MWC19 - February- Love

[Fro]

++ ENTRY THREAD ++

DO NOT DISCUSS THE CONTEST IN THIS THREAD. ALL QUESTIONS, CONCERNS AND COMMENTS GO IN THE DISCUSSION THREAD

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Welcome to February 2019's Monthly Writing Contest: - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - MWC19 - February - Love - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The January competition is finishing up and getting judged, but there's never rest for a writer. Here's your February prompt!

• THEME:

To celebrate Valentines day I want everyone to write about the dreaded topic of love. There's a catch, the writing itself must contain at least one piece of poetry. The entirety of the piece does NOT have to be poetry, but must at least contain one original (written by you) piece of poetry. How ever you fit this poetry into your writing is up to you. The whole piece of writing must contain the theme of love, whatever that may look like or however that may be interrupted by you.

The story as a whole will be judged, but the quality of the poem will also be very important. I know not everyone writes poetry, but challenge yourself. Try something new!

• RESTRICTIONS:

1. Word Count Minimum: 800 words
2. Word Count Maximum: 4000 words
3. Story must have a strong presence of the monthly theme
4. Story must contain one original piece of poetry
5. Story must be submitted by the deadline below

• Deadline:

March 2nd 2019: Midnight EST (ie midnight between March. 2nd and March 3rd)

• Prizes:

(Prizes could increase with value in future competitions. Interest levels would have to increase for this to happen.)

1st Place: Supporter Status

2nd Place: Honorable Mention

3rd Place: Honorable Mention

• SUBMITTING:

1. Post your stories in this thread.
2. Do not post revisions in this thread. They will be deleted.
3. You may submit one story only, one time.
4. Only submit stories that you've written for this competition. I don't want stories that you've written in the past. The point is to write something new and to challenge yourself. If your story shows up as plagarized (aka, found anywhere else on the internet, even if written by you) it will be disqualified.

• Judges:

1. Fro
2. (Hidden from your view, muahahaha)

[NyanaCreation]

Tittle: the loved ones that left scars.

 

I decided to go back to the old house I once lived in for all my teenage years. Where I left my books, my old pictures and even my older note books with math, English and other things. My mom invited me back because she missed me, why I don’t know but she wanted me to be there so I respected that and went to her in the same week. She was so happy to see me when I was the one she opened the door for and she hugged me like she had never seen me before. I don’t know what it was but there was a strange vibe going around the house.

 

The first thing I noticed was how empty the house was. My dad always sat in the chair in front of the tv and when I came into the room he would look at me, stand up and just stand with his arm wide almost screaming ‘’there is my little muffin’’ of course I never liked that when I was a kid because I was the tough one and had to be myself and that didn’t fit in my picture but now I miss that. My dad hasn’t been in this house for years because he is not with us anymore.

 

My mom sat me down at the table and like any other grandparent and parents they start to ask about how you have been, how everything is going, if something changed and of course everything else that they ask after it. You know how it goes but there was something going on.

 

My mom never did things without a reason and especially not when it wasn’t needed but this time something was wrong. Something was seriously wrong and I couldn’t figure out what it was.

 

Of course in that thought my mom grabbed my hand and looked me dead serious in the eye. ‘’Hey muffin’’ she said still looking with me but this time with sad eyes ‘’I need to give you something’’ I of course am very concerned because I have no idea what is about to happen.

 

She sais I have to close my eyes. Why? I don’t know but I do as she says and I hear her get up. She goes through some drawers and cabinets and then lays something into my lap. I grab it still with my eyes closed in case my mom doesn’t want me to see the present. I hear her giggle for a bit and she says: you can open your eyes no worries you don’t have to guess just by touching it.

 

I open my eyes and I see gift in my lap shaped in something that looks like a journal or a book. I open the present and it is indeed a book. The weird thing is that it is not a book that has been in the stores but rather one where someone has specially made it for this occasion. I open it and in the beginning pages it says my moms and dads name. Sonja and David.

 

I never called them by those names because it doesn’t feel right but I look confused at my mom. She just gives me a soft smile and gives me a little wave to continue in the pages so I do as she says.

 

I turn around another page and there is a letter in between the pages and again my mom has given me another scare of what this could mean.  I open the letter and just like the book this is been written by hand as well and of course I start to read.

 

‘’Dear Muffin,

You probably still remember me your dad. Today we got you and your still so small and tiny. Your mom is so happy to have you and you have the cutest feet I can imagen. I can’t wait until you’re a bit older and I can run around the grass field with you on my back. You caused your mother a lot of pain but I will repay you that in horrible dad jokes and stupid names that you probably already know by now. Today me and your mom decided to give you the nickname muffin why? I honestly don’t know but I am hungry so maybe that’s why?

 

Anyway me and your mom decided to write in a book that we can give you later on. Basically when you are going to miss us both or we might leave you both soon. We promised each other that we would give the book to you until the last second so you can enjoy everything and still have a peace of us when we are completely gone. I honestly don’t know who will be gone first but I am sure it’s me because your mom is way to hot to die first right? Only me… okay haha but yah if one of us gave you this then it’s almost the end of the two of us and that makes us both sad. So we made this little poem book just for you.

 

I am the only one who writes in it right now because your mother is exhausted from shooting you out of her body but I am sure she will write in it later as well. And I hope we are able to fill it up soon enough but we have some time for that I hope and otherwise more space for the other person right? Better to see it from a positive side then the negative. Anyway little muffin enjoy our poems and our writing. I hope we can learn you something and we hope that you don’t feel as alone if we just left you alone on the world.

Love,

Your super dad’’

 

I get tears in my eyes because I haven’t seen my dads hand writing for years and something like this is huge to me at least. My mom just looks at me with a bit of hope and sadness and grabbed my hand. I know exactly what this means. Instead of saying something she shuffles two peaces of paper my way. They are both different hand writing and I know one is from her and one if of my dads. I decide to read my dads peace of paper first so my mom can hear it as well.

 

‘’My last heartbeat by super dad David.

 

Even though I lay here with the last beat in my chest,

I know the world will never end for real,

My head is full of movies, poems and series I share,

And the most beautiful thing of all,

The muffin I created years ago.

 

While running through the grass,

I learned you how to spread your wings,

I saw you grow like a little seed that became the most beautiful flower of all,

And even though you never really saw your beauty,

We knew you could reach the stars.

 

The little muffin we raised,

Through thick and thin,

Through storms and sunshine

That little muffin survived it all.

 

But today is not the day of my little muffin,

Because one of the doors will close forever.

My door will close forever for the little muffin that I raised.

 

While my heartbeat gives out his last pumps,

My life will be all for them,

For my star that starts with an S,

And my little muffin who lifted my life to a better purpose.

 

And even though my heart will give out,

My heart will never be given away to another,

Because with every beat I gave in my life,

That was all for them,

And they are the only ones that will truly hold my heart.

 

My lasts beats will be of you my little muffin,

Fifth beat is how blessed I am to have raised you,

Fourth beat is for how happy I am to have met you,

Third beat stands for how beautiful you grew up to be,

Second beat stands for how proud I will always be,

Last beat is for how much I will always love you.

