspicuous. There was also the matter of the person standing directly behind the wall at the time of its destruction. Whether this individual could be considered a “person” was still a matter of debate. He exuded a masculine personality, but otherwise failed to meet the definition of “male”. His head was essentially an oversized bowling ball that, like the rest of him, cast a withered sheen. Below the neck, he appeared as a metal pole with thin arms and bellbottomed legs. His entire body was singular element unmatched to any in the explored universe. As Horkuff surmised, he was a living stick figure.

“I was just about to knock,” spoke the Stick, unfazed by the mechanism that had inadvertently shot him. For a moment he considered staying in the hallway and ringing the doorbell, but resisted the impulse. “Let’s cut to the point.” He leaned against the still-smoking edge of what was left of the wall. “I’m at an existential crisis. What exactly does someone like me expect from immortality? I need a solution, Horkuff.”

The professor, still slightly stunned at the failure of his experiment, took several seconds to respond. After switching off the world’s most expensive camcorder, he elaborated: “Stick, I’m sure you feel quite depressed being a sentient piece of indestructible mandantium, but you really don’t have anything to complain about.” The Stick looked down to his hands, shaped like stony mitts. His usually-morose face frowned deeper.

Horkuff continued, “Besides having a cool name, you can do things and go places no man has ever dreamed of.” This made the Stick briefly recall his adventures, respectively, with his own psyche, in deep space and (most peculiarly) within a parody of Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland. “You, my friend and scientific enigma, should be proud of what you are.” He quickly added, “Not that I know what you are, exactly. That would be best left to minds greater than myself.”

Just then, the meticulous cogs whirred within the inventor’s head. In light of his less-than-successful Constrattor, he could devote the leftover funds from the project to something more sociological. While the transformation would rob the world of its greatest mystery, it could potentially answer many lesser ones. The look on Horkuff’s face as he pondered this pleased the Stick to the point where his crumpled forehead raised slightly.

“Actually,” the professor said at last, “the unique composition of your metallic structure could theoretically allow for a stick-to-human conversion. All I’d need is a DNA sample to start the transition.” Regardless of the hole he had in the wall, he motioned toward the door. “Go get one.”

***

This was it: a chance to finally live the life of a human being. A chance to have a real head and shoulders, knees and toes. Genitals. A chance to mate, have offspring, and die. The words “screw mandantium” fell out of the Stick’s mouth as he left the apartment building. Slowly surveying the environment, he spotted several males to potentially sample on the street. The details of how Horkuff would initiate the procedure were beyond his understanding, but he at least knew that the sample would have a bearing on his human appearance. It was therefore a shame that so many unattractive people were about.

At the same time, he knew that choosing the most eligible template was the least important decision he would make. The most would be to choose life itself, rather than an unending existence. At this point the Stick had found his sample.

***

Horkuff’s eyes glinted with pride. “Introducing the Humanitizer! This should set you right.”

The Stick took a few moments to absorb the image that lay before him. The machine held a promise so great, so mystical to him, that the very idea of it existing in physical form was astonishing. Contrary to this promise was the actual look of the device, which was that of a kitchen appliance. “It’s a refrigerator,” muttered the Stick, “with a freezer, at that. Is this supposed to let me live, learn, love and pass on?”

“Yep,” said the professor, ignoring the criticism. “I got the idea from an early draft of the Back to the Future script. Way better than the finished version, in my opinion. Now just hop inside.”

The Stick stooped down slightly to reach for the machine door, but it swung open before he could do so. Horkuff smiled as he pressed a toggle on what looked like an RC car controller. “Any last words? Hee-hee!”

The refrigerator bulged outward when the Stick fitted himself into it. “At least two come to mind.” His knees pressed against his face while he squirmed into position.

The scientist set a code sequence on his controller. “While you’re in there, try to put some pants on, won’t you?” The Stick gave a barely-audible “right” as Horkuff shut the door. “Okay, this won’t hurt a bit.” He flipped another switch. “…except maybe for the searing flames.” The resulting roar of combustion subsequently set a dark ring of soot on the ceiling. Below this the fridge spun once on the spot before emitting a thick, foggy plume. Horkuff quickly checked his hairdo for any aesthetic damage. “Ooh…That was smokier than expected. You okay in there?” After receiving a “yes” from the Stick, the professor pulled open the scorching mechanism with the help of industrial steel tongs. “Welcome to the human race!”

The Stick pushed his way out of the smooth, white boundaries of the device. “Oh brother…” The first thing he felt was a shooting sensation in his eyes. He quickly realized this was the pain of having one’s knees shoved into the face while being superheated inside an electric ice box. It would not be a common, everyday feeling. Slowly balancing himself, he wiggled his fingers. He had fingers. His hands suddenly raced from his hair to his nose, chin, neck, elbows, and anything else he could reach. He sensed the taut muscles in his cheek while his jaw lowered in awe.

“You’re beautiful!” yelped Horkuff. “Er… and I mean that in a purely scientific way, of course. How does it feel to be shuffled onto a mortal coil?”

“I’m glowing.”

“That’s a side effect. It should wear off later.”

“Oh. Anyway, since you qualify as a social human, tell me—how do I go about finding a mate?”

“Well, technology has afforded a great deal of avenues one may use to seek a kindred spirit, my good man. You could also go out in the street and ask.”

***

On the sidewalk, the Stick found himself peering at all sides once again. “Geez, this is tougher than choosing a man to sample,” he said to himself. He had chosen a decent-looking subject to be a rough model of, so having a woman physically attracted to him would be no problem. Selecting one that would be his life partner was something else entirely. In his view, the only one here that came close to an attractive female was—

“Lady, you just may be my mate!”

The woman jumped back in fright and surprise. She was plain, but workable, the Stick saw. Her thick, straight hair barely went past her ears. She wore no makeup and donned clouded glasses that rivaled Horkuff’s; he couldn’t even see her eyes. The potential mate did however seem to be single.

“How about dinner with me?”

“What?! I—I never…”

“Don’t worry, procreation is not expected of you. Not immediately, anyway.”

“I-I… um, no. This is awkward and sudden, you know?” She gave a brief, slightly embarrassed smile before turning away.

“Hang on, there,” he called. “You’ve probably never been asked something like this in such a direct manner. But don’t you think you’ll eventually wonder whether you missed a valuable opportunity? Isn’t it worth exploring more of the options provided in life? Please take a moment to consider this.”

She looked back to the Stick and stared, as if she could see the metallic figure he once was. After a moment, she asked, “What’s your name?”

“Stick—Er, Fred… Fred Stickly.”

“Hello, Fred. I’m Shella, and I’d like to take you up on your offer. Where would you like to bring me?”

***

The overcrowded restaurant did its best to ruin the mood of the occasion, but the Stick and Shella didn’t mind. He had put on a tie for the date while she wore a frilly blouse and necklace. The two sat at opposite ends of the table, separated by a candle and the bare dishes. “You know, gassy food certainly has its up sides,” he said.

Shella gave a faint grin. “You consider breadsticks gassy?”

“Somewhat. My body isn’t really used to this kind of stuff yet. I suppose it’ll get worse once the main course arrives. It should be fun though, along with the after.”

“What do mean, ‘after’?” Her face tightened with concern.

“Oh, er, after the meal goes through me, of course.” He twiddled his fingers. “Marvelous. You know these things are quite useful for buttoning shirts and knotting shoelaces.”

Shella’s mouth formed into a horizontal line. “You’re a very strange man, Fred.”

“Seems to be turning out that way doesn’t it? I mean, I expected certain things to happen with me, but it’s all going quite uncharted. I thought my neck was supposed to hurt, for example. It so happens that this tie is adjustable, however. I also sneezed a few times, and that’s quite something.”

She stared at him silently again.

“That the second time you’re done that, Shella. Is something on my nose?”
Her broad smile showed itself for an instant, followed by a mild frown. “No. There’s just something about you, that’s all.” She tapped her fingers rhythmically on the plate in front of her. “You remind me a lot of my dad, actually. He always seemed to see life in an unusual way. You’d probably love the things he spoke about.”

The Stick beamed. “How very nice. Please share to me some of his anecdotes.”

Shella turned off to her side. “I… I don’t recall much of what he used to say. I’m not really like that—like him. I never really believed that was a proper way to live life.” Her hands fell flat on the table. “You’ve made me remember what my father’s point was, though—that to wonder beyond the mechanics of living is to be more than human.”

The Stick’s lips suddenly found themselves crunched beneath his nose. “You’re saying he tried to be more than what he was? What would be the point of that? Humanity is something to be cherished, not deserted.”

Though her eyes could not be seen, the Stick could tell that Shella had closed them. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It makes me feel like…” She gave a sigh.

“Like what?”

Her head tilted as she turned back toward the Stick. “Like I’ve never really been human in my whole life.”

***

Results of experiment 6A: Subject appears to have found a female companion, but a long-term relationship may become complicated. Subject relates that transition to manhood is happiest moment in his existence, and would not consider turning back if he could. Wonders what death will be like, though he is certainly not the first one to. Subject finds it difficult to handle carbohydrates, but is otherwise normal. On the other hand, he may have to change up that hairstyle…

[Imagist]

Lab work has, unfortunately, caught up to me, so I won't be able to get a submission in time. Unless we have more entrants show up before tonight, I was thinking it might be beneficial to extend the deadline. However, it's really up to you two who have entered so far, since doing so might affect your own submissions. What do you think?

[HalcyonSpirit]

Just something to keep in mind: I have something to submit for this competition. However, work has also caught up with me, so if I were to make a submission right now it'd probably be a rough draft of what I want. I'm going to try to finish it up before the deadline today, but whether that happens or not depends on several college-related factors. So I could use an extension, but it isn't absolutely necessary.

Oh, and on a completely unrelated note, I have signed up for a Creative Writing class here at VT taught by Nikki Giovanni. Am I excited? Yes, yes I am. :-D

[Manic Cinq]

I won't be crushed by not having an extension, but it's always nice to have at least a handful of entries in any competition.

Is Nikki Giovanni someone I should hear about?

[HalcyonSpirit]

Is Nikki Giovanni someone I should hear about?

After what happened here last year? Probably, yeah. (http://video.msn.com/?mkt=en-us&brand=msnbc&fg=copy&vid=9a12aa0c-466c-41c7-9933-af2636de0309&from=00)

[Barnsalot]

Extend the deadline some. I don't think it can hurt.

[JH Sounds]

Extend the deadline some. I don't think it can hurt.

Ditto.

http://img509.imageshack.us/img509/2268/classiccharspn9.jpg

[Imagist]

All right, then. The submission stage will be open one more week. Barnsalot and just64helpin, feel free to post a revision of your submissions within that time frame. Everyone else (myself included), get to work!

[Manic Cinq]

Oh, wow. A week? I've got some procrastinating to do!

hehe i'm getting started

[ubernym]

Hello everyone! It's been awhile since I've participated in one of these, but I wanted to do something that forced my creative hand. So I made up a cool-sounding title and then forced myself to come up with a story for it. Here's my result.

Short Story, Fiction

The Phantom Poet of Zanzibar
by J.N. Russell (aka Ubernym)


Stone Town is gone now. Isn't technology great? The old nukes couldn't hold an irradiated candle to this stuff. 'Bomb' just isn't a big enough word; bombs just blow shit up and lay general waste to their targets.

But this.

This was worse, in every possible way. The scientists who came up with it must feel like real assholes now, if they're still alive, and if they still have their minds.

Me, I'm still alive, but only barely. I still have my mind, too, I think. Maybe I don't? That's the trouble with losing your mind. If it's gone, there's no way you could know that because if you understand that then your mind must not be gone. It's better not to think about it.

I can't remember how it started, why it started. Doesn't matter now, because pretty much everyone is dead. It's a damned miracle that I'm still around. Dumb luck, you might say.

It's probably bad luck, considering.

Considering I seem to be the only one around here. Everything is rubble, or worse. Mush. I have no idea where all the bodies went, which really creeps me out. Where is everyone? I get lonely a lot.

I'm writing a poem on the only free standing wall around. It's like a pillar of light from heaven, shining down on ground zero. Everything else is dust for miles. Why is this wall still standing? Who cares, it's my canvas now. I'm writing with a thin piece of something black that seems to rub off well, like charcoal. Maybe it's a finger.

I want to write a poem for the aliens, or the evolved sea-crabs or whatever intelligent life that comes along to replace us. They have to come eventually, and maybe they'll find my poem. Maybe it will tell them something about what happened here.

But what should I write? I can't write the whole story, not enough room, and not enough charcoal. A poem could work well. I once heard that the German word for poem, gedicht, has roots in the idea of compression, like winding a spring tight.

This is what I need to do, to wind tight the spring of our undoing. I need to tell my alien successors how we ruined ourselves with our own technology, how we destroyed our entire world because we just couldn't stop building a better mousetrap.

How should I start? I guess at the beginning. The beginning of what? The end, I guess. That could be awkward, like my survival. It's a non-sequitur, really. Like I said it was dumb luck, how do you explain dumb luck to an alien intelligence?

I mean, how many people own a hang glider, and how many of them were hang gliding on the last day of our lives? My guess is, not many. Certainly no one I've met, ha ha.

And even then, how many of them survived the fall? Because I definitely remember being pretty amazed that I had survived. I mean, one minute I'm hang-gliding over this beautiful valley, and in the flash of an instant I'm pummeling to the earth, full-speed. I'm pretty sure I bounced.

Then I wake up and everything is gone. Gone daddy gone. Rubble or mush or worse. Nothing left, well except for that one wall, way off in the distance.

I've just realized I don't even know what happened exactly. Just that whatever it was, it must have been really, truly cataclysmic. That's all I have to go on.

How do I explain it? Would an alien even know what a hang glider is?

Well, here goes:

Flying above earth
I fall
To ground
And wake to nothing.
All is gone, all is destroyed.
I fall again and sleep
Forever.

There's a little charcoal left. Maybe I should draw a picture, a visual aid to help with translation. The aliens are probably smart enough to figure this out, but I'm sure they'll appreciate the tip.

I think I'll take a nap now.


"Look over here, Parkinson"
"What is it?"
"It's some kind of crude drawing, and an inscription"
"How old is it?"
"How the hell should I know? I'm an architect, not an art historian. If this is art."
"Maybe it's graffiti."
"It's in Arabic, can you read it?"
"I know a little, let's see...fly....earth...falling, sleep...I don't know it's probably some religious script."
"Yeah, look at the drawing: it looks like an angel falling to earth."
"That makes sense. Maybe it's some proto-Christ archetype or something."
"Do you even know what you're talking about?"
"No, not really. Still, we can't risk the chance that it might be a significant find."
"This could impact the evaluation, better call it in."

"Hello? Hi yes, it's Parkinson and Levy. We're on assignment in Zanzibar. That's right, we're evaluating the Stone Town file for UNESCO. Yes, it's all wrapping up pretty nicely, the buildings are fantastic. We're pretty confident it's a winner but, well the thing is we found this inscription on the outer wall of the tallest building in the area. It's very interesting and we thought you'd want to know about it. Yes, we've already taken some pictures. We'll put them in the file. Ok, thanks."

"Well, that's done, let's go have a beer."


The End.

[Imagist]

Holy crap it's an ubernym. I might have just creamed my pants.

You better stick around, man.

[ubernym]

Holy crap it's an ubernym. I might have just creamed my pants.

You better stick around, man.

Yeah, it's been awhile, but I've realized I need an external source to keep me motivated in writing. I'll be sticking around :-o

[Imagist]

Is it me or did we lose an entry? Didn't dsx100 post something?

Anyway, only about 9 hours left, folks. I might be able to finish fixing what I have before then, but if not, my submission's going to be pretty crappy.

[Manic Cinq]

Retracted entry?

I'm basically done with mine, but I want to let it sit for a little bit longer then scan it for typos & whatnot again.

Mine will be proof that I watch too much slice o' life.

[Doulifée]

i spent lot of time reading book in english during my trip to Canada...i'll try to vote >_>

[HalcyonSpirit]

I wrote this somewhat on a whim. I had an idea and ran with it. It probably won't be the most interesting read, and quite frankly, I think the whole thing would work better if it was longer. However, I do plan on returning to this setting in future works, ones that are longer and more fleshed out. I've got... ideas.

Patrol

For countless millennia, the human species looked up to the heavens and asked themselves, "what is up there?" From the surface of their world, they could only begin to imagine what lay beyond their sight. Even with the advent of telescopes, humans could only catch a glimpse of the vast universe all around them. Their curiosity never waned as they took to the skies and reached further and further up away from the only home they knew. The universe was at their fingertips, they could feel it. Soon enough, the makings of humanity began spreading out, first into the emptiness around their planet, and then to their immediate celestial neighbor in a single, small step. It wasn't long before their first remote voyage to the edge of their solar system. And then, in an explosion of new technological achievement and adventurous spirit, mankind grasped the fruits of their labor and spread out across their solar system and beyond…

---

"Blue Lea… is Delta Tower… respond."

