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#33  Hmmm, I wonder what the next catagory will be.... |
06-29-2007, 05:43 PM
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 | The next category wont be a genre in fact it will be much easier  People can still join in next round but they will start off with 0 points on the table. remember if you have points if you miss 2 rounds in a row you are disqualified. Due to the fact that i probably wont get any more entrys i am about the post the entrys  |
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06-29-2007, 06:49 PM
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| | Here are the entrys here are the voting rules. - If you are a competitior you may vote but not for yourself -1 vote 1 point so for instance if someone got 15 votes they would get 15 points simple as that  - pm me the votes please. - you may only vote for one person Here are the entrys in a random order contestants please do not reveal which one is yours Entry A Do you feel it? The crisp coolness in the air-- The uneasy shifting of your gut; The tremors running down your spine into your shoes. Autumntime is dying Each breath of sunny day is gasped and fought for But who fears the winter anymore? Electric heaters and the pelts of warm polyesters They have killed the horrors, mercenaries for those Who have the ability to pay. But you who do not, Fear me. Je suis l'hiver. Entry B “Shadow writer” I sit by the window, and take a knife and hit the edge, “Inspiration, I need inspiration!” I shout at my blank paper. I am an author of novels and collections of short stories, but I am always cursed with writers block. I need to finish a short story that will be published in a writer’s magazine, and the story is due in a week, and the topic is death. I decide to go out into town to look for some inspiration, as the best way for me to find it is to experience it. I lock my apartment and walk outside. It is a cool and crisp autumn day, and the sun is beginning to set. I decide to go to the park. As I sit on the park bench, several people walk past, most ignore me but one jogger stops and sits next to me. “Hello, mind if I sit here?” she says as she sits. “Not at all.” I reply without looking at her. “I love this weather, it is perfect to be outside, and the trees are so beautiful.” She begins to ramble on. I finally look over to her, she is a bit overweight, and is very short. She looks about forty, and has no sign of marriage. I think to myself, she is perfect for inspiration. “Do you have any plans for tonight?” I ask her after she finally finishes talking. “Why no, why do you ask?” She replies all of a sudden. “Well, I was thinking of going out to dinner, and wanted to invite you to come with me, by the way, I’m Matt.” “Well of course, and I’m Cynthia” she eagerly replies. We go to a place called Steve and Steve’s steak and skewer, where we talked for a while. It turned out that Cynthia is a computer consultant, and was the daughter of a drunk, and her mother was deceased. She never had a relationship, because her father would beat any other man until they never looked at her again. She was recently fired from her job, and her father was in the hospital with advanced lung cancer. As we finish our meals I ask, “Would you like to come to my place, I would like to show you a story that I am working on?” “Why sure, but it needs to be quick. I need to see my father; he only has a few days left to live.” “Oh, it will only take a minute.” I reply while glancing at her steak knife. We go back to my apartment, and she goes to the bathroom while I go over to the windowsill and take the knife. I look at the knife, “Anything for some inspiration.” Entry C Trapped. Restricted. Lost. That is how I feel. That is the way my life goes. I crave insomnia to stay away from the nightmares. But it is not a dream, never a dream. Standing in that icy room, surrounded by that terrifying darkness, preparing to face the inevitability. With ropes tightly bound around my limbs. I am motionless, unable even to shake from the fear. Blood drips down from my head, it’s already started. I start to sob, why me?! Why do they always do this?! Is it ever going to stop?! I try to be brave, but I can’t bring myself to lift my head. I know that their watching and the thought of that terrifies me. I have never seen them; I don’t know what they are. But there is one thing visible of them, their eyes. Those horrible, white, lifeless eyes. No pupils, just a white pool of nothingness staring at me. They float in the darkness, like they’re disembodied. They continue to stare at me, I begin to feel naked under their prying gaze. I hear a horn and it begins. The platform that I’m attached to falls horizontally and the eyes approach. I know that I am not the only victim of these horrific beings. I can hear them, you see? Hundreds of them. The others. Their screams curdle my blood, hundreds and hundreds. That’s the sound of pain. It never stops, on and on until I feel I can’t go on. Just the inevitability that there is no way out of this. Of course I can have my life in the day, a brief pause from this torment. They disappear in the sunlight, they just go. But they always come back in the night. Just like you can’t stop the sun from setting, you can’t stop them from returning. Every evening I scream at the sky, knowing that I would have to go through another night like the last one, or the one before that. I’ve tried running away; I’ve left the country, left civilisation. But somehow they always find me. Since then I’ve given up, I’ve told people close to me, but they all think I’m crazy. Maybe I am, maybe it’s all a hallucination. But I can’t help noticing that when I scream before they come, my voice is not the only one screaming. So they come yet again, their merciless eyes, hovering above me. The screams die down, and I can suddenly hear a tick, like of a clock. It gets louder and louder, until it deafens out the screaming all together. A needle hovers over me, attached to a machine of some silver substance. I was full of some purple liquid. I try to move again, but it is impossible. The needle points down until it is directed at my throat. Then a pair of eyes moves and the needle penetrates my Adam’s apple. My mouth opens, if any sound