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Writing Contest #7 - Entries
Stop LaughingStop Laughing!
"Put it all in the bag!! Come on, quick!" I looked around, everyone was on the floor, hadn't moved since I told them to drop. The woman behind the glass was fumbling, dropping the blocks of cash with shaking hands. "Come on!" I shouted again, jerking the shotgun menacingly. She cried out, a small mewl of distress as notes fell to the floor. A noise behind me, I whirled, nearly tripping over my long feet, scanning the room for the source. A large man, sweaty and awkward like a beached whale, gulped. And then giggled. GIGGLED!
Over I went to him, thrust the shotgun into his belly. “Funny, is it? Funny – is – it ?” jabbing the muzzle into his flab with each word, hard. “No...” he spoke, half crying, “well, yes.” Sob. “You're a clown – you're funny, aren't you?” Kind of plaintive, like. “No, not funny,” I said, teeth gritted. “Just desperate...” I jabbed him again with the gun, turned back to the counter. The teller had filled the bag and passed it to me, shaking.
I walked out, huge feet slapping against the floor. “Stop laughing!” I cried, as the sliding door whispered shut behind me.
Shameless PromotionPRIEST: So what is your confession?
CLOWN: If only I'd written it differetly, it wouldn't have come to this.. Sorry..
PRIEST: Written what differently?
CLOWN: My story. The one I am, erm.. My story.
PRIEST: What story?
CLOWN: I'm indie author, your honour.
PRIEST: An indie what?
CLOWN: Do you own a Kindle?
PRIEST: I beg your pardon.
CLOWN: A Kindle, one of those handy, cool-looking ereaders you see everywhere. Have you got one? Have you? Do you read between saving souls? I think you do. What genre do you prefer? A little light S&M perhaps? What's your preference? We all have one. Nothing to be ashamed of. Your secret's safe with me your honour. Tell me, tell me.. sotto voce.
PRIETS: Are you sure you're in the right place?
CLOWN: I saw you on the train. I saw you with one.
PRIEST: With what?
CLOWN: A Kindle. You can't fool me. I saw you. And I know you saw me, handing out my cards. As did the women outisde. The one you were with on the train. Holding hands if I am not mistaken.
PRIEST: And the price of your silence is?
CLOWN: Buy my book. Tis good.
Moving OnI hot footed it out of there once Bobo came in. Who comes into a church dressed like that anyway, for chrissake? This was just getting tiresome now and I only hoped the vicar might talk a bit of sense into him. Devotion was one thing but this was tantamount to stalking.
I told him, on that bench in High Wycombe, that it was over. I told him under a tree in Maidenhead that I was turning my back on the life we’d known. I know he was secretly shocked when I told him about the waitressing job in Chalfont St Peter but I never thought he’d follow me here.
How could I get him to realise that it would never again be like it was in Marlow? We were getting older and the world was changing around us. We had to adapt or die, and I for one had no intention of dying thank-you-very-much. No indeed; I’d cleaned up my act and gone straight with a proper job and a nice little flat.
I’d left the big top behind forever.
Hell, I’d even shaved off the beard.
The Circus Comes to TownThe clown, already a figure of astonishment in this new town, walked into the confessional and the priest stared at his strange appearance. “I don’t recognise you, my son,” he said.
“I’m a juggler and acrobat from a travelling circus, Father,” replied the strangely clad one.
“I’ve never seen a circus,” sighed the priest. “Would you mind showing me what it is you do?”
They both exited the confessional to the amazement of two ladies still waiting to be shriven. They took their places at the altar steps then the clown tumbled, somersaulted and cartwheeled his way down the aisle, finishing with a tucked double roll and half twist, so that he landed with his back to the church door, facing the priest, who applauded in amazement as he waited by the sanctuary steps.
“Bravo!” shouted the reverend gentleman in appreciation.
“Good God Almighty!” said one of the waiting ladies to her companion. “If that’s what he’s giving for penance this week, I’m off home to put me clean knickers on!”
The Hopeless Clown‘I can’t throw a custard pie straight.’
