Short Story Contest 3

Discussion in 'The Writer's Corner' started by Ninva, May 16, 2009.

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  1. Nigerianrulz

    Nigerianrulz suga suga how'd you get so fly?

    Ratings:
    +197 / 0 / -0
    Just wondering i have this short story which was composed for a school assessment and its limited to 750 words, can i still submit that o_O.
     
  2. Genkora

    Genkora Frog blast the vent core!

    Ratings:
    +91 / 0 / -0
    it says in the rules you have to write something specifically for this. So I guess that would rule out a paper you did for school. Plus it has to be at least 1000 words.
     
  3. Genkora

    Genkora Frog blast the vent core!

    Ratings:
    +91 / 0 / -0
    Oh come on guys, I can't be the only entrant. You better submit something or I will be sad :(
     
  4. thewrongvine

    thewrongvine The Evolved Panda Commandant Staff Member

    Ratings:
    +505 / 1 / -0
    I told Geoff to join, :) so maybe...
    I'll try!

    ~Hai-Bye-Vine~
     
  5. Ninva

    Ninva Анна Ахматова

    Ratings:
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    But you kept talking about your story for awhile. You have to have something. :p
     
  6. Syndrome

    Syndrome You can change this now in User CP.

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    +127 / 0 / -0
    5k words isn't enough for a mystery to be fully laid out o_o.
    i guess ill go with murder then xP

    btw Ninva, what anime is that from? its bothering me for some reason, is it from Shugo?
     
  7. Ninva

    Ninva Анна Ахматова

    Ratings:
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    No, it's an old anime. Azumanga Dioh. I planned on using Osaka as my avatar forever, so I guess I'll try using her again. I don't know how long she'll be my avatar.
     
  8. Dakho

    Dakho ()[o__o]()

    Ratings:
    +74 / 0 / -0
    Here is my submission. Pardon the stupid name, I'm terrible at coming up with titles.

    "Crimson Night"

    I can feel it in my chest. The thumping. Heavy. Fast. What if he can hear it? I smiled at the thought. I must be going crazy. I inched closer. Beads of sweat rolled down my brow; they felt like little bugs. I quickly wiped them away. I got closer. My hand reached for the handle, quivering. It always happens. The shaking, it always happens! I wish it didn’t. Maybe it’s my body telling me not to, but… no. I’m supposed to do this. I need to do this. I’m close enough. My shaking hand steadies. I pull on the handle, to reveal the gleaming blade. I heard a man earlier today saying guns were the way of the future; I disagree. Where’s the mess, where’s the intimacy? Sad, really. But never mind that. I draw closer. I can feel his breath on my stomach as I loom over him. My favorite moment. I embrace it; the power, the adrenaline, the fear. I pull the blade back over my head. But I do not strike yet. I look at him. He must be thirty. Very tall. He hardly snores; a respectable attribute. I’ll remember that. He has a diary lying on his nightstand. Just a peek? Oh, shame on me! I should remember to respect the privacy of others. Just like father said. I’m losing my focus. Get back on track. I raise the knife higher; over my head now. Then, just as I began the downward thrust, I hear him mutter, I’m going to be a father… And his lips curved into a smile, all the while he was fast asleep. A father? No. That can’t be. I let down the blade. I need to think now. His family might need him. Right? I couldn’t just do that to a family. I have a father. How would I feel if someone killed him? But then it struck me: I would feel good. Free. I could taste it.. I hate him. But, I don’t know why. He is a good man, he only strikes me when it is warranted and is loyal and kind to my mother. But I hate him. I wish I knew why. I envisioned my father now, laying on that bed, instead of the man there. It brought me anger. I looked down into his eyes. Father, why are you so good? Why couldn’t you be like me? I don’t know why, but I start crying. Silently, mind you. I feel the tears mingle with sweat, and I just want to scream. But I can’t. That would wake him, and he is so very tired. He must have to wake up very early usually. But not today. I’m going to help him. I’m going to let him get a few extra hours of sleep. I feel nice. I smile. I raise the blade again. This time I have no doubts. I know what I’m doing. The blade plunges down. Right into the neck. I never did that before; I hear it bleeds a lot there. I heard right! The shining red spurts out; some of it goes on my shirt. Oh great, now I have to get rid of it. I really did like this shirt. Oh well. His eyes open. He can’t speak. I mean, obviously. He has a stab wound in his neck. But I see his eyes; his sad eyes. He must be so tired! I’ll help you sleep. I stab him again. This time in the torso. Three more times. That’s enough for me. I look around for a cloth. Can’t leave my knife so messy. I’ll just use his sheets. As I sheathe my weapon, I let out a sigh of satisfaction. I leave. Time to get rid of this shirt, and hide my knife.

