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Writing Contest #9 - Entries
A Dwarf Like No Other The Dwarf padded through the forest’s edge, casting a furtive glance every now and again into the dense trees.
"Dwarves were intended to frequent mountains, not these leafy sultry eaves." He was rather well-spoken for a Dwarf.
Screwing up his bulbous nose, he sniffed. He hated the smell of greenery. A fragile twig (though, to be honest, most things were fragile under the iron boot of a two-hundred-pound dwarf) snapped, and he cursed. "By my great-grandfather's beard, how do those pointy-eared folk keep so quiet in such places?!"
A guttural scream filled his ears. He turned just in time to dodge the scimitar. Shifting his weight, he swung the shaft of his axe and severed the neck of his attacker.
An Elf emerged from the trees and looked from the Dwarf to the dead Orc.
The Dwarf smiled as he planted his foot on the carcass. "Fifty-seven!"
55Jack scratched gingerly at the roof of the tunnel he had so meticulously built over several days. His task was nearly done. He winced as he disturbed the last or the earth and pushed through into the harsh daylight. The blinding sunlight assaulted his delicate night vision accustomed eyes.
He could see the farm buildings ahead, just a few feet away, and furtively made his way to the front door. His fragile grasp of reality kept him going in his task and he arrived at the door, daubed the number fiftyfive on the old oak door and scampered away. Joe Grundy would pay for the frequent abuse Jack had suffered at his hands and he would never sleep soundly in Ambridge again now the sign 55 marked him out to the Furious Ferret Federation.
Priorities (I like this one!)The surgeon stole a furtive glance at the flashing cursor on his laptop’s blank screen. He then looked at the clock on the wall. Not long to go.
His assistant coughed, drawing his attention back to the body in front of him. He tutted in annoyance and started severing this and stitching that, all the while half-listening to the frequency of heartbeats on the monitor and half-thinking about the impending deadline.
Yes, his patient was in a fragile state, but his own reputation on Goodreads was at stake.
There, that should stem the flow of blood for a few minutes longer, he thought, turning back to his laptop with a frown.
The clock digits changed on his laptop’s clock. 08:54. Six minutes left before Jud’s deadline.
Suddenly he had a brainwave and started furiously tapping out his writing contest entry while his patient awaited a new lease of life.
Contact"Sir, you should see this!" the young crewman beckoned me over.
It was just over halfway through the first dog watch, fifty-five minutes till chow time, and I was still feeling fragile from yesterday. But I went and looked. He pointed at a blip on the scope. I studied it.
"How low?" I asked. I could read the display as well as him, but I wanted to hear it.
"Fifty feet, sir. We’ve been hailing, but no response on any frequency"
I whistled. "Furtive little bugger, trying to sneak under the radar eh?"
"Sir, he's just crossed fifty degrees North. He's in UK airspace."
"Threat status Red!" I called, "Give me range and bearing."
The weapons chief called the numbers. My hand gripped the remote trigger and I squeezed the red button. We waited, counting down the seconds. Eventually the radar tech announced "Contact lost!" and we sighed in relief.
Raleigh & DrakeThick cloud covered the moon as the small boat rowed up the creek and slid quietly into the slipway. Far had they been away but this night’s journey could be as dangerous as the rest if they were found too soon. They cast furtive glances around as they swiftly unloaded a small chest and a few sacks from the boat and entered the boathouse with them. When they reappeared it was with a happier gait and two moved to the archway while the rest boarded the boat to row back down the creek. At this moment the silence was broken and the challenge rang out. “Who goes there”?
“Why ‘tis Captains Drake and Raleigh off to visit Sir Christopher Harris,” replied Drake, “back from the seas, before we visit her Majesty”. As he spoke a light carriage could be heard approaching.
