 |
 |
 |
 |
|
| Author |
Message |
The Powers That Be
Respected Citizen
Joined: 19 May 2005
Topics: 16
Posts: 545
Location: Santa Monica, CA
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
 Posted: Fri Jun 03, 2005 6:21 pm Post subject: |
 |
|
All right. Here goes nothing. Hmm, last time I checked, it came up as exactly 1500, but now it's showing 6 words over. I hope we still have that 20-word safety. 
There's a bit of strong language and some violence.
“Good morning, Mr. Alan.”
“Sorry, there’s no Mr. Alan here.”
“Oh, you’re Mr. Alan, I’m quite sure.” The voice on the phone was strange, with an almost inhuman, braying quality.
“Look buddy, there ain’t no Mr. Alan here. My first name’s Alan, but....”
“I know your name,” the voice snapped back. “I know all about you, Mr. Alan. I know everything you’ve done. Bamboo Harvester, Mr. Alan. Did you think you’d just walk away from something like that?”
“Jesus! It’s you, Mouse, isn’t it? Well, guess what, I ain’t laughing, and you won’t be either when I’m done kicking…”
“I am not Mr. Roger, but I know all about him, too,” the voice cut in.
“Well then who are you?” I yelled, my body shaking.
“Patience, Mr. Alan. You don’t need to know that yet. I promise you, though: you will know me…before you die.” He hung up, leaving me sitting in a pool of sweat.
***
After that early-morning wake-up call, I paced around the old farmhouse for a long time. I racked my brain over the caller’s identity, but got nowhere. Nobody knows about Bamboo Harvester, just Mouse and me, I thought. So who the hell did Mouse tell?
I called over to Mouse’s place. He’d still be asleep, but screw him, I had to know. To my surprise, the phone was answered right away. “Hello?” It was Mouse’s dad, but his voice was thick, sick-sounding.
“Mr. Addison? It’s Alan Young. Is Mou- uh, Roger there?”
“Oh, Alan. Listen, there’s been– well, something’s happened. Roger’s dead.”
“Oh my God, what happened?!”
“He…listen, I’m sorry, I can’t.” His voice was gruff – he was breaking down. “Will knows, talk to him.”
“Yeah, okay. God, I’m…,” but he’d hung up.
I was shaking again as I called my Uncle Will, a local police detective.
“Will, it’s Alan. What the hell happened to Mouse?”
“Alan! Jesus, how do you know already?”
I told him about my caller. I didn’t finish before he was shouting, “Stay right there! I’m coming over.”
***
Will paced from window to window, looking out as if expecting an invading army. “Does the name Edward Shore mean anything to you?”
“No,” I said. “Should it?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Anyway, three murders in the last 2 months. Real freak-show stuff, too. Mouse was last night.
“First victim: Ray Phillips, used to run the glue factory outside town, you know it?”
“Yeah,” I said. “They closed, some scandal.”
Will nodded. “Yup, the horses they were boiling weren’t always dead first. Second victim: Joss Parker, local farmer. They found his body, and then they found his horses. He'd kept them locked in the stable, starved half to death, hip-deep in their own shit.
“So now Mouse. And you. What awful things have you done to horses?”
Bamboo Harvester. “Nothing!” I snapped, too loudly. “I mean, you know dad loved his horses, and I sold them after…”
“Yeah, I know – sorry, man.”
“’It’s okay. What did you mean, ‘freak-show stuff’?”
“Every time, same MO,” Will said. “The head’s bashed in by some blunt instrument, big mess, totally unrecognizable.” He looked at me. “God, Alan, there was nothing left that you’d know was Mouse.
“Two really weird things, though. Every time, there’s a hat. Big, floppy straw hat with a real wide brim. A name written inside: Edward Shore. Like he wants us to know. And the hat’s ripped: two holes on the top, on opposite sides. Always the same.”
Will moved to the next window. “We’re putting you under police protection, starting tonight. We’ll take care of you.”
I was curious. “You said two weird things…”
Will turned toward me. “Oh yeah. The feet…Jesus, I’ve never –“
CRASH! The window shattered as a huge object flew through it, a saddle. Glass shards flew at Will, cutting into him. He fell to the ground, already bleeding heavily, fumbling for his gun. And then the girls came, leaping into the room, six of them, barely teenagers. All dressed in riding garb: jackets, boots, chaps, jodhpurs. They began whipping Will with rider’s crops. He passed out, but the beating only stopped when a voice said, “Enough.”
I looked around, but saw nobody. The voice came from outside the window. The voice from the phone.
He spoke again: “Leave him. Get the other.”
The girls turned as one to face me. I tried to run, to fight, but they were too many, too fast, too skilled with the whips. They beat me mercilessly, and as consciousness slipped away, I heard the voice one more time: “Bring him.”
***
I woke up, hours later, on the floor of the stable, arms tied behind me. My clothes were ripped and bloody from the crops’ attentions. My feet were bare. The girls were there: one of them reached into a bag and pulled out metal objects I didn’t recognize.
“Girls love horses, Mr. Alan,” said Edward Shore. “I told these girls some of the things that people do to horses. They agreed to help me avenge our equine friends. They do things for me that I cannot.