‘God forgives you for your sins.’
‘I can’t juggle more than two balls at once.’
‘God forgives you for your sins.’
‘I keep forgetting to top up my flower squirter.’
‘God forgives you for your sins.’
‘I once snorted sawdust when I was part of a travelling circus.’
‘And?’ said the reverend, curiosity getting the better of him.
‘I nearly choked to death.’
‘Yet you are here today. God forgives you for your sins.’
The reverend sighed inaudibly but remained patient while the clown confessed his inadequacies. He was accustomed to the clown’s visits, thinking most of his confessions as trivial. Each time the clown left, the reverend always got the impression he was holding something back though.
The clown paused, opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again, forlornly parped his nose and aimed his flower through the wooden mesh separating him from the reverend. No water came out though; he had forgotten to refill it.
The clown stood up and left in silence. Yet again he had been unable to express the stirrings he felt when children sat on his knee and the uncontrollable electricity that flowed through him.
Harold Harold felt a little foolish as he sat at on the ancient worn oak bench and peered at the small grill. He pondered on the five hundred years of confessions that this small room had endured.
What would the fire and brimstone priest of the 16th century make of sorcery and regicide?
How did the multi-faith priest of 2008 handle the trader who destroyed the banking system?
Harold hoped the man behind the grill had a forgiving nature as he nervously wiped his face with the back of his sweaty hand. A casual passer-by may have been surprised that no face paint or lipstick stuck to his large hairy fist.
“Father I have sinned”, began Harold. It wasn’t very original, but it was certainly true from a certain perspective.
“I envied what my neighbour had”, he began.
“I plotted to have it and drew up plans. Then I struck. You have to understand we had nothing. Our neighbours had it all”
“Now this earth belongs to the Empire of the Clowns and you will pay for ridiculing us for so many centuries”
Had there been any living humans within 10 miles they may have heard the priest take a sharp intake of breath.
Tears of a Clown (ripping tears not crying tears)He pulled back the hatch and almost jumped out of his black cassock. Pressed up close to the grille was a photographic negative of himself. A ghostly white face in white garb, save for a carmine coloured carnation. That splash of colour splashed him with a thin jet of water. He recoiled and hit his head on the ceiling of the booth. His cursing turned the air blue, which would necessitate a few ‘Hail Marys’ of his own in absolution. The clown’s greasepaint cracked into a vicious grin.
The priest recovered his composure. “What can I do for you my son?” The pale apparition pulled a face. His fingers motioned across his mouth to suggest his muteness. The priest’s brows puckered into sadness. Conducting a confession was going to be a mite tough without words. The other began a lugubrious mime show which the priest felt vaguely dishonoured the sacred booth. Whiteface gestured the priest to move away from the grille. He complied and the clown pressed his face against the lattice. His skin pressed itself through the mesh and ground flesh landed in the priest’s lap. The priest screamed. First theatre, now black magic had defiled his holy box.
Hope I haven't left anyone out, if you want to change titles PM me and let me know I had to make some of them up myself.
One of the moderators will put up the poll as soon as they are free to. Don't forget to read the stories and vote for your favourite the poll will close in 2 weeks time.
They are amazing this time. I know for certain three people who have entered but mine's the only one I could swear for certain who it's by!
I can figure out yours Ignite by the exchange about the old joke. I'm reasonably sure I know who "Shameless Self-Promotion" is by, from just one word in it! But his/her purpose has been foiled; no shameless self-promotion if it has to remain anonymous! If I'm right who it is, I shall tell him/her when I meet up with them tonight in N.W.London
Marc wrote: "I can figure out yours Ignite by the exchange about the old joke. I'm reasonably sure I know who "Shameless Self-Promotion" is by, from just one word in it! But his/her purpose has been foiled; no ..."I was me that named it by the way, they didn't pick a title so I did it for them
Jud (Disney Diva) wrote: "Marc wrote: "I can figure out yours Ignite by the exchange about the old joke. I'm reasonably sure I know who "Shameless Self-Promotion" is by, from just one word in it! But his/her purpose has bee..."ah okay, that might mean I'm wrong. But that one word 'Tis' set me on the course... :-)
thanks Patti and Jud - and all those who entered... toughie this time - but i managed it - voted :)
Still deciding! Another terrific batch! Thanks!I'm suffering from exclaimation echolalia today!