    Samuel Wilkins had been a police officer of Witherton for almost a year now. It was easy work; breaking up bar fights, arresting horse thieves… simple stuff. He had never seen something like this. Just as he stepped into the bedroom, he felt nausea settle in. He grasped his stomach, feeling his insides twirl about. Turning away from his fellow officers, he stumbled forward and vomited. He didn’t need to look in a mirror to know he was blushing now. He straightened up, and as professionally as he could, turned to his superior officers and said, “My apologies. Now, what do we think happened here?” William Smith, the man he addressed, showed a faint smile before speaking: “Well it’s most clearly a murderer. Several stabs with a small blade, it looks like.” Wilkins nodded. He was feeling a bit better now, except for his sense of smell. It was wholly invaded by the odor of the corpse. The young officer tried not to show it. The two other officers with him were now examining the body more carefully. Wilkins took note as Smith described the victim. “The victim appears to be in his early twenties. Average-sized. Short brown hair, common clothing. Two stabs in the chest, two in the stomach, one in the throat. There’s blood smeared on the sheets. Grisly, indeed.” The other man, Daniel Hearst, noted, “Well sir, my thinking that this must be a… A crime o’ passion. Yeah?”
    “Possible, but not probable. The man’s diary is resting just inches away. If it was a crime of passion, I very much think that the murder wouldn’t dare pass up a chance to look at his victim’s innermost thoughts.”
    This time it was Wilkins who spoke. “Or her.”
    “Yes, I suppose it could be a woman as well.” Smith enjoyed having Wilkins with him. He seemed so very moral and polite; like a well-raised child all grown up.
    Daniel then spoke, “Samuel, why don’t you take a quick gander around the house. Maybe we’ll find ourselves a murder weapon! Yeah?” Wilkins nodded and swiftly left. He was glad to be rid of that foul room. He started in the bushes; they were arranged nicely. The wife must have been quite the gardener. The wife. Wilkins could only imagine her right now, the poor soul. Her beloved taken away by a madman. The young officer felt a wetness in his eyes then; he couldn’t help it. Wilkins quickly wiped his eyes, and resumed his search. As he rustled around in the bushes, he heard a voice. “Excuse me sir? Excuse me?” The policeman looked up, to see a young boy standing there on the pathway. Wilkins trudged out of the bushes and addressed the boy, “Yes, my boy, is there something I can help you with?”
    “Well, sir, I saw you and some other police go in there. What’s going on?” The boy looked up at Wilkins wide-eyed, like a puppy. The boy reminded Wilkins of his nephew, who was just six years old. Though, this boy must have been much older; perhaps twice that age. “I’m afraid to say that a poor innocent man has been murdered.” Just as Wilkins said it, his eyes widened. What an idiot! He just told a little boy that someone was murdered! He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, much less a little kid not even into his teen years. But the boy didn’t say anything. He just smiled and nodded, and then walked away. Wilkins then turned away as well, a slight frown on the face. He couldn’t help but feel chilled after his encounter with the boy.
     