“Tell them what you did, Mr. Alan. Tell them about Bamboo Harvester.”
I looked for him, but he was just outside the stable door: all I could see was part of his hat, a big straw number. “Go to hell,” I said.
“Unfortunate. Proceed.”
Three girls held me down; another lifted my right leg. A fifth brought over the objects, and now I saw what they were. Horseshoes. Small ones, not sized for....
When she pressed the cold iron against my sole, I yelled out, “Holy shit no please God don’t!!” I was ignored. The sixth girl had the hammer and nails. I saw the hammer swing, and then pain exploded into me.
Five nails went in that shoe. With each hammer-stroke, my world nearly went black. I felt the nails rip through flesh, tear into muscle, ligament, tendon. After an eternity of pain, she tugged on the shoe, made sure it was tight. She backed away, satisfied.
“I won’t ask again, Mr. Alan. Tell your story.”
And I did.
***
“Hey, Alan, check out my new toy!”
Mouse found me in the stable. I was cleaning the stalls: my father was out of town, so the horses were my responsibility. “What the hell is that?” I asked.
“It’s a crossbow. A real one. Pretty cool, huh? My brother sent it to me. Let me show you.” He put in a bolt, cocked the bow, pointed at a pile of hay bales, and fired. The bolt shot through three bales and buried itself in the far wall.
“Holy crap, that’s powerful!” I exclaimed.
“Damn straight. Here, you try it.” He prepared another arrow, and handed me the bow.
I pointed at the same bale. Just as I was about to fire, one of the horses neighed, really loud. It was Bamboo Harvester.
I hated that horse. I hated him because my father loved him – loved him much more than me. He’d spend hours brushing that Palomino, but the only attention I ever got from him came when he was drunk and looking for something to hit.
In a flash, I changed my aim and fired. Right into – and through – Bamboo Harvester’s neck. Blood spurted in a long crimson arc, splattering over everything (including me) as the horse thrashed and screamed for a good 5 minutes before he died.
Mouse ran straight home. We never spoke of the incident. Only we and the three other horses ever knew.
I made up some story about horse thieves for my father. I don’t know if he believed me – he didn’t say. Three days later, he put a bullet through his own neck.
***
When I finished, Edward Shore said, “So, ladies. Does he deserve forgiveness?” They shouted “No!” in unison and prepared the second horseshoe.
“A shame,” he replied. “But who am I to argue?”
As the last nail struck bone and the second shoe was secured, the voice cut through my screams. “Do you know who I am now, Mr. Alan?” he said.
He spoke again when my cries faded to sobs. “Call me by the right name, you worthless piece of manure, and perhaps I’ll spare your life.”
“Ed……Shore,” I spat out, knowing I was failing his test.
He laughed then, a strange whinnying laugh, and clopped into the room. When I saw him, I gasped, this time from shock instead of pain. Suddenly it all became clear. How he knew about Bamboo Harvester. The hats: they weren’t torn, they were made that way, to make them fit. And the name, that stupid simplistic anagram of a name.
He laughed again, standing over me now, seeing the recognition on my face. He lowered his head, shook it, letting the hat slip over his ears and fall to the ground next to me. And as he raised one mighty hoof and took careful aim at my head, he told me what I already knew.
“They call me Mister Ed.”
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
 |
|
 |
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
ethereal_fauna
Perpetually Distracted
Joined: 16 Feb 2005
Topics: 58
Posts: 2567
Location: USA
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Fri Jun 03, 2005 7:01 pm Post subject: |
|
|
That was creepy. Even before we got to the part with the talking horse.
Man, I had hope when it looked like just Tobias and me- maybe a fighting chance since there were only two. But now D-Lotus and Powers had to jump on the bandwagon, and that just blows my odds of taking the belt this month.
At least there's a lot of great reading from this.
_________________
The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild, creative delight. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
D-Lotus
Venerable IFian
Joined: 21 Oct 2004
Topics: 103
Posts: 4123
Location: Hollywood, USA
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Fri Jun 03, 2005 7:24 pm Post subject: |
|
|
wow...I've sure been outclassed...seems my ten-minute story has just began torn apart...and I'm afraid yours too, fauna...
_________________
 Chapter 5: The Rendezvous 
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
ethereal_fauna
Perpetually Distracted
Joined: 16 Feb 2005
Topics: 58
Posts: 2567
Location: USA
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Fri Jun 03, 2005 7:26 pm Post subject: |
|
|
| D-Lotus wrote: | | ...and I'm afraid yours too, fauna... |
Hey, speak for yourself. I still stand behind my story, even if all you other punks, errrr...I mean authors, have submitted good stories as well. 
_________________
The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild, creative delight. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
The Powers That Be
Respected Citizen
Joined: 19 May 2005
Topics: 16
Posts: 545
Location: Santa Monica, CA
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Fri Jun 03, 2005 8:32 pm Post subject: |
|
|
Thanks for the kind words, D and fauna. I liked both of your stories very much (and Tobias', for that matter, although I liked the old ending better than the new). Looks like a tough competition!
I just realized that I forgot to put in the title of my story. Here it is:
"I Neigh What You Did Last Summer"
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
ethereal_fauna
Perpetually Distracted
Joined: 16 Feb 2005
Topics: 58
Posts: 2567
Location: USA
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Fri Jun 03, 2005 8:34 pm Post subject: |
|
|
Powers, that title is just wrong on so many levels...