came out, then I couldn’t here it. The pain shot through my body like a thousands razors cutting at my every limb. The liquid was slowly inserted into my throat and I burned like the heat of a thousand suns. The eyes drew nearer. It was about to get worse. Entry D The Loss I seat here now and remember what we used to be Two shiny shadows coverted into dust I choosed this life, I choosed you and me Thinking I'd adjust. What tomorrow will be without you? We build dreams and realities, We seek through worlds and cities For a soul to rescue... Angel of my life with broken wings, Fly along the sky and save this world of sins! Bring me peace and your ghost, Because our love is at the endmost, And when tomorrow appear You will be no longer here... Entry E “Why did you do it?” “I just… I… I lost control. Simple as that.” “Mm-hmm. This is serious, you know.” “Yeah, I know.” “Take a deep breath for me. Nice and easy.” I took a deep breath as he instructed me to do. There was a measure of relief in this, although it suddenly felt small. The pain in my stomach was immense. This hadn’t been a very good day and now, with my luck, it was going to get as bad as things possibly could. I was going to jail for the rest of my life… then again, I might just die, like that son of a bitch Jody and that bitch Amelia. Wait, no. My ex-girlfriend Amelia. I’m sure the 11 o’clock news will make me out to be some crazy jealous asshole if I’m dead, that’s what they do. I grunted at that thought and shed a tear. It wasn’t pleasant to think about, “I really want to die, you know. I don’t think I need the world’s longest timeout.” “Sorry, kid, I’ve got to do everything in my power to keep you alive. There’s bills to pay and kids to feed and all that, I can’t be getting fired.” It was amazing how casual this guy was. He must’ve tended to a thousand dying people in his lifetime, and I laughed and wondered how many times he’d heard this before. It hurt to laugh, but I couldn’t stop myself or the pain that washed over me with each convulsion. This was like lying in the sand on the beach with waves splashing over your skin, except your eyes were peeled on a crazy sky where gray clouds dissipated as soon as they passed over land and everything turned to blue when you looked back up and up and up at the beach. I was in a wailing ambulance now, shaking in a stretcher that was probably closing in on the hospital at seventy miles an hour and trying my best to will myself to die. “Has anyone ever really willed themselves to death?” I wondered aloud, suddenly incredulous at how disturbing that sounded when you spoke. “Not on my watch, at any rate. Unfortunately for you, I’m pretty good at what I do.” I laughed again and groaned with pain and he leaned over to adjust the line, “Maybe I can outwork you on this one. I know you can hate someone to death.” This time, he laughed in recognition, “I hate you. I hate you so much. I wish I could hate you to death,” he recited, doing his best to impersonate however Gabe would sound, “Penny Arcade, I like your style.” “I’m glad someone does,” I answered, “They never really did. I mean… I’m normal enough, you know?” “Caught in a moment of weakness,” he added, “I’ve seen it before.” He’s probably tended to lots of people like me. Stupid idiots who fall victim to anger and make other people their victims because it’s so much easier to direct it at someone else than at yourself, I think. It’s hard to get much deeper than that when you’re hooked up to an IV and some fantastic painkillers. “I wish I wasn’t so squeamish, I would’ve offed myself and you wouldn’t have to worry about me. Hell, I’ve stopped worrying about me.” “If it wasn’t you, it would’ve been someone else. Someone far more screwed up than you and with less of a right to leniency or sympathy.” “So I’m sympathetic… that’s nice,” I drawled, “I’ll use you as a character witness for my trial.” He leaned over and checked the IV again, a “take it easy” smile that I’m sure wouldn’t do me much good two or three days from now, one way or another. I took solace in it, anyway. “We’re almost there. Sorry, man, no luck for you tonight.” The drugs felt good, despite the unpleasant news. Two thoughts, one good and one bad, went through my mind at that moment, although I’m not entirely sure which one made it into words since I never saw the guy again to ask him. I never got to ask him if he was making a Seinfeld reference at the end, too. Kind of a shame, he was a cool guy, too. If I hadn’t been in so much  , I’m sure we could’ve pounded back a couple of Budweisers and played a round or two of Madden or something.“I hate you so much now,” I thought to myself as I slipped out of the world, “Yeah, that’s it. I wish I could hate you to death. That’s what I’ll do.” Entry F Fear is such a thing, That can be different for everyone, It could be a monster with a wing, Or never again having fun. My one true fear is losing you, The apple of my eye, If you ever left my life would be through, So that is why I won't say bye. So while children are afraid of the boogie man, Or old people afraid of death, Maybe a black afraid of the Ku Klux Klan, Fear is as real as a new baby's breath. Entry G I look into his eyes, knowing my fate, he just glares back, or is he? His mask abscures my view, it's writhing face sickening me, almost as sickening as the pain in my chest. You see, the wound is done, the steel has been whet, fed by lust for blood. Sitting there, crying, screaming, begging for death, he watches me in agony, laughing his twisted chuckle. He hunches over to me, the tool of pain in hand, he points it in my line, obscuring it, I see him pick another, placing it in the same position, only to the other. Buzzing......laughing......a thrust of the arms....two small drill bits....it was the last thing before the pain, the torture......the darkness. And as lay blind, each tear stinging beyond all reason, the last thing I thought was, This is my story, pain, suffering, tortu- Then, the sounds echoed, the splashing blood, the dropping of a blade.....the scream of laughter.....and....my pain. That is all 7 please vote NOW! Last edited by Demon Dude; 06-29-2007 at 07:28 PM. |
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06-29-2007, 07:00 PM
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