|
|
Post by ASGetty ((Zovo)) on Dec 15, 2009 3:03:40 GMT -5
9:34pm - 9:43pm
Furious fingers
Can't edit it so I added this here.
|
|
|
|
Post by WJChesek ((Evern)) on Dec 15, 2009 4:59:38 GMT -5
The snowflakes drifted downwards, falling gently towards the already blanketed earth, sticking to it's brothers and sisters, hastening it's drop.
A lone penguin watched the 'flakes fall, a seemingly curious look plastered onto it's stupid face. With a twitch of it's flippers, it adjusted it's bow-tie, continuing it's vigil of the snowflakes. There was really nothing to do, and watching snowflakes fall was better sport than say, watching grass grow, or paint dry, or even those two activities combined. Down in Antarctica, there was very little to do that involved fun, outside of avoiding being eaten. And this penguin didn't care much for swimming with the constant risk of both being eaten, and the greater threat of losing his bow-tie. The glasses he could do without.
The falling snow continued it's relentless, ever hastening, fall, more flakes joining those that had already begun their journey. After a time, these combined to create a blizzard. Somewhere, a polar bear blinked, creating a bad joke that would get a small boy hit by his best friend a tiger. And still the bow-tie wearing penguin watched, ignoring even the old spectacle of the auroras for the interest that the snowflakes brought. In fact, were anyone to ask, he would tell them that he was looking for two that were exactly the same, and had not yet been successful.
The other penguins scoffed at him, calling him names, even going so far as to keep him out of the penguin games. But he didn't care. Bow-tie enjoyed watching the snow, he had once read a story about an outcast reindeer who was hired to pull some fat guy in a red suit's sled. Maybe something like that would happen to him someday? One could hope, yes?
Behind the penguin, unnoticed due to his blinking in the blizzard, a polar bear crept, blindly reaching out with massive paws for the penguin. When he succeeded, and the penguin was in his grasp, he removed the bow-tie, and tossed the poor black and white bird into his mouth, grinning as he placed the tie on himself, and started watching the snowflakes. |
|
|
|
Post by Kaez on Dec 15, 2009 20:21:39 GMT -5
(( I really couldn't think of anything to write for this one, and I've been tremendously busy these past few days, so I hope you'll excuse a terribly short entry. I wrote it on the run and didn't time myself (though if anything, it was less than -5- minutes, so I have no concern about breaking the rules). Hopefully it's not downright terrible, but I certainly don't expect to move on to the next round.... ))
“I’m unique. One-hundred percent. There is not a single other like me.”
The professor eyed over his class. The students sat in rows of desks, mostly unfilled, two dozen of them filled at best.
“DNA,” one of them retorted quickly.
The professor shook his head and the student’s expression turned downward. The professor was known for these: riddles. He would ask simple questions, brain teasers to get class started. No one complained. They were easy, always easy, and done with after a guess or two.
“I don’t always immediately seem unique,” the old man continued. “One look at me, and you might think I look precisely like the rest. At first glance, I’m nothing significant.”
“Chromosomes,” another called. The professor was a teacher of biology, after all. A first guess would root the riddle’s answer to be hidden somewhere in molecules or atoms.
Again, the professor shook his head. “It’s exceptionally difficult to see my fine details, of course. It’s no easy task to look keenly enough to notice my brilliant uniqueness. Most don’t bother to do so.”
A girl in the back of the class began to smile. “A thumbprint!” she shouted.
The professor smiled. “I’m not a thumbprint – I’m one amongst many, and I am impermanent. I have my time and, eventually, I will be gone.”
The students grew increasingly uncertain. “Teeth?” one of them mumbled. A boy in the front spoke up: “A star?”
“I have no real power. I am small and insignificant alone, but when there are many of me, and there are thousands of me, millions of me, I are a mighty force!”
The classroom was quiet. Their faces sat, eyes squinted; pondering, stumped.
“Hah!” a brunette exclaimed near the back and stood up in her seat. “I know what you are!”
The professor’s old, pale eyes turned up to her. “Oh? What am I, miss?”
She grinned proudly. “A snowflake!” Voices mumbled and sighed at the obviousness of the answer.
