First Bi-Monthly Writing Competition!
Select messages from
# through # FAQ

City of IF -> Writers' Arena

#1: First Bi-Monthly Writing Competition! Author: kkdestinyLocation: The Library of Interfable History PostPosted: Sat Feb 20, 2016 2:59 pm
I'm a bit late with this, but here is the Bi-monthly writing competition I promised. It's not an entire two months, but its good for the experiment I think.

Also, I rather liked giving members the ability to toss in readership or other prizes, so here it is again!


- 1000 Fables
- I believe Noni has offered her readership (for 3 chapters) to whomever wins again!


1) This is a short story competition and therefore there is a word limit of 4500 words. Please keep within this limit!

2) The theme for this month is "New Beginnings"!

3) Minor swear words are okay, but please try to keep it to a minimum.

4) There are no required prompts for this month's competition! :3

5) The closing date for entries will be the end of March 27th. After that period, it's time to vote for your favourite entry. Voting will last until Midday March 31st.

6) The competition is open to absolutely everyone!

7) All entries must be posted to me via PM, so that each entry is anonymous!

I would request, for whomever is Mayor at the time, that I retain my position running this competition until the end.

That being said, let the competition begin!

#2:  Author: Novelest_NinjagirlLocation: The inn. Probably. Come check! PostPosted: Sat Feb 20, 2016 8:26 pm
Here to confirm: you will indeed get three chapters worth of reading out of me! This is going to start being a rare commodity as it gets harder and harder to keep up with all the sg's out there!

#3:  Author: Thegaywizardly PostPosted: Mon Feb 22, 2016 12:19 pm
I hope my entry is allowed, i suppose I could change it if asked to. It is pretty short.

#4:  Author: kkdestinyLocation: The Library of Interfable History PostPosted: Sat Mar 05, 2016 9:17 am
Inside chuck norris's mind he apprehends nothingness out of infinite potential then produces a singularity of pure certainty about that nothingness. His singular mote of faith stretched against the very fabric of uncertainty and uncertain potential and he became certain that uncertainty was chaos and uncertain potential was space and this substantiates nothingness to him. Singularity of certainty expands into uncertainty fractalising uncertain potential into a third dimension of space chaos infinitely diminishes albeit infinite itself and is thence rendered entropic due to the expansion of certainty. It becomes the future and a false certainty due to the law of symmetrical polarity caused by the electrical signals in his brain. Nothingness is thusly earthed by chaos to infinitely divide into the past as causality. And it is left as certainty in the present to fractalise in three dimensions on past present and future reflected in perfect symmetry to all dimensions of space. I have proved chuck Norris invented the prism of time with his coalescence of objective perspection about nothingness. But who am I to presume his thoughts.

#5:  Author: kkdestinyLocation: The Library of Interfable History PostPosted: Sat Mar 05, 2016 9:20 am
Step By Step

Deep breaths.

One step forward.


Abby stops, scrunches her face up. Then...then! She runs through the steps again, ticking them off on her fingers as she goes, but that doesn’t seem to help. Every time she finishes the second her mind refuses to tumble over to the third. She twists her hands together in frustration. Someone bumps into her and she remembers she is just standing there in the middle of the hallway.

Then two steps back.

She knows that isn’t it, but it’s so much easier, so much more comforting, to turn around and duck into the nearest restroom. It is empty, thankfully, and Abby goes to the first stall. Her hands shake as she slides the lock into place. She feels sick. She sits heavily on the toilet and puts her head between her knees.

Deep breaths.

Deep br-

She jumps, a knock at the stall door bringing her out of her head.

“Occuppied,” Abby mumbles. She lifts her head up enough to watch as a pair of pink canvas sneakers step away and go over the the next stall. There is another knock and then the squeak of hinges as the door is opened and closed. Abby closes her eyes and focuses on breathing again.


Deep breaths.


Abby tenses, startled by the voice.

Hey,” comes the voice again, more persistent this time.


“You got toilet paper over there? I’m all out.”

“Oh, uh. Yeah,” Abby answers. She unrolls enough of the paper that the end falls into the hand the has appeared under the gap between the stalls.