 

I love you with all my heart little muffin

And now lets end it on a beep.

 

Your always super proud dad’’

 

My eyes water and I don’t know what to say. I never knew my dad wrote poems like this in the first place but this he wrote for us but mostly for me. I see my mom shed a tear and I start to read her poem.

‘’my little star made by Sonja

 

Like a star in the sky you shine,

And even though the darkness consumes the things around you,

You shine bright.

 

Guiding the lost to hope,

And making the world a brighter place for others.

 

[NyanaCreation]

You always wanted to be a star,

Not like in the tv shows but in the sky,

But even though you never saw it you already are.

 

Your smile brightens up the world,

And even though you have been almost consumed by a black hole,

You stayed strong and continued on.

You decided that you wanted your light to shine just a bit longer.

 

And now you are here.

Again close to the blackness.

Where no light is passing by,

Almost alone.

But I am here little star.

 

Like star signs we will always be connected.

And even if I am gone my light will reach your star,

Even after thousands of years.

But old stars die and it’s time to go.

 

We will be thousands of miles apart

But my star will always shine for you,

And even though I haven’t always shine as bright as you

Know that this star has always loved you,

From the core to the outer layer of her being.

 

You reached the stars,

And you will reach even higher,

Don’t doubt your brightness and yourself,

Your perfect as you are,

And even if your light stutters sometimes,

You will always be beautiful to me,

To us.

 

Your our little star,

And I love you with all of my heart,

Don’t forget to shine little star,

I am sure a lot of other stars will find your light beautiful.

 

Your one star mom Sonja’’

 

My mom is kinda crying right now and I know I will miss her soon enough. I stand up and walk over to her and give her the longest hug I could give. Usually I am not really a hugging person but for this time I just wanted her to know how much I love her. That day we spent all day on the couch with hot chocolate and movies. I can say that was one of the happiest days of my life.

 

Unfortunally we are all together today to grieve the day that came after that. My mom passed away in the afternoon without a notice. The doctors say her heart failed and they couldn’t save her. I miss her just as much as my dad but sometimes people forget they have memories of the people they love most.

 

I will not ask the question why this happened to me and why they left me behind. This is just the way life is and sometimes it hurts. Unfortunally I will grieve about the loss of a loved one but I will also cherish the love she and my dad gave me and as some might say they are now happily together and watching over me.

 

Let’s never forget that even though we lost people who we love most, they loved as just as much and the memories and experiences we have had with those people are the most valuable of them all. 

~The End

[123survesh]

The Journal of a Captivated Small being in the planet Earth

- Survesh Jones

I am a captive and I am called by many names, honey, sweety, kid, champ and so on. I have been in captivation of the giants, since the day I remember. They have been trying to teach me their ways of living and communication. These giants trained us to call them names. Father, Mother, Teacher, Bus driver and so on. Some of these giants are just too mean and some giants are good. When we captives do as these giants say, they reward us with treats. We even get to ask what we want from the land of the giants, once every year, that they call our birthday. Its a give and take relationship we captives have with the giants. They for some reason like having us captives. Feeding us, taking care of us. Weird, if you ask me. A whole civilization is into this idea of getting happiness from having captives.

Well as a mandatory part of the giant regime, they send me to this far away land where other captives come to learn the ways of the giants. From what I can tell, its a place where we captives have to dress the same, eat when they ask us to eat, play when they tell us to and endure a lot of giants talking about their weird ways and memorize them. So we can recite them back when the giants ask us to and they can give us the cruchy round disks, that they call biscuits. Who cares why and how many bags of wool, this girl Mary has, as long as I get my crunchy powder disk, from my room giant, I am happy. Its probably about another captive these giants are torturing somewhere, I heard one captive saying that she is near a hill. I don't know. May be one day I will save her, one day.

I hate the journey to this far off land, the smell of paint every morning that reminds me of captivation, the things that the giants of this far away land make me do seem too important to the giants at my place of captivation, and the my giants are just crazy about sending me this far away land, despite my will. All I wanted to do was spend time with my friends Mr. Teddy, Pogo the penguin and see the heroic tales of a blue octopus who lives in the biting cold of the north pole, a nodding boy who tries his best to make a living by delivering parcels from the train station, the historic fued between these two people named Tom and Jerry. But no I have to go to this far away land, wearing the clothes of us captives everyday.

The only thing that made my captivated life in the far away land of captivated small ones, is this other captive. She is as cute as a lego tile and I call her lego. Her giants gave her these huge corrective lenses that make her small eyes huge and everytime she looks at me with those zoomified cute eyes, I am flying through the clouds with Mr. Teddy and smiling the biggest of smiles for her. She giggles every time I do that. She is a cool small person. She wears a blue frock and a white shirt as her captive dress. She ties her hair on either sides of her head so it will point out like antennas. She carries a white cloth with lions and birds on it to wipe her nose, I like it, she lends it to me in times of need.

I once took Mr. Teddy to meet her, to the far away land of captivated small ones. That was the most daring missions I had to pull through in my life. By passing the surveillance, bribing the captives on my bus with my crunchy disks that my giants gave me for the day, and oh, I would have almost sacrificed Mr. Teddy when my class giant almost did a bag check. Mr. Teddy was a brave person. The highlight of the suicide mission is that lego liked Mr. Teddy and became friends with him.

Oh, how I miss her everyday when I have to go back to my giants and she to hers, after every evening. I can't stop thinking about her :

Your daily captive dress, opens up like a blue umbrella, when you spin,

Smiling and giggling, while holding your hand, I am floating in the clouds,

Flying through the stars, with Mr. Teddy, to meet you in the Moon,

To see you smile, with your fallen teeth and shining snot,

I want to hold your hand and fly away on those clouds to my home,

And see the heroic tales of the octopus and the war time stories of Mr. Tom and Mr. Jerry,

On our big flat light emitting apparatus,

eating yummy crunchy disks that my giant named Mother makes,

I will take you home on my rocket ship to you giants,

When its time to sleep, So I can fly through stars with Mr. Teddy,

To see you smile in the Moon once more!

Just to see lego, I wake up early, do the tasks that my giants have for me like, painting my teeth with a brush and white paint that tastes like mint, I am not allowed to swallow it, the giants get all worked up over that. After that I have to pour water on myself and create bubbles with a bar of bubble maker. Then I have to chew and drink the wierd smelling things that my giants give me every morning, that they call food. Well after that one of my giants called Father takes me to the Captivated small ones transportation zone, where the giants from all over the neighbor hood, bring their small captives. We small ones get on a big metal machine and a giant drives us to the far away small captives land, where we spend our mornings everyday learning the ways of the giants.