The professor’s look turned from inquisitive to baffled. He stepped back and stood straight, looking himself over before eyeing the class.
“Class,” he said. “I’m a human being.”
|
|
|
|
Post by o ding on Dec 15, 2009 21:33:03 GMT -5
9:23 - begun
The people of the city were happy - aye, they had always been happy. For they were the people of the city, a place so happy that they had actually begun to pay off the universe's sad tax with their happiness, thus uplifting much less happy places such as North Korea.
They and their homes stood on a massive construct of cold metal, soaring through the skies and spinning slowly, as a behemoth of its size should. Around it flew hundreds of other cities similar, of course, but none were quite like it in terms of sheer joy.
They had begun, hundreds of their city years ago, living in a high above place that was wet, dark, unfriendly and unhappy. Their ancestors toiled to make their livings, always fighting off the sharp winds and rough times.
But then, one day, the damp place had become dry and hard, beginning to fall from this high, unhappy place into a land of increasing relative happiness. Skilled engineers, the now happy people had crafted themselves a home capable of staying attached to the high-flying thing.
They'd built farms, raised families, and were just all around happy. Maybe because of the drugs, but that isn't important.
Yes, they were gleefully happy. Joyfully happy! Joyfully and happily filled with glee. They watched the sky around them, marveled by the other cities and the vast blue landscape they now inhabited. They even attempted to trade and fuse as some other cities had, but eventually the two cities parted ways, falling in different directions.
So they continued to fall, drug doses getting higher and happiness increasing and they grew near to the Happiest Place of All, the land. The land of the Earth, always distant but always drawing nearer.
Then one day, splat. They landed on a red sports car, parked out in front of a large apartment complex, and melted as the owner turned the ignition on and started the rumbling ignition.
They were no longer happy, melting and fusing with hellfire and dying. Drugs were no escape.
They were all dead, and even more unhappy than their ancestors had been.
All dead.
9:33 - stopped
|
|
Sensar
Author
Homonecropedopheliac and Legal Property of AWR
Posts: 6,898
|
Post by Sensar on Dec 15, 2009 21:37:13 GMT -5
6:35
and so they fall
i wouldnt call it perfection
they describe the crystalline beauty
but i don't see that
just white specks
the intricate patterns
this perfect design
its just a bit of frozen water
fucking snowflakes
6:36
|
|
|
|
Post by Jenny (Reffy) on Dec 16, 2009 13:09:41 GMT -5
Agro:Very sweet story, but typical use of topic. Excellent vocabulary range for such a short piece. The judges said it really pulled them into the story, which is awesome for a short piece. Creativity of topic: 8/10 Amount of words: 5/5 Grammar, spelling and punctuation: 5/5 Zovo:There was a couple of spelling mistakes and one run-on sentence, but overall the judges liked the piece. Very interesting use of the topic given. The judges really liked the last sentence. Creativity of topic: 9/10 Amount of words: 5/5 Grammar, spelling and punctuation: 4/5 Evern:The judges were a little confused about the bow-tie part, failing to see how it fitted in. However, they loved the Rudolph reference, and that he was looking for two identical snowflakes. One of the judges also gives you "kudos" for using both topics in this one piece. (Personally, I didn't want to see him get eaten: Poor Penguin!) Creativity of topic: 9/10 Amount of words: 4/5 Grammar, spelling and punctuation: 5/5 Kaez:First off, the judges loved this piece. Amazing use of topic, really creative for only five minutes. Interesting twist at the end. Excellent. Didn't spot any mistakes. Creativity of topic: 10/10 Amount of words: 5/5 Grammar, spelling and punctuation: 5/5 Schrodinger:Judges loved the "sad tax" comment. Very dark piece, and very thought provoking. Judges did not see the ending coming and then they were sad that the snowflake/city had to melt. Very awesome. Creativity of topic: 10/10 Amount of words: 4/5 Grammar, spelling and punctuation: 5/5 Sensar:Typical use of topic. Judges appreciated the last line, and also complained about snowflakes (bah humbugs!) Good use of vocabulary range. Nice spacing, but it felt a little short. Judges commented that they wanted to see just a little bit more. (I do love your free-form poetry! It just gets better and better!) Creativity of topic: 8/10 Amount of words: 4/5 Grammar, spelling and punctuation: 5/5
Final scores:1st - Kaez: 20/20 2nd - Schrodinger: 19/20 3rd - Evern: 18/20 3rd - Agro: 18/20 3rd - Zovo: 18/20 4th - Sensar: 17/20 Sorry Sensar. You're out this round  but you ROCK for participating! ;D New topic coming soon, and new deadline! Well done folks who go to the next round: Evern, Schrodinger, Agro, Kaez, and Zovo!
