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

Arthur’s comments from the Short Story Contests group.

Name: Love Wood

Words: approx. 1015

Genre: Fiction

By: Arthur

Notes: the subject moon called up for something about moonlight. If you ask me, ‘moon’ and elves go together, especially this time of the season, so I composed this story.

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Love Wood


The winter was coming. It was always a good idea to bring in fresh fire wood for the chimney fires. And stoke up the fire meant bringing in the best firs from the forest trees around Love Wood.
Mysable the youngest of the elves to be allowed to work grabbed onto a large branch. She shook in what might be best described as simple fright. A pile of higher branch snow slid off the tops of the tree covering her so completely she looked like a snow man.
“What was that?” recovering from the quake elves shot back and forth clearing door steps and walk ways again since tree tops let go of all the snow caking.
Mysable thought about going back to her house until she learned what had been happening. But instead seeing a crowd of elves in a group she came over to them to listen in to what they were saying.
The earth shook all right. And it was the worse damage ever in elves history. Large crater sized of deepest cracks appeared in the grounds surrounding Love Wood.
Mysable looked at what had caused the earth around Love Wood to shake. Elves had taken out measuring tapes to asset what the cracks measured. They were at least thirty five feet wide in average, and ran all in curving straight lines.
That night, before supper a town meeting was in congregation. The mayor and town doctor had been thinking up ways to keep the peace of Love Wood. The elves had imaginations, and several groups envisioned stories of the end of the world. The mayor took a podium to speak, “what we must do is find out from where the cracks come and how many.”
Hollers of agreeing from a vast crowd. Many out of towns’ elves came tonight knowing they would assist in what had been rumored as the end.
A horse stampede began. Hundreds of elves had dashed off into North or South directions to follow the different inevitable cracks that had scourged the land from those original directions, thirty five feet wide. Some rumored it would have to have been cold weather from the north and follow them, others unsure but the cracks go down leading to the south. A good argument, but what proof was there?
Mysable had gone with her father and four brothers. They had gone north. They stopped after many miles, and into the morning. Mr. Whiskers Elves and his four sons wanted coffee. Mysable with Jinnee her oldest brother built a fire.
Whiskers took little time to tell his family how grateful he was they were together. Jinnee had brought a music instrument and made flute songs with it. The dawn passed. They felt exhaustion. They thought they wouldn’t be able to go on, but they did. They mounted their horses and continued north into regions unknown.
To their amazement they came upon a castle that had a black cloud with lightening striking out above it. The mouth of the moat was dry, and didn’t need a bridge across because it wasn’t deep either. But a strange place it was.
Mysable sped up to the front warning her farther that it wasn’t safe. He decided she was saying this for protection, but now unsure himself, sent two boys ahead to go down the moat and cross over to the castle to enter it.
The moon had shown its face. It was nearly noon, but the sun began hiding behind the clouds of lightening just above the castle. The moon was the only light for miles around. But the far distances looked bright as day as ever.
A new group of elves arrived to the castle, having followed another crack that led to the castle. They met with Whiskers as Mysable was looking after her brothers with watchful eyes.
Then another group, and yet other groups of elves also appeared. And elves from other parts of the world too. They had all followed the same cracks that had been so deep in the ground all leading away from the castle.
Leaders of the groups had gotten together to asset their power as an attacking army if they had trouble gaining access to the mysterious castle.
Mysable brothers had crossed the moat and climbed up to the gate by now, and looking into the castle it appeared empty of enemies. Ferny shot a message across the moat. Whiskers took the arrow and read the message.
“No Nabobs appears here. Castle looks safe, we will wait here. What will happen if we lower the bridge for elves crossing?”
Whiskers took the message to the army’s leaders. They hadn’t been in any hurry to solve this mystery, but in their bad tempers, they were busy setting up camps behind the forest trees near the castle.
The cracks had spread from the castle and heading in a downward curving line, causing destruction of its path.
Within hours they sent message to lower the bridge that would lead across to the castle. Ferny and Jinnee lowered the bridge. Hundreds of elves crossed.
Mysable rushed to her father’s side, worried of an early victory that spelled doom. But once across seeing something was odd with the quietness of the castle only. Mysable and Ferny had been going through a room that had a secret passage that led to a secret dungeon. There were magical levers and magical potions. And a door that was wide open that will lead outside into a wooded valley and had showing foot steps of recent people that left the door open. They must have left in a hurry. Afraid the potion that caused the ground to explode had been their coming doom.
Why they had not returned or just left after their devious experiments would be a mystery. The elves had looked but found no signs of the castle residents. None of the elves were aware there was even a castle here. In years past, maps had not shown it. So they needed to guard it for the possibility that the wizard casters will return.

