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Nonetheless, I was shocked by the quality of writing that I saw here. Seriously, guys, you all have talent. There wasn't a bad story, or a story I didn't enjoy out of any of the entries. I want to thank each and every one of you for taking part in this, and showing me what is probably some of the best and most original work I've seen from y'all. After being in this section for about three years, this made me tear up ^_^
On that note... now for the entries!
IN THIRD PLACE...
Regitnui with SUN MOTHER
The first thing that hit me was the setting you picked for this. Native American--pre, or just before colonization. But where you boned me--repeatedly, in the butt--was where your execution was centered... on an execution. I was reading this like, "hang on, WHAT?" Your peice was short, sweet, to the point, and your one-line paragraphs toward the end added a brilliant climactic punch. It's impossible to ignore your stylistic choices--as ultimately, this is part of the execution--and they were great. Thank you for such a great piece! Good luck with FIREBOUND! =)
QUOTE
The ashes were taken down the river, the river that crossed both worlds, to the Stone Circle, the Circle of the Dead. The priests would lead the procession, bearing a body, the body of the Sun
Mother. There she would be presented. Put before the gods and
offered... She shook her head, trying to focus on the boy leading her
away to safety.
They had run before the feasts had begun. Two days before the priests
would offer her. They left the road, starting a fire in the forest for
safety and warmth. The howls of the beasts beyond the firelight
terrified her.
The boy took hold of her shoulders,
resting her head against his chest. Eryn saw his sword tightly grasped
in his other hand. His body was warm, staving off the winter chill. She
moved closer to him.
He brushed her forehead with his lips. She
looked up at his face. Such a beautiful face. She knew he'd protect
her. If he couldn't...
There was one thing she could do. She could stop the priests with one action. She had heard from her mother why she was wanted to be the Sun Mother. An older girl had told her how.
She
wrapped her arm around his neck. It would hurt, but it would stop them.
Only if they couldn't get away, she promised herself.
The sun took longer to rise the next day. She was beginning to feel guilty. She didn't want to die. But the sun wouldn't rise tomorrow.
The plants would die, then the animals. The farms would die. The people would die.
Mother. There she would be presented. Put before the gods and
offered... She shook her head, trying to focus on the boy leading her
away to safety.
They had run before the feasts had begun. Two days before the priests
would offer her. They left the road, starting a fire in the forest for
safety and warmth. The howls of the beasts beyond the firelight
terrified her.
The boy took hold of her shoulders,
resting her head against his chest. Eryn saw his sword tightly grasped
in his other hand. His body was warm, staving off the winter chill. She
moved closer to him.
He brushed her forehead with his lips. She
looked up at his face. Such a beautiful face. She knew he'd protect
her. If he couldn't...
There was one thing she could do. She could stop the priests with one action. She had heard from her mother why she was wanted to be the Sun Mother. An older girl had told her how.
She
wrapped her arm around his neck. It would hurt, but it would stop them.
Only if they couldn't get away, she promised herself.
The sun took longer to rise the next day. She was beginning to feel guilty. She didn't want to die. But the sun wouldn't rise tomorrow.
The plants would die, then the animals. The farms would die. The people would die.
IN SECOND PLACE...
Malus Rune with The Beast of St. Micheal's Moor
Okay, dude, seriously, I don't recall ever reading any work by you, but this was astounding. You write fluidly and well, and don't think I didn't miss the Opeth references (Melinda, St. Michael's Moor)! What really nailed me was how maturely you handled your setting and the wide cast of characters. I can clearly see the effort you put into this, but that's all secondary compared to how well you handled the contest material.
Great job, brother!
QUOTE
Tom cleared his throat "Juliet..?"
The name itself was enough to make Juliet freeze. Not Hennesson- Juliet. It had been so long since someone had called her that she hobbled back over to him.
"Juliet"
said Tom, choosing his words carefully- the world depended on them-
"Perhaps you're right. Shryne never did take you seriously. Perhaps
yes, the world is ending, and perhaps I've been closed minded enough to
ignore it."
There was a funny look in Juliet's eyes now; a sort
of anger restrained by curiosity, waiting for Tom to- as all the others
hand- try again to convince her that the world could not end- but at
the same time, reaching out, so desperate for one word of hope, just
one bit of the kindness and understanding she had been denied all her
life.