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  9. thewrongvine

    thewrongvine The Evolved Panda Commandant Staff Member

    Ratings:
    +505 / 1 / -0
    :O I like it. It's a lot of intensity for that few 10 seconds, :D I think the killing part with the blood could've been stretched out a bit more. Like you have 3/4 of a paragraph just showing 5 seconds of thought, then it suddenly switches to quickly two sentences for the murdering part.
    So it was a little boy, eh? Crazy kids these days...
    Awesome story, reminds me a bit of Poe! :thup:

    @Ninva, yeah, that first story of mine that I started... I scrapped it because it was too hard to make a mystery that short, ^^. So I'll try to make a muder story if I can, I already have an idea.
    @Geoff, you should join! Now! :)

    ~Hai-Bye-Vine~
     
  10. Ninva

    Ninva Анна Ахматова

    Ratings:
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    You guys are full of excuses. :rolleyes:
     
  11. Miz

    Miz Administrator

    Ratings:
    +430 / 0 / -0
    Excuses and being a Writer go hand and hand, Ninva, I thought you knew that.
    and then there was 2 (contestants), So we actually have a competition now.

    Other people enter in, or you don't get to win the grand prize: A large pot of rep, and possibly an article of my clothing.
     
  12. Syndrome

    Syndrome You can change this now in User CP.

    Ratings:
    +127 / 0 / -0
    Just because of that.... >D
     
  13. Dakho

    Dakho ()[o__o]()

    Ratings:
    +74 / 0 / -0
    Well you can't trust such a person's though process to be logical.
     
  14. thewrongvine

    thewrongvine The Evolved Panda Commandant Staff Member

    Ratings:
    +505 / 1 / -0
    Just on time, eh? :rolleyes: It was just written quickly and rushed, since I really am not in a writing mode now, so... I guess it sucks, :eek:. enjoy.

    My submission:

    Ending the Corruption
    “And we shall take back what is rightfully ours!” a loud voice announced.

    There he was – Al Poran, the cause of this entire disturbance, and my target.

    “Shall we, the citizens of our home, just sit and watch as they corrupt our city?”
    Angry and hateful cries joined in, “No!”

    “There is a brotherhood that plots against us, and we must stop them!”

    I gazed at the man intently as I closed in from above, stealthily crawling across the rooftops of Acre. Chaos was tearing out in the cities of the Holy Land, and the people were growing restless, turning to different solutions. Al Poran was a devious man, secretly with the Knights Templar, who used hopeful speeches to sway the people into fighting and opposing us, the Assassin Brotherhood. Of course, there were many others among the groups of our enemies, but Al Poran was a powerful speaker, and had to be eliminated.

    My mission was simple – track down Al Poran and kill him, ending this mess.

    And now, there he was, standing on a house stairwell, using a table as his podium, addressing over 50 people about standing up against “the corruption of the Holy Land”. I was about three stories up, just a few feet away from him. My fists tightened as I went prone, hiding behind the rooftop fencing. Killing him would be easy – however, getting out would be the real trick. Though not allowed, Al Poran had guards all around, disguised as normal civilians. I would be able to point out a few of them, but not all.

    Quickly, I scanned the surrounding area and people. One guard, on the right side of the crowd; he had his hand on a sheath. Another, opposite him, fingers wrapped around a sword that was half revealed from his clothes. I had to execute this assassination quietly and strategically. I backed up slightly, away from the edge, and crawled to the right side. When I was behind the guard on the right side, I dropped off the ledge.

    Silently I grasped the edge of the rooftop, barely making a sound. Then, I released myself, dropping down three whole stories. Pssshh! was all that happened as I landed with feline grace in a cart of hay. I poke my eye out and saw the guard turn around for a second. Nothing alerted him, and he resumed his position.

    I jumped out of the hay stacks – no sound. I was just five feet away from the guard. With a flick of my pinky, I pulled the ring, activating the spring system. The hidden blade burst out silently from my wrist as I casually approached the man. My heartbeat quickened, but remained calm with controlled training. I was standing right behind him now.