Carth flicked a switch on his control board. The static that was piercing his skull came to an abrupt end. He glanced around his RLF-14's cockpit for any signs of immediate trouble and found, predictably, nothing. He pulled back on the flight stick and hit the thrusters. Outside his cockpit, the metallic dust cloud he had been inside of thinned to the emptiness of space as his spacecraft gracefully responded to his will. He reactivated the communications system he had shut off moments earlier; static no longer assaulted his ears.

"Delta Tower, this is Blue Leader. You rang?"

There was an audible sigh from the other end. "We detected a small explosion in your general vicinity. Did you find anything?"

"That's a big negatory," Carth responded coolly, despite his still-racing heartbeat. "There was a gas pocket in the debris cloud I was investigating, but it isn't there now. The engines must've set it off when I passed through it." He scanned the ship's diagnostics display. "Singed the hull pretty good, but I'm alright."

"Roger that, Blue Leader. I'll inform the sensor crew to try to scan them more thoroughly from now on. Be careful out there; don't need you getting killed right before our transfer back to civilization. Delta Tower out."

Carth opened up the squadron's comm. channel. "Blue Squadron, this is Blue Leader. Let's do a final pass through the sector before heading home." A flurry of affirmatives came almost immediately; they must have been anxiously waiting for the order to come. He didn't blame them.

"Again with the close calls, Commander? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Carth knew the comment was coming, and lifted the facemask on his helmet so he could rub his eyes.

"Of course, Gav, of course. Gotta weed out the old farts, after all." Both of them knew that the explosion was nowhere near strong enough to damage the fighter, but the banter was the only way to keep things light on a mission. "I'm heading back to your position. Stand by."

As he gripped the flight stick to swing his fighter around, Carth gazed silently out into the nearly empty void of the system's asteroid belt. It would probably be more apt to call it a debris field, he reminded himself. There were many times more scraps of ancient wreckage than asteroids floating around. Their mission today, just like it had been for the previous two months, was to patrol various sectors of the entire solar system for any kind of activity and investigate possible disturbances. It was an easy assignment, as it should be for active-duty pilots on "vacation." The current situation in the outer edges of the galaxy made it impossible for anyone to be allowed time away from service, but rotating whole battle groups in and out of this system for surveillance duty was close enough. Nothing ever happened in the system, so all anyone had to endure was a few hours each day essentially riding on autopilot in their scout fighters and keep an eye out for anything unusual. The monotony was so great that pilots often were eager to get back to the front lines halfway through their allotted time in the system.

Carth was no exception. He preferred peace to war, but everyone knew he would rather be in battle than not during a war that threatened to devastate the galaxy. Already, he was forming the messages he needed to send to various people once he was back to the fleet. The communications blackout everyone was subject to during their stay in the system caused him much anxiety; he needed to be in contact with the military commanders, planning new strategies and fighting the war, not sitting in some backwater, uninhabited solar system. His finger was tapping the flight stick impatiently when his comm. suddenly came back to life.

"Blue Leader, Blue Six. You're taking too long to get over here. Maybe I should go to you and light up your fighter's rear. The extra thrust would be useful. I'm sure you wouldn't mind the risk of sudden decompression." Carth smirked; if anyone else had said what his second-in-command just had, he'd be sure to put them on cleaning duty for a month.

"Right, Six," he replied. "Deep space recon training mission for you when we get back."

"Well then, in that case, the rookies have started a betting pool on how much the 'old man' has lost his touch in just a few months without a single enemy to fight." Carth could imagine the grin on Gav's face as he spoke. "But I'm not supposed to tell you that."

"Are they now? Well, I'll make sure they understand that being in your thirties does not an old man make." The comm. clicked as Gav ended the transmission. "They sure know how to push my buttons." He stretched in his cockpit, waiting for the autopilot to bring him to the next waypoint, where Gav would join him for the remainder of the mission. "Just one more reason for wanting to get out of here."

Carth pulled out his personal datapad and plugged it into the fighter's sensors and navigational databank. The mission was boring, but the subject matter was anything but. His rank in the military was nothing to be scoffed at, and thus most information about his missions would be readily available to him. This assignment, however, was different. All inquiries were met with a single phrase: "Classified information." Not even his contact in the intelligence division had access to any information regarding the assignment. The system was classified at the highest level possible, right down to its name. The only solid information he had was gathered from his own patrols. The data provided to them on their arrival said that the system contained seven planets, four being gaseous, orbiting a middle-aged yellow star, with a single asteroid belt located between the third and fourth planets. Beyond that, the details of the system were a mystery to Carth.

He hated not knowing the details.

And once I get out of this place, I can stop obsessing over it so much, he told himself. Leaving can't come soon enough.

Going over the data collected on his squadron's patrols – obtained from the base databank in a less-than-legitimate manner, of course, since it officially didn't exist – Carth noticed that there was a planet-sized mass orbiting the star between the second and third planets. He could only speculate on what it could be, since all craft were prohibited from getting within twenty-five billion kilometers of the object's orbit, but he guessed that it was a planet that also did not officially exist. Why they wanted to hide an entire planet was beyond him. His mind tried to avoid thinking about it, but his gut told him something critically important to the war effort lay there. It would explain the secrecy and the constant surveillance in the system.

He put his datapad down and willed himself to stop thinking about it. After he left, there would be no reason to keep thinking about it. After he left, he could go back to doing what he did best: fighting in the war. No one knew quite how much he hated it here.

The comm. flared to life just as Gav's fighter pulled alongside his at 1.2 kilometers distance. "Blue Leader, this is Blue Three." One of the rookies. Probably not sure what to do about something. "I found some charred wreckage floating near a group of asteroids just a few minutes ago. I've been looking at it, but it's so banged up I can't ID it. Should I report it in?"

Bingo. "May as well. Let them deal with it. It's probably nothing, but you know how they are about the details." Nearly as anal about them as I am, that's how they are.

"Yeah, they're almost as bad as you are." The man on the other end chuckled. "Three out."

Carth shook his head. "They're definitely pushing my buttons today. Rookies don't get that privilege." He made a mental note to reprimand them back at base.

The rest of the patrol went without incident, and Carth found himself nearly humming with glee as he strode through the hallways of Delta Base. That won't do for a squadron commander still in his flight suit, even among his own squadron. His delight about finally leaving the mystery system behind the very next day was definitely getting the better of him. He reached his quarters and slid the door open. Everything was as he had left it; his suitcase lay on the bed with all his clothes packed away. His personal belongings were in a separate bag at the foot of the bed. He walked inside, closed the door, and collapsed onto the bed. His legs hung off the side, and for a moment he let himself imagine the things he would do as soon as he got back to civilization. More work, but at least it'd be productive.

A sharp rapping on his door pulled him from his thoughts. The door was already open by the time he got to his feet. Standing there with a blank look was Gav.

"No," Carth said in monotone.

Gav looked down at the single sheet of paper in his hand and started reciting its contents. "To the officers and pilots of Blue Squadron: In accordance with standard military procedure concerning deployments and mission secrecy,—"

"No," he repeated. Don't say it.

"—General Fierle has, upon review of the data recovered on day sixty-five of Blue Squadron's deployment, ordered—"

"No," he said again. Don't you say it.

"—that Blue Squadron—"

"No," he emphasized, taking the boot off his left foot in the process. Don't you dare ruin this. Gav put his unoccupied hand on the door and stepped outside the room, not turning his back.

"—remain on duty here at Delta Base until further notice." Carth swung and chucked the boot at Gav's head the moment he stopped speaking. Gav, however, was already protected behind the suddenly closed door before it could reach him.

“Sorry, Carth," he said from behind the door. He opened the door back up slightly. “As they used to say—" He poked his head inside… “don't shoot the messan—”

… and had his face attacked by another flying boot.

[Manic Cinq]

http://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1409876

Thorn Garden

“Ms. Himejima.”

Himeko kept staring at the flowers. The maid stepped closer and called out again. A short, shrill squeal broke her gaze as she spun around. She caught her breath and asked “what do you want, Misao?”
“Everyone is waiting in the dining hall. Please follow me.”
Himeko then apologized and followed, leaving her mind back in the garden.

As Himeko entered the dining hall, Midori shouted “kon∙ban∙wa Hi∙me∙ko~” from across the table. Himeko bowed and returned a soft “good evening” before taking a seat next to Junko who was busy texting her robotic sister.
“What are you two talking about?” Himeko asked Junko.
Typing away like a pianist, Junko turned her head and smiled. From further down the table Iwako said “it is a secret between sisters.”
“Were you in the garden again?” Midori asked.
“It is quite beautiful there, so I lost track of time.”

Himeko turned to the maid and asked “Misao, when did you plant the blue roses?”
“I did not plant the blue roses.”
Everyone looked up.
“Roses don’t plant themselves,” Midori pointed out.
“I do not take care of the garden,” the maid claimed.
“Junko,” Itoe said, “have you been toying with Misao’s database?”
Looking hurt, Junko said “I haven’t touched a single line of her code.”
“Lately,” Haruka added.
Midori laughed.
“Seriously, I haven’t.”
“It is true!” Iwako added to the defence.
“Misao,” Itoe said, “after the dishes are clean, run a diagnostic.”
“After the dishes have been cleaned, I will run a diagnostic.”
“Good.”
“Thank you Ms. Morinaga.”

After the meal, everyone retired to their chambers. Himeko set a kettle to boil and watched out the balcony window as it started to rain. She soon heard a scream in the corridor and went out to check on it. When she looked out in the hall she found Midori, who had fallen on the floor.
“Th-there was a ghost at your door.”
“A ghost?”
“I bet Haruka summoned it.”
“Shall we see then?”

Knocking on the door, they heard “please, come in” from inside the room. Midori put her hands on her hips and adamantly questioned: “Did you send a ghost to scare Himeko?” Haruka poked her head out from behind a stack of books and asked “you saw a ghost?”
“Midori said there was one outside my door.”
“I don’t summon ghosts.”
Midori bent over and stared into Haruka’s eyes as if she would be able to tell if she were lying.
“Sorry for the intrusion, see you tomorrow.” Himeko said as she grabbed Midori’s hand and pulled her out of the room.
“Good night, you two.”

Himeko locked her door and went take the kettle off the stove. She noticed the kettle wasn’t there just before she heard “I’ve poured two cups.”
Startled, she kept facing the wall, afraid to turn around.
“I wasn’t trying to scare you or your friend.”
Tense, she closed her eyes.
“Why don’t you come over here and have a seat. I won’t bite.”
Half expecting a pruny drowning victim or a mangled corpse, Himeko slowly turned toward the table. She let herself exhale when she saw that the horrible ghost haunting her was a fair young woman.

“Why me?”
“You spend a lot of time in my garden.”
“You are the gardener?”
“I’ve been tending the garden here for a long time.”
“Then… why now?”
“You were asking about my garden at supper.”

Himeko sat down and picked up her teacup. A few minutes of silence later, the ghost introduced herself.

“My name is Rei Agata. I lived here once and I usually keep to myself, but no one has ever really paid attention to my garden, even when I was alive. I just had to meet you.”
“Have you always been here?”
“No, but I have seen a few ladies move in and out of this estate.”
“What do you know about me?”
“You are Himeko Himejima. You enjoy tea and tailoring elegant gowns. You are always polite and pleasant, but you distance yourself from the other girls in the dorm.”
“Stop.”
Himeko stared down at the table.
“You asked.”
“Please, just stop. You should have stayed hidden.”
“Himeko.”
Rei touched Himeko’s hand, causing her to run out the door.

The next morning, Haruka was reading in the gallery and overheard the Minami sisters talking nearby. What caught Haruka’s attention was that Junko said “Himeko slept in Midori’s room last night.” Haruka closed her book and walked over to where the sisters were chatting.
“They came into my room last night asking if I summoned a ghost.”
“Did you?”
“Of course not.”
“Maybe you should’ve.”
Haruka laughed a “maybe.”
Haruka walked off and the Minami sisters went back to their gossip.

When Midori saw that it was Haruka who had been knocking on her door, she stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind her.
“Is she still in there?”
“That ghost is haunting her room! She had to sleep somewhere.”
After Midori explained what happened, Haruka suggested that Midori search Himeko’s room for the ghost and then talk to Misao about the house history.
“I’ll be in the library… to see if I can find anything useful.”

A week later, no one else had seen Rei stalking the grounds and Himeko had settled back into her own room. A few days after that, Himeko went to the garden and said “I am sorry.” Rei appeared behind her.
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown up so suddenly, babbling like that. I just hadn’t talked to anyone in a long time.”
“From now on, I will talk to you when I visit the garden.”
“Well, you could start by looking at me.”
“Eh? Don’t sneak up on me! I thought you were invisible.”

The girls laughed and eventually Himeko introduced Rei to the other girls in the mansion, who accepted Rei into their circle much more calmly than Himeko. Itoe enjoyed talking with someone who knew about the history of the school and Rei enjoyed testing the conversational abilities of Iwako and Misao’s AI programs. Haruka now had someone to discuss books with and Midori gained a new ear to test her music on. Junko found that Rei made a good spy for gossip and Himeko never had to have tea alone again.

[Imagist]

Okay, folks. Less than 10 minutes left. If there are any other submissions, get them in now! Speaking of which, here's mine. It's a little short and a little sloppy, but it's the best I could manage. These past couple of weeks have been tough.

It Comes Apart

Thump-a thump thump thump thump-a thump. Straight to the brain.

“Can you even go a whole day without…?” Anne said.

“Dunno. Never tried.”

Hector turned the dial to the right and it came: harder, better, faster, stronger. The pulse made him come alive, or at least half so—enough to wrap his hands round the wheel, thumbs tapping out the beats. He strained to keep one foot on the pedal as the other doled out kicks in time.

“Do you know where we’re going?”

Hector inhaled, as though sucking in the very waves of sound emanating from the speakers. To tell the truth, the road he had taken out of Paris generally led to Berlin, among other places. But he couldn’t exactly say he was headed there.

“Just because I’m driving doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere.”

Anne put her head back against the rest and slumped down in her seat.

“If you’re trying to scare me, it won’t work.”

“Why would I try to scare my wife?”

Hector hadn’t so much as looked at her for the half hour they’d been on the A 2, but he felt every move she made as a nervous spasm up his right arm. Straining to ignore them, he kept staring at the road ahead. When he caught up to another car, he got up very close and swerved around at the last second without skipping a beat.

Beat. It was pounding Hector’s head, joining the excruciating throb already there to create an oddly syncopated rhythm. He reached for the dial again, but there was no turning it further. Even Daft Punk couldn’t drown everything out.

Suddenly Anne skipped a couple tracks and LCD Soundsystem started up. Hector whirled to the side, intending to snarl at her ignorance, but her eyes met his and didn’t turn away. No ignorance behind that face, just insolence. She’d always had a cute bit of spunk.

That’s how it starts... She’d always had a thing for James Murphy’s voice, too.

“Anne, I told you I’ve got to have something with a touch more bass.”

“Oh come on, ‘All My Friends’ isn’t exactly light and easy.” She broke eyesight to stare into the vast stretch ahead of them as her cheeks reddened a little. “It’s not like I put on My Bloody Valentine.” Hector gaped at her until Anne told him gently to watch it. He glanced forward and barely dodged the car he’d been about to hit.

...blowing eight-five days in the middle of France... He didn’t look at her again when she next spoke.

“I’m worried, Hector. Is the vacation not helping? Dr. Rosenberg said—”

“I don’t know why you got in the car with me,” he snapped.

“Like I was going to let you drive off alone, the way you were acting! One day we’re enjoying a nice, relaxing visit to the Eiffel Tower and the next you’re hopping out of bed at 6 A.M. to hunt for the keys.”

“Do you want to die? Is that it?”

“Do you?”

...this could be the last time... His hands and feet were no longer moving.

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” Hector saw that her eyes were glistening and had to turn his gaze partially out the side window to avoid welling up himself.

“I wish you hadn’t come. You don’t know what it’s like,” he muttered.

At that she slammed her fist into the dashboard. “What? What it’s like to ache until you lose consciousness every time you try to concentrate on one thing too long? What it’s like to forget what happened yesterday and have no idea what’s going on today or tomorrow? Or what it’s like to live, as you say, ‘a half-life’? Because let me tell you, Hector, it’s not exactly fulfilling that I can’t make love to my husband without him blacking out or, God forbid, getting bored and stopping.”

