Chaz's Writing Tournament! Subscriptions for the winner(s)!

[All_That_Chaz]

Re: Chaz's Writing Tournament! Subscriptions for the winner(s)!

Apparently I was too subtle. You stole Carol Moore's "Second Thoughts."

Here's a link to proof of your thievery: http://www.magickeys.com/books/alien/index.html

Hey let's not get off-base here. Just post your own writing! I'm looking forward to more submissions!

[EnR]

Re: Chaz's Writing Tournament! Subscriptions for the winner(s)!

I wish I can write stories,poems,ect.. xD

[joecool6561]

Re: Chaz's Writing Tournament! Subscriptions for the winner(s)!

A Sestina for you...

The Baker


A man sat crying in the center of the room,
holding in his lap the last of the dough,
the rest of which was cooking away,
filling the room with a luscious scent,
so heavenly, buttery, warm and sweet,
that the man cheered up for the first time in a week.

And yet, it had gone on for more than week,
he had lived for years in this tiny room,
he once had a wife, so precious and sweet,
but, alas, she had died from choking on dough,
and oh, how he missed her heavenly scent,
which had flooded the house before she had slipped away.

edit: ninja'd, I didn't see that mead1 won... Ill enter it anyway

[Verruckter]

Re: Chaz's Writing Tournament! Subscriptions for the winner(s)!

Here's probably my only short story in English:

The lute player stood there, just watching the town burn away in the twilight. It looked as though both the sky and the flames were one, uniting in a melancholic beauty. From afar, he could see the amber goblin dancing on the land, spreading from house to house until it had reached the outer limits of the village. Soon, all the huts were falling apart as the traveler grinned. Everything had happened so swiftly, yet it would be remembered forever, imprinted in the perpetually green soil like a shadow cast by a ghostly stone. But he turned his back and looked no more behind him, as he knew the events of the last hours would haunt his nights eternally. He staggered a short distance and collapsed under a tree. He ran his dirty hands across his face, spreading ashes on his nose and cheeks. On the other side, the woods appeared as a black mass cutting out from below the sky while the moon rose behind them. He knew he could not stay for long. Feeling ambitious, he stood up and started to walk once again. As the dusk turned to darkness, the fire had run out of food and the lutist had travelled a long distance. So long that he could now spot, vacillating under the pale moon, the few remaining lit up torches of a now nearby town. He felt his legs would be able to carry him until there, but no more. And so they did.

Painfully, he dragged himself, stopping from time to time to catch his breath, until he had reached the other town. The air was thicker, denser, as though a dreadful veil strangled the life out of joy itself. He stumbled through the gates guarding the city and across the narrow streets. Buildings stood a few stories high on both sides, unlit windows hanging above him. The moonlight projected a blue gleam upon the paving stones and what would in broad daylight seem alive and joyful was now reminiscient of dread; majestic gargoyles and ornemants had taken an awesome shape. After stumbling around, trying to find his way, he arrived at the center place. The only inn was poorly decorated but the sign hanging above the entrance featured a crow with it's wings spread wide. Inside, the poorly lit entrance lead to a large room. On the right, the register stood in a cold and uninviting way. The tables and broken stools scattered on the floor reminded him of the possible events that may had happened some time before. Some were still intact, though, and a few remaining customers were drinking ale and wine. In a corner, a fireplace had gone cold and someone had fallen asleep in a large chair. The second floor, which could be seen from below, consisted of five apparently small rooms whose doors were decorated with small crosses. The lute player stepped forward, looking cautiously around him, and asked the innkeeper for a meal and a place to stay. In exchange, he would play his instrument for those who were there. Surprised, the man looked at him, raising a single eyebrow. His expression quickly changed, as if he had realised his insolence, and agreed to the offer.


And so, with his lute, the player chose a table on which he sat. All looks turned towards him as notes began to fly softly from the strings, organising into patterns and rhymes, and forming melodies that filled the ears of those present. Everyone paid attention as his fast fingers strummed and plucked their way through the sheet he had memorised and played a thousand times before. Much too soon it was over, as the crowd expressed, but he would play no more for the night. He picked up his carryings and after a meal went up to his well earned and fortunately dreamless sleep.