Lego she comes from a different neighborhood, so I can't take the same metal machine as her. My giants get mad, when I don't return home from the small captives land. They were so worked up that they were sweating from their eyes. God were they angry? Coming back to meeting lego, I can't meet her in my room in the land of smalls Captivation because, she is in another room. So right after I come out of the metal machine, I run to her room and I will wait for her if I came early or she will wait for me if she came early. My self, her and other captives in her room discuss about the heroic tales and historic battles we saw the previous day on our colourfull light emitting devices. After that, her room giant will shout me out to my designated room. For some reason I have to stay in LKG - A room and she has to stay in LKG - B room. I wait for the pee breaks and lunch breaks to meet with her again.

I love Tuesdays and Wednesdays. On those days, the giants let us play in the big land that is in front of our rooms. I get to meet lego there and do we have fun or what? There is tall polished slanting slope, upon which we slide. Wow its an exhilarating sport, then there are the rocket seats that takes one up and the person sitting on the other end down. Lego likes the chained seats. I push her and the chained seat take her up and she comes down giggling. Ah I think I have fallen in love with her. My lego. She is just perfect, we like the same crunchy disks, the same heroic tale depictions on the big flat light emitting device and she is a friend of Mr. Teddy and Mr. Teddy likes her. What more, we will just fly away with Mr. Teddy to the moon on fluffy clouds and escape the giants and create a safe haven for the captivated small ones like us.

[DrSevenSeizeMD]

I Remember You

A Love Story by SevenSeize

Scarlet leaned back in her patio chair and took two long drags of her cigarette. She smudged out the butt in a nearby ashtray and propped her feet up on the porch railing. Kelly sat on the floor next to her, trying to lick ice cream from a cone before it melted onto her hands. Scarlet lit a second cigarette. "I've decided. I'm going to do it. I'm going to MemGenCorp tomorrow. I'm going to have them erase Trevor." Kelly didn't seem remotely phased by the news as she managed to lick the ice cream down to the cone. "MemGenCorp sounds like some science fiction bullshit. Like these motherfuckers probably making synths or some shit." Scarlet held up three fingers. "You said three curse words in one sentence. That's three dollars for the jar." Kelly bit the ice cream cone in half. "Fuck that." Scarlet stared absently at the street. "I know it's going to leave a lot of blank spaces. We dated for four years. But it's been a year since we broke up and I'm just not making any progress. I still love him." Kelly licked her fingers free of any remaining ice cream. "He cheated on you, you dumb bitch. Then he said it was your fault that he cheated on you. Then you totaled your car outside his office, and he just looked at you standing on the side of the road and kept driving. Why the fuck do you still love him?" Scarlet didn't reply, just shook her head slowly. Kelly stood up. "That's dumb as hell. You're a fuckin idiot." Scarlet looked up at Kelly. "Why do I hang out with you?"

 …………………………………..............

 "Prior to your memory reconfigure spa appointment please cleanse your home of any items that may confuse you once the unpleasant memories are removed by our dream technicians." Scarlet watched the pre-procedure video sent to her by MemGenCorp. She was having every memory of her ex-boyfriend Trevor removed that afternoon at two thirty. Four years of life to remove from her home. She started with the obvious, photographs both on the wall and on her electronics. She went through her jewelry box, two necklaces, and a ring.

A folded index card with sloppily written verses, a poem he had written for her. She held it in her unsteady hands. She knew he'd recycled all those poems. Gave the same ones to other girls.

 "You’re bound to bursts of well-founded cynicism.

And you’re beautiful.

 Even if I reminded you, it’s always been you in spite of me.

 I remember what it means to be an empty man

 It’s only because of you that I no longer want that.

Now I know more. And there’s you.”

She took a deep breath, tore the card in half, and dropped it into the trash along with birthday, Valentine and Christmas cards. There were a few other assorted things like books or t-shirts, but by the time it was two, she was pretty sure she'd erased any remaining traces of the relationship. She slipped into a pair of black yoga pants and a long sleeve white t-shirt. She didn't bother with hair or makeup. It was a day procedure, she'd return home in a few hours. MemGenCorp was located in a huge, white building downtown. The exterior was sleek and screamed modern. One wall was entirely windows, another entirely chrome. The huge automatic doors welcomed Scarlet, followed by a blast of commercial strength air conditioning. Music quietly floated down from speakers located in the ceiling as she approached the window to sign in. An eager receptionist greeted her, taking her paperwork and fastening a bracelet around her wrist. She kept a smile plastered on her face, almost as if it were permanent. "All done dear, have a seat and someone will be with you shortly." Scarlet played on her phone, dodged some texts from Kelly, and watched whatever was playing on the lobby TV. It appeared to be a cooking show but also a talk show. She was interested in neither. "Scarlet Baker" The nurse calling her name startled her more than it should have. She collected her purse and walked down a long hallway. Her vitals were taken, and she was instructed to wait for the doctor. She had been waiting forever. It had been at least an hour. Finally, a middle-aged man walked in and cheerfully shook her hand. "Scarlet, nice to see you again. You don't remember me, because I'm excellent at what I do, but I'm Doctor Rogers. I read your chart--- we're removing that liar Trevor. No problem!" Dr. Rogers began attaching electrodes to Scarlet's head and chest, instructing her to lie back and get comfortable. "Yeah it's been awhile, the wife and kids are great. Sarah is in band, and that's been an adventure because now she wants to play drums...." Scarlet zoned out and gazed around the room. She didn't know what other memories she had erased and didn't want to know. Erasing Trevor was a hard decision. There were so many good times! But she knew the times were only good to her. She wasn't anything special to him, and he'd already erased her, without the help of MemGenCorp. "All right!" Announced Dr. Rogers gleefully. "Close your eyes and lie back. This will only take a minute!"

 ...........................................................

Scarlet woke up in recovery with the post-procedure video playing on loop. "You are at MemGenCorp, and you are safe. You chose to have some memories removed. Should you need them later for legal reasons, we store all memories here in our databases. You are at MemGenCorp, and you are safe....." She waited for a nurse to come to take her vitals before discharging her. She trudged slowly out of the building in a groggy daze. Kelly pulled up in her Mazda 6. "You had some boy erased. I never liked him. Get in bitch, we're going to IHOP for pancakes." It was 6 PM. Scarlet got into the car.

………………………………………………..........

Scarlet took off work the next morning. She woke up feeling much better and with a clear head, laced up her sneakers and decided to go for a jog in the park. Some of the songs on her playlist gave her deja vu, which she brushed off as she ran. Up ahead she saw a handsome guy a few years younger than her struggling to calm down his golden retriever. She slowed her pace to a stop. "Hey, is she ok?" The guy looked up at Scarlet and shook his head. "There was this couple here, fighting. I'm not sure about what. But the girl, she picked the dude up like two feet off the ground, by his neck. Then she slammed him back down. We called an ambulance, it left like maybe 5 minutes ago, but Bev here will NOT calm down. Something was very wrong with that woman. “Scarlet rubbed Bev's ears. After a minute or two she finally relaxed and flopped down in the grass with a thud. Scarlet sat down next to her. "Good girl Bev." The guy sat down aside Scarlet. "Thanks for helping calm her down. I'm Logan." Scarlet continued rubbing Bev’s ears. “I’m Scarlet.” They sat together in silence for at least ten minutes before Logan piped up. “Do you want to go get some pancakes?” Scarlet snickered. “Pancakes? That’s oddly specific.” Logan grinned. “Do you?” “I do,” Scarlet smiled.