“No, I’m talking about what’s it like to give myself to the woman I love only to have to take it all back because nothing but music keeps me going. What it’s like to have to lose myself in the beat to do anything right, only when I try to do even that you get sucked in too.” He meant to add, “What it’s like to have to watch you hurt the way I do and know there’s nothing I can to about it,” but his right thumb started tapping again and she covered his hand with hers instantly.

“Hector, we’ve been over this. It’s just a depression. We can beat it… together.”

She squeezed his hand tighter just as a piercing thump hit his temple and the resulting shudder relaxed his arms. It was instant panic. He was letting the wheel fly and another car was coming at them. So let it come, a part of him thought. But another part wanted her to be gone, to be safe at home, to be anywhere but there in that car. And yet, he could do nothing about it. She held on fast.

...you think over and over, “Hey, I’m finally dead.”

[Manic Cinq]

And now I've voted.

This session has turned out a nice crop! :nicework:

[Doulifée]

/vote cast. i hope i did it right.

[JH Sounds]

Isn't there supposed to be a post where you go...

THE ENTRIES HAVE BEEN SUBMITTED!

Imagery - It Comes Apart

just64helpin - More Than Human

Barnsalot - A Soulless Proposition

GA Jedi Knight - Patrol

ubernym - The Phantom Poet of Zanzibar

Manic Cinq - Thorn Garden

...or something like that?

[Imagist]

Eh.I figured my last one was close enough to count. :-P

FYI, guys, half of the entrants have already voted (plus more), so I'd say this competition is getting a really good turnout compared to the last few. Thanks for participating, everyone!

P.S.: Special thanks to Doulifee. He's so on-the-ball, I didn't even have to ask him to update the thread title! Thanks for all your hard work, Doulifee.

[Doulifée]

i'm the moderator of the forum >_> i perform a daily check , plus i was away of ocr during one month. i need to keep up with what was happening :9

[HalcyonSpirit]

I have now voted.

Good job, everyone! I really enjoyed these entries.

[Manic Cinq]

Too bad we didn't see JamStunna or Leon K. this round.

[Random Hajile]

I'm still here, lurking... quietly.

This is Leon K, btw :D

Hai Guys.

[Jam Stunna]

Too bad we didn't see JamStunna or Leon K. this round.

Sorry, I just got my PC working on Friday. I missed the whole thing! But I will be back next time.

[Imagist]

Everyone, I have a favor to ask: if you have some free time in the next couple of days and feel like thoroughly critiquing my entry, could you PM me a write-up of your thoughts? I'm trying to work it up into a final project of sorts for my creative writing class (1000 words max, so not much longer than its current length) and I could use all the input I can get, unless you have nothing more to say than "I liked/didn't like it." Anyone who does this by Wednesday (a second draft is due Thursday) will get an extra point toward their own submission--err, I mean... much gratitude. :wink:

[Manic Cinq]

lol



I might think about taking a minute away from wind waker to give your story another look.... maybe

but the koroks need my help!

[HalcyonSpirit]

Bad week bad week... can't it be next Wednesday? I don't have time...

[Imagist]

Bad week bad week... can't it be next Wednesday? I don't have time...

Heh! You're not the only one. Don't worry about it if you can't. Like I said, I'm just asking a favor.

[Jam Stunna]

Everyone, I have a favor to ask: if you have some free time in the next couple of days and feel like thoroughly critiquing my entry, could you PM me a write-up of your thoughts? I'm trying to work it up into a final project of sorts for my creative writing class (1000 words max, so not much longer than its current length) and I could use all the input I can get, unless you have nothing more to say than "I liked/didn't like it." Anyone who does this by Wednesday (a second draft is due Thursday) will get an extra point toward their own submission--err, I mean... much gratitude. :wink:

I'll take the case!

[Bruce Lee]

Missed it this time. Hope I might be able to vote, but things are busy. I've got some killer new poems for the next one.

[Manic Cinq]

Why does it take so long to vote & judge?

I understand giving people time to look over the stories carefully & procrastinate, but what's the judging part about? Leeway for the coordinator to not be annoyed by people asking for the results to be posted?

[Imagist]

Leeway for the coordinator to not be annoyed by people asking for the results to be posted?

Yes. Exactly. Especially when all this falls during finals for me.

[ubernym]

Well, I voted. Good luck everyone!

[Imagist]

All the entrants have voted, but for everyone else, there's still a little over a whole day to get those votes in. For those like Jam that missed out on submitting, you can still influence this competition one way or another!

[Darklink42]

Voted! Good job everyone, impressive competition this round. Hopefully I'll be back next month.

[Imagist]

Voting is now closed. I'll have the results up when finals give me a break--if you'll notice, I've extended my own deadline by a couple of days just in case. :tomatoface:

[Imagist]

Okay, I'd better get this done before studying for my last final consumes me. So here goes:

THE RESULTS ARE IN!

Runners-Up: GA Jedi Knight, Imagery, & just64helpin
1st Place: Ubernym


Yeah, this contest has a way of producing wacky results. For a while there I thought it was a close bid for second, but then the last few votes had to go and prove me wrong by making it even closer. Here's the vote spread:

Barnsalot - 2
GA Jedi Knight - 8
Imagery - 8
just64helpin - 8
Manic Cinq - 1
Ubernym - 15

[JH Sounds]

Ah, that makes wish I'd went for the extra point. :grin:

[HalcyonSpirit]

Very nice. Congrats to everyone, and even more congrats to Ubernym on a job well-done. As soon as I saw he had submitted something, I knew he'd take the majority of votes. But I wasn't expecting a 3-way-tie for Runner-Up, especially not with me as one of them. So good job everyone! Hope to see you all for the next competition!

By the way, if anyone would be willing to give me a critique for my story, I would very much appreciate it. Thanks. :-D

[Doulifée]

banner will be send next friday or saturday to the winner. ;-)

[ubernym]

:oops: I really didn't expect to win. I didn't even vote for myself, because I was unsatisfied with my own story.

But a hearty THANK YOU to those of you who liked my story. It's a big boost for me to see others enjoy my work, and it keeps me motivated.

More importantly, congratulations are in order to the runners up, but also to everyone who participated.

I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm happiest when I'm creating something, whether it's a story or a song or a LEGO spaceship. These competitions motivate me to create, and that makes me happy, so thanks for spreading the happiness. And thanks to Imagery for making it possible. I can't wait for the next one!

Now critiques* are definitely in order. I'd love to hear what you liked or didn't like about my story, and I'll share some of my thoughts about yours:

Imagery:
Great tone, interesting concept. The plot arc feels more like a vignette than a story (so does mine, I think). I really like the narrative's restraint, which leaves much to the imagination. It does make it a bit difficult to read, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Again, this feels like part of a larger framework, and that's the only unsatisfying thing about it: at the end I felt like I wanted more context, more information. Perhaps that was your intention, and if so, Bravo.

just64helpin:
If there was a beautiful fantasy world where TV stations aired kick ass Saturday-morning cartoon version of the twilight zone, your story would not be out of place there. There's a great Dickian vibe going on here (as in one of my favorite writers, Philip K. Dick). I like that you tried to present the viewpoint of the Stick, but sometimes it was a little hard to get my head around, as in the following sentence: 'Though her eyes could not be seen, the Stick could tell that Shella had closed them.' I just don't get that. I thought you were trying to say that the Stick just doesn't observe people in the same way that we do, but I was never confident in my interpretation of the sentence. It's a troubling sentence to me. Other than that, I think your descriptions are great and you were able to do a lot with the characters in the short space. Great work.

Barnsalot:
Interesting story. Dark, obviously. I don't have a lot of complaints about the story as a whole, it just didn't resonate with me. It felt...soulless. This is fitting, to be sure, but also makes it hard to enjoy in my opinion. This is an aesthetics thing, and doesn't reflect on your merits as a writer. I also felt some of your descriptions were a little heavy-handed. For example: 'the slowly methodical, high-pitched beeping of the cardiogram' seems overwrought. Perhaps it could be rendered more simply, and yet still convey the image: 'the slow, high-pitch beep of the cardiogram' works better to me. This is only my opinion, but the the words 'slowly methodical' weight down your description and take to long to get to the point. That's just an example, but a good tip to remember is to look at your story and ask yourself which words are absolutely necessary, and which are not. Kill any word that isn't essential.

GA Jedi Knight:
The first paragraph of your story reads like the intro to a space sim. But this is a short story, not a video game. In this case, the background information isn't necessary to plot, and just ends up weighing it down. Remember, your first paragraph introduces the tone of your story. With your original first paragraph, the story seems too juvenile, as if the reader needs help imagining the story. Cut it out and start with opeining line with your dialog. It brings the plot to a faster clip and makes the story more interesting. Beyond that, my critique follows the line in Barnsalots: watch your descriptions.

Also, this sentence needs help: "The mission was boring, but the subject matter was anything but." Too many buts. Maybe it's just a typo?

Manic Cinq: I liked your minimalism, but the story was a little confusing too. Too many characters without definition, I got lost easily. I felt like the plot jumped too quickly from point to point. It was like you were trying to write a bedtime story but got caught up in a lot of dialogue that diluted the plot. I felt like you could have spen more time describing the events and less time on the chit-chat of the characters. The story is mainly between Himeko and Rei, the other character don't need so much spotlight. The inclusion of details like 'her robotic sister' and 'testing the conversational abilities of...AI progams' is interesting, but also a little distracting. I think this story has great potential, but needs some tweaking.



*I present my critiques as food for thought, not the final word. In case it isn't obvious, I subscribe to the Hemingway school of thought, which can be summed up thusly:

“I write one page of masterpiece to ninety one pages of shit. I try to put the shit in the wastebasket.”

-Ernest Hemingway

:nicework: Nice Work Everyone!

[Barnsalot]

Wow, thanks for that critique, Ubernym. I'm serious, that's really helpful. Also, congratulations! :D

I thought that brevity might work in my favor since all the other stories were long, but I guess I was wrong. I'll try to come up with something better next time! :)

[JH Sounds]

It's a troubling sentence to me.

Whaa? I honestly wasn't trying to convey anything deep with that. Shella wears thick glasses that make it impossible to see her eyes, but the Stick could still figure she closed her eyes because... Um...

*ponders*

Perhaps it's more thought-provoking than I realized. Thanks for the critique, BTW.

[Imagist]

Wow. Is it really the 27th? Just a few more days until the May competition should be starting. Now, here's what I'm wondering: since we did poetry in January, we should (theoretically) be on freeform now. However, we did poetry in January by switching it with freeform in November to begin with, so if we return to the original rotation it's poetry time again. Now, I have no preference, so which you guys would prefer to do this month: poetry or freeform?

I'll go ahead and post the time frame now, anyway.

[Manic Cinq]

I haven't been paying attention. Does freeform ever garner good results?

[HalcyonSpirit]

The competition has been getting more participation lately, so it'd be kinda hard to make a judgment call on it based solely on past participation.

Now, if we go Poetry this time, Freeform would follow; that would place FF squarely in the middle of summer. Likewise, if we keep the current rotation, Poetry would end up starting in July. Honestly, I think we should do Poetry next and keep the rotation on the set schedule afterwards. Here's why:

FF: Jan-Feb, July-August
SS: March-April, Sept-Oct
Poetry: May-June, Nov-Dec

Following this pattern, Poetry always falls on the months that are most likely to be busy for participants (many of whom are still going to school), and SS/FF do not. The significance is that writing short stories typically requires more time than poetry does, and the Freeform competition tends to receive both short story submissions (or works similar to short stories) and Poetry. Having Poetry at the above times might thin the participation slightly for that specific category, but considering that having either SS or FF at those times would likely result in even less participation, it's probably a fair trade-off.

I could be wrong, though.

[Imagist]

Right. I think we used similar logic when we switched poetry and freeform in the first place, saying that most people were fairly busy during November and as such it was sensible to allow them to submit whatever they had time for, but seeing as we got half poetry, half randomness and no term papers, I see no benefit in having poetry over freeform.

Back to the original rotation it is, then. May's poetry competition will begin this Saturday. Ready yourselves!

[Barnsalot]

I'll try to enter under all the competition types because I know it can only make me better, but I've gotta say, poetry's gotta be my worst subject. XD

[HalcyonSpirit]

Same here. Still, it's good practice. Especially when it comes to selecting proper descriptors and using them not only with good context, but also without overloading the writing with them. Apparently, I suck at that. :-P

[JH Sounds]

banner will be send next friday or saturday to the winner. ;-)

I guess you mean this Friday or Saturday, right?

BY THE VIEWTIFULLY-SHAPED EYES OF LIZZ, I COMMAND THEE TO REPLY

[Imagist]

All right, everyone. The poetry competition begins in about an hour and a half. Let's get the good ideas flowing. Hopefully we can manage at least as much of a turnout as last time!

[Doulifée]

Couldn't throw the badge last week. But i'm on it. sorry for the delay.

http://img353.imageshack.us/img353/3728/wcr1oj5.png
http://img353.imageshack.us/img353/237/wcr2kb9.pnghttp://img353.imageshack.us/img353/9964/wcr3uu5.pnghttp://img170.imageshack.us/img170/1133/wcr4ss7.png

[ubernym]

Thanks for the sig, Douli. :nicework:

[Imagist]

Yes, they are much appreciated as always, Doulifee! And ubernym, you'll just have to try your best to earn yourself a partner to that thing this go around, won't you? :-D

[ubernym]

Yes, they are much appreciated as always, Doulifee! And ubernym, you'll just have to try your best to earn yourself a partner to that thing this go around, won't you? :-D

Heh, I'll certainly give it the old college try. I've always struggled with the poetry thing, you know? There's a very thin line between art and pretentiousness, and I have a harder time knowing where it is with poetry. :?

[Manic Cinq]

Heh, I'll certainly give it the old college try. I've always struggled with the poetry thing, you know? There's a very thin line between art and pretentiousness, and I have a harder time knowing where it is with poetry. :?

Sounds like you take it too seriously.

[Imagist]

Well, for some of us writing can be more of a craft or, hell, a job than a hobby. In such cases that line is a very important thing to consider. But who really knows where it is? I'm still convinced critics draw it between what isn't published (obviously too plebeian or too pretentious to be worth anything) and what is published (clearly the superior body of work, else who would have published it) just for simplicity's sake.

Here, I don't think there's much to worry about. We may be critics, but we're not necessarilythekind of critic who would be preoccupied with that distinction.

[ubernym]

Heh, maybe to some people I seem to take this writing stuff too seriously. Like Imagery, I view my writing as craft, and I'm very critical of my own writing. I've been paid to write (nonfiction), so it's not just a hobby for me, and I hope to someday be able to write full-time for a living.

So that line is important to me, especially because I think a lot of contemporary published poetry is bollocks. That's not a fair thing for me to say, since I don't read much contemporary poetry. My favorites are guys like John Dunne, Walt Whitman and Robert Frost, and maybe a little Shakespeare. Bukowski is pretty good, but damn he was one depressed mug.

Maybe my poetry standards are too high, and maybe I come off as a literary snob to some. I'm ok with that, because I don't enter these competitions to win or to be the best or to compete with others (how crude). I find in these competitions an excellent framework for challenging myself and forcing me to grow, sometimes in unexpected ways.

The last competition was a great example. I decided to enter at the very last minute. I didn't have anything written down, and I didn't have a single story idea. I was experiencing writer's block.

I decided I had to do the competition, no matter how bad my entry was. I started making up titles, stringing words together in my head. I came up with: The Phantom Poet of Zanzibar. I had no idea what it was about, but that was the title. I forced myself to write something based on that half-formed idea. It was revelatory, inspiring. I didn't care if I won or not, I didn't even vote for myself.

So on the one hand, I take my writing seriously and personally, I don't need to win against someone else. The competition is a great motivation, but it's not the end for me. The end is what I see for myself. When I talk about lines between art and pretense, it's a personal definition.

And for me, poetry has always been a weakness, where the line wavers and is translucent.

[Random Hajile]

Poetry eh....? ;)

[Random Hajile]

My Entry is here :P I'm gonna start it off and hopefully we'll see some great stuff soon!

To You;

To you, possessed of such a tempting grace,
moving so sublimely through star-struck space;
Can I ask of you this quiet question-
Why do those sad tears frame that flawless face?

What’s the reason for that cultured lesson
that laces your well-controlled complexion?
Have you, through some finally-found fancy
been shown the harsh meaning of rejection?

Maybe, you dreamt of a light romancing
Under the moons bright, fatal faerie-fire
Its sight telling tales of your desire,
That sad love ethereal- transient?