|
|
|
|
Post by Jenny (Reffy) on Dec 16, 2009 13:45:32 GMT -5
 TOPIC for Round 3 is: Presents!Deadline is 18th December @ midnight (judging to be done 19th) Good luck! Remember - you are only allowed 10 minutes in which to write! (Need to toughen the judges up! Otherwise we might end up with a ties!) |
|
|
|
Post by ASGetty ((Zovo)) on Dec 16, 2009 18:12:31 GMT -5
Zachary tapped his foot franticly in nervous anticipation. His sweat moisened palms rubbing together furiously as he tried to remain calm.
Christams, what a day, and he knew what was coming, too. He and his wife had talked about it for years and now, today, she was actually gonna give it to him. He couldn't wait, regardless of his aprehension. So expensive, would they really be able to make ends meet? They had bounced back and forth so many times discussing it, but it was done now, all he had to do was wait.
His eyes scanned the room at the understated decorations. A garland of fake pine, adorned with bells above the swinging doors, a cardboard santa cut out, even a plastic Christmas Tree towering over a pile of packages for the children. Zachary tried to drown out the chaos all around him, people moving about bantering back and forth in frenzied voices. Everyone trying to remain calm but the tension was palpable.
And then, there it was; just like that. Wrapped up and perfect it seemed to shimmer in the flourescent lights above. Zachary reached out his hands to take it, to finally hold it after so long waiting and wanting. His eyes danced with joy, tearing up.
"Congratulations, Mr. Samuels," the doctor said, "It's a girl."
|
|
|
|
Post by James on Dec 17, 2009 0:43:56 GMT -5
6:30 - 6:40 The First Presents
The first of the three slipped into the barn, his tall proud form falling to the ground as he knelt before the manger. His crown tumbled from his head, his kinship vanishing before the small baby in front of him. He bowed deeply, kissing the ground before the manger, before turning to Mary and Joseph, who lay astonished in front of him.
“I bring a gift to our future king,” the former king muttered humbly, presenting a wrapped parcel.
Joseph reached forward and his extended fingers clawed around the gift, tearing at the paper that was guarding its secrets. The paper fell into the manger as a glittering lump of gold lay majestically in his hand.
“Gold for a king,” the man whispered before moving to stand at the edge of the manger.
The second king followed his counterpart’s actions, stepping silently into the barn and prostrating at the manger’s base. The crown upon his head snapped in two, falling to either side of his body as he pulled out a tied box.
“A gift to our future king,” he echoed, opening the box. “Frankincense, a gift for a religion.”
Mary and Joseph could only stare at the beauty of the gifts that were now displayed in front of them, the lustre of the gold and the jagged delicateness of the frankincense. Their eyes lingered only for a moment before the third king fell to his knees before them and the manger, his crown already shattered upon the floor behind him.
“A gift to our future king,” he muttered, presenting a beautiful bowl to the new parents. The bowl was decorated with rich cravings and large jewels danced across its surface. However it was the reddish powder that caught Mary’s eyes. “Myrrh, for death.”
“For our future king,” all three kings repeated in unison.
“Your gifts are most welcomed,” Joseph muttered, rising to greet the three former kings.
“Yes,” Mary said, her eyes still wide from the brightness of the gold, the two parents in awe of the gifts presented to their son.
In the manger though, oblivious to what had happened, unknown of the glory of the presents presented to him, the baby Jesus wrapped his hands around the wrapping paper that lay next to him, preferring the paper to the gifts.