"But what if you could do more than escape, Juliet?" asked
Tom slowly "What if you could stop it? What if you could save every
last person on Earth?"
Juliet took a tentative step forwards "I could stop the light?" she asked, voice trembling.
Tom
nodded "You've spent your life trying to run from your dreams. But what
awaits you when you run? A life in this place, alone, forever? Don't
run into the wasteland when you can face your dreams right here" About
halfway through the speech, he realised Juliet was sobbing quietly.
"I never wanted to kill" she whispered "I just wanted to help them, but I couldn't they wouldn't "
"Now you can" said Tom "You don't need to make them believe you, or kill them. You'll be a hero, Juliet"
"A hero " even through the sobs, a little smile burst through. She had a beautiful smile.
"All you have to do" whispered Tom "Is stop"
Juliet smiled up at him. It was such a comforting thought
The name itself was enough to make Juliet freeze. Not Hennesson- Juliet. It had been so long since someone had called her that she hobbled back over to him.
"Juliet"
said Tom, choosing his words carefully- the world depended on them-
"Perhaps you're right. Shryne never did take you seriously. Perhaps
yes, the world is ending, and perhaps I've been closed minded enough to
ignore it."
There was a funny look in Juliet's eyes now; a sort
of anger restrained by curiosity, waiting for Tom to- as all the others
hand- try again to convince her that the world could not end- but at
the same time, reaching out, so desperate for one word of hope, just
one bit of the kindness and understanding she had been denied all her
life.
"But what if you could do more than escape, Juliet?" asked
Tom slowly "What if you could stop it? What if you could save every
last person on Earth?"
Juliet took a tentative step forwards "I could stop the light?" she asked, voice trembling.
Tom
nodded "You've spent your life trying to run from your dreams. But what
awaits you when you run? A life in this place, alone, forever? Don't
run into the wasteland when you can face your dreams right here" About
halfway through the speech, he realised Juliet was sobbing quietly.
"I never wanted to kill" she whispered "I just wanted to help them, but I couldn't they wouldn't "
"Now you can" said Tom "You don't need to make them believe you, or kill them. You'll be a hero, Juliet"
"A hero " even through the sobs, a little smile burst through. She had a beautiful smile.
"All you have to do" whispered Tom "Is stop"
Juliet smiled up at him. It was such a comforting thought
And last but not least...
IN FIRST PLACE...
garfield with CASSIE
Even though I completely understand the writer's worst critic thing, I want to hit you for not liking this piece of writing. In fact, it should be ground for justifiable contemporary-sanctioned homicide. Over the years, time and time again, through the snippets of your writing I've seen, and the way you've demonstrated yourself on the forums, it is clear you are writer beyond your years. Your modest panache is inspiring. And Cassie, even more so.
The way you drew on Narnia in your piece was a great parallel. You took a typical fantasy characterization--a character looking for an escape from their banal, difficult and emotionally distressing life--and elevated it. When I realized what you were doing part of the way through with your narration, I was dancing in my chair. You played it beautifully--all the way up to the story's tragic close. Thanks for this piece, Garfy. You're truly an amazing writer =)
QUOTE
falls flat on her face, making more than enough noise to wake the dead.
Which is, incidentally, exactly the right amount of noise to wake her mother.
"Cassie? Is that you?"
Cassie jumps. The voice is familiar, but the tone a slightly weak, loving one is not.
"Cassie, darling, come in here."
Cassie starts to shake. Not knowing what to expect, she tentatively, very slowly makes her way across the tiny living room to her mother's bedroom and, taking an extra large breath of fresh air, opens the door.
The room is quite big at least, in comparison with all the other rooms in the house. It's dark; very little light has managed to seep through the cracks in the ancient shutters. Cigarette butts and empty sweet wrappers cover the floor, and the stench the stench is immense.
Cassie starts coughing immediately, and on the bed, a body stirs, turns over so that Cassie can see her mother's face.
Cassie hasn't seen her mother's face in a long time.
She's seen her physical attributes, but for several weeks it hasn't been her mother that's been occupying that body. It hasn't been those eyes.
Cassie's own eyes tear up. "Mum?" she almost whispers.
"Oh, darling, come here." Her mother makes room for her on the bed and Cassie climbs in. It's almost too good to be true, but the shift in her mothers expression that Cassie waits for doesn't seem to be coming. Cassie looks around, searching for a full bottle of medication but it's impossible to really see anything. She decides it doesn't matter as her mother hugs her for the first time in what must be months and asks her about school.
