Arthur’s Comments (group member since Oct 25, 2008)

Arthur’s comments from the Short Story Contests group.

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((This is the end of the contest. **We now Vote for the Best Story in this Topic**

Please take yourselves to the poll now. Rules are simple: just go to the newest poll and vote for who you like. And each writer must remember not to vote for them self.))

Her sister? She didn’t remember a sister now. The rapids above were crashing down on her and now the deeper pressure was bothering her for sure. She rubbed her feet.

A pain of not knowing rushed at her. If she never had a sister, as she knelt stolidly under the rapids crashing down, there was no sister. Diana didn’t remember, having never shared her paints or pencils with anyone. She always begged her grandmother to talk to her parents to have another pixie in the house. So why should she remember of a younger sister, or was she older or the same age? Suddenly a girls voice just lying in the other bed reappeared again in Diana’s mind denying the stories Diana told her to sleep were real.

Diana shook her head in denial herself. She must have hit her head. Maybe the pressure from the falls? Why would she tell stories to a sister she never had? What proof was there?

Diana paused then looked at her watch. She instinctively tapped her pocket. That fidget made her jump. Why did she want to now know where something was that supposedly resided in her pocket. Diana never put things in them because it weighted her down causing her to slow.

If she could reveal her wings she would quit right now and fly out of here. But people don’t know that pixies exist do they? Her parents always warned her not to show her wings. Or let her hair become so short that people would reveal that her ears were rather pointy too.

She made a promise to solve this headache she had once she was on the banks above. Only if Iffy was here, Iffy was Diana’s sister; she was always good with advice after she’d grown up. No there it was again. Something was wrong with Diana, she was hallucinating.

Diana often would listen to her about marriage. But Diana didn’t care about those things. She wanted to live a life of adventure.
…..
. . . It was a nice day for a wedding. Diana was by her sister’s side dreaming about climbing rocks like the ones they had at the back of their estate. Iffy pressed her hips against Diana in a funny dance then pushed her hard toward the ground. Diana noticed once again her sister was grown up. She was even taller than Diana by six inches. Iffy was playful, but sorrowful. She was to get married today to one of the pixies. Diana didn’t notice boy’s yet. She hid from them and all the rest. She was moody and depressed most of her time. She wanted to leave too, now that there was going to be the wedding.

A nervous looking couple past Iffy and Diana. A child followed the couple. The child was serene and energetic. The little boy wanted to touch everything he saw. “Is that an earring in your lip?” the little boy asked Diana while passing. Diana heard that question a thousand times before. She rolled back her eyes when she looked up at the curious boy. “Nope. It’s a bit too impersonal to add jewelry to pierce the skin. It’s a nail.” And she pulls the half inch silver nail out of her mouth to show the boy.

“oh.” He seemed to say uninterested. He thought he found a talkative rebel and he wanted to follow in every footstep of the way.

His parents were out of ear shot now becking the boy to catch up so he just ran to them.

Diana had been in a school gym one day and got jostled by one of the strong boys. Pixie’s had learned to hid their appearance, so when she found she chipped two of her adult teeth she said nothing. The top one chips like an Indian spear, the bottom one shaved of poorly exposing it to hurt much over the years. One day holding a silver nail for her sister while hanging a wall picture frame she found the silver soothed the poorly shaved bottom tooth. She just kept a nail with her at all times now and slipped it in her mouth. The top tooth was being used to tap on it, giving her a sense of rhythm.
…..
. . . That was what she felt for in her empty pockets. Her tiny silver nail.

But the picture swarmed back. Iffy married. Diana was forced to go on the honeymoon trip with the new married couple as best maid. To help. The entire family had packed up many belongings and they were on a holiday to the old world.

The ship sank. It even had a fire on board. Iffy was burned to death. Diana was in an unconscious coma virtually lying in a hospital bed and dreaming of the adventures she would go on once her family came back from the wedding’s honeymoon.

Title: The Pixie
Author: Arthur
Words: 1594

……………..

The Pixie

The pixie held on for her life. By the feeling she getting in her left arm she was going to tumble and fall. A severe disappointment. And more likely it would be to the bottom of the falls. She had to reach the furthest top of this ridge still and look down a little into that gorge to see the place of rest. Then to get a good hold on herself and the rest will be easy. Completing this climb had proved a difficult contest for her. Here was Diana Muir, river cliff world’s greatest climber. Four years she had met and beat impassible river falls in six countries and her conquering each event would lead her still climbing off the records. Before signing her contract to met in this contest at attempting River Deadpan Bedrocks she had dropped the subliminal hints that she would climb next year at the world’s largest river cliff, next fall. That would mean by the autumn next year she would face no other than Drillboat Alley-Dropped Falls. This was the very toughest and wettest climbs found just outside of Kurgan and it was supposed that it has claimed the seven contestants all given to try the same feat in the past. Drillboat Alley-Dropped had a record for people giving up once they seen it.

Nothing could stop Diana. She had a will forged by a century of relatives come from the oldest parts of our world. Before they came from the lands end folks. Her own strong will of women and strength was given to her by her grandmother. Her grandmother had been a short dumpling, a pixie who floated here or there, was grandly wispy and arrogant and widely remembered by her helping all others with their chores at the estates. When Diana’s grandmother coached Diana to finish up her day drawings and even clean her brushes after doodle paints Diana grew great respect for her grandmother. In her jerkin tunic meshed by flashy iron steal Diana wondrously gripped a stone that she found was loose and she pretended to herself her strength was that much more stronger that the loose rock would hold her. She thought better of it and then letting it go she sought for another to hold her footing once she climbed, one strong enough to hold her weight. She hadn’t felt such difficulty from stones in the past. Usually they were found at random, sometimes damaged by past climbers, arranged by what had survived from nature but these didn’t seem like those at all. It was like there were more loose than strong rocks, the one that she let go of before she’d really slipped and fall. Some of these new foot holds were recently placed and some rocks were just unsafe.