He wouldn’t be the last.
|
|
|
|
Post by Kaez on Dec 18, 2009 19:25:50 GMT -5
(( 7:15 to 7:25. If I do say so myself, I got out a -lot- of words for 10 minutes... >.> Still, my ability to rant fluently doesn't necessarily mean it's very good. Meh. We'll see. ))
“Why am I unhappy? Just look around you! The days last for a whopping two hours and the nights are piss-freezing cold. The streets are covered in a grayish slime and you can’t drive for ten miles without coming across a car accident of some midlife-crisis woman who was rushing to the mall to get the newest pair of hundred-dollar Nike shoes or three-hundred-dollar cell phone that blows you off while you talk or whatever the newest Japanese electrical box is, so that her Twilight-reading daughter can be the coolest girl in the racially and economically divided slaughterhouse we call a modern school.
“The entire season is covered with advertisements for the newest this or the most expensive that. Stick a brand name on something, paint it a new color and charge another fifty dollars for it and you’re the newest businessman in town. Our economy is in the shit for that very reason – we can’t afford to get the shiny thing two-point-oh, and so we get out our little plastic cards and ship our debt off to some foreign police state that made the damn shiny thing in the first place. And then two days later, once we’re bored of two-point-oh, two-point-one is released! And guess what? It comes in baby blue this time and can connect to the internet! And every little girl in the world begs their daddy for it and the shelves load on up.
“And the mothers all stampede to be the first one to get inside the store for the newest useless piece of shit. And they’ll punch and kick and stab for it and by the time ten women have their spoiled kids’ newest foreign deathtrap, one of them was already trampled on the way in. So the newspapers will get all excited over the funeral of the trotted woman, and CNN will interrupt covering of politics to talk about how some 300-pound wench in Chicago was crushed by a raging pack of wild housewives.
“And why was she fat? Because all of those new shiny Korean things we’re all so desperately after are specifically designed to make us do less effort than before! It’s all one giant fucking cycle, and the whole world is so caught up in it that it doesn’t even see what’s going on.
“Every winter, society collapses into this rubble. Christmas songs about togetherness and joy are still heard every day, but as TV commercials. Some Mothers' Association will say that some beloved classic song represents pagan beliefs or promotes homosexuality of some other crock of shit and they’ll ban it from the airwaves in Kansas and Utah. And all the kids want is presents.
“We tell ourselves, ‘oh, the meaning of Christmas is family and kindness’, or even worse something about Jesus – but no, that’s not what it’s about. It’s about the newest shiny thing. The kids don’t want to see their great-great aunt Mae, who’ll pinch their cheeks and say, ‘the last time I saw you, you were this high! Oh, you’re gonna’ have the girls after you!’ They want presents, and they want them now! And not just any presents, the presents they’re told they want by the Almighty and Omnipotent Television.
“But for a moment, just for a fleeting few seconds when a little boy sits on Santa’s lap at the mall and looks up at the jolly white beard and is asked, ‘what would you like for Christmas?’, none of that matters. All of the advertisements and the brand names and the conditioning, it goes away. The boy thinks about the loveliness of the idea that there is someone out there who wishes nothing more than to give him what he wants – to fill his little heart’s desires.
“And so this old, sick world we live in, filled with nothing but hate and increasingly disastrous generational technology that serves as nothing but a means to devour the grace of humanity, it’s good to know that there’s some sliver of decency left, and that it can still shine, if only for an instant, in the look of a child on Santa’s lap.
“But isn’t it just a little bit sad that to find any sort of decency in this world, we have to resort to strapping a pillow to our stomachs and wearing a fake beard? If it isn’t, by all means, inquire. But if it is, if it’s a valid reason for a bout of cynicism that the only way to find humanity in this damned season is to dress up as a fat old man who makes children sit on his lap, then dammit, don’t ask me why I’m depressed.”
-- Christopher Green, Santa Claus at the Ross Park Mall
EDIT: My alarm clock's time =/= correct time.
|
|
|
|
Post by o ding on Dec 18, 2009 22:05:21 GMT -5
Little Timmy tore the thin sheet of paper from the big box, standing higher than him, a single strip at a time. Crease by crease, he tore the glimmering red walls down to reveal that which lay behind; his present.
The box underneath was blank, standard issue brown. He frowned; he'd been expecting a label of some sort, some way to identify his present without actually seeing it first. Instead, the mystery perpetuated itself.
