All about Writing and Words! discussion
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COMPETIONS!
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Write a 500 word story!
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message 101:
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Khione
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Sep 21, 2013 04:12AM
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((Cool! Expect to hear/read from me))
Avalon wrote: "((Oh, I read it haha, but thank you for re-posting. So, end of next week? Say friday 27th?))"((Good Luck ;))
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-A wrote: "((Haha! :) I'm making the award and getting ready to put a name on it.))"((ooooh, exciting ;))
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Object: write a 500-700 word story with the following words; chessboard, champagne bottle, a penguin, postcard and a umbrellaWords: 700 exact
Title: Jim
The metallic butterfly postcard lies on the table. Written in a stylish hand the card reads: ‘The weather’s fine here. Hope you’re doing okay’. There is no name signing it. The address is directed to the hotel and not to his home in Albany.
Standing in a posh room he stares out the window on the 12th floor. His gaze lingers on the ocean, making this paradise resort so much more than it actually is. The ocean, vast and widespread, makes him easily believe that the end of world is right there at the edge of the horizon.
Memories from last night fill his mind almost as swiftly as he represses them. He wears the clothes from last night. His tie hangs loose around his neck, shirt half unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up. Left hand tucked in the pocket of his pants. In the other he holds a champagne bottle. Taking a sip he takes in the view before him. The dark blue jacket, which belongs to his suit, lies somewhere discarded in the hallway. It got soaked last night. Now it’s draped over the umbrella stand near the front door. At the time he felt he couldn’t just hang it up while it was still dripping with rainwater on the marble floor.
Clothes, which aren’t his, lie on the floor behind him. The couple who came with him to his room, are still here. So young, in their early twenties. Doped up and drunk. They acted like a couple of teenagers hopped up on love. And far too trusting.
Ingrid, a cute brunette, and Mark, a chubby blonde guy, were here on holiday. They looked so happy, coming with him. The drugs they were on were his. His smile has a touch of evil as his finger tips slide over the vile in his pocket. Tharax #7; A clear substance that makes people comply to every suggestion made. And like others before them, this couple hadn’t objected as he watched while things got hot.
Looking over his shoulder, he catches a glimpse of the postcard on the table. He didn’t have to guess who send it. Patricia knows him all too well. She knows all his secrets and hide outs. She’s letting him know that she’s still alive. That fact worries him. He takes another sip as he views his domain.
The dinner table has scratches on it, made by Ingrid and her nails. Her blouse hangs over the only chair which is left standing. Others lie scattered and broken on the floor. The glass chessboard, which once belonged on the dinner table, was smashed to bits. Sharp pieces had fallen to the ground. Blood slowly drips from the table on the floor.
Surveying his kingdom, the thought of Patricia is replaced by a feeling of pride. Blood is smeared out over the floor. Drag marks. Returning to the window, he continues to stare outside and catches a glimpse of his reflection. A fine spray of blood spatter covers his shirt. He is fully aware of what happened late last night.
After watching them for a few hours, he began making suggestions which varied increasingly in violence. And then Mark began to hesitate. Knowing Mark was coming around from his dazed state, he had threatened to kill them both.
Mark is now floating around in the bathtub. The reddish water should be poring into the hallway by now, as the faucet was left running. Ingrid is stashed away in the kitchen. But that was truly her own fault. If she had cooperated like he wanted her too she’d be still alive, maybe. His controlling nature forced him to keep her quiet once she started screaming her head off. Out of pure desperation he had shoved the stuffed little penguin she kept as a key chain on her purse down her throat to silence her.
Sighing he takes a last sip from the champagne, taking in the view with the last few minutes he can spare. Switching the postcard for the bottle. He walks towards the door grabbing his jacket along the way. He knows he has to find Patricia. They can’t both be alive and well in this world.
Avalon wrote: "Object: write a 500-700 word story with the following words; chessboard, champagne bottle, a penguin, postcard and a umbrellaWords: 700 exact
Title: Jim
The metallic butterfly postcard lies on ..."
((Very nice!! I'm positive you'll win with THAT short story. Early congratz my friend :))
((I've edited the heck out of that story - it was originally 900 words hehe - Thanks ^-^ Did you like it?))
Mod
((Haha, Thanks. The title might say 500 :p but the description said 500 - 700 :p But I'm glad you are letting it slide ;) ))
Avalon wrote: "((I've edited the heck out of that story - it was originally 900 words hehe - Thanks ^-^ Did you like it?))"((Yes, I did. You should make that into a real story.))
Mod
((It's okay. :) I'm just glad people are participating. :) Have you seen the poll, if not, please check it out. :) ))
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