 …………………………………………….…………….

[DrSevenSeizeMD]

Three months had passed. Kelly laid on Scarlet’s bed as Scarlet got dressed for another date with Logan. She pulled up a dating app on her phone and began orally swiping left or right. “Oh she’s hot, but she doesn’t eat carbs. Fuck this bitch…………….This one eats too many carbs, nope…………….This one thinks reading is lame……….This one swings both ways……………I just want a lipstick lesbian who likes baking and Star Trek.” Scarlet slipped into a short, dark blue sundress. “That is extremely specific, Kelly.” Kelly never looked up from her phone.

“I have high standards.” The local news on Scarlet’s TV quietly filled the silence between Kelly’s commentaries on the women she was refusing to date. “Tonight, another attack, now the seventh since June. Authorities and medical experts are baffled, stating that each attack features someone suddenly developing superhuman strength and then becoming physically and emotionally uncontrollable. All attacks have ended with the attacker being tranquilized except for one who was unfortunately terminated. None of the tranquilized attackers have recovered, and all have developed extremely high fevers and have perished in medical care. Authorities are recommending anyone with a fever to please report to the nearest emergency department and to stay away from people exhibiting violent tendencies.” Kelly swiped silently but did take notice of the news report. “You know, this is like some science fiction bullshit right here. Like zombies or something. I bet there’s a virus and it’s gonna take over the world…but it only kills straight people, so sucks to be you girl.” Scarlet turned off the TV and picked up her purse. “Then I guess I’d better have some straight sex tonight before I die. If he doesn’t make the first move, I’m jumping him. It’s been three months, and I know I had the memory thingy done but my lack of taking birth control for a year tells me it’s actually been more than three months if you know what I mean.” Kelly never looked up from her phone. “That guy you had erased was small AF anyway girl, what you were or weren’t getting wasn’t worth it, I promise…If you don’t die, I’ll see ya later!”

…………………………………..……..

Scarlet slid into the front seat of Logan’s Jeep, and they discussed their day over slightly too loud 80s music. Logan had quickly figured out all of Scarlet’s favorite songs and always had a playlist ready for her. They pulled up in front of a local Italian dive. Scarlet cheered silently. “I love this place, it’s probably my favorite place to grab dinner!” Logan smiled, “Maybe you mentioned it once or twice.” They snagged a table on the back patio under the stars and a few strings of hanging white lights. Aside from the sounds of the city, it was a pretty set up. Logan ran his fingers down the single page menu. “I think I’m doing to do the three meat calzone, extra cheese, baked, not fried, light on the sauce.” Scarlet lowered her menu. “That’s my favorite order, that’s what I always order.” Logan smiled. “We’ll make it two then.” They finished off a bottle of wine as their calzones finally arrived. Scarlet used a fork and knife to cut hers since they had only been dating a few months. Had she been with Kelly, she’d have picked it up with her hands and licked the cheese and sauce from her fingers while they polished off a second bottle of wine. She carefully wiped her lips with her napkin before posing a question to Logan. “So I was thinking, maybe I come by the hospital this week, and bring you lunch. We could eat in the courtyard.” Logan’s cheerful demeanor quickly changed to a slight panic. “No! I mean, no, I really shouldn’t have visitors up at the hospital with, whatever this virus thing is going around right now. I’m sorry.” Scarlet pushed a meatball across her plate with her fork. “Logan, do you not really work at the hospital? Is that what this is? We’ve only been dating a few months, it’s ok. If you were just trying to impress me and you made up this lab technician job thing, just come clean, I enjoy seeing you, and I won’t be mad.” Logan swallowed the bite of calzone he was working on. “No. no. I really am a lab technician. I promise.” Scarlet nodded and went back to her calzone, but they finished their meal in near silence. As the evening wound down, they returned to Logan’s Jeep, and he turned the 80s music back on but slightly lower. “Look, Scarlet, I’m sorry, and if you aren’t wanting to talk for a while, I understand.” She leaned into him and kissed him slowly. “All I was “wanting,” was to go back to your place.” Logan quickly fastened his seatbelt. “Yes!”

……………………………..…………

Scarlet got home around noon the next day. She was expecting to find her house empty and quiet, so she could take a shower and contemplate the night before. Instead, she found Kelly eating cake batter out of a bowl and watching Netflix. “Girl, it is noon, last night must have gone well. Let’s rank this shit. Inches, length and girth, and how likely to make me go straight?” Scarlet sighed heavily and sat down on the couch. “We didn’t take out a ruler and do any math homework but biggish? Does that sate your curiosity? And you won’t turn straight. You like boobs too much.” Kelly licked chocolate batter from a wooden spoon. “I do like boobies…..technique?” Scarlet took a contemplative pause. “Technique was perfect. He knew exactly where to touch me and how to touch me. Pulled my hair but not too hard. Lasted several hours.” Kelly waited for more. “And?......” Scarlet appeared startled by the question. “It’s like he could read my mind.” Kelly finished off the cake batter. “Then why are you so damn chill right now? You aren’t even smiling. Is it because you’re falling for me? I knew it. I knew this shit would happen.” Kelly stood up and set the empty bowl on the coffee table and began to take off her shirt. Scarlet rolled her eyes. “No. It’s just; lately, he knows every single thing I want, everything I like. It’s like he’s in my head and I kind of like it but it’s kind of creepy. And I mentioned going by the hospital to see him at work, and that REALLY freaked him out. I don’t think he really works there. He SWEARS he’s a lab technician but….” her voice trailed off as she poured a glass of water in the kitchen. Kelly followed her and plunked the cake batter bowl in the sink. “So maybe he’s a lab technician somewhere else.” Scarlet looked toward the oven. “Are you even baking a cake? Did you just mix up cake batter to eat it raw? And I don’t know, where else would a lab technician work?” Kelly leaned up against the fridge. “Maybe someplace that erases memories. Maybe someplace that keeps all those memories on file. Maybe someplace that erases memories and keeps them on file and then creeps go through them and use them to find dates.” Scarlet set down her glass of water. “MemGenCorp.” Kelly nodded. “See, lesbians don’t do crazy shit like this. I mean, we will key your car if you cheat on us, but we ain’t erasing memories or injecting people with zombie viruses. This is 100% a weirdo hetero thing.” Scarlet began tuning out Kelly’s rant and sat down at the kitchen table. It made sense, but she couldn’t accuse him without any sort of proof. “Ok. I’m going to MemGenCorp. I can at least look for his Jeep in the parking lot. It’s just….Kelly, I think this might be darker than we’re thinking. The day we met, we were in the park, and there was one of those virus attack things happening. I calmed down his dog. Did he plan that? Does he have something to do with the virus?” Kelly opened another box of cake mix. “Once again---straight people problems.”