No? I didn’t think that the murky mire
That we call “Love” would have you trapped today-
To make such stories of these fallen fae,
As an excuse to perform worn word-play

Or! Maybe, it’s some other telling tale
That led you into this unjust travail-
And left you with those shining streaks
Across a face falling pallid and pale-

Had your plans reached the goal, that high peak,
Then plunged; wasted - leaving you worn and weak
With no way out, no truly clear choices,
No way to gain the happiness you seek?

Did you want a house with joyful voices,
A backyard echoing lilting laughter?
Has some callous event foreclosed that chapter
And filled your soul with some private poison?

No, I don’t think that’s what I‘m after.
You’re not being held by some coarse constraint-
Nor your body filled with some tragic taint
that would end with you faltering, and faint.

Do you long for adventuresome release,
Your daily work having no such surcease-
And staring entranced-so at the stratus,
You dream of those mighty in name and deed?

Those stories, the ones that you always read-
Do they make you long for that single pleasure,
Proof of beauty and things unseen, proof of need-
Proof of some fantasy beyond measure?

Don’t lose faith in finding the forever,
The sacrosanct is in those clouds so rare.
And magic is there, suspended in air-
As long as you don’t consider never.

Maybe, I could help in your endeavor,
Together, a meeting of star-bright minds-
Rhyme after rhyme, perhaps we will find
Some tool to meld your fantasy with time.

So Lady, giving thought where it’s due, then
I can only tell you this Plight of Men
And be it my damning declaration,
I will never let you be hurt again!

You will never want for stone or station,
Nor need to seek some other relation.
If the dreary dusk deigned to mar your mood,
To make a Sun, I’d master creation!

To your beauty I would always allude,
(The runic tint to those even-ether eyes)
No comparison would bespeak of lies;
Only to the lay does the truth elude –

So Lady, let my love for you give rise,
To the dawning of our sublunary Sun!
For you; My suitors pledge that come what come,
On my honor, my life; Thy will be done!

[Barnsalot]

I've started, but I've got soccer playoffs and graduation coming up next week, so no promises. :)

[Irregular]

This is a sonnet, I think.


Ode to the Bubble Dragons


Bub and Bob brothers seeking glimmering
Grumple Gromit their archenemy gone
Taking their girlfriends wicked fleeing
Warped each boy into bubble dragon

Fighting trapping monsters soapy bubbles
Popping very dangerous to stumble
Snagging necklaces enemy troubles
Needing crystal ball zero chance fumble

Cave of Monsters now exuding quick funk
Skel ghost traces cases chases mazes
Homing bright scaled heroes descending punk
Zapping bouncing tyrant's many faces

Bubble Dragons full victory achieved
Spiky curst heroes blue and green restored



Apologies if this belongs in the Freeform competition.

[Imagist]

I... think I'm going to have to discount that one. While I just now realized that the rules don't specifically outlaw fan poetry, I think the original intent for outlawing fanfiction extends to the poetry competition. It's sort of like OCR's reasoning behind rejecting MIDI rips; the whole idea of creativity inherent in the system is to create something, not to copy or pay tribute to it. So sorry, and I'll make the rules a bit more explicit on this point.

[Mechasonic4ever]

This is my entry in the short story category. The synopsis of it is pretty much a guy lost in the desert and if you want to know more, read it! Well here goes and hope you like it. Also if you have suggestions please feel free to message me.


Wandering the Corridors of Thought
by: mechasonic4ever

A bright light radiated from the Sun, which was high up in the sky, making the desert seem even hotter. Water was scarce, food was sparse, and the wind blew nothing but blistering heat making this trek seem disastrous as I grew faint. I proceeded onward through the harsh environment, knowing not what has even happened as this environment was forcing me to have these haunting memories. Continuing through the desert my vision became blurred as I was sent to see my past yet again…

“Today is a very great day for you all, today is the day that all of you, my Elite Knights, will aid your great land and destroy the Shadow,” explained the emperor dressed in plated steel armor holding a steel lance as tall as him, “Now, you will all storm the great citadel that has destroyed the woods and claimed the crater it left as its new home. You will all destroy the troops making a path for me to get to the throne room to destroy the leader, any questions?”…

And in an instant the horizon went back to the exceedingly scorching desert as I, in my sapphire blue robes, was marching onward through the infinite sands as the sun began to take its descending stroll to night. Along with the blistering heat, a fierce wind began to blow hindering the process of walking greatly as the horizon yielded no salvation. Knowing that the sand would blind me or suffocate me I dared not to open my eyes or mouth except in dire need. As the wind picked up and I became weary from the lack of oxygen and lack of sight to where I was, another memory slipped into vision making the winds seem unimportant…

“Talus, you must go help the emperor! We cannot hold off these enemies much longer!” a soldier pleaded with Talus as he fended off many enemy troops.
Listening to his advice, I, following the path that the emperor took, proceed up the winding stairs toward the tower quite swiftly. Upon reaching the top, the gigantic doors at the end slowly creaked open as if magically letting the faint noise of an organ distill the air with its aura. With my eyes, I could not believe what I saw but ahead of me at the throne was none other than my greatest friend Nasir garbed in black robes as he sat on the throne holding a fine goblet in his hands.
The emperor was already ahead talking with Nasir trying to reason with him. I could not hear what they said exactly but the emperor seemed to be talking of peace. At this instant, Nasir released a demonic and almost sarcastic laugh and then taking from his cloak a silver dagger, he stabbed the emperor in his chest, whispered something in his ear and pushed him to the ground.
“I see you have reached me, dear old friend, but now I face you as your enemy” Nasir chuckled, walking over the king who was breathing very faintly clutching his chest, “You can surrender or we can spar as we used to but for much higher stakes… The choice is yours”
“I cannot fight you Nasir, but only plead that you stop. Darkness has clouded your mind and tainted your soul cant you see that?” Talus explained “You can stop this foolishness and together we can find the true leader of the Shadow”
“Once again, you prove to be as amusing as you are naïve. I am the leader and I befriended you only to get your magical talent and bend it to my will” Nasir proclaimed taking yet another sip from the goblet, now standing up in front of the throne
Without another word I grabbed my bow and fired an arrow, which had a blinding white light trailing it, at Nasir sending him careening backwards toward the end of the throne room.
“You always were the better fighter Talus, but now I command the Shadow so you cannot win!” Nasir declared and sent dark tendrils from his fingertips and snatched the bow from my very hands.
Knowing that a scimitar lay in the sheath to my side, I grabbed it and flew at Nasir preparing to slice him across the chest. He just stood there as the blow was delivered and even with the wound running red with blood he still laughed as he stood there. I stood horrified as I just lay a deep cut into one of my oldest friend but he just laughed and acted like nothing happened.
“You may have thought that would work, but I can do much worse things,” Nasir chuckled as he threatened Talus “You will be held responsible for my actions next because you are unlike all others. You have both the symbols of the Legendary Race and the shadow race scarred on your palms. They represent your parent’s gifts to you to aid you but now that will ruin you!” and with that a great wave of darkness overtook the room and sent me into a dark haze…

As the dark haze ceased, I found myself once again in this accursed desert with the sun setting casting an orange glow over the golden sand. Staring at my palms I saw that upon my left was the symbol of the Shadow, a black crescent with six stars surrounding it and on my right palm was the symbol of the Lumios, a sun overlooking an hourglass.
Going further, I found an oasis and made camp there. A small patch of water resided there in which I took most for my canteen and rested my head against the only tree as I lulled into a sleep caused by the intense heat with a horrid dream clawing its way into my mind.

“You have been found guilty of destroying our sacred forest, abandoning your duties to destroy the Shadow, high treason, and the assassination of our Emperor” a knight said reading from a giant book as a mage and the Viceroy stood on each side as we were all in the desert by the transportation of the mage “Because of your many years of service and your exceptional magic skills, we spare you death but leave you stranded in this desert forever to wander”
“… and if you should ever return, I will personally kill you” the mage added
With that the three people vanished from my sight and I began to wander the desert with no hope at all of what to do.

Abruptly I awoke to be surrounded by five heavily armored men all bearing a golden broadsword in they’re hands. They all began to bicker about me saying what I was doing lost in the desert and began to say things like I was meant to be here or something but I cared not for they were taking me no doubt to some sort of civilization.

[Random Hajile]

Erm, Mechasonic, I believe this was the poetry comp. :0

Your short story may have to wait until that particular competition comes around.

[Mechasonic4ever]

Erm, Mechasonic, I believe this was the poetry comp. :0

Your short story may have to wait until that particular competition comes around.

ok i have a poetry submission too i just submitted what i thought was better... well here goes...

Alternate Reality

In the dark of night, not a noise is heard
In the dark of night, not a person moves ahead
They all lay sleeping in their beds
While in their heads are lingering dreams most absurd

In the dreams of people, all their wishes come true
In the Dreams of people, nothing can stop them from what they conceive
The all consist of various fantasies, both real and make believe
While in their thoughts they know that the dream cannot ensue

In the last minutes, we cling to our dreams
In the last minutes, we know that reality is near
They all try to resist, refusing to give what they hold dear
While in their dreams, they are pried from it at the seams

In the seconds before, all the memories remain
In the seconds before, the vivid tales stay clear
They all hold on to them, as they seem to disappear
While in their minds, they know not what tomorrow’s dreams contain

[Imagist]

Yeah, Mechasonic, we used to do trimonthly competitions with all three categories, but at current we are down to bimonthly competitions with rotating categories. I guess the confusion is somewhat my fault for not updating the current status of the competition all this time. :oops:

Well, there's just about a week left for submission, folks. I'm hoping there are a lot more entries in the works to blow last month's turnout out of the water. I've been on vacation for the last week, but I now have plenty of ideas and should be able to work one of them up before getting my wisdom teeth out next Thursday. Good luck to all those still working hard (or even yet to start)!

[HalcyonSpirit]

I've been thinking about what to write for this competition, but I've never been good at poetry... we'll see if I can come up with something, won't we? I'm not exactly counting on it, though, simply because I've got two higher priorities at the moment: summer classes (I have two papers to write this weekend) and my for-fun novel, Eternal Legends. It's been, what, nearly two friggin' years since I last released a chapter for that, and I've been itching to get some work done on it for just as long. But if I come up with a poem idea between working on those, I'll definitely enter it.

[Manic Cinq]

I've been very busy playing Ragnarok Online... too busy to write a poem. Yes, that is my excuse.

[Darklink42]

Masking Tape

When you woke up, you were plain
Only the veil you put on
your face hides the truth.
Frame that with dangling decoration
and put it above fashion
statements which fit the mold
people you'll never meet created.

How much becomes false
when what is presented is manufactured?
Impatient attitude? check.
Practiced facial expressions? double check.
Mirror seems to mock as it breaks
the disguise, winking in scattered pieces.
Even photographs feel unreal because
your eyes refuse to lie.

[Bleck]

Free verse poetry is not real poetry

[Imagist]

Please leave your ignorant, inflammatory opinions behind. This is not a thread for trolling.

[Mechasonic4ever]

Yeah, Mechasonic, we used to do trimonthly competitions with all three categories, but at current we are down to bimonthly competitions with rotating categories. I guess the confusion is somewhat my fault for not updating the current status of the competition all this time. :oops:

Well, there's just about a week left for submission, folks. I'm hoping there are a lot more entries in the works to blow last month's turnout out of the water. I've been on vacation for the last week, but I now have plenty of ideas and should be able to work one of them up before getting my wisdom teeth out next Thursday. Good luck to all those still working hard (or even yet to start)!

Yeah thats fine as long as my poem is counted as an entry im fine. Hope you guys like it and feel free to write any comments or anything! Thanks.

[Barnsalot]

Okay. Any and all criticism is welcome once the competition is over. :)

Night's Bygone Fantasy

Alone I awoke from a deep, dark slumber
My body, with chills, sweat cold.
And, I peered at the clock and betook its number
Only ten 'til one, the night yet to unfold.

T'was a nightmare I'd dreamed
Of the cruelest, vilest sort.
Of ghouls and of goblins it teemed
Of lives full of hope, cut short.

"Only a dream," I chided myself,
And crept to the pantry for comfort.
And there I beheld, not a shelf, but an elf,
My mind, I thought, began to distort.

But, then he drew forward,
Withdrew from his sash
A sword,
And beckoned me do nothing rash.

I turned around then,
And beheld with my eyes
All throughout the kitchen
A scene of surprise

The ghouls and the goblins of bygone fantasy
In attendance now,
T'was plain to see,
But how?

The elf, he strode forward,
And raised above his head
The ancient, runic sword,
The goblins soon to be dead.

But before he could strike,
The world shuddered grey
And it seemed to me like,
I was awaking to a brand-new day.

[Random Hajile]

Oh man, more and more entries!


I can't wait for voting! I'm really liking alot of these :).

[ChirusHighwind]

Hello, OC fans! I've been running around this website for at least four years, but I've never had the heart to come out of my dark box of bandwidth-usage. But I saw this writing competition thread, and thought I'd come out and post something for the occasion.

The title of my poem is called "The Kiss." It doesn't follow any particular format for poetry that I am aware of.
Edit: The author of the poem is myself, which would be Chris Allen (AKA Chirus E. Highwind).



The Kiss

I looked upon her kindled face,
Amidst the rooks in this moonlit place,
And we locked into a looming stare,
As my fingers sifted through her hair.
My heart - thumping, my eyes - a gaze,
We embraced each other in this sudden daze,
My lips kissed hers and she 'a mine,
And thus then forth, our heart entwine.

The moon drew down to watch in please,
And the world hushed itself to slow ease,
But the leaves on the trees shook with force,
And my lover's lips took their divorce.
She then looked away deep into the brush,
And with tears forming, she turned to mush,
They melted down from out her lustrous eyes,
"I cannot," She cries,
"I cannot," She cries...

[Barnsalot]

Last day to submit!

[Kholdstare]

Heya!

I am back - Whoo!
>_>
<_<

Here ish poems :P

Semiconductor

People laugh at me 'cause I'm wired
I laugh back, however.
So what if I am bound, tethered to this earth by these optic fibers?
So what if my wrists are tied behind my back with electrical tape?
So what if I am gagged by my own gaming headset or chained to the wall by my power cord?
Now you may ask - "dear brother, how can you possibly laugh back?
It seems they have quite an argument against you."

Well, I say in response.
Quite simply,

Because I'm wireless.

Kthx.

Also, how has everyone been?

~Khold

[Bruce Lee]

Wow, I just made it in time.

Beyond the Sea of Memories

In fading, bitter consciousness I lay
Upon my weary vessel’s surface bare,
And shift into the aether amethyst,
My home as wand’ring sailor in the bay
Of nascent dreams, to find Alisa’s stare
From sandy shore, aloft her goddess form
With piercing eyes as stars in foamy mist,
And lunar pallor as Endymion’s fay.

She tells me not her second name, or where
Ascends her fantasy’s sweet genesis,
But takes my hand in vagrancies seaborne
To freely swim and rest on shoals and stones,
Ere leaving me to face the blinding morn—
For when I harshly wake—I wake alone.

[Manic Cinq]

pandora's lunchbox

coldcuts and razorwire
fill my face with glee
3/4 dancing down the hall
raining on all who see

when the time arrives
my friends will storm
and the fun will be a siege

drawing on plastique bags
the hours tire
time to set you free~

[Imagist]

What a nice turnout so far! Thanks to all of you for your participation. To everyone else: there's about an hour and a half to submit, folks. If it can be done, do it.

As for my poem, I'm terribly dissatisfied with it, but I am still on pain meds from my wisdom teeth extraction yesterday so there's not much chance that I'll a) stay awake much longer and b) have the will of mind to concentrate on improving it any more. Here we go:

Spelunking

Do not pretend you do not know
what it means to chase the sunrise,
to floor the pedal one morning
and race to meet it—somewhere,
then turn and watch as it falls,
waiting the night to flee before it.

Let me tell you one such tale:
Once man went and found a hole
from which blew Earth’s chill breath.
He dig-dug-dug to fall into the Lake of Dreams
where everything he ever saw collected,
reflected. And there he met the sullen specter,
gleaming white as the moon or Pluto.
It stalked him throughout and out,
haunting as a watchful pillar from God,
appearing there, afar, here, face-to-face,
now and then, everywhere.

You may think it pleasant
to frolic with your demons,
toy with them as they toy with you,
until you are so caged.
You see, not all who chase the sunrise
will again flee before it.

[Barnsalot]

Ooh, get well soon Imagery! I think I'm going to have to get mine out soon too... Not looking forward to it.

[HalcyonSpirit]

Huh. Must be the time of year to have wisdom teeth extractions... a friend of mine also got hers out on Friday, and I got mine out last May, so I know how painful it is. I hope you get better soon, Imagery!

Anyway...


Voted-ed-ed-ed-ed-ed

... ed.