The End

I put the Week Six poll up late sorry guys. Next week Clare or I will get it right. So vote for your favorite story from this week.


No more story entries for Week 6 PLEASE. **Week Six is closed** unless you wish it, but of course fewer will see your story.

It's too early to wake anyone up

Awesome first story Mary Anne

ok!!

Ebenezer Scrooge was a man born within a proper station, and all-within he was a man of self righteousness and with a halo. Until Christmas Eve when he discovers he was both post modern and terminated. Angels of greed or death visit him and we all well loved him for his Scroogeness. In his proper station with his hip tip and wave of his wand, this man of greed learns life twice. And innocence. The common-wealth and richness in nature above habits of cutting expensive costs. Becoming a hero to all parents around the world from extending Christmas wishes to Bob Cratchit.

Imaginitive stories everyone, all of them.
Good stories are like good music, John Lennon I'm Stepping Out.

With the internet I’ve found time for most things. Feeding plants have become something I really considered usefully miraculous. Just the usual clumps heavy with food nourishes digging deep hungry roots. Now I want to talk on the loud speaker over an internet and it photosynthesizes in a process. It is true a wider healthy environment means a bigger difference. All this comes for all these wanting to begin to change and talk of it.

Name: Dry Kisses

Words: approx. 990

Genre: Fiction

By: AjC

Notes: the subject sadness called up for something about sadness. Actually Monday I spent the day in the country and brought a book for reading. Some dried out plants being plucked out of the indoor kept pot spilt leaves all over my cover. Normally I’d think nothing of it, but it stuck in my mind this once. Later Monday after seeing ‘sadness’ I composed this story.

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Dry Kisses


Lying on the Nile. Wrestling the earth away from the Earth dirt the so-called sand. I was preparing myself for my journey back returning to my homeland. Far away from Egypt. Much too far.

It turns out I sequestered too far from home and was on one of my escapes. Mirror, maroon, mirages.

Sand here is technically located in every direction. Not a real commodity. Although people have been known to buy bottles of this stuff.

I have no intention of stealing from architecture from these plains, the only true old plain of our civilized world.

Sand, plains and automobiles. Doesn’t really work together, has but a catchy drifting rift sound like that.

Especially now if when I was on the other side of the world, I would sit exhausted on a curb or ducking into shades that stretch numerous times throughout the day in some parking lot to be alone.

Often ducking into alleyways. In quests from my loneliness and always seeking darker shadowy shades of coolness away from the city’s hustle and bustle.

I have often seen more people than I care. I am a kind of a one man loner. The road is calling me and everything I can do not to answer and find myself lost on them alone, without any sense of direction is playing music.

Not catchy you say. And I agree?

I'm positively in a grunge. I’ll mood swing. I shall defeat my own purposes to possess my head logic. To get everything in this world will mean being content with what life adjusts and allows. Slave. Slave to machinations. Music has been my only release.

So I took a vacation. And the sand and pyramids came fully into my mind of eye.

I mean, as if I had listened carefully to the drums of this kind of funky jets in the air before, now I’ll be reborn. The first aircraft, cheap, and not even first class, I arrive in. In ancient cities, Pelusium my first stay. My first intention was to sunburn.

Pelusium far off from modern Port Said, the closest municipality, for the first time I actually had to check into my hotel. Then leisurely way, I have found myself indulged in pool life. I had bought new clothes. Even cheap, but suitable for my modest income. I indented myself, wearing my purchased clothes in a pool side lounge position on a campy chair. Ironically, hearing cheering and laughter. More accustomed to the Egypt sun now and better dressed, did you know that it emits 80 Celsius even in the season’s spring weather?

I have my brochures. The “Way of the Sea” has its own favorite restaurants, some quite fancy, dining, dancing, night life. During tours one can eat pizza, visit graves and an exhibit leading to even the Dead Sea scrolls. I did not have the time for every scroll plundered or mystery way under every old man buried in gold, even though this is the reason why I came at all.

In truth, I wanted to get out and find a way in the way of life here. Equally important in the search for comfort, it is somehow sharing with others. I did not imagine shops bare and obscure, such as New Mexico. I did not think it would be the maximum richness of Arizona. All in all, I wanted to Egypt treatment myself.