“Thanks.” The hand grabs and tugs.

Abby watches the roll go around and around. When it stops it makes her hold her breath. She doesn’t breath again until she sees the pink shoes walk out of the stall. They pause briefly at the sinks then continue out of the bathroom.

Abby finds that she is jealous of whoever wears those shoes. How easily they can walk through life, how they don’t have to think about their steps.

She spends the rest of the day in the bathroom, telling herself to breathe and hating it.


Today is good. Today Abby makes it to class. She slips in quietly, only a few minutes late, and sinks into a seat at the very back of the lecture hall. The lesson has not fully started so she still has time to prepare.

Get out notebook and textbook.

Get out pencil and highlighter.


There is a clatter at the seat next to her. She keeps her head down like she is still searching her bag but looks over out of the corner of her eye. The first thing Abby sees is a backpack, it’s lavender color barely noticeable beneath pictures and patterns drawn thickly in sharpie, and then

Pink canvas sneakers.

Deep breaths.


Abby’s gaze shoots up, her green eyes briefly connecting with ones of amber before quickly looking away.

“Hey,” a paisley covered elbow nudges Abby’s arm and she lifts her head to look at the girl again.


“You got some paper I can use? I forgot my notebook.”

“Oh. Uh...yeah.” Abby rips out a few pages from her notebook and hands it to the girl, whom squints at her a few moments before taking the paper.


Abby gives a short, awkward nod before turning back to the front of the lecture hall where the professor has begun speaking. She pays avid attention the rest of the time, her pencil scratching vigorously across paper, the only sounds the voice of the professor and the periodic flipping of notebook pages. It isn’t until the end of the hour that the girl talks to her again.

“Wow, you take good notes.”


“Your notes,” she says. “They’re good. I just doodle.” She holds up the papers Abby gave her. They are covered in sketches and swirls just like her backpack. “Sorry, I guess I sorta wasted your paper, huh?”

“Oh...uh, yeah,” Abby says at a loss for how else to answer, even though she thinks the designs are very good.

“Do you have another class next? Want to get some coffee?”

“I can’t have caffeine.”


Abby jumps at the girl’s sudden outburst. She frowns and her eyebrows collide over her nose in confusion.

“I got you to say somethin’ different.”


The girl laughs and Abby finds she is holding her breath. She tells herself to breathe.

“That didn’t last long.” The girl’s hand comes up to hide her smile. “Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh at you, it’s just been three times now. I thought maybe ‘what’ and ‘oh uh yeah’ are the only things you could say.”

Abby takes the time to count in her head. So it really is the same person from the bathroom. She wonders how long it takes her to think of this because when she focuses back on the girl in front of her the girl has her head tilted and one eyebrow is arched high on her forehead.

“No, I...sorry,” she says beginning to methodically return her supplies to her bag.

“Nah, don’t be. Actually you said them a little bit different each time so it was like I wasn’t hearin’ the same thing at all.”

“Oh, uh, ye-” Abby stops herself abruptly and blushes, zips her bag closed.

“” she asks again.

“I can’t have-”

“That’s what decaf is for, ya nut.”

“Um...okay,” Abby says, but she doesn’t move from her seat.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite,” she says standing. She grabs her bag and Abby’s in one hand, and then she grabs Abby’s wrist and gently tugs with the other. Abby allows herself to be drug from the auditorium and into the afternoon sunlight.

“My name’s Shawna, by the way, what’s yours?”


“It’s nice to meet you, Abby.”

“Oh, uh...yeah.”

Shawna snorts and breaks into another fit of giggles, smiling the entire way to the cafe.


“You don’t mind, do you?” Shawna asks holding up a cigarette and lighter.

Abby shrugs and then shakes her head.

They’ve known each other about a month now, but Shawna still asks the question every time. Just like every time they are done their morning class Shawna drags Abby to the campus cafe. The weather is warm despite the leaves starting to change color, so they sit outside as they sip their drinks. Abby wonders what will happen when it gets too cold for them to be together on the terrace.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”


“Is it a secret?”

“No,’s going to get cold soon,” Abby explains, voice getting softer as she talks.

Deep breaths.