This was one of the best sets of poem submissions I've seen here. Great job everyone! I wish I could've participated, but with my focus almost entirely on my novel, I just didn't have any inspiration for poetry this time around.

[Kholdstare]

who do we send teh votes to again?
>_<;;

also, on the subject of wisdom teeth - i have some advice.

the first 2 days are the worst - keep popping the pain pills ^^
food will suck for a while - so if you love food - you are out of luck for about 4-5days.

DO NOT DROOL WHEN YOU SLEEP! trust me.

[Barnsalot]

Here are the voting rules again:

- Early or late votes will not be accepted.
- Anyone may vote, even if he or she does not have a current submission. If foul play is suspected (i.e., an entrant finding a bunch of friends or alt accounts to artificially support their entry) an investigation will occur.
- When voting, you will award your allotted points to any two or more entries as you choose. Note: this means you may not award all of your points to one and only one entry.
- Scoring: If the voter has submitted an entry this round, he or she will be allotted 6 points to distribute. If the voter has NOT submitted this round, he or she will be allotted 3 points.
- A voter may allot up to one point to his or her own entry if he or she so chooses.
- Please submit all votes via PM to me (Imagery).

And here are the entries (all nine of them)! Everyone check your own, make sure I didn't mess it up in any way when I was copying it. :P

Random Hajile

To You;

To you, possessed of such a tempting grace,
moving so sublimely through star-struck space;
Can I ask of you this quiet question-
Why do those sad tears frame that flawless face?

What’s the reason for that cultured lesson
that laces your well-controlled complexion?
Have you, through some finally-found fancy
been shown the harsh meaning of rejection?

Maybe, you dreamt of a light romancing
Under the moons bright, fatal faerie-fire
Its sight telling tales of your desire,
That sad love ethereal- transient?

No? I didn’t think that the murky mire
That we call “Love” would have you trapped today-
To make such stories of these fallen fae,
As an excuse to perform worn word-play

Or! Maybe, it’s some other telling tale
That led you into this unjust travail-
And left you with those shining streaks
Across a face falling pallid and pale-

Had your plans reached the goal, that high peak,
Then plunged; wasted - leaving you worn and weak
With no way out, no truly clear choices,
No way to gain the happiness you seek?

Did you want a house with joyful voices,
A backyard echoing lilting laughter?
Has some callous event foreclosed that chapter
And filled your soul with some private poison?

No, I don’t think that’s what I‘m after.
You’re not being held by some coarse constraint-
Nor your body filled with some tragic taint
that would end with you faltering, and faint.

Do you long for adventuresome release,
Your daily work having no such surcease-
And staring entranced-so at the stratus,
You dream of those mighty in name and deed?

Those stories, the ones that you always read-
Do they make you long for that single pleasure,
Proof of beauty and things unseen, proof of need-
Proof of some fantasy beyond measure?

Don’t lose faith in finding the forever,
The sacrosanct is in those clouds so rare.
And magic is there, suspended in air-
As long as you don’t consider never.

Maybe, I could help in your endeavor,
Together, a meeting of star-bright minds-
Rhyme after rhyme, perhaps we will find
Some tool to meld your fantasy with time.

So Lady, giving thought where it’s due, then
I can only tell you this Plight of Men
And be it my damning declaration,
I will never let you be hurt again!

You will never want for stone or station,
Nor need to seek some other relation.
If the dreary dusk deigned to mar your mood,
To make a Sun, I’d master creation!

To your beauty I would always allude,
(The runic tint to those even-ether eyes)
No comparison would bespeak of lies;
Only to the lay does the truth elude –

So Lady, let my love for you give rise,
To the dawning of our sublunary Sun!
For you; My suitors pledge that come what come,
On my honor, my life; Thy will be done!

Mechasonic4ever

In the dark of night, not a noise is heard
In the dark of night, not a person moves ahead
They all lay sleeping in their beds
While in their heads are lingering dreams most absurd

In the dreams of people, all their wishes come true
In the Dreams of people, nothing can stop them from what they conceive
The all consist of various fantasies, both real and make believe
While in their thoughts they know that the dream cannot ensue

In the last minutes, we cling to our dreams
In the last minutes, we know that reality is near
They all try to resist, refusing to give what they hold dear
While in their dreams, they are pried from it at the seams

In the seconds before, all the memories remain
In the seconds before, the vivid tales stay clear
They all hold on to them, as they seem to disappear
While in their minds, they know not what tomorrow’s dreams contain

Darklink42

Masking Tape

When you woke up, you were plain
Only the veil you put on
your face hides the truth.
Frame that with dangling decoration
and put it above fashion
statements which fit the mold
people you'll never meet created.

How much becomes false
when what is presented is manufactured?
Impatient attitude? check.
Practiced facial expressions? double check.
Mirror seems to mock as it breaks
the disguise, winking in scattered pieces.
Even photographs feel unreal because
your eyes refuse to lie.

Barnsalot

Night's Bygone Fantasy

Alone I awoke from a deep, dark slumber
My body, with chills, sweat cold.
And, I peered at the clock and betook its number
Only ten 'til one, the night yet to unfold.

T'was a nightmare I'd dreamed
Of the cruelest, vilest sort.
Of ghouls and of goblins it teemed
Of lives full of hope, cut short.

"Only a dream," I chided myself,
And crept to the pantry for comfort.
And there I beheld, not a shelf, but an elf,
My mind, I thought, began to distort.

But, then he drew forward,
Withdrew from his sash
A sword,
And beckoned me do nothing rash.

I turned around then,
And beheld with my eyes
All throughout the kitchen
A scene of surprise

The ghouls and the goblins of bygone fantasy
In attendance now,
T'was plain to see,
But how?

The elf, he strode forward,
And raised above his head
The ancient, runic sword,
The goblins soon to be dead.

But before he could strike,
The world shuddered grey
And it seemed to me like,
I was awaking to a brand-new day.

ChirusHighwind

The Kiss

I looked upon her kindled face,
Amidst the rooks in this moonlit place,
And we locked into a looming stare,
As my fingers sifted through her hair.
My heart - thumping, my eyes - a gaze,
We embraced each other in this sudden daze,
My lips kissed hers and she 'a mine,
And thus then forth, our heart entwine.

The moon drew down to watch in please,
And the world hushed itself to slow ease,
But the leaves on the trees shook with force,
And my lover's lips took their divorce.
She then looked away deep into the brush,
And with tears forming, she turned to mush,
They melted down from out her lustrous eyes,
"I cannot," She cries,
"I cannot," She cries...

Kholdstare

Semiconductor

People laugh at me 'cause I'm wired
I laugh back, however.
So what if I am bound, tethered to this earth by these optic fibers?
So what if my wrists are tied behind my back with electrical tape?
So what if I am gagged by my own gaming headset or chained to the wall by my power cord?
Now you may ask - "dear brother, how can you possibly laugh back?
It seems they have quite an argument against you."

Well, I say in response.
Quite simply,

Because I'm wireless.

Bruce Lee

Beyond the Sea of Memories

In fading, bitter consciousness I lay
Upon my weary vessel’s surface bare,
And shift into the aether amethyst,
My home as wand’ring sailor in the bay
Of nascent dreams, to find Alisa’s stare
From sandy shore, aloft her goddess form
With piercing eyes as stars in foamy mist,
And lunar pallor as Endymion’s fay.

She tells me not her second name, or where
Ascends her fantasy’s sweet genesis,
But takes my hand in vagrancies seaborne
To freely swim and rest on shoals and stones,
Ere leaving me to face the blinding morn—
For when I harshly wake—I wake alone.

Manic Cinq

pandora's lunchbox

coldcuts and razorwire
fill my face with glee
3/4 dancing down the hall
raining on all who see

when the time arrives
my friends will storm
and the fun will be a siege

drawing on plastique bags
the hours tire
time to set you free~

Imagery

Spelunking

Do not pretend you do not know
what it means to chase the sunrise,
to floor the pedal one morning
and race to meet it—somewhere,
then turn and watch as it falls,
waiting the night to flee before it.

Let me tell you one such tale:
Once man went and found a hole
from which blew Earth’s chill breath.
He dig-dug-dug to fall into the Lake of Dreams
where everything he ever saw collected,
reflected. And there he met the sullen specter,
gleaming white as the moon or Pluto.
It stalked him throughout and out,
haunting as a watchful pillar from God,
appearing there, afar, here, face-to-face,
now and then, everywhere.

You may think it pleasant
to frolic with your demons,
toy with them as they toy with you,
until you are so caged.
You see, not all who chase the sunrise
will again flee before it.

[Imagist]

Thanks for the wishes and advice and assistance, guys. It's actually been a fairly easy experience for me. I mean, the pain hasn't been bad at any point so far (this being my third day into it, and first day off the pills), and it's not like I haven't been able to eat anything (just ice cream the first day, but I managed macaroni, tomato soup and grilled cheese yesterday and an omelet this morning), so last night I was mostly exhausted from the long day.

Anyway, thanks again for compiling the entries, Barnsalot, although everyone should note that Irregular's entry has been disqualified (see the original posting for an explanation). And Kholdstare, I know it's been a while since you last joined us so if you (or anyone else) have any questions about the new voting system, just shoot me a PM and I'll be glad to clarify.

[Random Hajile]

Ack. This Is Not The Pm Box.

[Imagist]

Just a few days left to vote. Only about half of the entrants have voted, so I'll probably be PMing the rest who haven't (and non-current entrants who haven't) soon to remind them. With such a big turnout, it would be a shame to have a poor show for voting!

[ChirusHighwind]

Heh, are things always this quiet as the results turn out?

I thought I'd post something, since I've been checking in nearly daily and few words have been spoken. I don't know if you all are as quite as excited about this as I am. I've even begun thinking about what I might post for the next contest...Something involving a mind-wriggling conclusion, an analogical storyline, and my usual romantic-ish-ness...Maybe. In addition, if any of you talented writers are interested, I can write my opinions about your poems...Once the contest is over, of course. I'd be joyous to hear your thoughts, and share mine.

I think that pretty much sums up everything...

...Oh yeah! I wanted to show a new poem I've written, which is kind of a follow-up to the poem I posted for the contest, "The Kiss." Hard critique would be nice, I might fix it up a bit more before I consider it complete. I know this isn't exactly a place for sharing personal literature - and I'll gladly remove it if you consider it too off-topic.

Scarred

Why has love cursed me so?
In the illimitable nights,
I rock to and fro,
Between the content conscious,
And where the lost men go…
This execrable love I stow,
It bled onto my hands,
A daggered scar they show,
It seeped out from my eyes,
Warped my heart into a bow,
And then ripped and wrecked it so,
Out from me a thousand fragments flow.
The pieces storm around me, sift and blow,
And spray forth a fiendish fire,
Cineres cineribus, everything I know…

[Barnsalot]

Heh, are things always this quiet as the results turn out?
Yeah, things are always pretty quiet during the "off-season" around here. Most of us are busy people, and it's common to see us push back the deadlines for competitions by that fact. So, coming around when there isn't a deadline... We just usually don't have the time for it. I'm sure I don't speak for all of us, but I know that's the case for several, including myself.

I can write my opinions about your poems
We've had critiques like that before and I haven't seen anyone get upset about it. Most people appreciate the criticism. So, go for it if you want.


As to your poem, I'm no critic. This is just my opinion:
I like rhyming in poetry, but I'm a stickler when it comes to rhyme schemes. It starts out rhyming ABACAD, but then it changes.
I'm not sure what you're trying to describe in it, but it sounds good. It flows. You keep up a pretty consistent tempo throughout the poem. If you ask me, it would be even more consistent if you had kept with a regular rhyme scheme. But, once again, those are just my opinions, and I'm no professional.

[Darklink42]

Don't forget that there is a writing thread somewhere around here. I've got it bookmarked, but it collects a lot of dust. That's the best place to give and recieve critque. Matter of fact, it looks like one of my poems is still the last thing posted.

http://www.ocremix.org/forums/showthread.php?t=6771

[ChirusHighwind]

Yeah, things are always pretty quiet during the "off-season" around here. Most of us are busy people, and it's common to see us push back the deadlines for competitions by that fact. So, coming around when there isn't a deadline... We just usually don't have the time for it. I'm sure I don't speak for all of us, but I know that's the case for several, including myself.

I can understand that. I don't lead a very busy life, so I have a lot of time for unneccesary thread trailing. Things are picking up, though, with summer being just around the corner, and schools closing down.

We've had critiques like that before and I haven't seen anyone get upset about it. Most people appreciate the criticism. So, go for it if you want.

I'd just like to know that they would read and enjoy the criticism, so I ask that they ask for it. Maybe I'll move to the writing thread that Darklink42 mentioned after the competition is over, and post critique there if I happen to see any of the poems re-posted there. I might even post some of my own.

I like rhyming in poetry, but I'm a stickler when it comes to rhyme schemes. It starts out rhyming ABACAD, but then it changes.

"Scarred" is one of those particular poems of mine that is made not to follow the standard - it is written to not have a scheme or a meter, but still have rhyming and cadence, almost similar to free verse. Also, every single rhyme is that of the "-oh" sound.

All of my poems vary in standard and tone. I always try to write from the heart, and whatever way a poem starts is what I go with. I can often "destroy" a poem if I try to adhere it to a theme, when it came to me without one.

I'm not sure what you're trying to describe in it, but it sounds good. It flows.

You'd have to understand the back-story to the poem - which can be kind of interpreted if you look closely at the poem I submitted for the contest, "The Kiss." In a nutshell, I fell in love with someone, and then I couldn't be with them. Which is why the first line of "Scarred" states, "why has love cursed me so?" Also, cineres cineribus is Latin for "ashes to ashes." If you'd like to know the full story, I'd like to tell it over the private message system.

[Imagist]

About two and a half hours left to vote, folks. The turnout has been less than stellar, which is a shame, but I honestly doubt it will improve with an extension of the deadline. So unless I get some kind of outcry in favor of extending the vote, NOW is the time.

[Random Hajile]

Ohhhhhh man! Who won!

[Manic Cinq]

This thing always moves so slow that it's hard to stay excited.

[Imagist]

Sorry, guys. I meant to tally everything up this afternoon, but I was so tired that I had to take a nap or there's no way I could be so freaking pumped to see Rilo Kiley tonight. Luckily I gave myself a fourth day on top of the usual three because I figured something like this might happen, so I'll have to put it up before work tomorrow since I can hardly do anything but jam to "Portions for Foxes" right now. Yes, the concert was amazing, and I'm pretty much going to have to marry Jenny Lewis now.

[Imagist]

Er, woops. Ran out of time before work, but here I am, still before my own deadline! :-P

THE RESULTS ARE IN!

Runner-Up: ChirusHighwind
1st Place: Random Hajile


Congratulations RH/Leon K. on securing yet another poetry victory. And congratulations to newcomer ChirusHighwind for hanging in there; it takes some pretty slick work to keep neck-and-neck with RH, and you certainly have that in spades. Here's the vote spread:

Barnsalot - 6
Bruce Lee - 8
ChirusHighwind - 10
Darklink42 - 3
Imagery - 5
Kholdstare - 3
Manic Cinq - 2
Mechasonic4ever - 3
Random Hajile - 11

Hopefully we'll get you two some nice sig badges shortly. And to everyone else: good work. We had quite a surge in submissions this time around, but not a corresponding surge in voting, so given that everyone was awarded a significant portion of a least one of our few voter's points, there are certainly no losers in this competition. I hope to see you all back again in a couple weeks for July's AMERICAN FREEDOM--err, I mean, freeform competition.

[Bruce Lee]

I'm sorry, but I have to make a criticism of the winning entry. I used to write poetry like that. The criticism is not in the actual construction of the poem, but basically what the entire thing is about and the mood of the speaker. It bothered me when I read it, but now that it won, I'd better say my piece.

It is patronizing. Really, really, patronizing. And I can almost imagine how it came about because I've been there. I don't doubt that I may be wrong, but to me it sound like the speaker in question has a crush on some girl, probably of the high-maintenance, unattainable, zero-personality why-did-I-waste-my-time-on-this-person-in-high-school-in-retrospect kind. Being that kind of girl, she's just been screwed over by the typical idiot who courts her and cried about it. Here comes the dashing poet with a bunch of flowery, well-intentioned language, wasted upon some person whose reaction to this would be to get a restraining order and then create jokes at the speaker's expense with her clique. Even if she is a thoughtful person, the speaker is still effectively coming on like a total balls-out horndog, even if veiled through verse describing romantic love and offering the resolution of all her romantic ills through a person she's never even met.

And here's what really bothers me:

So Lady, let my love for you give rise,
To the dawning of our sublunary Sun!
For you; My suitors pledge that come what come,
On my honor, my life; Thy will be done!