In one week, I found a few praiseworthy restaurants to my taste. Where I finally choosing a favorite. And before I return home I wanted to eat there again and again. One night I met the new waitress Martha. I did not realize you could laugh so much. Or simply to find satisfaction with mute smiles. We began spending evenings together. And one night we went along a long beach together.

I began to realize that her smiles and laughs was also a kind of old-fashioned blush. We never came close. In three nights we had not even hold each other's hands.

"Martha you are beautiful." I thought they would be honest, like other girls in America, and squeeze tight and perhaps, only in my favor, open up. She turned to smile with her rosy blush.

My ordinary face blushed too, was I trying too hard with a naive waitress I just met? We stopped and she held her breath.

We both just stood there holding still. We looked into each others facial expressions. She blushed far too long to think I was getting through as I really believed I felt.

Then she came forward, and she touched my cheek with her palm of the hand. She brushed away my color when she stroked my face, lifting her hand away again. Did they touch me? I felt something brush past me.

"Martha, I'm glad you feel for me, what I'm feeling for you."

The horizontal sun darted over the edge of darkness into obscurity.

She wound her fingers inside mine, and we embraced. First it was a touch like a drying plant has been reaching for maturity and in the air. It was pressing its lips on my cheek. Then she gently teased by moving towards on my neck. Where she discovered senses. Then brushed our cheeks together.

Her bony cheeks always rested with increased pressure each time they made her pass.

The river rushed behind us. The fast flow, their sound as innocent noise die in our background. I felt the urgency come to me to do the red blushing this time.

Her throaty kisses reminded me to move into a closer embrace and hold her. She would seal within my security and eventually she will break free. Together, we would solve a mystery of being romantic dogs.

A faint sound of odd winds from over the other side of the great river made me think about the khamáseen.

I felt good from her caresses. Dry Kisses.

Sadness.

Billy Joel Glass Houses rocks!

Excellent stories, good work everyone, keep it up.

o teh

Words: aprox. 1100
Genre: Only Fiction
By: Arthur
Notes: I don’t think you should try this at home!! LOL
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I’m Blind In My One Eye

I will not mind being measured to someone better.
I’m blind in one of my eyes. I will feel as if I was still a full person. Death will not create in me an imposable abstract I cannot follow. It’s the others once they recognize in me beyond themselves becoming blind themselves of the pain they cause trying to treat me as if they were my equal. In fact I’m trying stress classes and finding those hours impossible to relate without relieving myself without telling my story.
Equal are their normal. I was normal one day long ago. Not in anyway will I remember becoming emotionally uncalm because my story is sadly lame. Not anymore or in anyway I care to explain can I leave out the truth of how I am affected.
The looks of death is infecting my judgment. It harms the things I work around. I am the one trying to forgive Tommy Mysable and for his jokes and his impossible sense of humor. I am without...without him today, and I just learned he will never be here again to make me the butt of his humor. The butt of a satiety we both shared you may now understand existed once called upon, the squatty fatty of our nature.
Looking into it now will be harmless as mice. We are knave creatures and I don’t mean to become a mean creature.
Remember, I don’t mind measuring myself to another. Less of all to Tommy, if he were still with us. Society fills me with power and I refrain from using my anger to restore Tommy’s life to me. He’s buried and death hangs over his funeral grave stones. His other family relatives and his date of death hang synchronizing infinitely.