“Sorry Sir, but cut-throats are frequently about these parts, ready to rob and murder”
“Quite, quite”, replied Raleigh, both he and Drake entered the carriage which had pulled up beside them. It pulled away, “Gad, but that was close”, 55 years shaved off my life”, claimed Drake, but the silver plate is safe and will help preserve our purses a little longer”.
The trust between the two of them was indeed fragile, but it was there, at least for the time being.
Trimming the TreeThe tree stood in the corner and I dragged the box of elderly baubles out of the cupboard. I fixed the small, twinkly white LED lights then considered the rest of the decorations. They were unpacked carefully each year but frequently pushed away in a hurry and there were always some broken by next time. What a random mix they were. I made up my mind. I went to town and bought the last 7 boxes of 8 fragile clear glass baubles, lightly sprinkled with tiny gold stars. Fabulous, they were.
Then I heard a furtive scratching from the box of old decorations. Hell, what was it? The Ghost of Christmas Presents? I cautiously lifted the lid to see a mouse gnawing a candle end! Season of goodwill – he’d have to go out, but I thought I might swap his candle for cake first. Merry Christmas!
Love LostJack held his wife’s hand as she slept; her body was now in a state of total fragility and it was only a matter of hours before she slipped away. Fifty five was no age to be losing the woman he loved. The last few weeks had been especially hard - her frequent violent outbursts and her unbearable suffering were one thing, but to be viewed as a stranger in her eyes was what hurt Jack the most. He loved her, and he had always loved her but now he was nothing but a ghost.
Her eyes opened and Jack, not wanting to scare her, let go of her hand but he was unable to resist those eyes which had captured him since day one and he stole a furtive glance at her. To his joy, here at the end, she recognized the man she loved and she smiled at him once more before closing her eyes, at peace, finally.
The price of loveBarry raced across the car park in a state of panic, his fear intensifying with the frequency of the menacing growls in the darkness. An attack was imminent.
Stumbling in to the dimly-lit building, he gasped as the stench caught his breath. Furtively, he pushed open the nearest door with his highly-polished shoe. After a pleasant evening, one faux-pas had forced him to confront the demon that had controlled his life for the last forty years.
He clutched his snarling stomach in agony, and cursed himself as he glared at the unforgiving greaseproof toilet paper. At the age of fifty-four, he had managed to avoid using public conveniences since childhood. But lately his state of mind was fragile; his self-control was failing.
His experience of emotions was limited, but he knew this was love. Why else would he have pretended to be vegetarian and eaten that wretched aubergine curry?
Eine Kleine NachtmusikAfter what felt like forever the lights went out. He huddled furtively under the bedclothes and with trembling fingers manipulated the dial. It seemed to squirm away from the number that he sought. Without being able to see it, that magical frequency eluded him again and again. “Come on, come on, where are you, fifty-eight?” he muttered under his breath. Finally, he found it, that slim thread of music that seemed too fragile to last. It danced in his headphones and lit up his brain. He relaxed into the embrace of the pillow, for a few more hours he could forget the battering of the day and melt into the music of the night.
MerewinMerewin seethed with rage as the Elders left the Shrine. She had heard the lying words, seen the furtive looks.
'Of course we honour you, Guardian.' An insincere smile. 'But spring tarries, there is little to spare... you must understand.'
Yes, she understood. Candleheath Bay was on the edge of nowhere, caught between wilderness and sea. The once frequent pilgrims took their offerings elsewhere.
Merewin took down the Book. Five hundred years old, its fragile pages turned under her hands. She swallowed fear, rekindled anger. She, Merewin, fifty-ninth guardian of the Shrine, she would teach them to slight her!
Darkness fell softly, a fine rain in the wind, a deeper darkness within the crypt.
The words escaped the book, took life.
The fiend, coal-eyed, terrible, beautiful, cold as death, laughed.
'Obey me!' Merewin commanded.
Talons raked her face, pierced her neck. 'Oh no, no, little one. You shall obey me.'