No. You don't say that. Not to a crush or someone you don't even know as close friends. That ending flourish and suggestion of love based on the sole virtues that both speaker and object of desire both want love effortlessly crowns the entire poem as arrogant. Love is ten thousand times deeper than this, based on the most deepest, shared personal experience, intimacy, and affection. This poem is a creature of a misguided crush, but it also smacks of obsession. It is useless to idolize crushes, because it is idolizing a physical facade. True love comes from the unification of two minds; to already write this about one whose mind and manners are a mystery is a counterproductive endeavor. Destroy the illusion and talk to her. The greatest feeling of mutual, perfect love is a deep note that resonates more loudly than ten-thousand pseudoromantic gestures.

Note if any of the above sound sexist based on the criticism of the shallow girl archetype, one needs no reminder that shallowness is shared equally by both sexes.

[Darklink42]

Honestly, I had no problem with the piece. Sometimes you have to look at it from a perspective outside of the modern times. In this case, the piece was very stylized and was really shooting for an older feel. (I'm making assumptions based on my interpretation mind you, so I hope I'm not too off.)
As a result of that, when I read it, I treated it with the same regard as I would a piece from the evoked era. In this case a time before there was equality of the sexes.
Beyond that, there was more. I don't know if it's against the rules to speak of how we voted post round, but in this case I feel it fair to say that I gave some points to Leon. It was a poem well written, and I wish I'd seen more of them when I was an editor for a literary magazine a year ago. He made excellent use of rhyme, and a very rare thing I've found, meter. I say rare because a lot of the time I see poems that all read like Doctor Seuss when employing end-rhyme.
edit: there will be more, but I've sadly distracted myself and it's 2:30 in the morning.

[Manic Cinq]

A few comments I wrote when I read these the first time:

Random Hajile - To You;
It did not sound like shakespeare, although it sounds like you enjoy that style.
This was very fun to read, but the first word that came to my mind was "pretentious".
That said though: I don't like it.

Barnsalot - Night's Bygone Fantasy
Sort of like Random Hajile's problem, except you can't pull it off nearly as well.
Advice: stick to language you are comfortable with

OK people, what's with this trend of trying to sound like you're writing from another time period?

Kholdstare - Semiconductor
<3

[Kholdstare]

Kholdstare - Semiconductor
<3

^_^ *grins* i had to laugh writing that - I was in a waiting room and I was sequentially removing tech from my backpack - laptop, power cord, tablet (with mouse and pen), headset. I kinda felt a little awkward - but playing starcraft was worth it :P
I ended up writing that little blurb as a result.

[Barnsalot]

OK people, what's with this trend of trying to sound like you're writing from another time period?

Aha, yeah. I think it's a result of what I've been exposed to, mostly. Poetry is most certainly my weak-suit, so I tend to copy what I've read, and what I've read is the old stuff.
Anyway, congrats guys. I'm definitely pleased with third place, especially since my last poetry entry earned me nothing but the proverbial wooden spoon award. :P

[Random Hajile]

woooo bringing another one home.

In all fairness though, most of the complaints against my poem are legit.

It IS anachronistic, it IS a bit pretentious, but that's why I wrote it. I tend to poke fun of my more serious pieces with their "old school holier-than-thou" attitude myself. One of my older winning pieces was entitled with tongue in cheek, "Waxing Eloquent".

But on the other hand, they generally take a good bit of work and effort to get going. I do it more for the artistry of it then to get any super meaning out of it. Yes, the topic of the poem was cliche, but that wasn't the point. The point was for me to work with flowery language with an established rhyme scheme and meter. (I failed at certain points tbh, this is not the finished version of this poem. I'm still revising it.)

But yah, I LIKE old school poetry more than I like new school poetry. There is something to be said for people who were really MASTERS of the english language. I'm no master, but things like this that I write on my own with my own personal rhyme scheme and an established meter are experiments that I hope will bring me closer to doing exactly what I want to do with poetry, and that is saying exactly what I want to say. Most people have no idea exactly how hard that is to do.


Anyway, great turnout folks! Lets hope the competition keeps growing :D

[Manic Cinq]

I don't think that there aren't masters of English around anymore, but that more recent writing hasn't had time to be put through any serious filters. Older poetry is pretty much all cream of the crop if people are still talking about it centuries after it was written.

[JH Sounds]

I don't think that there aren't masters of English around anymore, but that more recent writing hasn't had time to be put through any serious filters. Older poetry is pretty much all cream of the crop if people are still talking about it centuries after it was written.

That's 'cuz time itself is a serious filter. The good poetry from the past survives while the crap is long forgotten.

[kupernikus]

That's 'cuz time itself is a serious filter. The good poetry from the past survives while the crap is long forgotten.

That and we don't have that advantage. Its hard to compare centuries old anything with whats new. We don't have the forsight to see what will be well studied and known years from now. For all we know kids in classic american music 101 will be studying Lynyrd Skynyrd's Free Bird, Johnny Cash's Ring of Fire, and Birdman's Shine on.

That said, one of these days I should enter my own work...

[Doulifée]

http://img501.imageshack.us/img501/182/runnerll4.png
http://img295.imageshack.us/img295/1840/1stwm8.png

badge for the people. Keep up the good work you all.

[Imagist]

Wow... July's freeform competition is already sneaking up on us, everyone. The competition begins this weekend, and as I'm going to be out of town and probably not hawking the internet, I'm going to wish everyone good luck now. One thing: I'm probably going to shave a couple days off the submission and voting phases this time, for reasons I'll explain later. I'll be adding the dates in the first post as usual.

[JH Sounds]

I can't decide whether to rewrite my Banjo-Threeie fiction to fit the Nuts & Bolts premise, or to write a continuation that bridges the gap between my fic and the new game. In any case, I might put up a chapter or two as an entry.

[Imagist]

In case you guys didn't catch on, the freeform competition has begun. Let's get started!

[Manic Cinq]

>__>

Go, go, go!

[Random Hajile]

I am SO on it.

[Imagist]

I have been reading some Bukowski and doing a lot of observing and thinking during my week of vacation, so hopefully I will be able to produce something that's interesting to read and to write.

[Random Hajile]

Nice man, I look forward to reading your stuff!

I'm going on a 4 day camping trip. Something for this contest is coming out of it.

[Washington Maverick]

Hey guys, I'm new to this forum but not to OCremix. I've been checking out the music here for three or four years, and when I saw this writing competition going on, I thought I'd get involved. I'm cooking up something as we speak! I recently graduated from Kenyon college with a BA in English and a concentration in Irish Literature, so I might be tilting my writing into that vein, but then I'm a gamer too, so expect a little of the fantastical. Can't wait to see everyone's submissions!

[Imagist]

Hello! We're glad to have you. I've always enjoyed Irish literature and James Joyce is one of my favorite authors not of the last 50 or so years, so I can't wait to see what you come up with.

[JH Sounds]

Actually I'm going to avoid doing that Kazooie fic for now. There's a slight possibility that I may play through the game when it's released, so that I may get a better understanding of the plot and character arcs.

I'm not sure what I plan to submit, if anything...

[Washington Maverick]

Hello! We're glad to have you. I've always enjoyed Irish literature and James Joyce is one of my favorite authors not of the last 50 or so years, so I can't wait to see what you come up with.

I'm not writing in Joyce's style, mostly because it's so individual and extremely difficult to replicate. It's my own style of writing, hopefully folks will see what I'm trying to get at. 8-O (Little nervous as it's my first competition submission. Lots of editing/revising!)

[Imagist]

I would never expect anyone to write like Joyce, but knowing him is enough to get me interested in what you have to write.

[Manic Cinq]

(Little nervous as it's my first competition submission. Lots of editing/revising!)

Don't be nervous. I never edit/revise! :tomatoface:

Actually I do it while I write and I know it's a horrible habbit, but I don't give myself time to go back to these things when I finish a first draft. Horray for procrastination!

I've started writing a script for a tv pilot and while that's technically admissable in this freeform edition of the competition, I think it will end up being rediculously long for what we're doing here because of the formatting.

I'll just have to come up with something else later.

[Zephyr]

Ugh... This thread is huge, how can I find out what the current theme is? I have trouble finding out what's going on from this thread.

[Manic Cinq]

Check the title and the first post.

[HalcyonSpirit]

Yeah, except for a few times when Imagery has either gotten confused or forgotten to update the first post, the first post has always had the up-to-date information on the competitions.

I've just started writing my entry for this competition. It's going to be hard for me to write, though... I'm trying to base my entire entry around its title, and the title doesn't make much sense by itself as it is. Hopefully I'll be able to come up with something good.

[Imagist]

except for a few times when Imagery has either gotten confused or forgotten to update the first post

Oh come now, I've never forgotten to update... :oops:

Anyway, I hope everyone is still hard at work, or at least thinking about being hard at work, you know, sometime soon... There's just about two weeks left to submit, so don't forget the deadline's a few days earlier this time around! I've been working on a couple different things and I'm really not sure where either is going or which one I'll go with yet, so hopefully I get that sorted out in time to really refine my choice, considering I haven't done so well on the whole "feeling satisfied to post my submission" front during the past few contests. If not, HO well!

[Darklink42]

Wow. No one has submitted anything yet? Guess I'm not the only one having a tough summer creativly speaking. I am working on a piece for this though, but I don't know if I'll be able to hit the deadline.

[thesim]

I kind of want to enter a stream of consciousness piece. Would that fit the current category? Also, can I use a piece I started earlier but never finished?

[HalcyonSpirit]

Freeform is basically "anything that has words." Of course, there are a few exceptions, but stream of consciousness definitely isn't one of them. Regarding a piece started earlier but never finished, Imagery would have a conclusive answer, though I think we try to discourage pieces that are finished or mostly finished prior to the start of the current competition. We tend not to disqualify them, though (mostly because there's really no way of knowing what was and wasn't done in the competition timeframe).

[Imagist]

From the official rules:

Instead of submitting old material, please write something new within the time frame of the submission stage. After all, the idea behind the competition is partially to promote creativity, and inherent in the idea of creativity is the act of creation.Of course, as GA mentioned, there's no way of knowing whether you are following this rule unless you explicitly tell us you aren't, and the line becomes even fuzzier when you consider things like conceiving of a piece beforehand and only putting it to paper once the competition begins. Basically, use your discretion. Since the prize for the competition is an image file with your name on it I wouldn't get too worked up about it if you decide to finish something old, but as the rule suggests, you'll only be cheating yourself of the chance to create something fresh. Just... don't tell me, or I'd look kind of silly not punishing you for breaking a rule. :tomatoface:

[thesim]

Right then, I can make something new for this. I really liked my title, but I'll find something better floating around my brain.
As a part of the thoughts can I include minor profanities?

[HalcyonSpirit]

This forum tolerates profanity to a certain degree, so yes, I'd say that as long as you're not using them just for the sake of using them, I don't see any reason why a few minor profanities shouldn't be allowed. Just don't go off the deep end with a lot of really harsh ones and you should be fine.

[Imagist]

My thoughts (not any sort of official ruling, as the contest maintains no rule about profanity beyond the rules of the forum):

I side with Orson Scott Card on the matter. He's Mormon, so you'd think he'd act against profanity like a five year-old boy treats girl-cooties, but instead he owns up to reality. For one thing, he's not the one speaking or thinking in his writing; his characters are, so he can hardly be held responsible. For another, he's a writer and is therefore duty-bound to be true to life, to these people he's writing through and about, so it would be much worse to pretend the world is something it's not. So basically, I support profanity in the context that it fits the nature of your subject, and is used with artistic purpose and tact. On the other hand, just because you want to write about a disgruntled wino with Tourrette's doesn't mean anyone wants to read about it, so you always have to consider your audience, just as Orson Scott Card writes his religious/historical fiction differently than the Ender's Game series.

[thesim]

Thank for answering the way you did. I have seen enough profanity throughout the various forums that I know it is fairly common, however I did not know the target audience of the pieces that are written for this thread. Also, I have striven for the past years to entirely eliminate profanity from my own speech, but thoughts are harder to control. Since I am writing from a stream of consciousness, I wanted to put down what I would feel in the same situation, but I also wanted to stay true to my ideals and not offend anybody.

[Manic Cinq]

We are the target audience.

[thesim]

Well, between my first post and now I completely wrote my piece. It's sort of a stream of consciousness narrative. I don't think I've seen anything quite like it before, so free form is a good category for it. The only thing missing is a title and several rounds of proofreading. I probably won't post it until somebody posts theirs first. Now I can work on making myself a sweet sig.

EDIT: Finished the sig

[SoulinEther]

Well, it has words, I wrote it tonight, tonight is before the first day of voting, it contains less than 3000 characters...

Hopefully there's no need for it to be game related... anywho, I call it "The Banister". What, you don't suspect the banister? ...it's like the butterfly, nobody ever suspects it.

The banister is collapsing again.

What am I thinking? Banisters don't collapse. They stand there, stolidly, without regard for the person beholding it or beholden to it.

But not this one. This one... it mocks me. It makes me feel insignificant. Somehow unworthy of its services. What services? It's an abomination – one of many horrendously hideous presences in this sad little dump we mournfully call our dwelling place; if anything, I should be glad that it's bowing down from its position as Useless Eye Sore #451. It's about time, too.

Oh, wait. There is that other service a banister performs... what is it...

Hold on. Why did the banister collapse? Think. No, don't think: look. It's time to snap out of your reverie.

“Oh my God.”

Why didn't I notice it sooner? Say, while it was happening? Something like this probably deserves my attention. You know, as it happens. Why was I so mortally consumed by that banister?

Right, because it was what I had observed first, preceding the screaming and the falling.

But that remains all it preceded. That, and an, “Oh my God.” Her body did a neat trick there, flipping over so sharply and smoothly... such swan-like grace... as her head collided with the 8th stair from the landing. That makes the fall 7 steps before that deafening thud. And then sweet, familiar, golden silence.

I imagine that would break my neck too.

And yet I'm still sitting here. I didn't call 911. I didn't scream, panic, ask if she's alright, check her pulse, call 911, perform CPR, her Last Rites.

In fact, not only did I not do anything for my girlfriend, I had a burning desire to watch it all over again. My mind and memory could never do proper justice to such a scene. I practically stood up and cheered, shouted “Encore, encore!” as her riveting performance came to a conclusion nearly half an hour ago. Honest.

And yet I am immune to that stench. I cannot remember what it is anymore. Something like rotting meat. That would make sense: there is that carcass sitting at the foot of the stairs. I find it quite satisfying. It feeds my hunger, relaxes my eyes, pleases my ears, and pleasures my fancy. Maybe I am not so immune to it after all. I need it.

Yes, I need it, now, then, just like I needed it last year, and the year before, and this whole decade, century, millennium. Beyond that, I have lost count of the years, but I have needed it for as long as I can remember. Every week, it is the same movie showing in all the theaters of the Cranium 18. The same scene. The same scream. The same indifference. “Oh my God.” The same thrill. The same illogical banister that I once upon a time beheld, to which I now find myself completely beholden.

It beats thinking about this eternally blazing abyss. Bliss.
Wraps up quickly... but I'd like to think it is for a reason other than the 3000 character limit (i.e., it has rhetorical value).

[Manic Cinq]

~10 days left to submit... I should get started.

[Imagist]

Well, it has words, I wrote it tonight, tonight is before the first day of voting, it contains less than 3000 characters...

Hopefully there's no need for it to be game related... anywho, I call it "The Banister". What, you don't suspect the banister? ...it's like the butterfly, nobody ever suspects it.

Welcome! Thanks for the submission. There is no need for anything we write in this competition to be game related (and, actually, more often than not fan-fiction and fan-poetry are disallowed, this particular competition being the exception). I do hope, however, you understand that the limit for this competition is 3000 words, not characters... a 3000 character limit would be a tad ridiculous. If you're not aware and feel like extending your piece, feel free to edit your post any time before the submission deadline.

[SoulinEther]

I do hope, however, you understand that the limit for this competition is 3000 words, not characters... a 3000 character limit would be a tad ridiculous. If you're not aware and feel like extending your piece, feel free to edit your post any time before the submission deadline.
Oh, indeed you are right. No, there's not much more on the subject that I care to write about.... yet. Probably won't. I don't want to walk down the path of what I was writing about any time soon.

(where the hell did i get characters from? lol)

[Random Hajile]

Here comes Hajile! Honing his craft in the wide webs. Have at you all!


Walk

I took a walk with Beauty today
Down Paths 3 and 2 and 1.
Each path snowflake unique,
And similarly slowly being undone

Path Three was a winding road
of scared and wavering indecision;
Given to brief bursts of clarity
under sunstruck floral visions.

And it was fading. Forever fading...