_________________
The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild, creative delight. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
Smee
Revered IFian
Joined: 16 Oct 2004
Topics: 166
Posts: 5215
Location: UK
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Sat Jun 04, 2005 4:01 am Post subject: |
|
|
Very good D - quick and to the point, with quite a good twist at the end. 
Powers, I'm reading your next.
_________________
The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic Herd!
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
D-Lotus
Venerable IFian
Joined: 21 Oct 2004
Topics: 103
Posts: 4123
Location: Hollywood, USA
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Sat Jun 04, 2005 8:36 am Post subject: |
|
|
Thanks Smee, I tried my ten minute hardest!
However, I believe that my story did not achieve what powers did. Man, that's creepy....
_________________
Chapter 5: The Rendezvous
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
Random
Guest
Items
|
| Posted: Tue Jun 21, 2005 6:26 am Post subject: |
|
|
Ok I 'm now gathering the information and will have a poll up shortly. I need to devote some time to my home away from home here
Thanks for playing and good luck to you all!
****************************************
Great submissions all around! Here are a few editing notes for ya and individual critiques.
tobias - A really interesting submission. The release of an ancient spirit, the innocent worker who releases him, and the greedy Baron who sets it all up. Classic story elements told in the quick fashion of the short story setting.
I feel it would have been better if you had left out Gerald watching Jonathan dig or moved it to later in the story. It gave away the release of the spectre. That said the one major component your story is missing is explanation. Who is the spectre? What is the significance of releasing him? Why should I be frightened?
The second major component is character development. I realize it's a short story and character development can be difficult, but that is the challenge of writing short stories. I felt nothing for any of the characters in your story. They were simple character going through simple motions.
A few technical things:
He dug around it, excavating to the sides - you pretty much repeat yourself here. Excavating and digging around something are pretty much the same thing. Something along the lines of "Excavating to the sides, Jonathan noticed the rock seemed moldy, with grey wisps of what looked like hair clinging to the top" would have flowed together easier.
A redness illuminated the black fog - I think this sentence sits funny because of the verbiage. Black is black, if it is illuminated, it is no longer black. Adding color to black turns it grey or some other color. I liked the fact that you tried to get descriptive and I applaud your use of imagery. But instead perhaps something along the lines of "A queer red light pulsed inside the dark fog as if the fires of hell themselves were being kept behind a thin smoky curtain."
He must have been under a magical glamour of some sort - Suddenly you have brought magic into the story. I would suggest mentioning this earlier, perhpas it is one of the fearful things about Rojer and why no one would ever cross him. Otherwise it sounds like an excuse to explain away something the author isn't really sure of either.
Watch your use of comma's and where to replace a comma with a semi-colon.
Take these for what they are. One persons opinion and suggestions. You had a great entry!
*********************************************
ethereal_fauna - Great submission! In my humble opinion, the strongest in the bunch. Solid flow, great story line, driven by an excellent plot, and topped off with nicely with a plausible ending. I loved the fact that the bobcat died as did the hunter. Wonderful job as usual
***********************************************
D-Lotus - I have to give this one the most original entry award. I liked the abstract view of horror you took for this challenge. It may have been quickly written but you almost seemed to ask the question, what is horror? You touched a nerve with me and that does not happen real often with horror stories. The callousness of the doctors, and the use of nonsensical dialogue, while at first confusing, made the story whole when I got to the end. Nicely done! Although at 561 words it's really short.
Couple of technical things:
decipher, murderer, and condemned were misspelled.
Nice one D!
*********************************************
Powers that be- Your story read more like a playing a video game than actually reading a story. This implies excellent use of imagery and burrowing into subconscious concepts that allow me to open my mind a bit. However, it also reads like I am supposed to just know and accept what I am being told. There is absolutely nothing wrong with this. You could capture the attention of a particular niche of readers with this kind of quick flow.
I would suggest reworking dialogue. The verbiage used through out the dialogue seemed odd and pointless at times. A cop saying things like "Two really weird things" and divulging so much information about an apperant on going case just didn't fit in with the over all feel of the story. I think this one might have been better off without the cop ever arriving at the house. Alan hangs up the phone with the cop and the saddle crashes through the window. The cop was a fodder character used for no other reason than to try to leave tips and clues on what was going to happen. For your story, forshadowing actually weakens it. The fear becomes tangible then, with us facing the unknown.
Technical notes:
Watch your use of comma's and semi-colons. Also watch out for sentence fragments, I understand they are a useful tool but if you go overboard it looks sloppy and makes the flow really choppy.
***********************************************
All in all take everything for exactly what it is, the opinions of one person who had only one job this time. Look for all these little things an editor would look for. Everyone should be comended for their work! This will be a tough choice this month! Good luck to you all!
Poll up shortly...
Last edited by Random on Tue Jun 21, 2005 8:08 am; edited 1 time in total
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
Muaddib
Comrade
Joined: 31 Dec 2004
Topics: 30
Posts: 1765
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Tue Jun 21, 2005 7:41 am Post subject: |
|
|
They dragged the man out of the hall. "The hat, the crossbow and the horse....the hat, the crossbow and the horse....the hat the horse and the crossbow...the h-hat...".
