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Smee
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 Posted: Mon Sep 28, 2009 9:41 am Post subject: October : Story of a Picture |
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That's right folks, SoaP is back.
If you want to walk away at the end of October with a 1000 fable prize get your creative hat on and keep reading!
How to play!
Step 1 : We have a picture
Step 2 : Write a short story using the picture for inspiration.
Step 3 : Vote for a winner
Step 4 : Winner walks away with a 1000 fable prize! 
We do have some rules though, so read carefully!
- Send all stories, by PM, to me, so I can post them up.
- Any genre
- No more than 2000 words
- Remember a warning at the top of your story if it has any adult themes, bad language etc. Remember you may lose a voter if your story requires a warning, so think carefully whether you really need it.
How long do I have?
Submissions can be put in until 20th October. We'll have a vote then until the end of October and find ourselves a winner!
Happy Writing 
_________________
The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic Herd!
Last edited by Smee on Mon Oct 19, 2009 11:06 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Smee
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| Posted: Fri Oct 02, 2009 3:24 am Post subject: |
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The first entry is in ...
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October Field
He lies in that October field beside her, the world turning vibrant colors as if before their eyes, boring greens now to giddy golds and vibrant, violent, reds and oranges. They lie together, their fingers brushing as the grass tickles their ears and noses and the wind blows through the grass, a rustling accompaniment to a song of color and life. Dandelions litter the meadow, shining like jewels as the glow of the sun is trapped within, like little radiant orbs.
She starts to get up, but he pulls her down beside him and they tumble in the grass among the wind and the life and the color of the fading light as the sun itself showers them with the colors of its dimming, as if a last desperate display of vivacity will stop the night.
He whispers in her ear, promises and pledges, love unfading as the seasons. She slides his eyelids shut, fingers light on his face, and slips away from his arms, standing just out of reach as he stumbles after, laughing, as he chases her around the glowing field, until they fall backwards into the lighted pasture, side by side.
As he opens his eyes once again to see her face, it is as if the sun undergoes its final death throes and it sends forth the last of its brilliant light, as the dandelions sparkle and the leaves of the trees shine gold and red and orange. And as the sun sinks beneath the horizon, the wind blows across the world and the dandelions lose their fluff.
And his nymph of the fields is gone. Vanished, like the last golden leaf of autumn before winter’s embrace. And he leaves the meadow.
He lies in that October field, the greens again turning to golds and reds and oranges. But now the leaves are dying and the wind is still, so that in all the world there is only the sound of his breath alone.
_________________
The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic Herd!
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Thunderbird
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| Posted: Fri Oct 02, 2009 7:31 pm Post subject: |
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That's pretty good stuff. Well written, nice imagery, a poetic piece of prose. It elicits more questions than answers though... and maybe that is a good thing, but it also makes it a little ephemeral... hard to place a finger on the purpose. Still, it was a read that tugged at the heart strings, and I would say that was what it was intended to do. Good work!
_________________
      
 CHAPTER 25: Near-Light Speed (NEW CHAPTER! (12/4/2011))
Zephyrrr! And...  
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| Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2009 2:24 am Post subject: |
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Second entry in ...
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Untitled
He laughed as he ran ahead into the field, rolling on the ground in imitation of the young dog that had been released from the car with him. The late September sun streamed over him, though he was already warmly wrapped. A dandelion ticked his nose, and he scrambled upright, staring at it. He reached down towards it, but his mother's voice warned him away.
"You know, if you pick a dandelion you'll wet the bed."
"No I won't! Daddy says that it's only the flowers that make you pee yourself. If you pick the fluffy ones you can tell the time!"
She laughed, and he scowled - he was being sensible! Those wet-yourself stories were for babies, and he was no baby. Besides, he had seen people pick them before.
"If you really want to know the time, I'll tell you. It's five o'clock, and we ought to get walking Jasper. We can't stay in this field all the time."
She took his hand and led him away, although he cast longing glances over his shoulder. Soon, however, the dandelion was forgotten in the thrill of a different place in the countryside sun, being lifted over styles and crawling mischievously through whichever spaces his Jasper Dog got through. The walk seemed over all too soon, and they were back in the field, climbing into the car, when he spotted his dandelion glinting in the sinking sun. He tore himself away and ran over, seizing it triumphantly and managing to remove the seeds in just three breaths.
"Look, look! It's three o'clock now! I told you you could tell the time!"
He clambered back into his seat happily and the car drove off, leaving only a faint whiff of urine behind it.
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The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic Herd!
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Smee
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| Posted: Sun Oct 04, 2009 10:41 pm Post subject: |
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Entry number three!