His parents walked into the room, smoking a single pipe. The father plucked the thing from his lips and handed it off to his wife, shaking his head at his son. "It isn't Christmas yet, Tim."
The wife handed it back, nodding. "Yes, yes it's not."
The mother walked in, taking the pipe for herself a drawing a cloud of smoke. "No, it isn't, not quite, yes."
"But," Tim protested, "But!"
"No buts," all three interrupted. "Now to your room and wait until the proper time of Christmas!"
The little girl's brow furrowed, crossing her arms and storming off past her parents and to her room.
She slammed the door shut, grabbing a random thing from a random shelf and throwing it at her window hard enough to break both of them. "I HATE CHRISTMAS! It's just not fair!" Her screams carried out into the yard below, the husband's ears perking up as his eyes drew to the source.
He climbed up the three stories and pulled himself into her room, smiling. "What's wrong, Timmy?"
She sobbed. "I just want my presents!"
"Ah, but Timmy" the husband noted. "It isn't time for presents yet. You have to get the presents at the proper time or else you'll be imprisoned forever in Santa's dungeon!"
"Santa is dumb! I'm opening my present!"
The door flung open and he ran down the stairs in a blur, the husband running after him and calling for the rest of the family. The father, the wife, the mother, the husband, the donkey, the maid, the son, the daughter and the uncle all ran after him in a massive sea of writhing people after him, screaming for him to stop. "NO!" they called.
But Timmy didn't care, slamming himself into his massive present and knocking it over through sheer force. It toppled into the christmas tree and the box's lid flew off, smashing through a window.
Onto the floor spilt a cartridge of clothes.
She cried.
|
|
|
|
Post by WJChesek ((Evern)) on Dec 18, 2009 22:06:48 GMT -5
Will smiled to himself, huddling beneath the blankets with his precious penguin action figures, every once in a while, he fervently shot a glance outside to the snow filled view of his bedroom window. Beneath the warmth of his blankets, protected by this pajama clad boy, a battle raged once more, something to keep him busy while he waited for the big day to come.
He had never been able to sleep on this night, excitement propped his eyes ever open, waiting for that time of morning, when it was deemed acceptable by his child's mind to go running down the stairs and wake everyone in the house up. Yes, even Lil, the infant girl would help his parents reach wakefulness too.
Idle hands pushed the battle forward, while his thoughts turned towards what Santa would bring. Maybe more soldiers for his penguin army? If so, he would have to go outside and play with them amidst the snowflakes, for that was an early gift, if Santa was the one who brought the epic weather. Maybe a tank? Or a plane? Or, even better, maybe something so simple in it's epicness, it would surpass his army of penguins, and his army of eskimos.
What he wanted most was even more powerful than even a tank. More powerful than a plane, or snow, or more soldiers.
What he wanted, was- He turned his head, looking at the sun cresting over his neighbor's house. It was time!
He ran down the stairs, thump thump thumping all the way to the tree, beneath which sat packages of all colors, sizes, and shapes. And at the foot of the tree was a small rectangle, labeled as his own. Without waiting for his parents, or his sister, or anyone else, he tore at the shining paper, tarnishing it's glitter, until he held a simple journal in his hand.
It was a nice journal, leather bound, with a little insignia of a dragon on the front. With it, a simple lead pencil. He grinned, hugging it to his chest.