The Inspector looked at the man shaking his head. It was the second case in a row. The symptoms were the same. Both victims had gone deathly pale, their eyes were rolled up inside their lids, and both men had shivered as if suffering from hypothermia.
The inspector walked over to his partner. "The hat, the crossbow, and the horse? What do you suppose that means?"
"Dunno," replied his partner frowning," but we found this felllow's friends, you know the guys who found him and called us anonymously."
"Lead on,"replied the inspector.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
The two boys were dressed in parkas and wore sunglasses. Their spiky hair and innumerable chains, made the inspector's blood boil.
"What have you found so far?" the inspector asked the interrogator.
"Nothing....they're giving us a tough time."
The inspector nodded. He slipped inside the holding room and sat down in front of the two boys.
"Your friend is lying in a hospital bed, shivering and possibly mentally insane. And I know you know why he's lying there. So be good lads and speak up."
The first boy shook his head," Don't know nuthin."
The inspector inclined his head. "Oh really, then how do you explain the fact that you knew exactly where to find him even though the door to the hall was locked and no one else heard him. Were you that close to him, that you kept a tab on his whereabouts?"
The boy stared back adamantly and then slowly lifted his hand to the table and showed the inspector the finger. "I want my phone call," he said.
The inspector was up in a jiffy. He swept away the desk in front of him, strode over to the boys and picked them up, by the scruff of their necks.
"You think this is a movie?" he growled," a boy, is lying half dead and you dare to give me attitude? Tell me everything now before I smash your heads in!"
Half an hour later the inspector and his partner were standing outside the hall.
"You sure you wanna do this?" the partner asked in a worried voice.
"Yeah, I wanna know what those stupid kids find so daredevillish in sitting in a room for a night. Ill see you in the morning."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He had been sitting in the room for an hour. The only thing to do was to stare at the hat, the crossbow and the stuffed horse. He had lost track of time.
The crossbow, the hat and the horse, the crossbow the hat and the horse, the crossbow, the hat and the horse....
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They were leering at him! The three of them were leering at him!
The crossbow, the hat and the horse, the crossbow, the hat and the horse, the crossbow, the hat and the horse....
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They dragged the inspector out in the morning. He kept repeating the same thing," The crossbow,the hat and the horse..."
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
Random
Guest
Items
|
| Posted: Tue Jun 21, 2005 8:17 am Post subject: |
|
|
| Sorry Muaddib, I believe the cut off date was June 4th. If no one else has a problem with it, I can still add you into the run though.
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
The Powers That Be
Respected Citizen
Joined: 19 May 2005
Topics: 16
Posts: 545
Location: Santa Monica, CA
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Tue Jun 21, 2005 8:44 am Post subject: |
|
|
| Random wrote: | | Sorry Muaddib, I believe the cut off date was June 4th. If no one else has a problem with it, I can still add you into the run though. |
It's fine with me, add him.
_________________
Abduction! is in the Stasis Hall, but read it anyway!
Got a problem? Write to Dear Dotty!
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
Fauna
Guest
Items
|
| Posted: Tue Jun 21, 2005 9:24 am Post subject: |
|
|
| Fine by me. The more the merrier, and he's a good writer with an excellent submission.
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
ethereal_fauna
Perpetually Distracted
Joined: 16 Feb 2005
Topics: 58
Posts: 2567
Location: USA
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Sun Jun 26, 2005 1:21 am Post subject: |
|
|
Time for July's competition:
You will have about 3 weeks to write a short story, edit it, and post it for consideration.
Proof readers will take your story, break it down, make sure it fits the word limit, grammar, spelling, plot, character development, etc. are all present and correct.
You can make changes to your story all the way up to the final posting date. After that, the stories that have not passed the critique will be disqualified. Those that are left will be put up for a vote for anyone to vote on.
If you win, you get to brag for a whole month.
This will be run like a professional writing contest. Your story will be edited, picked apart, and thoroughly looked at. If you exceed more than ten spelling or grammar errors, your story will be given back to you to rewrite. So check your work.
If your work goes over the word limit it will be given back to shorten. If it remains the same length it will be disqualified.
If your story does not follow the topic and genre, it will be given back to you to rewrite.
Things that must be right vs. artistic freedom- There are things like plot, and flow that might be your intent. That is totally cool. A proof reader might suggest that you pick up the pace or add more detail here and there. That is your choice to do or not. If you feel the story can stand on its own without change that is fine. Spelling, grammar, genre, word count, etc. are expected to be correct, no exceptions.
If you are proofreading- Look for spelling and grammar mistakes first. Word count comes next. Then answer the following questions for the story.
Did it stay within the genre?
Did it follow the topic?
Did it have a beginning, middle, and an end?
After you have done this feel free to comment on the story as you see fit. Bear in mind that anything beyond what is listed above is pretty much considered opinion. This can be taken or left by the author.
The genre and topic for this month:
1300 words, Visionary Fiction (visionary fiction overlaps many genres, and may include elements of fantasy, scifi, or other themes. This should allow for more artistic freedom from varied writers. The defining aspect of visionary fiction entails spirituality. It is not religion specific, and often addresses Christianity, paganism, and/or occultism, among other things.)