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Remembrances
He told me he wanted it this way. He wouldn’t have liked all the fuss that his passing would cause. He loved the outdoors, always building or fixing something. He loved taking care of his animals. He was as good a father as he could be and an even more devoted grandfather. He taught me how to fish, to drive, to work, to ride a horse, to live honorably, and how to die with dignity.
Three years ago he was doing great! I never thought about him being gone and why should I? He was always there. The one constant thing in my chaotic life that I could always count on in times of trouble. Two years ago they found that the cancer was back and tried everything to get rid of it. Radiation and chemotherapy being the two big ones. A year and a half after they gave up. They told him he was going to die.
He asked me about what I thought, and selfishly I told him that I wasn’t ready for him to be gone. He said to me, “I have spent these last few years of my life watching my friends die around me. Most of my family has died and they died young. I’m eighty years old and I’m not afraid of dieing. I’ve lived my life and I have enjoyed it. To be honest I’m almost ready to go.”
A Year ago he died. I spent the last few months taking as good a care of him that I could along with the rest of my family. In one of his more coherent moments he told me, “You know, you take good care of your Gramps.” To which I replied “Yeah Gramp, but I know that if this was happening to me you would take care of me.” My grandfather turned to me and said “You know. I don’t know if I could.” After which the moment was gone.
Today as I sit and write this, wondering about how he would feel if he were alive today to experience the joys I have this past year with my marriage and birth of my first child in a matter of days. Would he be proud of me? Would he approve? Would things be different?
My child will know its Great Grandfather, even though he’s gone. My stories about him, I hope, will allow him/her to at least experience part of the greatness that was Grampy.
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The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic Herd!
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Smee
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| Posted: Mon Oct 05, 2009 6:43 am Post subject: |
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Entry number 4 is a poem... now because I didn't specifically say they're not allowed, I'm going to let this one in, this once.
But... it's called Story of a picture, because I'm expecting a story, not a poem. I'm not a fan of poetry, it bores me. I'm letting this one in because the effort's already gone into writing it and it wouldn't be fair to the author.
No more poems!
~
A Moment of Stillness
The world holds its breath
a moment of quiet
as still as death
the day is dying
morn its loss
hear the sighing
of gathering dusk.
A field of flowers
Made by the frost
And natures power
And dying hour to be
Lit by sunlight,
Is this a moment of magic
For a fairies first flight?
Can it be, stillness magic brings?
A whisper of the wind
Carrying a child’s laughter
Sunset and wind bind
Hush your breath
The day is dead
Watch life come of death.
It is enough.
Sunlight, laughter,
wind infuse
catch the dandelions
with child’s first laughter
and magic bind…catch a flame…
watch the time.
Catch the sunlight
Catch the last of the sun
The day is done
The magic over
All is left
Still and hushed…
Fluffy flowers gone
Rushed away by the wind
In the distance, do my ears hear
A distant child’s laugh.
It is a trick, of mind’s eye
And false hope.
The world long ceased to have magic enough.
But ah, from death does life does spring
Behold the starlight twinkling.
_________________
The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic Herd!
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Smee
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| Posted: Mon Oct 05, 2009 10:20 am Post subject: |
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They're flying in thick and fast - entry no. 5
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The Meadow Memories
He stood there, surrounded in the dying sun by the flowers that had become so special to him. Here was where he had first taken his love, here was where he had taken his children to discover and marvel in the beauty of nature and here, was where he had buried his wife of forty years under the big oak tree. This meadow, with its dandelions and posies, its lilies and its daisies, was where he had had some of his most memorable memories. He felt the hot tears creep from his wizened, old eyes as he dwelt in the past.
He took a faltering step towards the grave, marked “My lovely Eve, you lightened my life when it was dark,” and put down the bunch of flowers he had bought on the way. He slowly kneeled down and lovingly traced the words. He took a ragged breath to stem the racking sob that he could feel rising in his chest.
“Eve, I won’t ever want to forget you, because without you my life wouldn’t have been worth living. You brought me so much joy, your radiant smile, your tinkling laughter... The way the sun glinted off your hair, making it shine and glow red. You were always too good for me, and every second I had with you was one more second than I deserved...”
He lapsed into silence, and nodded, as if someone had responded to him. He smiled through the tears running down his face.
“John will be coming soon, yes; he and the family are doing well. He just got promoted, and the youngest has started school. You should see her love! A little version of you...”
He stared over at the setting sun, wiping the tears from his eyes. He sighed and sat down fully, crossing his legs, whilst still trailing the words in the gravestone. After awhile, he turned back to the grave and cleared his throat.