[DrSevenSeizeMD]

Scarlet drove slow loops through the MemGenCorp parking lot. Half of her expected to find nothing and to go back to her house and tell Kelly whose mouth would certainly be full of chocolate cake batter, that there was no sign of Logan there. Unfortunately, that half of her wasn’t right, and as she made her fourth loop through the employee parking lot, she spotted Logan’s Jeep. She thought about going in there. She thought about causing a scene. Ultimately, her eyes began to burn and well up in tears. She had been so careless and so stupid. She drove back to her house and luckily Kelly could see on her face that it would be best to eat more cake batter and say little.

……………………………………..

She ignored his calls and his texts for three months until they stopped coming. For one entire month, there was silence.

……………………………………..

Scarlet sat on her porch scrolling through her social media newsfeed on her phone. Kelly sat next to her eating chips and salsa. Scarlet took one chip. “Literally all you do is eat. All day, all night. How are you so skinny?” Kelly popped a chip in her mouth. “ I dunno, because the only runnin I do is my mouth.” A black Jeep slowly pulled up, and a young man stepped out. Logan. He cautiously walked up but didn’t step up on to the porch. “Look I’m not here to cause trouble, I just, I know that you know, and I’m sorry.” Scarlet set down her chip. “How do you know that I know? You still have surveillance on me???” Kelly looked from Scarlet to Logan. “I’ma need more salsa.” Logan turned slightly annoyed. “This is not your business.” Kelly reacted in less than a millisecond, “Oh HELL no---bitch----“Scarlet cut her off. “Kelly, can we have a minute, please?” Kelly disappeared inside the house, muttering the f word and a few other words repeatedly. Scarlet could see the curtains moving from the inside, where Kelly was clearly eavesdropping. “Logan, you violated my privacy, and our entire relationship was based on a lie. I’m not interested in fixing the relationship, and I’m still thinking about getting you fired. You shouldn’t be going through people’s memories.” Logan hung his head. “I know. I know…and while we’re getting things out in the open, you weren’t the first. I’ve done this to several women. I’m a piece of shit. I can’t get women on my own. I’m sorry. I don’t have an excuse to give you. I’m just sorry. I know that doesn’t mean anything, but that’s not why I’m here.” Scarlet craned her neck to look up at him. “Other women? How many other women???” Logan hung his head. “Can I please sit down?” Scarlet pointed over at a patio chair several feet away from her. Logan sat. “The virus thing. I know you think I’m behind that. And I’m not. I promise. But, MemGenCorp is. They manufactured it as a way to remove people they feel are threats based on memories we retrieve. We routinely scan all memories we remove, we just aren’t supposed to date our patients. When we determine someone needs to be eliminated, we give them the virus before releasing them. It takes about 72 hours, then they snap. I’m in charge of following them and reporting results to MemGenCorp.” From behind the window, inside the house, came a yell, “I TOLD YOU SO! I TOLD YOU THERE WAS SOME SCI-FI SHIT GOING ON!” Scarlet sat very still. “Who the hell does MemGenCorp think they are? Who gives them the right to choose what is right and what’s wrong---and who lives and who dies……….and why???? Why are you telling me this? Why are you getting me involved? Stop telling me things!” Logan ran his hand through his hair and exhaled. “Because to make the virus, you need a patient zero. And you are the closest living survivor to patient zero that we can find. You never got sick. We think you might have what we need to create an antidote.” Scarlet could feel her heart starting to pound. “I don’t know anyone who’s been sick!” Logan nodded. “You did………..”

“Trevor.”

……………………………………………

And that’s the end for now! I wrote about relationships, I wrote about love, and I included a poem

I just also included zombies and sci-fi because I’ve never been loved, best I could do.

Cheers!

[IceDragon64]

Love, of one sort or another

        “Daddy!” Deela rushed into the family roundhouse. “Is it true what Pelila says, that you are not my father?” Deela was flushed and breathless from sprinting across the village all the way from the waterfront.

               “I suggest, my love, that you have answered your own question, when you called me ‘Daddy’.  Baroit smiled his best smile and slowly rose up to his feet, steadied by his ever-present net pole. He was thinking rapidly; what else could he truthfully say that might delay the answer and soften the blow? This was a moment he had dreaded all of his daughter’s life; he had turned over a thousand things to say, year after year, but now, when faced with it, he had forgotten everything. There was a tense pause as he struggled to find anything else to say. This was a defining moment when their entire future relationship; their whole lives, might be at stake. She stared into his eyes, her own shining with tears, seeking, searching, for reassurance of some sort, her whole world shaken. He closed his eyes for a few moments, unable to think with her staring into his soul and thankfully, those years of planning came flooding back.

       “You made your bond with your mother over nine months before you could know me.” He stepped forward and took both her hands into his.   “Our bond began only after you were born. It was I who was there by your mother’s side when you were born; I and your sister, who was a very young midwife indeed.  Larina was the only other person on hand and she was marvellous, whereas, to be honest, I was hopeless! You couldn’t possibly have hoped for a better sister from the first moment you were in the world. I know you may find that hard to believe, given the way you two have been over the years, but she loves you just the same.”

               “I loved your mother totally, from the first time we kissed, to the last time, when she said goodbye to me, just after you were born. That is all anybody needs to know about that. She loved me enough to leave her family, against their wishes and come down from Tide First to live with me, a poor fisherboy without even a boat of his own. That, my little, shiny fish, is all anybody needs to know about that.

               “Since your mother died, it’s mostly been me, you and your siblings living in the family roundhouse, though your aunts and uncles have all played their part, on your mother’s side and mine. Your aunts made all your clothes when you were young. My brothers took you out and played with you when you were a young child and you always came back with dirty, scratched knees. Whatever you did, you must have enjoyed it; you always wanted to go again the next time. That is all I ever needed to know about that. You love your brother; even when he calls you Piggy and you kick him in the shins, you still love him and you would hit anybody else that kicked him in the shins, or even called him names.”

               “I have done, actually.” Deela shrugged and smiled a brief moment. “That silly ass that is now his wife once called him a fat ox. Only the once in front of me.”

               “Well, your brother IS a fat ox, but people don’t need to say so. And then, of course, your Uncle Iskaldir comes to Ludvek twice a year, or there abouts. I didn’t know him that well when your mother was alive; he was a friend of your mother’s family. Once she left Tide First and came down here, she hardly ever saw her family, so when he appeared he felt like her only family around; like her brother, or so I thought. Apparently it might have been a different kind of love, I suppose, but I would have to say that he loves all of us as his special family in Ludvek- that seems to be his way. You children call him Uncle because he would always spend time with our family when he was in town and would always bring little presents for you all. Everyone would rush to the waterfront when we saw his boat come in; it was just the Warm Wind back then, before he got the second boat. He would always come up here after he had been to the Palace and he would always offer to help me fix things around the roundhouse. Your mother always invited him to stay the night and I thought nothing of it. Then you were born and he scooped you up as soon as he saw you and spent a long time just looking into your eyes. He seemed captivated by you and walked around with you in his great arms, talking to you as if you might reply. It was some kind of love at first sight and since you had no mother, I always felt that to be a good thing. Whenever he came to town he would give you all the same small presents, then quietly give me something special to give to you later. The little green shawl you passed on to your cousin came from him.”