“Hmm…” If Shawna notices Abby’s melancholy tone she doesn’t pry. A few moments later she snuffs her cigarette and stands. “Let’s go.”


“I’ve got somethin’ I wanna show you.”

She follows Shawna across campus to the fine arts building. The smell of oil and graphite tickles Abby’s nose as soon as they go through the doors. They go to the second floor and Abby finds that Shawna has been awarded her own room, a sort of miniature studio, by the arts council. Abby knows she is an art student, but she takes this as a definite sign that Shawna is really good.

“Ta-dah!” Shawna shouts after closing the door behind them, spreading her arms and spinning. “What do you think?”

Abby looks around the room. All the walls are covered with what she assumes are Shawna’s inspiration - paint swatches, magazine clippings, photos. Even part of the windows are blocked from where Shawna had run out of wall and just continued to put things up. The floor is covered in scraps of paper and brushes. Everything is clean, but it is very, very

“Messy,” Abby comments.

“Yeeeah,” Shawna drawls scratching the back of her head. A habit Abby notices she has. “I’ve never been good at keeping things, you know, together. Totally a pain when I’m tryin’ to find something specific. Even more so when I run out of a color I really, really need. I should get myself a to-do list or some basic ‘how to organize your crap’ steps, I guess.”

“I can…” Abby begins but doesn’t finish.


Abby wants to tell Shawna that she’s good at lists and steps and ordering. That it’s how she gets through everyday, that it’s what she needs to do to get through everyday. But to admit something like that...Shawna would probably hate her for being so stupid.

“Nevermind. So, uh,” she says, side-stepping Shawna and her questioning eyes to go admire some of her paintings. She pays them each an equal amount of attention, trying to find something to change the subject. “Do you dress like your paintings or do your paintings dress like you?”

“Huh?” Shawna asks.

Abby points to one of the canvases. It seems like a simple still life from afar, but up close each color is actually a pattern - paisley, polka dots, zig zags, fleur-de-lis.

Shawna looks between the painting and her outfit. She always wears interesting things. Today is white pants paired with a dual-colored blazer, the yellows and oranges of the stripes iridescent against her dark skin. And pink canvas sneakers on her feet, of course. Abby often wonders if it’s the only pair of shoes she owns or if she just loves them that much.

“Yeah, you’re right. I guess...I’m my own inspiration?” Shawna smiles and snorts.

“It’s nice. You, I mean, the stuff you do, uh,” Abby shakes her hands uselessly between Shawna and Shawna’s artwork before stilling them at her sides and blushing, “the pattern things,” she finishes lamely.

“In that should let me do a portrait of you.”


“It’ll be fun!” Shawna bounces in excitement on the balls of her feet.

“Oh, uh, okay,” she agrees, unable to possibly say no to such enthusiasm.

“What colors do you want me to use?”

“Wh-whatever you think is best?”

“No, no, it should be somethin’ you want! Like do you want a realistic color scheme or somethin’ really funky, like purple hair and orange skin, OR do you want me to use a base color and do a monochromatic interpretation derivative of-”

“Um…” Abby interrupts because Shawna is starting to speak too rapidly for her to understand.

Shawna laughs. “Sorry. Let’s try this - what’s your favorite color?”

Abby opens her mouth but when no answer is forthcoming she closes it. She never thought about it before. She dips her head and looks at the ground, her eyes darting around the mismatched tile, her mind scrambling until-

Deep breaths.

“Pink,” she says finally. “I like...the color pink.”


Get out glasses.

“You didn’t have to hang it, you know,” Shawna’s voice sounds from the tiny living room of her apartment.

“I definitely did,” Abby answers. She goes to the fridge and opens it, checking through her drink selection. “Make yourself at home, I’ll be done in a second.” She takes out a liter of soda and fills the cups she has sitting on the countertop.

Put the container back.

Close the refrigerator.

When she rounds the corner into the living room, drinks in hand, she freezes, breath catching in her throat. Shawna is sitting on the couch looking at a notebook. This wouldn’t normally be a problem, except for what is in it.

Abby forgot to put it away. She didn’t tell herself to do it, so she forgot.