    My eyes grew fierce as I impaled the man in his neck, finishing him instantly. My other hand swiftly wrapped around his chest, hiding under his garments. I gently pulled his cold body back with me. My eyes looked back and forth, and saw that my stunt went unnoticed. Hiding his body behind a table, I spun forward at Al Poran – it was his turn. I steadily walked towards him.

    BONG! My head whirled to the bell tower as it clocked again. BONG! At the hour, Al Poran would be leaving shortly.

    “So my fellow friends,” his voice boomed, “we must stand together, and stand strong!”

    The sound of a roaring sea cheered on in agreement, these people were getting tense. I had to do it now, even if guards were around. My pace quickened to a job as I shoved people away from me.

    “Hey, watch it!” cries responded. It mattered not. Al Poran was making his final statement before leaving. It had to be now.

    Some men noticed me suddenly, muttering something, and stepping towards me.

    “Stop him!” they yelled out forcefully, “stop that man!”

    One approached me with a long sword in hand. The sword came down with power, slicing the air as I leapt to the side. With a grunt, I twirled and kicked the man square in the back, sending him flying forward.

    Another man charged at me with an axe. In an instance I pulled out my loaded crossbow, and staked him with a deadly arrow. The man dropped down with a loud thud. I was almost at Al Poran, who was trying and failing to escape in the crowd. I suddenly realized the commotion I caused in those few seconds. People were screaming and running wildly. This is good, I thought to myself, it’ll make his escape harder.

    I shook my head, and calmly walked to Al Poran, knocking people aside.

    “Stop!” a deep voice commanded from behind.

    Better mark him first, I thought as I threw a tiny throwing knife at him. The man cried out as he limped forward, not even looking back.

    With a sigh, I turned around. There stood a giant man, near seven feet tall, wearing light chain mail on his chest with chain leggings. He was wielding a large broadsword in his left hand.

    “I don’t have time for this,” I urged impatiently. With a grunt, I walked towards him with my short blade. Just as I swung the dagger at his neck with a swift arc, the man whipped out a dagger with his right hand, gutting me on the side.

    “Gah!” I cried out, as I stumbled back, pulling the dagger out. Blood covered the knife, and was dripping down from a small gash on my side. “Seems like I underestimated you.”

    Suddenly, my vision blurred. I groaned and inspected the knife – it was covered with a green substance - poison. I yelled out slightly in rage as I furiously swung over and over at the man. Pang! Poom! Strike after strike, I grew more tired, and the man skillfully blocked every one of my attacks. I shook my head to clear my blurred sight a bit, and turned around. Al Poran was already almost off to the next block. Finishing this guard would take too long. I did something unexpected, and flung my short blade at the man forcefully.

    The blade sliced right into his left arm, making him drop the sword. “You’re not the only one with surprises,” I said with a grim smile. I unsheathed my long sword, raised it high in the air, and dropped it down on the man’s neck. A quick death for the man – excluding the pain from my dagger. His lifeless body dropped down, both parts, and rolled around. I pulled my knife out of his arm, and wiped it clean. One target left, I thought.

    Turning to the street, I began running after Al Poran. The streets were still chaotic, and I had to shove my way around. It would be a pain to find him now, but it was job.

    My breathing intensified as the poison slowly spread throughout my body, increasing my fatigue. I finally reached the end of the street, and looked around.

    To the right? No, there were too many people there.

    Forward? And head to the city guards?

    To the left? Yes, a clean path with many steps and alleys.

    I took a breath in, and sprinted down the path. The road split up dozens of way, how would I find Al Poran? Suddenly, something caught my eye. I slowed down to an alley way on the left. There was a red liquid on the floor, one drop at first, and then more and more. By the looks, it was fresh, it had to be him. With renewed determination, I ran down the alley.

    Seconds in, I saw something shiny on the floor – it was my throwing knife from before! I was getting close, and I quickened up. Turning right, I saw that it was a dead end! And right there, at the end, was Al Poran.

    “Please!” he begged as he backed up on the wall, “let me go! I’ll stop doing what I did!” Tears of fright dripped down from his face.