“Love, I don’t know how much more I can visit you here. I don’t even know if I can make it on our anniversary or your birthday or...”
He broke down in tears, the sobs coming thick and fast. In the background, the sound of a car pulling up echoed through the meadow. The old man was oblivious to the slamming of the car door or the tread of the footsteps. He only realised he had company when a set of arms wrapped round his body, cradling him to its chest.
“Shhhhhhhh Dad, it’s ok, I’m here now,” said a gruff voice.
The old man crumpled into him, crying into his shoulder. The man blinked rapidly, holding his father to him and patting him on the shoulder. He glanced round the meadow, his eyes glistening as he remembered all the things he had done here in the past, the picnics he had had there as a child, the time he and his mother had went for a swim just through the screen of the trees and when he had brought his own family here the last time before his mother’s death.
“J-John, can’t you just leave me h-here?” sobbed his father into his shoulder.
“No Dad, your place is at the home, you can be looked after there. It’s filled with great people, people who want to help,” he answered, closing his eyes to try and hold back his tears.
“I don’t want help! I don’t want to forget! I don’t want to live without her!” his father choked out through the tears, a hint of anger within the sobs.
“Dad, the kids need you, they love you too much... I need you...” he stammered back, trying to hold his resolve.
The old man looked up at him and shook his head.
“I’ll forget all of you too... Soon I’ll just be an old man... an old man with Alzheimer’s...” He traced the name again in the grave.
They sat there, looking at the tombstone as the sun set in the distance, reminiscing on the future and on the past, the matter still unresolved.
_________________
The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic Herd!
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DeadManWalking
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| Posted: Mon Oct 05, 2009 3:29 pm Post subject: |
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Is it just me or did the first entry really set a trend?
I mean all of the rest (except for the poem) start with He ____ and contain excessive pronounery, and have the same kind of morose tone.
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When the dead walk, the living run.
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Klafarius
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| Posted: Mon Oct 05, 2009 6:37 pm Post subject: |
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Morose tone? This coming from someone calling them self DeadManWalking?  Seriously though. October is the month for memories as the season changes. Most everything starts to wither and die as the colder season sets in. It's a time for gathering with family and to reflect on the secret or not so secret memories of lost loves, family, and friends.  Well, At least to me it does. As for the start to the stories, bah, just a coincidence. 
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| Posted: Tue Oct 06, 2009 5:59 am Post subject: |
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| DeadManWalking wrote: | Is it just me or did the first entry really set a trend?
I mean all of the rest (except for the poem) start with He ____ and contain excessive pronounery, and have the same kind of morose tone. |
The second one doesn't seem so morose.
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Smee
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| Posted: Tue Oct 06, 2009 10:28 am Post subject: |
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And another!
Untitled 2
The wind rushed through my prematurely white hair, and yet I held on. All around me my brothers were taking to the air, their shouts of laughter filling the space around us with a sense of gaiety not heard in these parts in nigh on a year.
And yet I still hung on.
The wind was tearing at me now, screaming at me to release my grip, trying to send me into the air with my brothers to ride the currents but I was not ready to let go. Not quite yet.
And so I held on.
I held on not out of fear. We all grew knowing this day would come. I held on in anticipation. Every moment of my short life had led to this point and I intended on savouring every moment of it. My brothers did not understand me. They did not see the point of waiting, of letting the anticipation build, and as I watched them drift away, bobbing up and down as they rode out across the field I knew it was time.
I let go.
The wind took ahold of me and ripped me from my perch, throwing me violently up. Fear washed over me. I was tossed from side to side, struggling to get my bearings, wondering why I had let this moment take such a hold on me.
And then suddenly, just as suddenly as it had started, the turbulence of my flight ended and I leveled out.
By now, most of my brothers had landed and so I had the sky to myself, just like I planned. The sun was lighting up the world in a way I had never seen before. The contrast between light and shadow was so intense the whole feild seemed to appear in black and white. The blue sky was so inviting I tried to climb higher and higher, looking down on the world I thought I knew and realizing it was a stranger to me. All the while, the wind whispered in my ear, describing the scene before me in such stunning detail that I was speechlessly wishing that it would never end.
But, like the summer, all good things must end. The wind whispered to me that our time was over and She slowly started guiding me to the field floor, both of us silent now in our grief. I landed softly on the dusty ground as the wind rushed on her way, without another word. Silently, I sat, feeling the dust and dirt collect around my leg, securing me in place for the long winter ahead.
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The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic Herd!
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DeadManWalking
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| Posted: Tue Oct 06, 2009 3:53 pm Post subject: |
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Yay for creativity!