I spend most of my afternoon hanging out with Tommy. We walk across the street towards the corner where there is a shop store. We buy cokes and hang out in the alley. We have been doing this for years during the hot summer. Sometimes my little sister had to get out of the house also. I’m not very creative so I just made her tag along.
One day we stopped and found a book along the side of the street. Triennia my little sister went over to pick up the book. Tommy snatched it from her telling her to beware street bugs and rodent bites. I was laughing so hard the gas from our cokes earlier was hitting me in my chest.
The book wasn’t that great anyway, so Triennia ignored the comments, but hovered over us as Tommy flipped through the pages.
The weirdest stories I’d seen. Not at all like the books I’d seen in the school library. This was a book about knights and had pictures that looked etched or hand drawn then printed in small size to illustrate in the story sometimes. Tommy shouted Whew-hoot!
We found it hot in the sun standing there with our newly acquired book. We found a bench near a tree and we sat discussing the stories and all about fables.
Triennia surprises me sometimes with her knowledge on subjects she had learned in her grade six class. Now she was sure the book was unimportant, but she chummed in with heroic yahoos when Tommy got to the victorious ends in poems.
Tommy took the book to our door and gave it back to Triennia for her to take. I took it from her before we got in and stuck it under my shirt. I didn’t want mom to take a look at it. She may not approve. I don’t know why, but she may want to throw it back out again.
Before going to bed Triennia asked me some more about those knights, and if they were really like in the book.
I supposed they did live in a realm with armor and sometimes dragons and I also didn’t want to crush her new imaginary friends. Not as long as we had this book anyway.
The next time Tommy and I went out Triennia wanted to go along to be with us.
I knew it was because we’d read more of the chivalry. But I really thought it wouldn’t hurt her, not until she began to out grow it.
I felt I lost most of the enthusiasm myself.
I was surprised by Tommy Mysable. He’s really one of a kind. But this one day we went too far, we really had, I was so stupid, and I realize I knew nothing about science.
Triennia had to hold the book, but we were acting out a scene from a poem, “Lanky”. Tommy was staring out into the day space with one eye closed. I had to keep the other one metaphorically speaking open, by heading the opposite direction and stare directly at the sun with one eye. Little did I realize that once I stopped that I wouldn’t see for hours with the eye I looked at the sun with.
Tommy and his bright ideas. I never thought about saying no way man. I suppose since Tommy Mysable read the book for us that I believed in him. “Lanky” was about a lost hidden treasure that was protected by a dozen ghosts that once were knights, and the only way to see the knights in the flesh was to draw a map and bring it to them. So it was a sky map and one of us had to decide which direction the map would start.
All in all. My sight began slowly to return the next day. But I had a hidden welt inside my eye that looked like a glob of glue. And every time I opened my sore eye, a beam seemed to emit from it. I doubted it was magic. I decided I was going blind. I never told Tommy Mysable his idea never worked. We never drew the map. And years later the soreness in my eye and the I beam got worse. I’ll never try solving a ghost story in an universal way again. And I’m alone now looking at a beam roaming in my one eye without Tommy.

“Lanky the snake knight stood on a cave shoulder
And shouted out a rhyme,
‘Once you pass into this here cave you will descend
Into an infernal not any different than Hades

But if you draw me a map
You can find my bones and bring up a treasure.’”
-A Death Poem

_H_ _ND.

this is my brother and sister.http://apps.facebook.com/files/shared...

no really i always referred to them as identical, even though one was my brother and one was my sister

I haven't read Chandani's story yet. That was just an out burst.

My brother and sister were twins. They looked a like.

I bought the book E.T.: The Book Of The Green Planet, I’d seen the E.T. movie two years before, but I couldn't understand the book, I was only 14 when I bought the book, but I did like the movie, and Elliot with E.T., and now I will have to dig that book back out and try to read it again, I probably should, then rent the dvd somewhere of E.T.

idk I agree, the movie is suitable for every generation, and can target younger viewers when accompanied with parents. Sure the gore and vampire thing is hard to explain to children, but the movie may be great for a first vampire experience I feel.

It was like I realized I didn’t check to see how long the movie would be, I figured within the two hour thing right? But it was already twenty minutes to twelve, and I thought we were in the middle, and credits rolled at twelve. The movie was surprisingly fast since the baseball game scene and when they meet the tracker-outsiders in Cullen territory. I’m glad I went to the cinema, I sometimes miss the ideas when on dvd’s. I saw E.T. at the cinema and I still haven’t watched it since. But I think I’ll see twilight again.

Words aprox. 1220


Not Repeated
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RUMMAGE SALE
WILLING REASONABLE
PRICES
NOT REPEATED
NOV. 17 – 21

I was rummaging. I’m moving to Miami. This being here was my last resentful week. My dog died on Tuesday. It’s not true; he could not really ever speak properly. That’s why he developed that urine problem. He’d stare at the back of door instead of calling. Then I’d come around in the middle of the night to let the whinier out. The doctors figured maybe it was a good thing Fluffy went quietly in his sleep.
But that wasn’t my fault. And either was moving to Miami. I can’t wait though. Will I get another dog? I haven’t decided on one yet. But I’ll miss Fluffy the little whinier. All day I spent digging out boxes. Some are old I can’t tell the story. “Why all these boxes?” I remember myself asking out loud. I wasn’t worried someone hearing. Even the neighbors were welcome to come over and share in this dividing of what need go to Miami and what just go. So I stacked a huge wall of everything I was getting rid. I’m not sure what made me stop and decide all these things were actually worth some money. But I’d rather ditch these boxes than go through them. Really I couldn’t really remember what was in most of them.
Like as if I really buried an old check book or something in here. But I was tempted to just unload it all. Maybe I could? A charity? They’d find what they’d want and destroy the rest, right? But if in my fears maybe something would have had value, and I’m not certain about any sentimental value neither. I mean, I need to let go of this collection. I’m moving to Miami.
My senses of distinction was blurred I admit. Fluffy died. And my brother’s call. Well? Yes, after ten long years separated. I thought he was dead. I mean where in the world had he been for ten years? It turns out on skid row. Served him right. I loved that man I admit. But when he split leaving me holding onto debts. Dollars, and scrutiny. I couldn’t deal with, well. I mean I looked for him for two years. I know, he is my brother and I shouldn’t give up. But what if he was dead? And now I learned he was in an asylum.