               “It’s beautiful. I miss it; I always thought it was special.” She looked west, towards her cousin’s roundhouse, as if she could see it.

               “Uncle Iskaldir would always have time for you; the others were jealous, although he tried not to show favouritism in front of them. He would take your hand and walk around the town.  Ha! I remember when you were about twelve, you came and demanded that I promised you you didn’t have to marry him when you grew up!”

               “I was thirteen and it just seemed like you sent me off to be with him so quickly when he arrived that maybe you were planning to marry me off.”

               “And what did I say in reply?”

               “You promised me, ‘by the River’ that you would not make me marry Uncle Iskaldir. Then you said ‘and when did I ever let you down?’” Baroit shrugged. “But Daddy, Pelila said that…” Deela started, but he put a finger on her lips and smiled, just as he always had.

                “Hush, my Little Bream. Time enough for that later. Let me finish making what actually matters clear to you, then we can go over Pelila’s bitchy trivia.  We can go and check Bimel’s fish traps now and see what fish we might have for supper. Fish, my love; that is what is important in OUR world, is it not? We catch fish. You, my darling daughter and me, Baroit the Fisherman.” He limped in his usual fashion to the door, his daughter holding his hand, just as they had for seventeen years. “All your life you have been with me everywhere I went. I even had you in my boat as a baby. I never left you with your aunts although they were willing to have you; up the River, down the River, catching the fish, trading the fish, cleaning, smoking and drying the fish. We are not greedy; we carefully put the little ones back and they swim away. We just do our job and live in our little place together…”

     “Daddy,” she stepped ahead of him and wheeled round to face him, stepping into his way. “Don’t change the subject. This is serious, it’s about my whole life. It’s about who I am.”

     “Now, don’t try that stepping-in-my-way trick, Little Bream.  You know I will only lick your nose if you do.” This was the most serious sanction he had ever had to use on her, usually simply the threat of it. He stepped around her, slowly pulling her into line beside him, still holding her hand, but tighter for a few moments.   “In all your years I have always, always, ALWAYS answered all of your questions. In my own time and in my own way. Have a little faith. When did I ever let you down?”             

[IceDragon64]

“You don’t want me to answer that, do you?” She smiled in spite of herself. This was an old routine; old and familiar. He asked that question; she gave that answer and never, in all these years had he ever called her bluff. He had always hoped that there was nothing in her memory of a time when he had seriously let her down, but he was absent-minded enough to have a string of different little things to have forgotten to do for her in any given week. Remembering things was her forte, he told himself.

      “Why are we checking Bimel’s fish traps, anyway, Daddy?” She asked.

       “I did a swap with him, we do his today, while he is upriver at Deer Vale and he will do ours when we are over the River at Black Point with Inamil and the people setting up the fish traps over there.” 

       “You never told me…” She started to rebuke him, then his words sank in.

       “…Are we really going to do that? Really going to have fish traps on the South side again? Won’t it be dangerous? Will they really let me come with you? ”

        Baroit counted off replies slowly on her fingers, just to emphasise how many questions she had thrown at him. “Yes, we are really going to do that, yes, on the South side. No, it won’t be that dangerous as we will be setting them up in the shallows offshore of the south bank itself and we will be escorted by a boat sailing up and down the whole time we are there, just in case. It’s good fishing over there. As he prepared to answer the forth question, he wiggled her little finger. “Would I say ‘we’ if I wasn’t sure you were coming, Little Bream? Do you think I would go if you were not allowed to go? The only time in your life I didn’t have you with me was the battle at Birolaya and look what happened to me?” He gestured his leg, limping along, as they made their way down to their little dugout canoe.

       “I would have gone with you!” She almost shouted. “I told you so. You know I would have gone. I would never have let that happen to you. I hate those Birolie SO much!”

        “No, you mustn’t hate them. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. We attacked them for no good reason and they spared me, so we DON’T hate the Birolie. That young man gave me his water; he told me to go back to my family and stay with them. Now, he was a nice young man, I wish you had seen him; maybe I’m no judge of menfolk, but I think you might have liked him and he you. He must be about your age; I wonder what happened to him…” Baroit’s voice trailed away as he focussed on what he was doing; getting carefully into their canoe. He then thought of another point in the long, drawn out answer to her question.

               “You only think you hate the Birolie because of your daughter’s-love for me. That loyalty is fine enough, but never let it make your dealings with others too hostile to live with. Silly old Pelila only really has a problem with me. She picks at you to get at me. Make sure that you don’t retaliate too harshly; it won’t change her and you need to be able to at least talk to her.”

               “It might be a bit late for that, Daddy.” A slight smile flickered across the young woman’s face, but Baroit was not looking.  He glanced back toward the West Quay, where he could see a certain middle-aged woman staring back at them, arms folded.

     “Oh? Why is that? Don’t hate her for the things she says. She cannot help being the bitter person she is. It’s just how she sees the world around her; it’s not as if she really sets out to be evil. Grumpy and miserable though she seems to be, she does her little job of Fish Counter surprisingly fairly and she looks after her animals kindly enough too, to be fair. They say she is who she is because of unrequited love. That might be my fault, I believe, although if she loves me, she has a strange way of showing it.

               “Ah, no, Daddy, you misunderstand. I’d better tell you. We were talking about Uncle Iskaldir and she said she hated him. She called him a stupid man and said he was ugly, just like his daughter. When I turned round and looked at her, everyone was looking at me, so I suddenly realised why I am dark-skinned and with an ugly, squashed knob of a nose, just like him. Uncle Iskaldir was my father, wasn’t he? It’s obvious; you don’t need to pretend.  I just felt so stupid and humiliated for not realising sooner. So I pushed her in the water.” She carried on poling the dugout out through the shallow water to where the River was deep enough to paddle properly. As she poled, all was quiet and still but for the sounds of her water-work, with her father relaxing a while up front; somehow she knew what was coming next. He either recited or sang the poem or song once in every day, depending on his whim. Today it was a recitation, in a whisper so quiet she would not have made out the words if she didn’t know them off by heart.

You seem so young, you swim so fine, Little Bream,

A silver flash, a tiny wave in the stream.

I scoop you out, in both my hands, Little Bream,

I put you back, I let you go, in the stream.

You can swim so far away, Little Bream,

Or you can live right here with us, in the stream.

Sometimes Deela thought about how strange it was to talk and sing with such affection for fish they hunt, kill and eat, but Baroit had always taught her to respect the fish despite them being her prey. Today, Deela wondered, for the millionth time, whether the rhyme was made for her, or she was nick-named after it. It didn’t matter; he sang it just for her, every day of her life.

 She had her answer, as far as she was concerned and Baroit understood it in her words. The adventurous, dark-skinned trader from the far North was her father and he, Baroit the Fisherman, is her father now.