A few hours later, morning had risen and the first gloomy rays of sunlight peaked through the curtains, reaching the lutist's closed eyelids. He opened them and stared through the window, taking a moment to wake up. Outside, a single, shapeless cloud drifted in the distant horizon. Now, with his package on his back, he walked down the stairs only to find out that everyone had left, even the keeper. His leg was feeling better already, as he could walk without limping. He moved across the room and opened the front door. Outside, the spring breeze filled his nose and he was blinded by the surrounding light. Utter silence filled the air. Not a single voice nor bird was heard, but only the humming of the cool wind. He looked around for hours, seeking another soul but there was none to find. The city seemed deserted. He walked to a public bench, upon which he sat, took out his instrument and once again started to play. As the strings vibrated, he closed his eyes to concentrate. Suddenly, he heard noise. It was not immediately loud, but rather, its volume increased progressively. It soon filled the space around him. As he opened his eyelids once again, people surrounded him; merchants and customers were busy doing commerce, others were working and some were enjoying the day. Unsure what to think, the lute player had a vague impression of deja vu. No one paid attention to him, except a peculiar young man who seemed to have been looking at him for hours. As the song ended, the man stood up and came closer. Impressed, he began to ask him questions. He pondered where he did learn to play such beautiful melodies and how rigorously he practiced each day. He then asked where he had got such a fine instrument. The player answered simply that he had received it along with great responsibilities and that it had the ability to give him what he desired. Surprised but confused, the man invited him to perform at a gathering that would happen the same night. He reluctantly agreed.

The sun was now setting on the land and a crowd had gathered in the outer limits of the city. Quite a few people were attending, eager to hear the now famous player and his lute. Rumour had spread about the instrument's skill. The event began, and a few other musicians played before him. Now it was his turn to perform. As he stood up, a man shouted from within the mass. He required from the player that he would have to show the instrument's powers. The lutist replied that it was not that simple, that he could not do so in such a context. Angry, the man rallied his neighbours to his cause. Soon, the whole crowd had demanded to witness the extroardinary. Struck with awe, the player stepped back. He escaped from the crowd and grabbed a torch that was driven into the ground. Furious, he raised it high as the crowd stared in disbelief and cried: « This is what happened last time to the greedy men! » And he threw the torch onto the wooden rooftop of the closest house, then disappeared into the twilight.

[MalReynolds]

Re: Chaz's Writing Tournament! Subscriptions for the winner(s)!

I am reading them, slowly but surely. I AM READING THEM.

[mead1]

Re: Chaz's Writing Tournament! Subscriptions for the winner(s)!

Please repost your sestina in here for everyone to enjoy!

As the curtain rises, we see a Woman
Who just two years ago climbed the Steps
Clutched in hand, a small amount of Money
Before Broadway she’d had less than a Life
Her days spent weeping over Love
She traded her sorrows for the Stage

Now she lived for the Stage
More a Marionette then a Woman
Who sang and danced and felt Love
For the masses waiting beyond the Steps
For her own she had no other Life
Performance was worth more than Money

She never had quite enough Money
She had sold her soul for the Stage
It was a lonely, troubled Life
For a girl quickly turned Woman
Who had at sixteen climbed the Steps
After finally losing her Love

She had filled the void with a new Love
One she couldn’t buy with Money
To those who climbed the Steps
And viewed the brightly-lit Stage
She was the picture of a Woman
Who had great joy in her Life

The end soon came of that Life
Men with tools killed her Love
She was once more a broken Woman
With not nearly enough Money
Remembering the old Stage
She wept silently on the Steps

An hour later, she left the Steps
Without any semblance of Life
Lost without the lights of the Stage
After that she knew no Love
Though she faked it for Money
They wanted a body, Not a Woman

The curtain falls in front of a Woman, lying dead on the Steps
She was found without Money, or anything to link her to Life
Unable to cope with the loss of Love, She had followed the Stage

[Tokzic]

Re: Chaz's Writing Tournament! Subscriptions for the winner(s)!

whatever think what you wont i dont care

lmfao

anyway heaven is done so i'm considering whether to submit it or not

yeah i probably will later

[All_That_Chaz]

Re: Chaz's Writing Tournament! Subscriptions for the winner(s)!

Here's probably my only short story in English

I understand French to some degree. Feel free to post whatever you want.

[esupin]

Re: Chaz's Writing Tournament! Subscriptions for the winner(s)!

takin' this down.

[DrugstoreCowboy]

Re: Chaz's Writing Tournament! Subscriptions for the winner(s)!

fyi, ill be submitting.

[Chromer]

Re: Chaz's Writing Tournament! Subscriptions for the winner(s)!