She rushes over, putting the drinks on the table roughly, some of the soda spilling over the edge, and then grabs the notebook from Shawna’s hand, gripping it tightly against her chest.

Shawna raises her hands. “Woah. Sorry, it was just sitting there and I-”

“I’m sorry,” Abby blurts, voice hoarse. She feels like crying. “I’m sorry. It’s creepy, right? I don’t mean it that way, but I just…”

Deep breaths.

She watches as Shawna lowers her hands to her laps and waits patiently for her to continue. Abby sits heavily on the couch next to her.

Deep breaths.

“Sometimes I have trouble remembering things. So I write myself notes, and I give myself step-by-step directions on how to do even the simplest of things. How to tie my shoes. How to get things out of my bag. How to breathe. Maybe I don’t need to do it all the time, but I get scared that if I don’t I’ll eventually forget something.

“Something important,” Abby takes the notebook away from where she’s still clutching it against her chest and sets it on her lap. She sighs at the page Shawna was looking at, the one she had been looking at earlier, the one with Shawna’s name written all over it.

She turns to the next page. It has her address with a miniature map from campus to the apartment building drawn next to it. The next has her class schedule. And the next a nightly chore list. And the one after a sticky note stuck to the paper that simply says In And Out.

Abby flips through a few more pages before she closes the notebook.

“This isn’t even the only one. It’s just over and over, again and again and again. I’m-I’m so sorry…” she sniffs and blinks back tears. “You must hate me now.”

“I don’t.”

“...You don’t?”

“I don’t.”

Abby shakes her head, unbelieving. “But I’m so stupid,” she whispers harshly.

“No. You’re not,” Shawna says firmly. She hesitates briefly before she slowly reaches for Abby’s hand. When Abby doesn’t pull away she takes it gently and gives it a light squeeze. “...Okay?”

Abby tells herself to take a deep breath and looks at their intertwined hands.

“Okay,” she says and squeezes back.


It’s different to wake up and have someone already moving around, the clanging of pots in the kitchen or the colorful curses in the bathroom when the apartment building’s fickle water heater decides to take a break mid-shower.

It’s different and it’s new. But it’s nice.

Shawna is a very patient roommate. Sometimes Abby will sit for hours and rewrite the same group of notes or sentences over and over, or she might do things a bit more slowly as she runs through a list of steps in her head. But when she is done Shawna is always there, whether she is snoring on the couch or sketching in one of her many notebooks, smoking on the balcony or running for pad thai ten minutes before midnight because neither of them ate yet.

In only the year they’ve lived together Abby finds that the need to makes lists of what to do or write notes in repetition lessens, though she still does so from time to time. And, from time to time, she finds some that she doesn’t write at all, always on pink sticky note paper.

Sometimes they’re silly.

Store brand mac and cheese is NOT as good as the name brand - abort, abort!

And sometimes they’re serious.

Turn off burner when done boiling water for tea.

And other times...

SMILE! :^)

Abby takes the note off the front door, creases it, and carefully tucks it into her pocket. She opens the door and Shawna is waiting on the balcony, smoke swirling into the air around her head. When she notices Abby she turns.

“Good morning,” Shawna greets, smiling around her cigarette. “Are you ready?”

It is barely a moment before Abby reaches out to grab Shawna’s hand and smiles back. She steps into the new day and breaths without having to think about it.

#6:  Author: kkdestinyLocation: The Library of Interfable History PostPosted: Sat Mar 05, 2016 9:21 am
Seraphi, wizardly...Im going to have to ask you to delete your comments. because of their nature, and the fact that we only have two entries at this time, it's not really anonymous.

#7:  Author: Novelest_NinjagirlLocation: The inn. Probably. Come check! PostPosted: Tue Mar 08, 2016 11:32 pm
Woah guys! Loving it so far! If I've read the rules correctly, there's still plenty of time to submit an entry! I know my readership is pretty freely given anyhow, so write for writings sake!

City of IF -> Writers' Arena

output generated using printer-friendly topic mod. All times are GMT - 8 Hours

Page 1 of 1

Powered by phpBB © 2001,2002 phpBB Group