[Akromaly]

"The Cockade"

It was a cold February night, the wind was blowing more than ever and there was no one on the street, only me, intent on returning home after my concert. I was exhausted. It was already the fifth concert in two days and for one reason or another this job wasn’t giving me joy anymore, the audience was always happy, but ... I do not. I was losing motivation. I kept walking, covering my mouth with my scarf to warm up, and being careful not to set my feet in a puddle. Suddenly, I heard a sound of footsteps splashing on the wet road, so I looked around to see better and understand where it came from. It was a blonde girl who was running toward me, and from the speed she seemed to be in a hurry. She reached me: "Hi there, do you have a few seconds?".

I was disoriented, "I was ... going home, but ... yes, no problem, do you need anything?".

"No, nothing, just ... I’ve been to your concert, and I just wanted to tell you that you were amazing!".

It was the first time someone congratulated me after a concert, it was ... a really good feeling. "T-thank you, very kind, really!".

"You’re welcome, I saw all of your concerts, let me say you have a natural talent". I was enlightened by those words, that girl I did not know had not even told me her name, but at that moment it was like it had not the slightest importance.

"I ... I'm really flattered, I do not know what to say ..."

"Before you leave, I have something to give you".

From the pocket of her coat she took something and handed it to me. It was a blue cockade, of a very thin and soft fabric, all gilded around and incredibly luminous, with a magnificent writing in the center: "You are the best". I turned it around, and behind it, still in very small golden characters, this poem was written:

“Nowadays we’re all the same

just be always what you are

Make everyone know your name

‘cause believe me, you’ll go far”.

"This is for you, promise me, whatever happens, never stop doing what you're doing so well" she told me with a delightful smile, and then she leaved.

I had been completely disoriented by what had just happened to me, I would never have expected such a thing that evening, as I said no one had ever done or said something like that since I was in the band I belong to. I took the step home, decidedly more cheerful as I continued to admire that majestic cockade that the mysterious girl gave me, it meant really a lot for me, for once I felt really important, when a short time before I was almost going to give up. But I immediately changed my mind, I felt full of potential, destined to do great things. When I got home, I placed my cockade near my bed, so that it would be there the next morning when I woke up, it was incredible how much happiness it could bring me. I woke up the next morning, and I had almost forgotten about it, but when I looked around I saw that splendor and remembered everything, definitely I had not dreamed of it. Without any delay I prepared myself in a hurry to go to my friends for rehearsals, in fact I had another concert before lunch. Even my friends noticed something different in me, "Wow, you woke up in a good mood today". They were right. I played full of vitality, I had never noticed how well I could play, I could see that I was too discouraged, but now things were very different. I felt myself again, thanks to that magnificent girl and her cockade, which I always carried with me wherever I went. Back home, as I continued to think about what happened, I realized that there was something I had to do: find that girl. That beautiful cockade was indeed something special, but never as much as the person from which it came, a person who evidently had a profound trust in my abilities and therefore I needed to know. So I decided to start this mission, looking for a girl of whom I knew nothing but the enormous happiness that was able to infuse me. I spent a lot of time looking for even the slightest information, but despite the lack of holds I did not lose heart, I did not live in a metropolis, finding someone was not such an impossible task. I continued to search non-stop, occasionally glancing at the cockade to not throw myself down, until one day I saw something that disturbed me deeply. During my research, in fact, I noticed while I was walking a boy I did not know, and that he had on his jacket a cockade perfectly identical to mine, same fabric, same glow, same writing. I stopped, swallowing. It could not be true. But it was. It was not important, I thought, it was just a case, my cockade was still unique and I had to find that girl at all costs. I went ahead, with a firmer step, continuing to repeat in my mind that identical cockade was just a coincidence, I did not have to give up. But then, that happened again. Another boy, with the cockade the same as mine. My breath was missing, what was happening? It was just another coincidence, it did not matter that there were three cockades, mine was always special, I repeated nervously.

So, as long as the cockades were three, I could have felt comfortable, maybe those two guys got it somewhere else, it did not concern me. Three cockades, all right. Three, four, five ... I had not noticed, how many people had my same shiny cockade, Till that moment I thought that mine was the only one existing and that girl had made it only for me, as a sign of encouragement. I kept walking, very slowly, hoping, eventually, to find that girl, I was not very convinced anymore, on the contrary I was terribly demoralized. I gave yet another look at my cockade, but ... it no longer had any effect on me, and moreover the golden writing was slowly coming off. I had been tremendously stupid, to exalt myself like that for a cockade that literally was on the body of half a city, and that I believed a symbol of my uniqueness when it was nothing more than a piece of fabric produced in mass. And if you're wondering, yes, in the end I found the girl, while she was walking around with a basket full of cockades she was distributing to the people.

[RainyG]

These Unspoken Things

The girl stepped off the train and took a moment to compose herself. She was about to confront a place that until now, she had only dared return to in her dreams. Now, faced with the reality, she felt uncertain. Instead of heading for the road, she moved to the fence that surrounded the platform. From here, she could see all the way along the little road that lead to town. She had imagined that things would have changed since she had left. 10 years,in the context of absence, is a long time. However, more than anything she was struck by how many things were exactly the same.

The first thing the road passes on its way to town was the woods. From the platform, the girl couldn’t see past the first few trees, but she could remember what the woods were. They were the secret place she had snuck away to at 15, to be held for the first time. They were the moonlit clearing, where much later she would eventually be made feel like a woman. And in turn, would make a quiet older girl she barely knew feel the same way.

Beyond the woods were sprawling fields that led up to the town. Each one a little world in its own right, protected by short stone walls and populated solely by cows and bulls and the crows that bothered them. The girl winced a little to look at them. Here she had come to be alone, and more often than not to cry. Even now, some part of her wanted to revisit that sadness. To climb behind one of the walls and hide in comfortable melancholy. She now saw these feelings for what they were, a coping mechanism, a method to defer any real pain.

The time for deferral had long past though. If she had wanted to, she could have cancelled the train, left a voicemail with some weak excuse. Rescheduled for a time that would never come. But losing her nerve now wasn’t an option. She turned her head defiantly towards the lonely house at the edge of the town and began walking.

---

What the girl couldn’t see, is that just outside the house the mother now stood waiting. She had seen the train pull in and unable to bear the judgement of an empty house, had come outside to stand a silent vigil.

In truth, the house had become an uncomfortable space the past few days. As the daughter's arrival came closer, the rooms had all taken on the aspects of terrible memories . The things she had said, and failed to say, hung heavy in the house. The shadows of every fight they had clung to the walls. The silence that had passed between them was like a fog, filling up the house.

So the porch was now her refuge. She had brought with her a small box that rested by her feet. After a few minutes of waiting, she sat and as she had a thousand times before, she reached into the box and touched the pages within it. Then, she began to remove the box’s contents one by one, taking time to appreciate each before placing them on her lap.