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Smee
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| Posted: Wed Oct 14, 2009 6:27 am Post subject: |
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Some excellent entries in already, but we still have 6 more days before voting begins.
So kick those muses, and shake out those imaginations... it'd be great to see a few more stories.
Happy Writing
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The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic Herd!
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Smee
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| Posted: Mon Oct 19, 2009 11:08 pm Post subject: |
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The poll is up folks, and there's some excellent entrys.
Vote for your winner.
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The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic Herd!
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Thunderbird
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| Posted: Tue Oct 20, 2009 3:22 am Post subject: |
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I have to agree with DMW on this one... all have the same basic emotional tone and not one seemed to interpret the picture in an alternative manner to the dandelion theme. I was hoping to catch some time to enter a story for this... something about a crysalizing bomb or something of the sort, just to show that it would have been possible to see the picture in a light other than that which it was actuallly depicting. T'was an interesting pic, that one... Ah well... next time 
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CHAPTER 25: Near-Light Speed (NEW CHAPTER! (12/4/2011))
Zephyrrr! And...
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Reiso
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| Posted: Tue Oct 20, 2009 10:03 am Post subject: |
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Damn, I missed this too. My first impulse was to write a small tale about a dying glass city of ghosts, but alas, I missed my chance. Hmm, maybe it's because I haven't been following it for days, but I disagree with the votes so far that the last one is the best. The first one still seems to be the strongest writing. I hope the last one isn't being voted for only because it is different from the others--no offense to the author, yours is good, I just think the first one is better and shouldn't be disregarded because people are sick of the similar entries.
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Sector 17 -- Rebuilding... ... ...
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter--bitter," he answered;
"But I like it
Because it is bitter
And because it is my heart." -- Stephen Crane
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| Posted: Thu Oct 29, 2009 12:46 am Post subject: |
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There is only 48 hours left to vote!!! be sure to vote for you favorite before time is up!!
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| Posted: Fri Oct 30, 2009 6:15 am Post subject: |
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Untitled #2 Takes IFQ Editors Pick ( not that it matters but some food for thought )
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Amichan
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| Posted: Sat Oct 31, 2009 10:12 pm Post subject: |
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it is Official!!!! Untitled #2 Takes this months SoaP!!!
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Smee
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| Posted: Sun Nov 01, 2009 1:24 am Post subject: |
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It is indeed officially over.
A fantastic turnout on voters, and a lovely turnout on entries too. Well done everyone for taking part
Congratulations to Traveller, author of Untitled 2.
1000 fables and a profile award has been sent your way. 
A big thanks to the other authors :
October Field : DeadmanWalking
Untitled : White Blacksmith
Remembrances : Klafarius
A Moment of Stillness : Mirel
Meadow Memories : Bronze
SoaP will be returning in December - be prepared!
Happy Writing
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Crunchyfrog
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| Posted: Sun Nov 01, 2009 2:13 am Post subject: |
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Woooo, Traveller!
Congrats! 
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DeadManWalking
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| Posted: Sun Nov 01, 2009 1:28 pm Post subject: |
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Ah sadness...
I was tied with Traveller until close to the last couple days. So close!
But yeah, congrats Traveller! Innovative piece.
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Traveller
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| Posted: Sun Nov 01, 2009 6:51 pm Post subject: |
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| Thanks all...all were great entries and I am honoured to have been voted as the winner, considering that, I agree that mine perhaps wasn't the best written but I think the fact that I took a different spin on it helped me out. Great job by all and I will spend my fables wisely!
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Strata-gems
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| Posted: Sun Nov 01, 2009 9:26 pm Post subject: |
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Congrats Traveler!!! by the way Since i didn't know who's story won i was unable to add your name to the IFQ but i will make that addition!!
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| Who is your winner? |
| Story 1 : October Field ? |
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18% |
[ 3 ] |
| Story 2 : Untitled ? |
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12% |
[ 2 ] |
| Story 3 : Remembrances |
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12% |
[ 2 ] |
| Story 4 : A Moment of Stillness |
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0% |
[ 0 ] |
| Story 5 : The Meadow Memories |
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18% |
[ 3 ] |
| Story 6 : Untitled 2 |
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37% |
[ 6 ] |
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| Total Votes : 16 |
| Who Voted: Amichan, Crunchyfrog, DeadManWalking, Emperor, Klafarius, Mirel, Phantomfan, Reiso, scissorkitty, Smee, snow tiger, Tatkret Sos, The White Blacksmith, Thunderbird, Traveller, Zeke |
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