Topic: Shelby Hawkins undergoes a life-altering experience, and determines to share this encounter with both friends and strangers.
Good luck, and be creative!
_________________
The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild, creative delight. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
Emrys
Guest
Items
|
| Posted: Thu Jun 30, 2005 9:09 pm Post subject: |
|
|
| as much as this lineat stories thing intrigues me, i've no artistic talent, (especially not with stories that make sense)
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
Fauna
Guest
Items
|
| Posted: Fri Jul 01, 2005 5:19 am Post subject: |
|
|
| Emrys wrote: | | as much as this lineat stories thing intrigues me, i've no artistic talent, (especially not with stories that make sense) |
Read a few of the other stories around here...who said they all have to make sense? :o
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
saxon215
Guest
Items
|
| Posted: Fri Jul 01, 2005 6:08 am Post subject: |
|
|
hmm i may participate in suhc activities as this in the future
i wonder wether key can keep a tab on our acount of how many times we have won
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
Muaddib
Comrade
Joined: 31 Dec 2004
Topics: 30
Posts: 1765
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Fri Jul 01, 2005 6:35 am Post subject: |
|
|
| Although Im still vague about visionary fiction, you mentioned occultism, so Im happy. Ive got a vast knowledge on that subject from all around the world.
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
Key
King
Joined: 08 Feb 2004
Topics: 207
Posts: 2652
Location: The Royal Palace
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Fri Jul 01, 2005 8:05 am Post subject: |
|
|
| saxon215 wrote: | hmm i may participate in suhc activities as this in the future
i wonder wether key can keep a tab on our acount of how many times we have won |
Check out the Honor Roll: it's there...
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
Smee
Revered IFian
Joined: 16 Oct 2004
Topics: 166
Posts: 5215
Location: UK
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Fri Jul 01, 2005 4:55 pm Post subject: |
|
|
This competition now carries some weight
_________________
The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic Herd!
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
saxon215
Guest
Items
|
| Posted: Sat Jul 02, 2005 1:43 am Post subject: |
|
|
| wow i didnt know we had one of those, an im in there like twice, WOOHOOO
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
Random
Guest
Items
|
| Posted: Tue Jul 05, 2005 11:30 am Post subject: |
|
|
Here is my entry for this month's contest. I haven't had a chance to really fine tune the editing so any help would be very appreciated.
A Cup of Coffee and the Color Yellow
“9am- Meeting with Daryl Van derKamp on the new IT solutions project.
10:30am- Reschedule lay off meeting to 1pm. Conference call with Singapore.
11:15am- Run reports, and final figures for Terry.
11:30am- Review reports for Helsin deal.
12pm- Lunch with Jules and Gary. Reschedule, need to get figures to courthouse.
1pm- ….”
On and on it went. The date book reciting to Shelby what her life would be centered on today. Shelby was successful, something her father had wanted for her, but she couldn’t help but feel as if she were a disappointment. She was single, not even dating, and her parents had long ago stopped bugging her about grandchildren. Shelby was wealthy for a single woman, and at the top of her game in the corporate world. She had power, a nice house, a fast shiny car, and her stocks were going through the roof.
Shelby hated her life.
None of this was what she had wanted when she got out of college. She had wanted to become a painter. That was her dream, her fantasy, and her ambition that kept her facing each dreadful day. She had money, power, and was pretty enough for her choice of men. But there was hollowness inside Shelby that she could not ignore; a hole that had appeared at some point in time, although she had never looked deeply enough to find out when that had happened.
Her phone rang, for perhaps the twentieth time that morning, and Shelby sighed as she reached for it. “Ms. Hawkins,” Shelby said into the phone. Silence answered her. “Hello?” Then it started, a faint whisper seemed to be heard, a chorus of them actually, as if a million people were trying to talk at the same time. Shelby didn’t know what to say as she sat at her desk bewildered by the noise. Gradually, the voices became understandable, if not sensible. Suddenly one of the voices, a genderless and vibrant voice got through, almost singing to her, “It is not yet to be.”
The voices went dead, and Shelby was left staring at the phone. She replaced the phone on its hook and as she brought her hand up to her chin, she tipped over a cup of coffee sitting on her desk edge. The cup rolled under her desk and Shelby threw her hands to the sky and wondered if it was going to be that kind of day. Shelby had to get on her hands and knees to get the cup under her desk when a thought occurred to her. Shelby had never had a cup of coffee in her life.
As suddenly as thought, Shelby’s world became one of a single loud roar, then darkness.
It was sea of bliss for Shelby. Swimming in the waters of this place, Shelby had no phone ringing incessantly, no managers badgering her to work longer, no lay offs to hand out. It was floating sensation, as if she were simply riding the currents of a gentle sea. It’s waves caressing her and pushing her towards…. Nowhere.
Shelby could neither see nor hear anything, but she knew she was screaming as her body jerked in a fit of uncontrollable spasms. The darkness dulled, and Shelby felt hands on her. She no longer floating peacefully, but bouncing now, in the rough choppy waters that had suddenly stormed against her. The grayness of the place lightened a little more, and suddenly there were other sensations. The smell of air, the taste of smoke, and pain in her head and stomach.