The drawings were the first to be removed. They were colourful and childish, depicting horses and mountains. She stared at these for a time, searching for some meaning within them. When she was finished with these, she placed them aside and returned to the box.

She removed a handmade birthday card next. As she read the inside of it, she moved her finger along the words, lightly touching each. “Happy birthday mom, love you”. This was the placed aside with the other pages.

Reaching inside again, her hand brushed against the scarf at the bottom of the box. She lifted it out slowly and put it over the pages. She couldn't lie to herself as to its purpose now. She had put the scarf there as a barrier between the final page in the box and herself.

In her hands, the page felt both rough and delicate. The thick lines of paper that has been crumpled and folded many times ran along the page. Despite this, the handwritten words were still clear. For what she hoped was the last time, the mother steeled herself and read it's poem.

I felt for the longest time,

That I couldn’t make a sound.

I learned not to scream or rage

(for who could hear me?)

You made it clear.

It’s best to live in silence.

She pressed her forehead against the page as tears slipped down here face. Then, gathering herself, she began to carefully replace the contents into the box. As she replaced the last page, the creaking of the front gate startled her. At the end of the drive, her daughter stood.

---

They regarded each other. Not as they had been, but as they were now. Two people, wounded as much by themselves as they had been by one another. For a moment, it seemed as if too much had passed between them. What would they say? Who would speak first?

Then that moment ended, and the things that stood between them, the woods, the fields, the cruel box and all the memories returned to being empty things.

In the end, neither of them spoke for a long time. Instead, the mother took the daughter into her arms and held her. The silence between them wasn’t ready to be broken yet. Neither of them were strong enough - at least not in that moment.

But they were doing their best.

And that was enough.

[DannyGoodShirt]

At 1/29/19 01:56 PM, Fro wrote: ++ ENTRY THREAD ++

DO NOT DISCUSS THE CONTEST IN THIS THREAD. ALL QUESTIONS, CONCERNS AND COMMENTS GO IN THE DISCUSSION THREAD

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Welcome to February 2019's Monthly Writing Contest: - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - MWC19 - February - Love - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The January competition is finishing up and getting judged, but there's never rest for a writer. Here's your February prompt!

To celebrate Valentines day I want everyone to write about the dreaded topic of love. There's a catch, the writing itself must contain at least one piece of poetry. The entirety of the piece does NOT have to be poetry, but must at least contain one original (written by you) piece of poetry. How ever you fit this poetry into your writing is up to you. The whole piece of writing must contain the theme of love, whatever that may look like or however that may be interrupted by you.

The story as a whole will be judged, but the quality of the poem will also be very important. I know not everyone writes poetry, but challenge yourself. Try something new!

March 2nd 2019: Midnight EST (ie midnight between March. 2nd and March 3rd)

(Prizes could increase with value in future competitions. Interest levels would have to increase for this to happen.)

1st Place: Supporter Status
2nd Place: Honorable Mention
3rd Place: Honorable Mention

LOVE NOTE (ANIME PARODY)

I slammed my locker closed for the day after stuffing my backpack full of textbooks to assist me with ‘The Big Test’ that’s coming up. The lone reason I bring home my textbooks is to entertain my parents. Studying is unquestionably insignificant, considering, I am Dim Akuma, the utmost intelligent high school student in Japan. After all, I won the National Japanese Spelling B. 

Once the bell shrieked I queerly passed my locker neighbor humping his new girlfriend; I walked down the hall, and noticed a notebook on the floor. The jet black color trapped my attention and the large blood red heart on the cover stuck out too. I collected the notebook and placed it into my bag and decided to check for an owners name after I arrived home. As I noticed my classmates leaving to hangout I quickly fled the premises alone.

               I entered through the front door, took off my shoes, and went straight upstairs into my bedroom. I pulled out the notebook and opened it. While there wasn’t a name written on any of the pages, I did come across something interesting. On the top of the first page it read ‘How to use the Love Note.’ It stated below ‘place somebody into your thoughts, then write a poem, and they will instantly fall in love with you.’ I thought, this is obviously sold to make people feel better about being lonely. Then I understood, I’m entirely alone so I should give it a chance. I quickly thought of the most popular girl in my class, Maria Yamada, and began writing a poem.

               Roses are flowers

               Violets are too

               Earth under the sun

               I stand here for you

               I wrote quickly with Maria Yamada heavy in my thoughts. I dreamt of her bright hazel eyes, everlasting curves, and that one particularly awkward moment she caught me staring in gym class. My heart was pounding at a rapid pace because I’d never realized how tragic my writing was. Suddenly, my heart plummeted as my cellphone rang. I slowly answered the call. As soon as I replied an ear piercing voice shrieked through the phone speaker.

               “Hello Dim Akuma!? It’s your classmate Maria Yamada!” I was flabbergasted. “Hello, this is Dim Akuma.” I replied. She ranted “I know we don’t speak often, but I would love to get to know you. Meet me in front of the school before homeroom class!” She hung up giggling.

Could this be love? Did the notebook actually work? How could this be true? It must be true! With tears in my eyes I thought of every girl in my class. My heart was racing with joy! I couldn’t believe the power I held! Oh my wonderful Suki!

                               Like glasses to your sightless eyes

                               May my heart be our loves guide

               Oh my sexy American Carol!!!

                               Your white rice skin

                               And wasabi dip hips

                               My heart is your sushi chef!

               Maybe for my darling Sensei I could use more emotion. Yeah, I’ll do one of those emo types. She’d love that!

                               If you won’t be mine

                               I’ll cry, I’ll cry so hard

                               With hair in my eyes

                               I’ll die, I’ll die so hard

                               If your love was a gun

                               I’d shoot my own face!

I passed out that night with my heart ready to bust, It and I did not expect to wake up to a demon.

               “Wake up!” In my deep sleep I heard a deep masculine voice I’ve never heard before. “I said, wake up guy!” My eyes jolted open and I couldn’t believe what I saw. There was a large African man upright in my room. His biceps and trapezius were shredded. His quadriceps were breaking through his tight pants. He smelled of coconut oil and French toast. The man was dressed in a burgundy trench coat and a jet black hat. His Katana was sheathed and he was indeed eating French toast dripping with maple syrup. “You probably are wonderin.. who I am? But.. you one of those Japanese kids who.. can’t speak up. He yelled while feasting. Well son, they call me Cupid. My real name is Thomas though.

               Am I dreaming? This is outlandish! I can’t believe this. “Basically, you found my notebook and realized its power. Then you passed out from ferociously masturbating. The poems you wrote made the ladies you thought about fall in love with you. I don’t give a flying shit but as the mother fucker Cupid himself, I do have to tell you. I’ll be around to see how this goes down, no human with a heart so greedy has found a Love Note before. This should be fun.” He ate his last French toast.

               I rapidly began perspiring as the room grew hot as fire. I knew the school day ahead would be challenging but there is no turning back. I sprayed myself with my dad’s cologne, tucked in my uniform, and hit my inhaler before leaving for the big school day ahead.

TO BE CONITINUED…