We've never had so many entries before :o) Get reading folks and perhaps some kindly moderator will put up a poll for me :o) It's hard to pick. I read them all as I posted them and I can't decide, they are all so good.
OK, I've chosen one! Now just need a poll to vote on ;)
Also, I hope I didn't forget anyone. If I did feel free to send me an anonymous threatening letter made out of cut out letters from magazines
Or newspapers. That's what I use.
I should probably pm the moderators to let them know I need their assistance
I don't think I've been on a forum before where polls weren't able to be created by all members (except those with a few posts perhaps)...
Here you go. Poll open.http://www.goodreads.com/poll/show/76...
We had everything open to everyone when the group was formed DM. It turned into a bit of a shambles so we closed it off to keep things tidy.
Polls have never got a lot of votes on this group for some reason :(
well done everybody, a really impressive, diverse selection there. I like the way many stories continued the letter 'f' theme and peppered their stories with other wonderful 'f' words (if you see what I mean). I think if I'd dared enter my own comp, I would have written a story where every word began with an 'f'. Off to vote now...
You are allowed to enter even if you chose the theme!Close it next Wednesday please, thanks Simon
although in truth 'C' is my favourite letter of the alphabet when it comes to words
See? You didn't need me.I'm rather partial to 'w'.
this competition has been brought to you today by the letters f, c and w and the number 5sorry - went a bit sesame street there...
will read through these in a bit - there's a lot of them!
Voted. All really ace but one stood out. And it wasn't even mine! ;)
Looks a good selection. I'll look forward to reading these later :)
A really good selection this time, I'll need to read them all again before voting. I forgot to enter, what a neejit
Some great entries here, I was really impressed. Hard to choose just one
It is Claire, may I suggest choosing mine? Of course, I can't tell you which one it is, so you'll have to guess ;)
Sure thing, as long as you choose mine in return :P
Hmm....well, I already voted ;)
I never got around to entering either, flippin work!
D.M. Andrews (GoodReads Author) wrote: "Hmm....well, I already voted ;)"you can change your vote up until the end of the comp!
ok - done :) it is not usual for more than one to really stand out to me, but this time... boy it was tough... well done all
Ummm, I had high hopes of breaking my nil point standard so please vote everyone..... I love this part of the group. I'm not quite sure why so few people vote :(
I'm a fellow Nil Pointer - I still go in for it though. It's a favourite bit of my group experience too.
I love this section too. I wonder if the reason not many people vote is because the writing contest section is quite far down the group's homepage.
Good point. I rarely scroll down past Reader Recomendations.
Yes, me too! Thank you everyone, I enjoyed them all
Haven't read 'em, haven't voted.I will though! I promise!
Lovely to see these votes coming in. Thanks, folks!
I still can;t decide but I better hurry up cause I am only in work today and tomorrow :o)
When does it close? Tonight? Tomorrow?Edit - I did the decent thing and looked! Says it closes tomorrow - probably mid-atlantic time.
Yeah, the group seems to run on American time.Simon and I have looked into if we can change it but we've not found a way.
Lots of mods have complained about it but I think it's too complex an endeavour for the powers that be in Goodreads.
Lady Penelope
“My dearest Sir Hubert,” she whispered, “I must confess to you my true feelings—”
“Lady Penelope, there is no need.”
“But there is.” She tipped the glass, moistened her lips and began. “Before you go, I must speak what my heart feels. For too long I have been furtive, conniving to keep from you my deepest desires for fear it may shatter our fragile friendship; for fear it may drive you into the arms of another.”
“That could never—”
“Ssshhh,” she drew closer, a tingle of anticipation rippled through her, and her eyes grew damp. “In a week I shall be fifty-nine; how the frequency of passing years increases the older one becomes. How short they become.”
“My dear Penelope.”
“I must ask you one question before you leave.”
Tender fingertips traced her cheek, brushing aside her tears, “Anything.”
“I suppose a shag’s out of the question?”