My sister, and Mysable her uncanny girlfriend arrived, showing up wanting to help unpack or pack my treasure belongings. After all I couldn’t just leave without telling my sister. Could I? No. But she brought Mysable along. Probably hoping to dump her on me for she’d also have some friend in Miami. I mean Mysable is attractive. She has nice teeth. She smiles a lot, especially like a dumb blonde, but brunette, for a woman with bright tops and gothic shoes, they matched on her, but not on grandma.
“Hey where’s Fluffy?” Mysable asked.
“I really can’t believe you’d remember that lazy mutt.”
“Really? I don’t forget a face.”
“Fluffy died. I’m shook up about it. But the doctor was happy about the silent signs that it was a good death.”
“Lord, Max I’m sorry. Yeah, your sister never gives me the right preps before she invites me to places.” She through a quizzical look at her. “and then she drags me out whether I’m willing to go sometimes.”
She was smiling. I really loved her smile.
Text was ambling towards the rows of boxes now. Wondering with concern how to destroy that hill of garbage.
She shot me cross signs of concern that made my nose glow red.
“So Tex, you dragged Mysable along to do your work here? I thought you two were best friends?” that was a retarded joke, I know, but it was all I could think up.
“we’ll help together, Max.” she pointed to the rows.
I needed help, that was certainly true.
Mysable proved helpful. She flipped lids off boxes, unfolded boxes in dozens in inspection. Text had taken out contents. Then she had a bright idea.
“A rummage!” she suggested.
Where could I go wrong?
Within the day, we were back inside drinking beer. Only one thing happened to make me regret doing the work. The portfolio that was in a box marked, “Rods” I suggested I forgot the ‘a’, eh? Anyway, there was some old music I had written, and Mysable pulled them out, dancing in glees. After all, we share stuff. She was pretty, and I wasn’t ashamed. She began singing the lyrics, as I grinned. She loved them. Man I was so wasted when I wrote these.

Ice Scream
*
The werewolf came
I hope it sweats
I hope it dripped water
I hope it showered all over
*****
Written 10_10 1998

(Ok, that wasn’t good work. But Mysable laughed.)

Dark Star
*
black tunnel of emeralds and love
passion frenzy that I drove
beloved by a helpful honey
a lovely action of bending

I once wished upon a dark star
It became true in real life
My wish becoming a success
I was awake all night as I waited
I forgot why I wished for my success
And then the dark star lighted true
And transformed me into a dark reality

I felt the ties and twines grow around me
covet gentle taking my hands in vines
my willingness spreading from head to toe
I felt life’s new promises and fate natural
My head ache and there was no real pain
Feelings dissolved into the branches
And then this lichen spoke my name

I made a promise with all my might
On this impossible night to seal a deal
to seek a dark star and bring it to a stop
the turmoil of the space it divides
and the energy it gave and holding
within my strength to give it rest in water
and it willingly will grant my wish
******
Written 9_10 1998

“That’s nothing but an original song Max!” she said giving me a bear hug. Not the one hug you would get from your girlfriend and tell everyone you were ashamed. With her smiling teeth, her excitement startled me. I questioned her for another minute until I pretended I needed to go answer another telephone call inside.
I fixed myself a drink. It was a lonely kitchen without Fluffy. My nerve was worn on an edge. After all, I can remember writing those lyrics, didn’t I? And even though, after all it was all in my mementos? I traveled on those roads? I made my riches at the side of my bickering crazy brother? Hum?
My brother was in Miami. So I took a chance and went down. I brought Fluffy making it a family trip. It was an asylum. And not one somebody could get out from. Not in possibilities. Probably ever. It was a bad shame, I knew. But how could I explain the complications of his nature? I’d just seen him wrapped up drooling. Now I remember lyrics I couldn’t afford to lose again. Important sheets of music I could share. Or couldn’t? Mysable was encouraging me on. The road my brother and I once were on was a success until he disappeared. I was alone for years looking for him. Now we emerge.