I'm too lazy to write anything new.

Part One

Uggh. My head is pounding. One too many shots of Jack Daniel's will do that to ya' and at age 43, it hurts even worse. The glow of my alarm clock to the right of me only seems to irritate me even more. The phone rings. I sit up, rubbing my temples, and lay my hand across the breast of some twenty year old. The broad and I got drunk in some seedy bar downtown and almost broke the headboard of the bed in the hotel suite.

I pick up the phone and put it to my ear in the dark. The operator says I have a call and I press 1 to receive it.

"Who the hell is calling me at this time of night?" I ask roughly.

"It's Eddie Yomare. We got big trouble Brock. I thought you might come to the hotel since it's a Saturday night so I called," says Eddie sounding nervous.

My eyes light up with excitement at this bit of news.

"What kind of trouble?" I ask carefully.

"Let's just put it this way: if we don't take care of it, we all might be dead by morning," finished Eddie.

I look at the alarm clock. It reads 1:30 AM.

I sigh into the phone.

"How long do we have?" I ask Eddie.

"We have until 12:00 PM to get the job done. Do you accept it or decline?" asks Eddie hopefully.

I stand up and put my faded black jeans back on, a wifebeater, and my lucky long black trench coat on. I look outside the hotel window and see it's raining hell outside. Of course I was gonna accept it. I had no reason to decline. No wife or kids, no goals in life, no reason to turn back. Hell, if I ended up dying today, I could at least say I got laid for the last time.

"Meet me at Sam's Diner in 10 minutes. I want all the details Eddie," I finish as I hang up the phone.

I reach under the mattress and pull out ole' Lucille. Ohh me and Lucille go back years. She was with me through thick and thin and damn the man who tries to take her from me. I stuff the Colt Magnum .45 in the back of my jeans and pull out a Benji. I throw it on the bed and walk for the door. Thanks sweetie. You gave this man love in the rain. I crack my weathered hands and open the door. It's gonna be one hell of a morning.

I step outside into the hallway to see a man in a black suit and sunglasses standing beside the door. He looks like some young punk hired to be an enforcer.

"Hey pops, I was sent to fetch ya," says the kid in an indignant way.

"Oh yeah? How about I rearrange those glasses for ya?" I ask raising my fist.

Suddenly, stars appear in my eyes as something hits me in the back of the head. I touch my skull and see blood. The bastard set me up.

I turn around to see another punk with a lead pipe raising it for a home-run hit. I give him the one-hitter quitter in the mouth and turn his hit into a strike out. I turn around to see his buddy shaking with fear.

"Now look what happened," I begin.

I reach down into my inner leather pocket and bring up a 5 inch butterfly knife. I flip the blade out and grab the kid by the collar and pull him close.

"Now, you're gonna tell me why you two are here or I'm gonna carve you up so bad, you'll be known as the "Human Jigsaw Puzzle," I say to him threateningly.

The kid chuckles and spits in my face. I laugh with him and head-butt him in the nose breaking it. Crimson red blood spurts from his nose and he starts crying. I let go of his collar and grab his arm. I twist it to the left and break it in half. He starts to scream, but I grab him by the mouth.

"Now do I have your cooperation?" I ask him.

He bites me. I chuckle again.

"Now I am gonna carve you up like a turkey kid," I say as I descend on him like a hawk.

This is gonna get messy.

End of Part One

[All_That_Chaz]

Re: Chaz's Writing Tournament! Subscriptions for the winner(s)!

Not much time left to submit! Great submissions so far keep 'em coming!

[GamerShadow]

Re: Chaz's Writing Tournament! Subscriptions for the winner(s)!

Submitting Chapter Five of FFR: The Phantom Challenge. The post is so long (3 and a half word pages, single spaced.) that I will simply provide a link to the post with the Chapter in it.

Link to Chapter 5

[Chromer]

Re: Chaz's Writing Tournament! Subscriptions for the winner(s)!

I have a few more submissions in me. =P

Blind Date

http://www.flashflashrevolution.com/vbz/showthread.php?t=83839&highlight=Blind+Date

[scorpio1690]

Re: Chaz's Writing Tournament! Subscriptions for the winner(s)!