I've voted. It was tricky picking one!
I was right by the way. That story was submitted by who I thought it was! Dragged a confession out of him/her in the pub last night when we met up
Did I mention I had voted? It was a difficult choice.
Yes I voted too.Really really tough to choose.
just bumping this for visibility, to encourage some more voters. All 8 stories only takes about 15 minutes to read folks, part of your lunch break that's all!
I voted. Took me blimmin ages! They are all amazing!
The results are in, oh wow! I'd love to know who wrote "Harold", I thought it was absolutely brilliant.
Oh! Well, who wrote what? I was the clean knickers lady - Circus comes to town.
Well done, Ignite, and the other winner!Who decides the next category now? Coin toss?
I wrote 'The Hopeless Clown', the one that got rather dark and sinister at the very end.
Jenny (Border Dweller) wrote: "That was me :)"that was you wrote moving on ?
if so - yay i loved that one :)
Mother and daughter are the winners? That seems a bit suspicious to me...
Well done, Jenny!Bring on the next one!!
Yes, I wrote Moving On - glad you liked it! I thought all the stories were brilliant so I was very surprised that mine was popular.
Haha, when I saw the results I knew it would look like a fix. But, shh, don't tell Ignite, but even though I knew which one was hers I voted for Harold!I really liked yours as well Jonathan, with the sinister twist ending.
Oh yeah, dead sus! I knew 2 of the people who had entered and I thought I knew their writing style but I didn't have a clue which was which. I think it's very hard to extract a style from something so short.
Thanks, Jenny. I enjoyed them all. Can't wait to get stuck into the next contest :)
Jenny (Border Dweller) wrote: "Haha, when I saw the results I knew it would look like a fix. But, shh, don't tell Ignite, but even though I knew which one was hers I voted for Harold!I really liked yours as well Jonathan, wit..."
Jenny Shaw! You're on the naughty step! Ha!
No sweeties and early bedtime?Excellent!
Ignite wrote: "Oh yeah, dead sus! I knew 2 of the people who had entered and I thought I knew their writing style but I didn't have a clue which was which. I think it's very hard to extract a style from somethi..."oooh which two Ignite?
Congratulations Jenny and Ignite! Obviously a talented familyMine was Stop Laughing! And I voted for Gabriel.
Ooh, I liked Stop Laughing, it was like a taster for a longer comic tragedy story which I was hoping someone would go on to write (*hint hint*)
I voted for Stop Laughing. I knew Jenny and Andy B were entering. Couldn't guess which was either's though.
Sssh, I'm not here; plinky plinking with Lew. Well done you two!I wrote Gabriel.
That surprises me. It shouldn't. It nearly made me cry.
“Look,” the priest said, “I’m too busy today to be messing about…“
The clown merely smiled through the chipped wooden grill.
“What do you want?” A strand of white hair drooped across his grey eyes.
“How are you feeling today, Tom?”
The priest looked away, sighed. “I’ve been better.” And then he looked up, “How do you know my name?”
“Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if you’d said ‘yes’ to Billy Smart?”
The priest stuck out his chest proudly. “That was a long time ago; I’ve been doing important work since then.” He looked at the comic flower and the rubber bulb full of water dangling from the clown’s red braces. He felt a twinge of regret. “Speaking of important work, if there’s nothing further…”
“They’re waiting for you, Tom.” The clown nodded slowly.
Together, they stepped out of the confessional, and the clown said, “Take my hand.”
The priest did, and he looked again at the bulb. “What now?”
“Go on,” the clown smiled, “give it a squeeze if you want.”
The priest’s eyes lit up, “Really?”
The clown nodded.
“Before I do,” said the priest, “what’s your name?”
“My name is Gabriel.”