Path Two was a rocky azure shore
next to roaring waves of doubt.
Hammering home the truth of "alone"
I struck toward a land-kissed route.

That path too was fading. Crying, and fading away.

Path One was strikingly held
in the grasp of sublunary attraction.
The road clear, It beckoned and called
for me to become a man of action.

This path stood fast against the pull-

It stood fast! Bastion of some hope,
Some dream that refused to be deferred.
Last stand by some far flung fantasy fancy
created as the former paths converged.

Beauty and I took in the linking sites
as they swirled together, innately fleeting.
Transient companions, we parted soon after;
Only one party though, was leaving.

[thesim]

Ummmm . . . I have a kind of weird problem. My story is just under 3000 words, but when I tried to post it I got a message that said it's too long (over 15000 characters). what should I do?

[Imagist]

Seriously? You're averaging five characters a word?

:?

Well, you can either find alternate hosting (such as fictionpress.com) and link us to your piece or split it across two posts. The first is preferable because I have limited space at the beginning of the thread to compile all the entries and if yours takes up a whole post and more I could be in trouble. But I'd also take one last look and make sure your piece doesn't read like a master's thesis, because five characters a word sounds troublesome to me. :razz:

[Manic Cinq]

Seriously? You're averaging five characters a word?

:?

Well, you can either find alternate hosting (such as fictionpress.com) and link us to your piece or split it across two posts. The first is preferable because I have limited space at the beginning of the thread to compile all the entries and if yours takes up a whole post and more I could be in trouble. But I'd also take one last look and make sure your piece doesn't read like a master's thesis, because five characters a word sounds troublesome to me. :razz:
words: 91
characters w/o spaces: 417 (4.5 cpw)
characters w/ spaces: 511 (5.6 cpw)

[Imagist]

Spaces? We don't need no stinking spaces!

:tomatoface: (My apologies.)

[Doulifée]

btw imagery, you should try to make zip archive of the competition, so i could host them (an old project i didn't even start). try to send me a zip of the previous contest (or this one) i'll try to work on something.

[thesim]

So now my crazy long story is online and should be accessible here:
http://docs.google.com/Doc?id=dfsk3bb4_1gm3b6hcp
I would like lots of feedback on both the story and the style.

[Darklink42]

Indecision

Me playing with literary concepts and written stream of consciousness style.

Thoughts are scattered. Drifting on a hurricane force wind localized in a small container. There is no escape. Mercury in a concave dish, they drift slowly towards the middle, coalescing into something not currently identifiable. A central idea so abstract that there is no prediction as to it’s meaning until it is finished. A swishpan of concept, left to imagination, but not without a price. Concrete in execution, it prevents the realizations of the everyday from continuing. Hope is lost, time is canned and processed into inedible portions. In murky haze is left a constant state of turmoil, an ineffable twilight maintaining selfish interests through convoluted reasoning. Resolution remains elusive, collared by external forces but not to be found by traditional means. A consistent urge pushes onwards towards it however, and sometimes releases a courteous bubble of reality. Motionless, it must be discovered by crawling, desperate focus. Hunger remains, for consumption does not stave the need for long. Clarity is the objective, whatever the means may be. The cost of peace of mind was not paid out in supposed monetary value. No, the true contract held fine print too drowned in pretty words to be understood. Rejection opened the door, and held it open for chaos. It was discontent for a given situation that led to conviction. The balance swings wildly, a conclusion not forthcoming. Careful silence is the only means of rebellion, but is lost on cretins who built a world of black and white noise. Reluctantly, an awakening begins and consciousness asserts its dominance. Does the fantasy end in calming rose ridden light? Or does it begin in carnivorous night, absorbed in eager shadow whence it sprang from?

[SoulinEther]

I like how everyone is writing in stream of conscoiusness fashion with the whole "freeform" thing.

[Mechasonic4ever]

yeah for the effort of random cause all a freeform contest is, is being random... well so i have two sorta thingys i made so i was just asking the general opinion of you all for ideas... one is a post apocalyptical satire... and the other is a skit/how to make your own and fight with your own boffering (swords that are covered in foam and dont hurt when your hit) weapons.
So let me all know with pms and ill do that but otherwise im probably going with the boffering thing... XD


----------------
Now playing: Koji Kondo - Legend of Zelda Medley (http://www.foxytunes.com/artist/koji+kondo/track/legend+of+zelda+medley)
via FoxyTunes (http://www.foxytunes.com/signatunes/)

[Washington Maverick]

Here's my submission, just under 3000 words.

It's one of a series of stories I'm thinking about putting together to try to describe the paranoia, death and horrible civil strife that encapsulated Northern Ireland for so long. Enjoy!

http://docs.google.com/Doc?id=dfgmdpn2_0dghnppc5

(Gotta do it this way because of the character limit! :tomatoface:)

[Washington Maverick]

PS: How does the voting go and such? When does that happen? Is that in the rules section and I just haven't read/found it?

[Chickenwarlord]

Nothing but sweet summer breeze touches my lips,
My mind, in the moment of sweet distraction.
A wispy playfulness, fluid, gentle passing.
A sour note plays in the background, smoke
Clouds that swift moment of isolation.
A round trip ticket to a daydream is far
Too expensive for the time spent there.
Even my imagination has to watch
Its slowly lightening piggy bank.

[Imagist]

Mechasonic: Write whatever you feel will challenge you the most to produce your best work. That is all the advice I can give.

Chickenwarlord: Thanks for the submission! Do you have a title (even "Untitled", or the first line perhaps?) that we can refer to your piece by? It would help a bunch come voting time.

Washington Maverick: Yeah, everything you need to know about voting (including dates) should be in the first post. If you can't find it, or you read it and still have any questions, feel free to ask and I'll be happy to explain.

Speaking of dates: I'm going to be returning the days I previously cut out of the submission and voting stages. This is because the original reason I cut them out is now void. Basically, I was applying to serve as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, which would mean two years of full-time dedication to serving the Lord wherever I was called. I anticipated the possibility of being called to leave sometime before the end of August, so I wanted to make sure the contest would be completed before I skipped out on everyone. However, when I got a letter in the mail today saying I would be expected to report on November 5th, I realized it would be kind of silly to rob everyone of the extra days to write and vote. :razz: For those of you not good with dates, this means don't panic! This is not me telling you that once this competition is over I am gone for good. This is me saying I've got one more competition left in me than I thought (September's short story comp.) and I hope it'll be one for the history books. But since we're still in this competition, we might as well make history with it, too!

tl;dr version: dates changed check the first post

[Contricity]

Super Smash Bros. Melee is a video game that was released back in late 2001 for the Nintendo Gamecube. The object of the game is to knock your opponent off of the stage by fighting and building up damage onto their character using a character of your own. KO’s come from knocking your opponent off of the screen. This can be done by sending them flying upwards, to the sides or pushing them off of the stage and letting them fall to the bottom. This game features a various selection of characters from a variety of other video games such as Mario from the Mario Bros. Series, Link from the Legend of Zelda series and even Mr. Game and Watch. Nearly 7 years after its release, people are still playing “Smash” due to a rise in its competitive nature.
Tournaments of hundreds of competitors are held annually across the nation as well as a few international tournaments that feature the world’s most dedicated players. These tournaments can have cash prizes totaling around several thousand dollars. The best player in the world, simply known as Ken, attended a lot of these tournaments and was able to pay for his college education with the $50,000+ that he’s won over time.
Players in these tournaments use advanced techniques to do many things, from chaining as many as 7 consecutive attacks to quickly build up damage for a KO (called comboing) to forcing their opponent away from the stage for a quick KO at low damage. This paper will teach you a technique that is simple but at the same time arguably one of the best to use to keep your opponent from returning to the stage once they have been knocked off. The character used for this is Fox McCloud from the StarFox series and this technique is known as “Shinespiking”.
You don’t need to know very much about how to play as Fox to do this. However, being fluent with the general controls would help a lot. The only things you will need to know well is how to grab onto the ledge, drop from the ledge, use his special move and jump back up to the ledge. On the controller, this can be accomplished only using the joystick with your left thumb and the red (B) button and grey (X) button with your right thumbs. The joystick is used to control your character and the direction they move. The (B) button activates your characters special moves according to which direction the joystick is tilted. You will be using the down (B) combination, which is Fox’s Reflector Shine, and maybe his up (B) combination. The grey (X) button makes your character jump. This can also be done by quickly tapping the joystick up but isn’t used as much since it’s easier to use the (X) button to jump while controlling which direction your character goes with the joystick.
The situation to use a shinespike is when you send your opponent flying from the side stage to KO them but they don’t fly far enough off of the screen and begin to fall back towards the stage. You run to the side of the stage that they’re coming back to by tapping the joystick in that direction and stop. Turn around by tilting the joystick in the other direction, jump backwards by pressing (X) then tilting the joystick towards the edge just enough so that you will fall close to the edge. If done right, you should grab the ledge automatically and be hanging there. From here, you can judge whether your opponent will be able to make it back to the stage or not. If the stage is out of reach then you shouldn’t need to shinespike them. However, some people will still shinespike you just for looks.
All of the characters in this game have a move that is used mostly to get back onto the stage when they are knocked off and can also be used to deal damage. For almost all of them, their “recovery” move is triggered by the up (B) combination. Knowing this, you should be wary of it when you go to shinespike someone. Preferably, you should wait until your opponent is somewhat under you as they are recovering. When they are almost under you, tap downwards on the joystick at an angle to drop from the ledge and make contact with your opponent. This is important because the down (B) Shine that you will use in a second is a very close range attack and needs to connect. When your character is about to make contact with your opponent, press the (B) button with the joystick still tilted downwards. If done right, the down (B) Shine will be triggered as you make contact and stun them as well as send them further from the stage. The Shine will also stall the momentum of your fall for a second.
Another important part of this is making it back up to the ledge. It’s a simple task but it’s very important to remember because it doesn’t look good if you accidentally KO yourself trying to look fancy. When you do activate the shine, whether it connects or not, you shouldn’t hold it for more than half a second. The Shine will only deal damage upon activation; after that, it’s only good for reflecting projectiles. So when you Shine after dropping from the ledge, tap the joystick upwards to jump out of your Shine. If you make it back up to the ledge, then you could set up for a second Shine in the case that your opponent continues to try to come back to the stage. If you are unable to reach the ledge from jumping out of your Shine, keep your control stick tilted up and quickly press (B) to trigger your recovery move. It will stall you in the air for a second before firing you upwards. You can actually control which direction you will fire in so try to aim for the ledge or over it.
Shinespiking is the process of repeating these steps until your opponent is unable to recover and is KO’ed. This usually takes more than one Shine if your opponent is expecting it. If not, then one Shine will get you a really easy KO and a really frustrated opponent. Regardless, most people will not survive if you can connect with 2 consecutive Shines. This technique can also be started by running straight off of the ledge rather than hanging from it. Since Fox is a fast character in running and falling, some people will not be able to defend against it even if they know it’s coming. It’s an easy technique to learn but also takes a lot of practice to get the timing on everything down. Once it is mastered, it will be really useful for quick KO’s and will come with style points.10 charizards?

[Imagist]

I was going to chastise everyone on how dead the thread is (does discussing religion scare everyone off or something? :?) but then I realized we already have seven entries! I guess I could still berate all you veterans for being silent, because all but one of those entries are from newcomers, but then I'd have to get back to work on my own piece. Grrr, work! Work is always my enemy! Why can't life be lollipops and crisps?

I am having a sort of night sickness. It makes me stay up past healthy hours and act crazy. I will take this break of sanity to remind everyone who is planning on submitting that there are just less than four whole days left. If you're having trouble writing what you want to then you'd at least better write a darn good plea for an extension of the submission deadline!:tomatoface:

Hot months are hot.

[Darklink42]

I know of this night sickness to which you alude. It's the only way any of my writing gets done.
And to correct you, there are two entries from veterns. You've neglected my eternal rival Leon "Hajile" K. If it weren't for him, I might have had a fair chance. Sadly his stuff is always so damn awesome that I somehow always feel psychically compelled to vote for him.

[Imagist]

Er... actually, I think the one I forgot was you. :oops:

Well, anyway, seven entries, folks. Let's see if we can beat last competition's total of nine!

[HalcyonSpirit]

I have less day than you guys because I'm going to be on the road all day Friday. Wonderful. I always did like a good challenge, but my current topic of writing is doing that quite well already, thank you very much!

I'll see what I can do.

[JH Sounds]

I think I'll post part of my B-K fic after all. Since it's a prologue, it should still be comprehensible outside of the intended context.

EDIT: I'm only putting the first few paragraphs here, to avoid spoilers.

Prologue

He existed at the edge of life. His sight faded in and out with every second; the images struggled into his perceptive range. All sound had been reduced to a dull hum, varying only slightly in levels of intensity. He lay as a shell of what he once was; holding him together were synthetic extensions of his solid form, so unnatural and yet inextricably part of him now. He lived, but he could never truly call himself complete in this condition.

The dreams were stronger than before. He could still see her eyes, fiercely alight reflecting the image of her deadly spell. Those were the only parts of her that were of flesh; the witch’s body had become little more than a skeleton sheathed in tattered cloth. Her lust of dark magic kept her alive, kept her conscious, and kept her wanting vengeance. Nothing would have swayed her from what she had planned and pondered after years of being buried under dense weight. She needed to destroy the duo that had set her under the ground to rot.

That is why it all had to happen, he realized. Only his essence could kill her—only by giving his life would she be defeated truly and forever. Without his willingness to stand up to the witch, all would have been lost. Yet… Here he was, splayed onto something rigid and smooth, barely keeping himself intact. He lived, but knew he would eventually lose his self.

[Imagist]

Okay, eight. We've got eight entries with just over forty-nine hours to go (or less, for GAJK (yes, try pronouncing that! (yes, I am putting parentheses inside parentheses!) Muhahaha!) and... others?). Two more will put us into new record levels of participation and whatnot! And after that?

The sky is the limit. What the heck.

I probably won't be writing any more of mine until Friday (my day off) but I've got a pretty good idea where I'm headed now. But you don't care about that. You care about interesting things! Like the fact that Doulifee and I are working on getting some kind of archive page up and running! And that we are now featured in the A-Z of OCR Competitions thread, which is stickied at the top of the forums! These are the things you care about!

If you don't care about them I will make you care about them.

I need to stop staying awake after work. Or maybe just stop staying awake.

[SoulinEther]

I need to stop staying awake after work. Or maybe just stop staying awake.
Studies have shown we are 64% more fallible while awake, so it might be a wise decision.

[Contricity]

Hey guys, just posting to let you know that I have changed my entry. Just thought you should know. Go back one page and take a look and tell me what you think.

[Chickenwarlord]

Imagery: The piece is entitled "Distraction"

[Imagist]

Thanks.

Also: Contricity, I feel like I've seen your new entry before (copypasta you wrote? Where?). As a judging official I think I liked your other piece better simply because I didn't wonder if I'd have to disqualify it every time I saw it.

Also: Nine hours to go!

[HalcyonSpirit]

(or less, for GAJK (yes, try pronouncing that! ... )

Mmm...?

Anyway, good news and bad news. The bad news is, I had to cancel my vacation to Myrtle Beach this year because I have a final paper and final exam to do during my vacation week. The good news is, as a result of the previous news, I was able to come up with an entry for the competition! Woohoo!

Such a great tradeoff. :roll:

I literally wrote it in one go, flying by the seat of my pants. Practically stream-of-consciousness, but I did make a few changes as I went along. It probably isn't any good, being a 2-hour writing, but whatever. I need to get back in the writing groove, and a competition is a great way to jump-start the creativity.

Rain on Twenty-Nine Shuffles

Rain. Dr. Campbell couldn’t avoid the depression that settled into his gut whenever rain poured from the sky. From inside his small, dreary cabin, he could hear every drop slapping the roof. This area of the mountains was prone to rainstorms, a fact he wished he’d known before building his new home away from any town or city. Papers were spread across the many tables that filled the cabin. Shelves upon shelves of books lined the walls. The most important library in the world, or so he considered it. No one would ever know, of course.

A single, old book slid out from among its brethren on the bookshelves. Dr. Campbell hurriedly flipped through the pages, searching for anything that might aid his goal. He needed something to lift his spirits. Anything at all. His life’s work would not be wasted. After his family was taken from him, he gave his life to his research. It had rained that day.

He shuffled through the pages. The archaic writing would be dismissed by anyone else as indecipherable, but he put his life into his work. It was a second language to him. Twenty-nine. Twenty-nine. Twenty-nine. The symbols of that number jumped out at him after so many years of study. Wherever he looked, there was a reference to twenty-nine of something. Horses. Castles. People. Always twenty-nine of them. The significance was there, but what was the meaning?