Shelby opened her eyes to Hell. Flames licked at a place she thought should be familiar but she couldn’t place the object sticking through the gap in what she thought was wall. She looked up and found herself being carried towards the sunlight. She realized she was draping over the back of someone, a fireman by the looks of the helmet. They crashed into the outside world with a groan from Shelby as the sunlight assaulted her eyes, making the pain in her head bang a steady rhythm against her skull.
More gently than Shelby would have thought possible, she was placed on a soft mattress, and once again hauled away. A sharp sting erupted in her arm, and Shelby fell away from the world again, this time into an unmoving black sea of emptiness.
Time meant nothing here. Every so often the darkness would grow gray but it never lasted long. Images flashed through her mind, but two remained constant, a cup of coffee she had never drank, and a phone with voices she could barely recall. It didn’t add up for her mind, and for Shelby the loss of time was as tragic as the loss of one of her limbs. Time was everything, it was money, it was a testament to all she had worked for, and a road to take her back to her childhood.
But in this place, time did not pass. Her finger moved. Shelby raised what would have been a hand to her eyes, and slowly it formed before her. Shelby realized that this was her place. A cup of coffee, a distant voice, a dream unfulfilled. Shelby raised her other hand and it too materialized at her memories. Shelby wasn’t sure if she could smile at the new revelations, but she tried. A line of yellow blurred between her hands. Her favorite color was yellow. Her color of happiness had always been Yellow.
With a fling, she sent the yellow blur out, turning the blackness into a sheet of yellow canvas. She laughed, and she knew she had laughed for she felt it. In her world, she painted a masterpiece. Greens, reds, blues, cardinals flew in a soft blue background, a single lazy cloud drifted far in the background, and the crystal blue waters reflected serenity in all its imperfections. With but a swipe of her hand the picture was gone and Shelby began anew.
Shelby blinked as she opened her eyes again. Tubes were protruding from her in an orderly chaos, running to a machine that blipped with every beat of her heart. A woman leaned over her, a large smile on her face, and a look of sheer joy in her eyes.
“What happened,” was all Shelby could ask.
“You were in a coma dear,” the lady responded, gently pushing a button on the wall. “Most thought you were too far gone for hope. But it is not yet to be.”
Shelby looked at the woman, something so very familiar. She scraped at the walls of her memories for any clues but was soon overwhelmed by doctors and nurses rushing around her.
Shelby learned she had been in a coma for three years. An ex-employee had rammed a car full of dynamite into the front of her office, killing several, and injuring hundreds. It was a miracle she had survived, but they had found her under her desk, safely shielded from the toppling roof and flames.
Her parents had been happy for her, but it wasn’t long before her father asked her when she planned on going back to work. Shelby sat in her new house, a smaller place but one with a lakeside view, and pondered that very thing. She laughed aloud at the trap she was setting for herself and turned back to her easel. Shelby was not good with words, she couldn’t explain to her father or anyone else what had happened. So she picked up a brush and laid her first stroke to the empty canvas.
A large slash of yellow.
Last edited by Random on Tue Jul 26, 2005 10:41 am; edited 3 times in total
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
ethereal_fauna
Perpetually Distracted
Joined: 16 Feb 2005
Topics: 58
Posts: 2567
Location: USA
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Tue Jul 05, 2005 1:27 pm Post subject: |
|
|
Wonderful entry, and great to have you back on-site more!
A couple of technicalities:
| Quote: | She no longer floating peacefully...
reflected serenity in all it’s imperfections...
laid her fist stroke to the empty canvas... |
_________________
The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild, creative delight. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
Random
Guest
Items
|
| Posted: Tue Jul 05, 2005 1:46 pm Post subject: |
|
|
Thanks ethereal! Great to be back more! The last couple of months have been busy with all the adjustments to the new job, looking at a new townhouse, etc. It's nice to find the time to come back here and get lost in the wonderful stories again.
Thanks for the pointers! Fixed em!
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
Muaddib
Comrade
Joined: 31 Dec 2004
Topics: 30
Posts: 1765
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Tue Jul 05, 2005 4:43 pm Post subject: |
|
|
| HA! Excellent entry. Reminds of this show on HBO...if I could just remember the name.
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
Key
King
Joined: 08 Feb 2004
Topics: 207
Posts: 2652
Location: The Royal Palace
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Wed Jul 06, 2005 9:53 pm Post subject: |
|
|
OK, I'll throw my hat in the ring. Here's my entry...
The Antenna
Good afternoon, sir. May I shake your hand and share the Word? No? Well, God bless you, sir.
Good afternoon, ma’am. May I shake your hand and share the Word? I understand. God bless you, ma’am. Thank you for your time.
Good afternoon, sir. May I shake your hand and share the Word? Thank you, thank you, I appreciate the chance to talk with you. Yes, of course, just until your train comes.
It’s nice to meet you, sir. My name is Shelby Hawkins, and I’m a servant of the Lord. The men and women dressed in white here are my brothers and sisters, helping me spread God’s Word among the people of this city.