    I halted temporarily. Maybe he was telling the truth, should I let him go? No, it was my mission. I nodded, and walked towards him as his pleading increased.

    “Ah!” I cried out in pain as my head suddenly spun. The poison was getting me now. My vision was slowly fading away as my whole body froze up. I quickly fell to the floor, as everything blacked out.

    I could barely hear anything while my eyes were closed. Footsteps… coming near me… the sound of metal… a whisper, “Taste this, Brotherhood.”

    My eyes burst wide open as I came to. I stared straight up; Al Poran was holding my sword in the air, ready to impale me on the floor. The blade came straight down over my head. Without hesitation, I sprung my hidden blade out and lunged for his vulnerable chest.

    Blood spurt out from the wound, dirtying my face.

    Words got stuck in his mouth as he dropped the sword, and fell back. I grit my teeth and rested his body on the floor, hand behind him, lifting his body up.

    “Rest in peace, Al Poran,” I spoke softly but strongly, as was tradition.

    “You… fools…” he stuttered, as blood spilled out from his mouth, “Your Assassin Brotherhood will fall, the corruption will end!”

    I frowned slightly and asked, “Where are the Knights Templar hiding here in Acre?”

    The man laughed loudly as he choked on his blood, “Fool…”

    And with that, Al Poran was dead.

    I gently laid his head down on the floor, and took my blade out. I wiped it clean, grabbed my weapons back, and walked away. My mission was a success, but there will be many more to come. I am Altair, of the Assassin Brotherhood.

    ~Hai-Bye-Vine~
     
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  15. Ninva

    Ninva Анна Ахматова

    Ratings:
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    One more day. ^___^
     
  16. thewrongvine

    thewrongvine The Evolved Panda Commandant Staff Member

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    Well tell me, it sucks doesn't it? :( :D
    Geoff, don't enter, that way there will be 3 people in the contest and then I can at least get 3rd place! ^^ J/K.

    ~Hai-Bye-Vine~
     
  17. Syndrome

    Syndrome You can change this now in User CP.

    Ratings:
    +127 / 0 / -0
    im not that good of a writer rofl.
    i wrote it but...
    it kinda evolved into a strange story. which i actually like...
    if i can't change it into a one-shot, then i can't enter T__T.
    but if i can't, then maybe i can work on this story since its like freakin Summer for me :p

    EDIT: Btw vine, nice story.
    Assassin Creed FTW!

    EDIT 2: If i don;t enter, you better win Vine :p That way you can make an easier theme for me :D
     
  18. Miz

    Miz Administrator

    Ratings:
    +430 / 0 / -0
    For those who are waiting, I am sorry, I don't even know whats taking so long. (I submitted my scores last month.) So, Ninva should be posting the scores up soon, probably in the Proses of the Week.
     
  19. Ninva

    Ninva Анна Ахматова

    Ratings:
    +377 / 0 / -0
    I was reading these. I was expecting one member to come on top, but I was surprised by Dakho's amazing story-telling abilities. He captivated me and took me on this wild ride. It was amazing, and his raw talent made it hard to make a final decision. But here are the winners.

    1st - Genkora
    You're very professional in your story-telling abilities. This aspect won you the prize. Good job! Keep working on your English though.

    2nd - Dakho
    Your story surprised me. You have a lot of raw talent, but you need more experience.

    3rd - thewrongvine
    Your story was very entertaining, yet it got a bit dull. You also made a few grammatical mistakes. Better luck next time.


    Thank you all for competing!

    Genkora may pick a theme for the next contest. If three people do not join the next contest then the string of short story contests will come to a halt.
     
  20. Miz

    Miz Administrator

    Ratings:
    +430 / 0 / -0
    Congratz to Genkora, he will now win an article of my clothing as promised. Lucky you, you win one of my pairs of boxers. (Pineapple keeps giving away everything else :( )
    As that is done, let the chucking of +Rep begin.

    Good luck to our other people next time.

    Edit - Sorry Genkora, I owe you rep apparently I have to spread it around first.
     
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