Soon enough, Cassie falls asleep. The warmth is just too inviting. The occasion is just too exhausting. The rarity has just taken everything out of her. So, despite the stench and darkness and uncomfortable feeling you get when you sleep in your clothes, Cassie sails away to her dreamland.
She's woken by a sharp pain.
Just as she opens her eyes she wonders if the whole thing had been a dream but it couldn't have been, because well, Cassie would have never entered her mother's room under anything less than extraordinary circumstances.
Cassie finds herself falling off the bed, and as she stumbles and looks up at what was her mother's kindly face, everything changes. The smell becomes overpowering, the warmth stifling. The soft light just intensifies the contours of a face that Cassie should know so well, making it even more terrifying.
"What the hell are you doing in here, you little pooop?"
The voice is her mother's, but the tone is not. The face is her mother's, but the soul inside the body is not.
Why are all the wandering spirits so mean?
Which is, incidentally, exactly the right amount of noise to wake her mother.
"Cassie? Is that you?"
Cassie jumps. The voice is familiar, but the tone a slightly weak, loving one is not.
"Cassie, darling, come in here."
Cassie starts to shake. Not knowing what to expect, she tentatively, very slowly makes her way across the tiny living room to her mother's bedroom and, taking an extra large breath of fresh air, opens the door.
The room is quite big at least, in comparison with all the other rooms in the house. It's dark; very little light has managed to seep through the cracks in the ancient shutters. Cigarette butts and empty sweet wrappers cover the floor, and the stench the stench is immense.
Cassie starts coughing immediately, and on the bed, a body stirs, turns over so that Cassie can see her mother's face.
Cassie hasn't seen her mother's face in a long time.
She's seen her physical attributes, but for several weeks it hasn't been her mother that's been occupying that body. It hasn't been those eyes.
Cassie's own eyes tear up. "Mum?" she almost whispers.
"Oh, darling, come here." Her mother makes room for her on the bed and Cassie climbs in. It's almost too good to be true, but the shift in her mothers expression that Cassie waits for doesn't seem to be coming. Cassie looks around, searching for a full bottle of medication but it's impossible to really see anything. She decides it doesn't matter as her mother hugs her for the first time in what must be months and asks her about school.
Soon enough, Cassie falls asleep. The warmth is just too inviting. The occasion is just too exhausting. The rarity has just taken everything out of her. So, despite the stench and darkness and uncomfortable feeling you get when you sleep in your clothes, Cassie sails away to her dreamland.
She's woken by a sharp pain.
Just as she opens her eyes she wonders if the whole thing had been a dream but it couldn't have been, because well, Cassie would have never entered her mother's room under anything less than extraordinary circumstances.
Cassie finds herself falling off the bed, and as she stumbles and looks up at what was her mother's kindly face, everything changes. The smell becomes overpowering, the warmth stifling. The soft light just intensifies the contours of a face that Cassie should know so well, making it even more terrifying.
"What the hell are you doing in here, you little pooop?"
The voice is her mother's, but the tone is not. The face is her mother's, but the soul inside the body is not.
Why are all the wandering spirits so mean?
Once again, thanks each and every one of you who participated: garfield, Malus Rune, Regitnui, Dwarves Rule, DracoInkBlood, DaVinci. Each of your pieces were great reads. I'd just like to extend a quick honorable mention to Dwarves Rule, who's piece was difficult not to include in the final cut. Supernova is a piece about aliens spotted by a boy named Darrin who believes (without knowing for sure what he's seen) that the world is going to end. The ending was a great dun-dun-dun.
In closing, I feel all of you should post your final work (edited, if you feel, since there were some errors here and there each piece) in Original Writing. People should be able to enjoy these all as much as I did, and hopefully take pride in knowing the talent that exists in this writing section.
You guys all rock. It's a pleasure to share a forum with you. =)
CONGRATS, WINNERS!
Ben
This post has been edited by Spinner: 31 July 2009 - 06:48 PM
MultiQuote
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At the end of the episode "The Christmas Invasion", a spaceship explodes, and that evening, everyone is delighted to find snow falling, only to have the Doctor kill the joy by saying it's actually ash from the ship. .gif)
I have MSN, though. Don't know much about AIM if it's anything similar or such.