Part 1
-----------
Another sun was setting, as Espoir had feared. Night time wasn't particularly anyone's favourite, people knew it brought out the worst. Crime and corruption were rampant in the slums. Police officers were bribed to look the other way, prostitution had reached an all time high, and anything that wasn't bolted down wouldn't last until morning. But not all was in total anarchy, as it was all cleverly orchestrated by Timor and Zweifel. Espoir was nothing like these two, and hoped not to ever be like them. Zweifel took joy in watching as her manipulative skills forced pawns to do her work, while Timor would merely beat his subjects into submission. Dusk was their time to shine.

"Do you smell that, Timor? It smells like the perfect night," said Zweifel, opening up the apartment window. The heavy pollution mixed with the sunset let a dark orange light into the dim building. Despite the outside appearance of the structure, the apartment had luxurious furniture and accessories. Zweifel's blonde bangs swept across her face as a breeze was let in. With ocean blue eyes she glanced over at the police officer in the room who had been cornered by Timor.

"Smells more like a pig to me," grunted Timor, as he looked down his nose at the chubby officer. Timor towered over the policeman by at least a foot and a half. His slick black hair and sharp facial features gave him the appearance of a dark angel. Strong willed, and stronger in physical might Timor picked up the cop and brought him to the window.

"Now why haven't the deliveries been taking place, Officer Lewis?" asked Zweifel.

"They have been! Just, this one's running a little late, but it'll be here I swear!" replied Officer Lewis. Sweat beads had started to form on his brow. His fear was obvious as Timor's grip on his shirt tightened.

"That's what you told us last time Lewis, what are we even paying you for if you can't get things right? I think it would just be better off for everyone if we took these affairs into our own hands, seeing how you lack the discipline to get the bank trucks rerouted through the slums!" Zweifel was growing angrier, her plan had failed, which was not acceptable. How could she live without knowing exactly every move of every piece of the board. This was a problem that had to be fixed.

"I don't think she likes you very much Mr. Lewis, and if she don't like you, I don't like you," barked Timor as he lifted Officer Lewis on to the window sill, his back to the descending sun. "You don't go far in my slums if I don't like you," he said with a grin. Lewis knew this grin, he had seen it before when he first met Timor when they moved into the slums. He knew Timor's only joy was causing pain and so when those crows feet became visible, you knew you were in trouble.

"Please, no Timor you can't do this! I've been with you and Zweifel from the start! Without me you won't have an inside man on the force, you can't manage without me!" Lewis pleaded with the brute as his heart began to race.

"We'll manage, Lewis," said Timor as he promptly pushed Officer Lewis out of the window. A loud scream and a thud followed, though he didn't hit the pavement. He hit the pile of bodies six stories below. Timor wasn't into the quick painless death thing, it just didn't float his boat. Timor was more of a man who enjoyed watching people suffer as the rats and wild dogs came for the smell of blood, and would rip apart Officer Lewis chunk by chunk along with the other bodies he threw out the window.

Zweifel couldn't concentrate, she had to figure out a way to get that bank truck to come through the slums. No one could just tell the bank, "Hey, drive you truck through the slums. Why? It's a short cut, that's why." It was just ridiculous. "You know we needed him, Timor?" said Zweifel.

"It's not hard to find a pig who'll take bribes; and if they don't take bribes, maybe I can talk some sense into them, that way we save money."

"Yes, but where are going to find the time? I mean, it's not like we can go out in daylight, all those goody-two-shoes pigs would see us, and cops don't even come to the slums at night." Zweifel was running low on ideas.

"Well why don't we just arrange for Espoir to have a run in with some thugs in the daylight?"

"How could you even suggest that?! We can't risk the life of our child!"

Espoir opened the front door, startling Zweifel and Timor. "Why is the a police car out front? Is Uncle Lewis visiting again? I haven't seen him in ages," said Espoir. Her small body would give no indication of being closely related to Timor, if not for the jet black hair there'd be no resemblance at all. She had her mothers' blue eyes and striking looks.

"No, Uncle Lewis isn't here, it must be one of the neighbours being in trouble again. How was school honey?" replied Zweifel in a loving tone.

"It was alright, on the bus ride home another homeless man jumped in front to try and get change again, but you know how it's against the rules to stop for them," Espoir said with a sad look on her face. She didn't understand why they were homeless; how they had spent all their savings on drugs and turned to a life of crime to support their habits, but even if she could understand that it wouldn't deter her from wanting to help them.

"That's a shame, he probably dented the bus," chuckled Timor as he sat down to watch their LCD TV. He flicked to the seven o'clock news.

"This is Chuck Smuland, reporting for the Channel 7 News Te-" the lights fluttered and went out.