Let me tell you how the Lord called me here, because it’s been a strange journey. Just a few months ago I was a hardened atheist; never in a thousand years would I have imagined myself preaching to strangers in the subway.
Professionally, I was at the top of my field. I had a tenured position at Columbia, an endowed chair, the respect of my peers and admiration of my students. But spiritually, my life was bankrupt. I didn’t love God or others; all I loved was my own comfort and security.
My field was neuropsychology. I studied how the structure of the brain related to behavior, particularly complex social behavior. My specialty was religious thought and behavior.
At that time, there were scales on my eyes, and I could see religion only scientifically, as a behavior to be explained, and one that would bring me fame if I could explain it. Though I didn’t say so openly, I even saw spirituality as a kind of disease. Irrational religious beliefs were responsible for so much destructive behavior, I thought. Oh, I had the usual list – the Inquisition, the Crusades, 9/11- and of course I conveniently ignored all the good that religion had brought. With my self-righteousness firmly in hand, I set out to find the cause of these “irrational” thoughts.
I began by isolating the area of the brain responsible for spiritual insight. I recruited religious visionaries as my test subjects. One was a former accountant who’d left his family to become a snake handler. Another was a Tibetan refugee tortured for refusing to denounce the Dalai Lama. A third took food and Bibles into regions too dangerous for any of the usual charities. They were of different religions, nationalities, and walks of life, but they had one thing in common: they’d all had an intense spiritual experience, and it had given them unshakable faith. As the Book says: your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams.
I sought them out, brought them to my lab, and put them under MRIs and EEGs. They laughed at what I was doing, but they came anyway. The hand of God must have been guiding them: though my experiments were totally wrong-headed, they must have somehow sensed that what was to happen would be for the greater glory of God.
And I made a discovery: an area of the frontal cortex, which I immodestly named “Hawkins’ Area,” was abnormally large and well developed in the visionaries compared to a group of matched controls. It had connections not only to the visual and auditory cortices, but also deep into the limbic system, the center of motivation and emotion. These people were not just seeing visions and dreaming dreams, they were replacing their biological motivations: the desire for food, for comfort, for sex, for love, all became redirected to what they saw and heard. Hawkins’ Area was like an antenna, receiving the Word of God and implanting it directly into the brain.
Of course, at the time I didn’t see it that way. I still thought of religion as an aberration, and I was excited that I had found a biological cause. But before I published, I wanted to go to the next step: to find out what made Hawkins’ Area active.
So I did more tests: blood samples, brain chemicals, non-invasive surgery. It must have been demeaning, but they bore it with good humor. And after a year of research, I finally found the breakthrough I was looking for: a virus in the brain chemistry of my religious subjects that activated growth in Hawkins’ Area. Under normal circumstances, it was rarely transferred, but it could potentially infect anyone by touch, leading to spiritual visions and extreme religiosity.
I was ecstatic. Not only would this discovery make me the most famous scientist in the world, but now that I’d identified and extracted the virus, we could treat it with vaccines or anti-virals. I imagined being hailed as a great healer for ridding the world of fundamentalism. And in my heart of hearts I secretly relished the thought of doing away with religion altogether, and restoring humanity to the cold, hard light of science.
I shudder now to think of the nightmare I almost wrought. But the Lord intervened, and led me to my salvation. The day that I finished the analysis, I accidentally got some of the virus on my hands. That night my own Hawkins’ Area was activated; God spoke to me, and changed my life.
In my mind I saw Him standing among the stars like a giant, garbed in white with a visage terrible to behold. I trembled and hid, hoping He wouldn’t see me: for the first time I knew myself as a sinner. But His ever-watchful eye found me, and the pain and fear grew as I felt His gaze. All of my sins were visible to Him: my petty hatreds, my greed and selfishness, my spiteful pride.
Then He spoke, and like a thousand thunderclaps His voice shattered the sky and shook me to my bones. “Shelby,” He said.
I was petrified; I could say nothing. Again His voice sounded, like the rushing of a hurricane: “Shelby.” Again I was too frightened to reply.
Then His great hand came over me, and I was lifted into His presence, as easily and gently as a father might lift a newborn babe. He spoke my name once more: “Shelby.”
This time I found the strength to answer. “Yes, Lord?” I said.
And the Lord said the words that I’ll remember for the rest of my life, the words that will always be my source of strength, my shelter from the storm. He said, “You are mine.” And He breathed upon me.
And with those words and that breath, my resistance melted, and I surrendered my soul to Him. My sins were forgiven, and joy flooded through me. For an instant that was an eternity, I rested in the palm of His hand.
Ever since that night He has been at my side, guiding me as I left the hollow life that I had created in my isolation and loneliness, and began a new life in His service. I destroyed my research, so that no one else could create the nightmare that I’d planned. I resigned from the University and started sharing my story and spreading the Word. Everywhere I go I ask people to join. Many do, as you can see.
So that’s how you’ve found me today. And now that I’ve shared my story with you, I’ll ask you to join us and share your story with others to help spread the Word. Will you do that?
Of course, you have a lot of demands on your time. Yes, I see, that’s your train. Well, goodbye to you too, sir, but I’m going to ask you to think it over. Sleep on it tonight; maybe you’ll change your mind. God bless you, sir. Until we meet again.