When his parents came downstairs, they marveled at the fact that the rest of the gifts weren't opened. Will lay in the corner, furiously scribbling at his journal. They simply nodded and smiled at each-other. |
|
|
|
Post by Jenny (Reffy) on Dec 19, 2009 16:18:37 GMT -5
Zovo:Judges liked the story. It was a little short, but it got the point across pretty well. One commented that they wanted more emotion/nervousness shown from the Dad/Zac. Creativity of topic: 7/10 Amount of words: 4/5 Grammar, spelling and punctuation: 5/5 Agro:Judges loved the last line. They thought it was very comically philosophical. I don't remember their crowns shattering/breaking; so that was an interesting addition (correct me if I'm wrong!) The emotion shown by Mary and Joseph was interesting. Creativity of topic: 9/10 Amount of words: 5/5 Grammar, spelling and punctuation: 5/5 Kaez:Judges loved the rambling thoughts and stereotypical images this short provoked. One also commented that he was glad you got the speech-marks " " correct as the paragraphs progressed. Interesting POV. There was a run-on-sentence or two. Huge amount of words for only 10 minutes! Creativity of topic: 10/10 Amount of words: 5/5 Grammar, spelling and punctuation: 3/5 Schrodinger:Wow. Judges really weren't sure about this one. It was definitely a mindfuck. The idea was awesome, and in part so was the mindfuck. There was one confusing sentence where everybody ran after the child that was very long, and could have done with clarifying. Creativity of topic: 9/10 Amount of words: 5/5 Grammar, spelling and punctuation: 4/5 Evern:Judges give you HUGE KUDOS for combining all the topics so far. Very interesting! The notepad was very unexpected. The judges did comment that there were a few sentences that were a little long, and would have been better if you'd started a new line. Creativity of topic: 8/10 Amount of words: 5/5 Grammar, spelling and punctuation: 4/5 Final scores:1st - Agro: 19/20 2nd - Kaez: 18/20 2nd - Schrodinger: 18/20 3rd - Evern: 17/20 4th - Zovo: 16/20 Sorry Zovo. You're out this round but you ROCK for participating! ;D New topic coming soon, and new deadline! Well done folks who go to the next round: Evern, Schrodinger, Agro, and Kaez!
|
|
|
|
Post by Jenny (Reffy) on Dec 19, 2009 16:31:30 GMT -5
Deadline is 21st December @ midnight (judging to be done 22nd) Good luck! Remember - you are only allowed 10 minutes in which to write! (Bleh ... hate not using my own computer! Sorry about the messed up 4 on the image. Hubby's mouse is extra sensitive. He's fixing me up with a new computer! YAYs! No more frequent disconnects!) |
|
|
|
Post by James on Dec 19, 2009 19:48:05 GMT -5
1:35 - 1:45 A Jug of Christmas Spirit
Harry trudged into the middle of the small hotel room, the meagre kitchen behind him. In his left hand was a large jug of eggnog and in his right were several cups. He placed all of them on the table that his family were gathered around, trying not to meet any of their eye. His wife, Helen, gave a small smile as the eggnog sat upon the table before pulling everyone a glass of it. Not that he would tell his wife, who would utterly disapprove of it, but the drink has a jot of Baileys in it, a little outside aid to get over the pain of the last few days.
Four days ago their wonderful home was twinkling with lights, a large tree towering within the corner of the lounge, decorated with every colour imaginable. Beneath the tree, festive wrapping paper hid the presents below, some in the shapes of books and films and some in the shapes of bicycles or TVs. This year, Harry had decided to save money so that this Christmas would be the best so far.
Then the fire came.
While they were out at a Christmas party flames licked at their homes, snatching away the lights, the tree and the presents. When they returned nothing was left but a smouldering husk. His youngest child, Emily, broke into tears that hadn’t stained her cheeks since she turned into a teen and his son, Alex; sad stony face struck him to the core. Christmas was ruined.
With nowhere left to go they rented a small hotel room from their meagre savings, most of it spent on this years Christmas, and locked themselves away from the world in depression. Harry swallowed the rising lump in his throat, not wanting to break down in front of his family.
“Hey, that was you with the bear!” Emily giggled, taking another swig of eggnog and interrupting Harry’s thoughts.
“Nuh-uh,” Alex answered indignantly, Helen snorting at his embarrassment.
“It wa… Hey, there’s Scrabble, down there!” Emily said, seeing a box beneath the table as she bent down to put her glass of eggnog on the table. “There’s something here! Lets play!”
Two hours later, Harry laid on the couch, his wife pressed against him as she snored in a peaceful sleep. The whole family had played game after game of Scrabble and charades until Emily finally collapsed asleep, the Baileys finally getting to her. Alex soon followed and Harry was left alone to cuddle with Helen in beautiful silence.
He had never felt closer to his family at Christmas before, and it was all due to a little jug of Christmas spirit, eggnog.
|
|
but you ROCK for participating! ;D