She wiped from her brow. The work was building up sweat. She concentrated now. Moved on closer to a ledge to steady herself, she pulled out a map she had studied. Its details of the climb were well known but while trying to win in this contest of who could do it in the least time and the rush it began to feel like the necessaries of a good climb will be left out. Her priority was to get up and over the falls and into safety away from harms way of this unforgettable journey.

Resting for a few moments before continuing Diana looked up to see the vision many talked about. Whether it was raining still outside the fall she could now not tell. Water dripped past rocks constantly. But the rushes of quick waters created a golden rainbow in the water dew’s mists. It must have been three hundred feet long and stood out like a hologram. The thought of the rainbow’s beauty brought back a gushy feeling of when her youngest sister shouted up to her from their bunk beds saying there were no real rainbows.

Who was that? Did she forget to give her sister a good night kiss to make her sleep? Diana caressed her smile by pressing her lips against her hand pretending to feel the caress given to her. It felt naked now. Her sister? After all what had became of her? Oh. The Misery. Misery of, misery of what? Diana would not remember.

She found she suddenly stood there wondering too much about how much time was left before she should start going straight up the fall, through the water that had fallen from one of the world most violent rapids.

She remained frozen where she was for now, contemplating her mystery, she had come to a full turned stop and was trying to remember her sister.

~continue

Rhetoric: Next week we shall use it as a topic. pompous

lol, slow down everyone. When you feel like writing don't let differences interfere. Let what you believe in guide you.

Well happy birthday in three months Jessica. I'm sure you will be fine, you were once a kid.
My own daughter's birthday is tomorrow. She's turning 20, oh I know the sorrow. I seen it.

I was in the castle of terror. There where we each had to hide all summer away from the headless huntsman-beast. When winter set in, we came out starved as savages. Only the headless huntsman-beast was frozen solid now as a frame in ice staring at our lock bolting fingering it to open. The picture was too gruesome I had to turn away instantly and look at something else. I looked at a snow fox with white hair that managed to be running through the snow covered field in search of food. While icicles hung from the trees chirping in a strong wind.

Alright Davis, I noted you were harassing Christy very meaninglessly also. I apologize if it helps, that I said anything to encourage either of the two of you to be randomly posting under the contest topic, and will remind you both this is not the comment topic, it's a contest. Refer the differences elsewhere, and if it's about someone's short story please discuss it under discussion topic. The quick link I believe is, http://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/6...

Awesome short story randi, lol a moral ending for the bad sports. Maybe they just returned home and cleared out their attic space, eh!

I can't think of an appropriate place, hum, I remember a stage play the lead actor Shawn had to drink cool-aid colored water from a port bottle, playing Higgins, but on the last night's stage, playing the My Fair Lady in front of a huge crowd, his mouth explodes spurting the drink because someone spiked the bottle with different alcohol. There's just no privacy in today's world.

babysit

I like the new name Popularandi.

Christy, ha-ha you make me merry. You're thinking about children? lol

I guess you guys can forget about the pink episode. I made that mistake once and someone pointed it out later, I think he called himself Jeeves or monolith. He's a member of the group.

lol.

Phone-books are for telephones. Everyone travel by air in airplanes. Right? Why not become a direct human and make a bank-account? By the sort of thing this could become, it would become much too confusing unless it’s explained, literally there'd be no harm in a bank, or the banking-guy, just by going in and grabbing a teller in a wicker and say, “I can't find my phone-book at home, but I need cash right away, deliver-up.” Saves on online charges? Or try traveling, and forget using your checks, or expensive conversion rates, add on an account at any back filled with cash and say, “I’m traveling, but may be totally lost to the way to the eateries, can you give me suggestions?” and out comes a drawer filled with crisp dollars, and a friendly smile with the directions to local restaurants everybody are dieing to try. . . .

I've made that mistake once, and dude Monolith corrected me by pointing it out (course he would).

There are no prizes, we just record the wins. Triond or whatever are just places willing to pay people, if they publish your work they will pay, but Triond wants original work not published at other online sites, apparently.

oh the um, http://shortstorygalore.synthasite.co... This is the link to the short stories and winners who gave permission to give details of their wins. Some members have merely won and didn't give permission to use the story, others think it a great idea. Check out Short Story Galore at this link or Clare's profile under her stories. If at anytime you have any questions, I'm sure Clare or someone will pick up on the matter of your questions. Good thinking Olivia.

I'm sure this is helpful. I hope this is better than random pink definitions I pick out.

This week's Topic is Rapids. If anyone has any objections to this topic, please go to the Objections post. The rules are pretty loose. You may write about the turbulent part of a riverbed, fast-moving waters or waterfalls etc., or about anything but just have the word in the story; there is also another meaning for rapids which is having a chance to deal with posting random topics on online forums.

As always, good luck to everyone!!

Me, me, me, me, me. My parents had the gift, or didn’t they? They lived in France for a year, was it a long enough while? And didn't love it. That when they returned, they direly spoke about their trips across Europe and then when mom had me, they felt so moved in the generation thing they spent time abroad learning that they wanted to name me after someone important by French standards. They didn't learn enough French and one day Dad just suggested 'Me' as my name. They strike me as odd people, but they love me.

Maybe Esther meant published by triond, and isn't old enough for a paypal? Maybe you need your parents special help to answer those questions.