He threw the book onto a nearby table. Despair was weighing him down. In his old age, his temper would flare so easily. He didn’t have time for it. He couldn’t leave his work unfinished. The window to the outside world he had forsaken drew his eyes. It was still raining. He hoped it would stop.

Another book opened before his scrutinizing eyes. It was the most promising book in his collection. Life beyond death. The ancient culture was obsessed with it. Dr. Campbell knew they found a way to achieve it. He wanted to follow their footsteps. The sounds of shuffling pages was drowned out by the storm outside. More twenty-nines. The number littered this book as well, even more than the others, but it wasn’t alone here. The symbols for rearranging and purity always seemed to accompany it. Purity, twenty-nine, movements, in that order.

Movements. To where? It made no sense in the context. Purity. Surely it must be referring to life after death. If the rest was about how to achieve it, he only needed to understand. The cryptic words baffled him.

A third book lay open on the table. Its contents read a hundred times over, Dr. Campbell still drew its pages to his eyes and relaxed. It read like a story, telling of the passing of years for a young man. For their ancient culture, the passing of a year was a shuffle of the lives, as if they lived the life of a new person each year.

Shuffles. Dr. Campbell ran his fingers across the faded symbols upon the page. The symbol for shuffles stuck out in his mind. It was the same symbol in the other books for movements. The man tossed the book aside and picked up the other.

Twenty-nine shuffles. Twenty-nine passing of the years. It was so simple. His spirits raised on the realization. The translation made no sense because the people used the same symbols for different words! How could he have missed that? Yet the other word remained. Purity. The life after death. Twenty-nine years for purity. He was more than twice the age of twenty-nine years.

His eyes gazed out the window. Despair began to settle again at the sight of the rain still pouring from the heavens. It had rained the day his family died, all those years ago…

All those years ago…

All those twenty-nine years ago.

The moment of the epiphany was experienced in silence. Twenty-nine years to the day. Purity in twenty-nine years. Rain that day. Rain this day. Purity. The symbol of purity was rain in their culture.

Rain on twenty-nine shuffles.

For the first time in twenty-nine years, Dr. Campbell opened the door on a rainy day and stepped outside. It felt so cool, so pure. The raindrops splashed against his skin. His senses were absorbed by the cool sensations running over his body. His body completely relaxed, he felt the moist grass touch his cheek. A long, deep sigh escaped his lips.

Finally, he was at peace.

[Imagist]

GAJK. You know how some people try to pronounce acronyms like words? Well try doing it to that one.

Also, arrrrgh! I am having such an awful time trying to wrap up my entry in a satisfactory manner. I always do this when I do nonconventional freeform. I start with an idea I'm really excited about, and it begins to execute well, but then I trip just before the finish line and can't get myself to stand back up.

Well, I am trying. I will have something to post, for sure.

[Darklink42]

Contricity's piece is copy-pasta of copy-pasta from somewhere. I've seen it on these forums, but I'd guess it either came from Unmod or 4chan. Pretty sure he's not being serious.

[SoulinEther]

Contricity's piece is copy-pasta of copy-pasta from somewhere. I've seen it on these forums, but I'd guess it either came from Unmod or 4chan. Pretty sure he's not being serious.
Is it edible? I'm famished :/

[Mechasonic4ever]

Now my life has been quite the strange one for sometime. I lived with my father and we were both wanderers exploring the entire world. We went all over the land from the frozen north to the wastelands of the south. My father carefully mapped the lands and marked where we had been so we wouldn’t camp there again, for what reason he did this I know not.
On our travels he showed me basic survival techniques as well as how to hunt and how to use a blade. He also taught me some things that he said would help me in the hard times that the world was facing, such as reading, writing and basic arithmetic. Every time we went over a lesson at supper as we were around a fire, he would also tell me stories of the past, which sounded so magical and mystical that they were almost surreal. After every lesson he would just tell me good job, pat me on the head and say go to sleep.
Sometimes in his stories he would talk about himself and mother but he would always be brief on those stories. Now I don’t remember much of my mother being that I was only five when she left this world but I knew that she was a great woman. He would say things about us living in a peaceful land but never went into detail about it. After he would talk about those stories, he would silently lay down and even though he was silent I could always see tears glazing his sad face.
As we traveled, we would come across something to trade for some bread or wine but mostly we lived on what we found in the uncharted. We lived a meager life always finding some woodland to live in for a while. We ate what meat and fruit that we found and whatever we had left we took with us to town and sold for gold so none would be wasted. When we came to village or town, my father would hire himself out as a scout and leave me in the woodland that we lived in for the time. Eventualy as time passed on he would let me come along but I wouldn’t do much for the job just be someone to make sure that the people didn’t run away without paying. As we would do these things we began to gain a reputation for great explorers and people started to wait for us in the towns that we traveled around. People would over us food, gold and sometimes even weapons to safely take them to some destination.
As I said earlier, these were dark times for the land and rogues wandered the land freely and attacked and killed whomever they could find for there goods. Both my father and I began to be known as Guardians, which people thought as a mercenary group of sorts that fought for the common people. I could see that this would bring my father joy but at the same time, I couldn’t help but wonder that something upset him about this but nonetheless we continued on this lifestyle well into my teens.
As it approached my sixteenth birthday, my father left for a small town really early and came back right when I was waking up with a large package wrapped in cloth. He was saying how proud he was of me and in response gave me the package which contained a longbow made of yew as well as well as a quiver made of what looked like animal skin. As I was looking at these things astonished, my father was telling me he made the quiver with the skin of the first animal I ever hunted, and the bow in the one that I thought looked so neat when I was only a child. The bow stood about 6 feet tall and had iron spikes on both ends as well as small iron sheets on the front ends to act as a close range weapon if needed.
Now my father was never one big on emotion so I was curious as to why he did this, but he wouldn’t really reply only said that we both were going to town to escort a small group of soldiers from the largest province in the land, the Crimson Republic. Now I knew that our group was gaining a lot of praise and glory over time, but I had no idea that the Emperor himself would ever come to us for a mission. We were to go to a village that was the border town of the feuding provinces of the Crimson Republic and the Dukedom of Acta. We were to take this family for conspiracy and bring them before the Emperor. Now as we began this journey I couldn’t help but wonder why we were doing this, because in all of my father’s stories, the Dukedom was a place of peace and harmony and the Republic was nothing more that greedy warlords. Nevertheless we went on, meeting up with the troops and going on toward the village which was about a week away, by foot, from the capital.
The trip was seemed very short mainly because of all the conversation I had with the soldiers. They were mostly new recruits from neighboring villages of the Republic and they were scared of the dangers that were ahead. Mostly we talked about things like fencing, legends, stories and our dreams. All of these soldiers were doing this just to get the money to leave for the Dukedom which led me to believe that my father’s stories were true about the Republic. My father was silent for most of the trip but went off at night for several hours at a time coming back with tears in his eyes and an angry look on his face. I didn’t pay it much mind until he began to act like that in the day when we were approaching the village. One of my friends among the knights as well as I asked him if he was alright but he didn’t answer.
At first we thought it was because of the fact that it was personal but then we saw what was ahead. The village was in flames sending a huge column of smoke up into the sky as well as the ringing of iron echoing through the plains. We all ran toward the village with our weapons armed, but none ran as fast as my father. When we got to the burning buildings, we saw that it was all an attack by none other than the Republic itself. Several knights of the Republic were all attacking villagers but with the diligence they were taking it looked like they were searching for someone. Soldiers began to attack us as they saw us approaching but my father took out his sapphire blue and his obsidian black scimitars and fended them off with ease. As the battle began to take our side, the soldiers on our side as well as me safely got the villagers out and told them to flee to the Dukedom capital and warn them and most obeyed.
After most of the villagers were gone my friend ran back in as well as I to get my father out but we saw him nowhere in the burning ruin. Several of the Republic soldiers were gathered in a spot and we could see between them that my father was one of them. In a blind rage, my friend and I took charge at the soldiers as I got arrows into the back of three soldier’s necks before they noticed us. They grabbed us and held there swords to our throats and my friend and I both began to fear for our lives. My father screamed to let them go but they wouldn’t listen. While they were talking I saw that a small girl about my age was hiding behind my father and I knew that she must be safe so I drew quietly my dagger from under my belt and stabbed the guard as my friend did the same. We both ran to my father’s side and stood there as he stood almost like a monolithic wall guarding us. He told us to run toward the wastelands as he slipped me his notebook with all his maps. After he did that he walked toward the soldiers and said that he would surrender himself if we three could flee. I started to cry furiously trying to run toward him, but my friend held me back as we both began to run out of the wreckage. As we were at the southern edge of the village beyond the burning I saw both of my fathers scimitars with a piece of parchment tied to them. The parchment read this short message:
Son, these are two of my most prized possessions and they will get you safe haven with the people of the wastelands. I know you will survived because you are my son so I only ask that you look out for your friends as I looked out for you. Always know that both your mother and I have never been prouder of you.
With this message, I took the scimitars very carefully as I began to cry again we all ran toward the south following my fathers maps. We were all very scared and very nervous, but we went on nonetheless going toward our goal. We took refuge in a small forest that was, according to the map, the last source of fresh water before the wastelands. Now as we stay in the camp we all talk among one another and give us formal introductions before I lay down to think about what has all happened today. I keep watch for a while to make sure my new friends, Selene and Talus, are ok and then fall asleep on the soft dirt.



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Now playing: Scaredsim - Valkyrie Profile Until You See the Light in Valhalla OC ReMix (http://www.foxytunes.com/artist/scaredsim/track/valkyrie+profile+until+you+see+the+light+in+valhal la+oc+remix)
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[Imagist]

So, I hate AT&T. Not an hour after my last post, the DSL goes down (as it often does at regular intervals, but it's usually fixed by rebooting our router) and no matter what I try I cannot get it to come back up. Finally I get AT&T to agree to send someone out here ASAP this morning, and after doing who knows what to "test" the connection he basically tells me the problem must be our router because it couldn't be any fault on their side. So he has me connect my computer directly (while he fiddles with the modem) and voila, it's working. Even though it was working just fine with our router for over a year. Whatever, I'll plug it back in later and I guarantee it'll be working.

So, since I am both a selfish and a just Judge, and I lost a good four hours of critical writing time, and I am now getting ready to go to work for who knows how long (I hate inventory), I am going to extend the submission deadline through the end of the weekend. If you have any changes you would like to make, or you didn't quite finish your piece already, you've got until 11:59 PM (PDT) Sunday.

[Contricity]

Contricity's piece is copy-pasta of copy-pasta from somewhere. I've seen it on these forums, but I'd guess it either came from Unmod or 4chan. Pretty sure he's not being serious.

Keep in mind that this isn't the first time I've posted this. This is probably the 3rd time I've posted this on OCR alone. And yes, I have posted this on /b/ a few times as well. Yes, that was me. I was trying to force a meme.


Wait.

Is there a possibility that someone else has started posting this too? Heh, that'd be cool if my copypasta got wikichan'd.

[Imagist]

Continuing the trend of my declarations of unending hate: I hate the current state of capitalism in America. And (according to my corporate superiors in the retail food chain) by extension, I hate bunnies, puppies, and sunshine.

Anyway.

Contricity, my problem with the entry is less whether you wrote it (a point on which I would be willing to give you the benefit of the doubt) and more whether you read any of the guidelines in submitting it. You pretty explicity did not write or even heavily revise it to the point of a rewrite within the time frame of the competition, which presents a problem to me. I am going to have to disqualify it. However, feel free to submit the thing you posted earlier which, as far as I know (and that is the key) was written since the competition began.

[Contricity]

Continuing the trend of my declarations of unending hate: I hate the current state of capitalism in America. And (according to my corporate superiors in the retail food chain) by extension, I hate bunnies, puppies, and sunshine.

Anyway.

Contricity, my problem with the entry is less whether you wrote it (a point on which I would be willing to give you the benefit of the doubt) and more whether you read any of the guidelines in submitting it. You pretty explicity did not write or even heavily revise it to the point of a rewrite within the time frame of the competition, which presents a problem to me. I am going to have to disqualify it. However, feel free to submit the thing you posted earlier which, as far as I know (and that is the key) was written since the competition began.Ahhh, ohk. So Shinespiking 101, it is.

[Imagist]

Yes, it seems so. And please remember to have it up by the end of the night.

Anyway, I think I am temporarily satisfied with my ending. Here goes:

Capturing Truths

The digital 2 on the clock morphs into a 3. It is now 6:33 A.M. Voxtrot bursts from the speakers: “I know that you’re in love with her; I can tell by the way you never touch her or look at her.” It incites thought.

Was it wrong to make you love me if you’d never know love on your own?

A soft click wipes her off the screen. It is almost a noticeable progression, as first the sheen of her deep red hair, then the line where her crooked smile meets her dimple, then the mole on her chin fade into a shot of shadow-casting clouds outside an airplane porthole. In reality all is instantaneous, but instants rarely seem “real” in that sense, anyway.

What good is capturing a moment when it’s a posed lie?
If you don’t want the truth, why try remembering at all?

Several more images captured through that narrow window pass by, all with equally fascinating and landless landscapes. One appears as a floating glacial plateau, another as a dark, stormy tsunami overtaking a bright, calm ocean.

We aren’t meant to fly, but when we do, we might as well make the most of it.

Many more are nothing but blurs of light and shadow. In sight they would send a man into a stupor, but in memory they are flat and lifeless. Something of the immediate impression is lost in the eternal incarceration. It is difficult to place.

I always preferred Monet’s take to photorealism anyway.
If I wanted to see how things looked I’d go look at them.
It’s the impression that lasts long enough to care about.

The skyline of San Francisco from the bay now looms in the distance, with Pier 39 engulfing the foreground like an overgrown gull. The scene appropriately reflects in a half-empty glass of water, the only visible body on the large vacant desk other than the luminous screen itself, as a vague and hazy notion of the city rather than the city itself. Within the reflection is something faint, an almost-echo of the sea lions undoubtedly barking off stage left, but no—it is nothing more than Meric Long's haunting cries as The Dodos’ “The Season” breaks down into its conclusion.

For the sea lions there's a time and a season; why can’t we be the same?

The pop of uncapping the bottle, the gulp of swallowing aspirin with a sip of water, the clink of setting the glass back down. The errant twang of a guitar as The Dodos bang out the beginning of “Walking.” A quick succession leading to, “You can fight the fire that’s in your head...”

But it would take hydrant or two...

Suddenly the brilliance of the screen dims as the next shot portrays the city under cover of night—and of fog. The viewpoint is reversed, looking out on the bay from an intersection of roads somewhere nearby, but with the misty, gray veil lying thick, hardly the light from the streetlamps is distinct, much less the flash of fireworks in the distance. Only she is clear; her back turned as she studies the sky in wonder, bundled up heavily in the leather jacket that isn’t hers, her skirt swaying slightly to her right as the breeze complicates the calculations for the show over the water. And something else—a slight gleam to the left, as of light reflecting off metal, a metal that shouldn’t be there in the cordoned-off street.

A car?
Wait...
The car?

The bumper and a portion of the front hood are a blur of motion, but still clearly visible, inching their way into the picture. But with all eyes focused elsewhere, and not even gunfire audible under the din of bursting rockets echoing in all directions, there was no notice that a jet-black sports car had broken the police blockade, and even less chance that its frantic and distracted driver would spot the girl directly in front of him.

Maybe there are some truths worth forgetting, some lies worth remembering.

The digital 5 on the clock morphs into a 6. It is now 6:36 A.M. A dialogue box appears. It warns that to continue with the action of cropping could result in a loss of information. As a dotted line intended for selection outlines a slender portion of the left-hand side of the screen, the dialogue box questions whether this is really the intention. The cursor hovers over the button marked “Yes.”

-----

EDIT: "Temporarily satisfied," indeed. I've already made several edits and will probably be making more right up until the deadline.

[Imagist]

Okay, folks, the submission stage is over. We have a total of eleven entries. Here's the list:

SoulinEther - "The Banister"
Random Hajile - "Walk"
thesim - "The Pencil Wrote Its Own Story"
Darklink42 - "Indecision"
Washington Maverick - "No Blues in Derry"
Chickenwarlord - "Distraction"
Contricity - "Shinespiking 101"
just64helpin - "Prologue"
GA Jedi Knight - "Rain on Twenty-Nine Shuffles"
Mechasonic4ever - "Journals of a Lost Soul"
Imagery - "Capturing Truths"

I'll be updating the first posts momentarily. Oh, and also, I had difficulty figuring out the titles of some of your pieces, so I had to infer from the information I had. If you have any corrections to make as far as the title goes, just let me know.

[Washington Maverick]

So...do we vote now?