Good afternoon, sir. May I shake your hand…
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
Smee
Revered IFian
Joined: 16 Oct 2004
Topics: 166
Posts: 5215
Location: UK
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Thu Jul 07, 2005 1:45 am Post subject: |
|
|
Whoop, whoop Key's been tempted into the comp.
An excellent story as well, although not a virus I want to catch :wink:
Random - I loved yours as well, the ending was very good.
Right, have to get to work now- can't have that Key getting the belt 
Happy Writing.
_________________
The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic Herd!
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
ethereal_fauna
Perpetually Distracted
Joined: 16 Feb 2005
Topics: 58
Posts: 2567
Location: USA
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Thu Jul 07, 2005 2:49 am Post subject: |
|
|
Another whoop whoop!
(Oh no, not the dreaded whooping cough again)
_________________
The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild, creative delight. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
saxon215
Guest
Items
|
| Posted: Thu Jul 07, 2005 2:50 am Post subject: |
|
|
| i'd just like to raise a point the name of this topic is rather like rthe best linear story competition link, would it be okay if it were changed slightly, something like short linear stories contest?
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
ethereal_fauna
Perpetually Distracted
Joined: 16 Feb 2005
Topics: 58
Posts: 2567
Location: USA
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Thu Jul 07, 2005 3:06 am Post subject: |
|
|
I've advertised the best linear stories competition in my sig, but it seems like I'm the only one that has nominated a story so far. Does this mean Trenton's Demon automatically wins?
_________________
The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild, creative delight. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
saxon215
Guest
Items
|
| Posted: Thu Jul 07, 2005 5:33 am Post subject: |
|
|
| theres just not alot of puvblic interest, linear doesent seem to be a major part of this site and i think thats how its going to stay seeing as though the site is based mainly around storygaming, the only popular thread is this one
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
Random
Guest
Items
|
| Posted: Thu Jul 07, 2005 6:02 am Post subject: |
|
|
Great story Key! Double points for using the word religosity in a correct function as well!
saxon- It's your house my friend. What needs to happen? Would you rather the title of this get changed? This is different in the sense that the stories have to be new, it can't come from a work in progress already on the site. I have no problems renaming it.
Anyone have an idea for a new name for this competition? Maybe something along the lines of Short Story Contest? Or something more interesting like Carl?
Lets see what we can come up with!
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
saxon215
Guest
Items
|
| Posted: Thu Jul 07, 2005 6:24 am Post subject: |
|
|
| good thinking Random, i just didnt want to agravate people by changing the name to something they didnt recognise
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
ethereal_fauna
Perpetually Distracted
Joined: 16 Feb 2005
Topics: 58
Posts: 2567
Location: USA
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Thu Jul 07, 2005 6:40 am Post subject: |
|
|
Actually, since this contest is well established, and already listed in the Honors on our profiles, why not change the best linear story competition to something else?
We have the IFys, which are like the Oscars. How about a Tony award for the linear stories, in the city auditorium? It could be titled the Linear Author Recognition Domain, or the LARD awards 
Okay, maybe a better name, but the idea is still a good one.
_________________
The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild, creative delight. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
Muaddib
Comrade
Joined: 31 Dec 2004
Topics: 30
Posts: 1765
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Thu Jul 07, 2005 6:56 am Post subject: |
|
|
| Excellent Key, Excellent! No wonder you made this site, you've reinforced your reputation!
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
Smee
Revered IFian
Joined: 16 Oct 2004
Topics: 166
Posts: 5215
Location: UK
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Thu Jul 07, 2005 7:56 am Post subject: |
|
|
I don't understand what the problem with the name is Sax? 
It explains what it is, and people are just starting to find it. What's the conflict - this thread has been here for ages.
_________________
The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic Herd!
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
The Powers That Be
Respected Citizen
Joined: 19 May 2005
Topics: 16
Posts: 545
Location: Santa Monica, CA
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Thu Jul 07, 2005 8:15 am Post subject: |
|
|
On the thread name: I'm with Saxon. It's not that obvious from the current title how exactly this works.
Also, why is this all jammed into one thread? Why don't we start a new topic each month?
My proposal is that every month, a new topic gets started that's called "August Short Story Contest" or something like that.
On the stories so far: excellent entries. Key, yours is very similar in some ways to the idea I've been kicking around for mine. Except yours is much better. You bastard. Ok, back to the drawing board.
_________________
Abduction! is in the Stasis Hall, but read it anyway!
Got a problem? Write to Dear Dotty!
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
Smee
Revered IFian
Joined: 16 Oct 2004
Topics: 166
Posts: 5215
Location: UK
Items
Legends
Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Thu Jul 07, 2005 12:18 pm Post subject: |
|
|
Ah - I see - that is a good idea. 
_________________
The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic Herd!
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
saxon215
Guest
Items
|
| Posted: Thu Jul 07, 2005 11:39 pm Post subject: |
|
|
ah thanks guys thats a good idea, i like that name fauna, i thinkj ill go with that
and if it takes of we can put it in the honnor role
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
You cannot post new topics in this forum
You cannot reply to topics in this forum
You cannot edit your posts in this forum
You cannot delete your posts in this forum
You cannot vote in polls in this forum
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
