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Week 32 (June 1 - June 7) Done
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glitter... haaa i hope somebody has an edward cullen reference in their story... i would but i haz no time :P :(
loll!! haha that wasn't what I was thinking, but just wait, we're gonna have tons of fan fic now! lol cool! haha
jeeves... wrote: "glitter... haaa i hope somebody has an edward cullen reference in their story... i would but i haz no time :P :("God, no! Please!
hahahahahha and the funny thing is that jeeves hates twilight. >.
yesh! i hope somebody does though, seriously... gosh i almost wanna just skip passing eleventh grade and waste my time writing one now instead >.< but i won't :P
GlitterbugI was on my way to a ball one night, and it was a fashion party. Everyone had to wear formals and tuxedos. There was another stipulation included if we wanted to get in. We had to wear masks that have glitter on them. The glitter could be positioned in any way, but it had to have glitter on it.
My mask was a 3-D mask. I had the Los Angeles skyline on my mask. I got lots of great compliments on it. There were dogs and cats with noses, the Pacific Ocean, Hawaii, Michigan and so much more. It was absolutely incredible. Everyone was beautiful.
I decided to go out on the balcony and have a smoke. I turned my head and thought I saw a small hint of glitter off on the horizon. It's gone now, so it was probably just a little blip of some kind. I started back in and saw the spot of glitter once more. I decided I must be seeing things.
I rejoined the party and told some of my friends what I saw. They thought I had too many mint juleps. I could see their point. It probably seemed that way since they didn't experience it. I went to mingle with strangers and see their reaction.
As you could probably guess, the strangers thought I was certifiable. I knew that I had seen it, and I was going to prove it.
I walked on the balcony for a second time. As I lit my cigarette, I saw the tiny spot of glitter once again. I wondered why it kept appearing and who it was.
I went a few steps off the balcony to see if I could make out who it was that was glittering in the near distance.
It was quickly becoming an obsessive part of the evening for me. I had to find out what that glittery speck in the darkness was. It was a very bright glitter. It looked like it might be someone down on the lake. However, the spot seemed to be in the middle of the forest.
I decided I must get back to the party before everyone starts worrying about me. I told them about the glittery speck once again. Some people thought I needed medication, and some thought I needed to go to a mental hospital.
I knew I wasn't crazy. I knew it was really there. I was going to keep going out there until I could prove its existence.
It flitted by one more time while I was out smoking a cigarette. I really have to quit those. I looked very close to the area he was in and looked for the spot.
I asked who he was and why wasn't he at the party. He said that she would step on him if I came one step closer. I stopped dead in my tracks. I looked down at the ground and saw a cricket with a tuxedo and a glittery mask on.
I could scarcely believe my eyes. I stood agape. I asked him what he was doing all dressed up like that. He said he figured he would get accidentally crushed if he went to the party, but he wanted to be a part of the festivities.
Another song came on from the Big Band Era. The cricket started jumping and and hopping to the beat.
I said, "Well, I never thought I would see a glitterbug dancing the jitterbug."
H wrote: "Screw High School, join the circus."BOOYAH!
Mod
haha one of my stories involved that but Idk im a school dedicated person so i made my cahracter really smart and through college at seven teen :P
gahh got to finish my story and put it up.
Name: BlindBy: Clare
Words: 1,444
Notes: GAhh the ending sucks. sorry, i couldn't think of anything.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I forgot my white cane in the fantasy section in the library. I don’t know how I did, but I did. I’ve been blind for nearly ten years, and I was so used to it by now I did things like that all the time. I would never forget James, my guide dog, of course, but the library was so close to our house I liked to go there by myself. It made me feel independent. Plus it gave James a break once in a while. He was so obedient and well trained; he’d do anything for me. He deserved a break now and then.
So I was making my way back to the fantasy section when I hit him. Literally hit him. If you’re wondering how I could even find my way back to the fantasy section, it’s easy. I’d loved the library since I was little kid, so I had every part of it memorized. I knew exactly how many steps to take to get from one place to another in the building. I could usually hear people moving in front of me, therefore avoiding knocking into them, and seeing me with the white cane, they usually got out of the way. But he was just crouching in the middle of the floor, not making enough noise for me to hear and stop in time. So I tripped on him, going right over him, landing on the floor.
“Holy crap!” he shouted in surprise. “Whoa!”
“Sorry!” I said, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
“How did you miss me tying my shoe right in front of you?” he asked. He didn’t sound mad, just confused and surprised.
“Sorry, blind.”
“Huh?”
“Blind,” I said, gesturing to my eyes. I groped around, trying to get my bearings.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, I should have... I didn’t realize,” he said, sounding mortified. He grabbed my groping hand and helped me up, steadying me by holding my elbow. “I’m so sorry,” he said again.
“It’s not your fault,” I said, an amused half smile on my face.
That one seemed to stump him, because he was silent.
I saved him from trying to think of something say by asking, “Could you point me to the fantasy section? I’m kind of mixed up right now.” I had no idea which direction I was facing. Gah, I hated these kinds of situations, when I did feel somewhat helpless.
“Of course,” he said immediately. “I’ll take you there.”
“Um ok, that’d be great.”
A few moments later we were there and went over to the seat that I knew the white cane was laying by. “Thanks,” I said.
“No problem,” he answered, “And I’m...”
“Sorry,” I finished for him with a smile. “Got that part.”
“Yeah,” he said with a hesitant laugh. “Well I better go. G’bye.”
“Thanks,” I said again. “Bye.”
You know how sometime you get that feeling that you’re gonna meet a person again? Well I didn’t have that feeling at all with this guy. So it was pretty surprising when I came upon him the very next day. When I called my best friend Maggie and told her about it afterwards, she was all like “It was destined to happen!” Which I thought was bullcrap. I never bought that destiny thing. I mean, what kind of a blind person would want to believe they were destined to be blind? That’d be like ‘Oh, him over there? Yeah he’s destined to be rich and famous. Oh her? Yeah, her destiny’s to be blind. Yup. Bummer huh?’ Yeah, not exactly something that would put that happy feeling in my chest. Maggie might have stumbled upon this epiphany at one point or another, but she knows I don’t really care when she says stuff like that, or I would let her know.
But yeah, so I was taking a walk this time, again without James, when I heard someone walking toward me on the sidewalk. I kind of slowed down and put my white cane out farther. You never knew what people would miss while talking on cell phones and everything these days. But waving the magic white wand around usually got their attention and they moved over. It was kind of nice, to be able to manipulate people like that. That probably sounds very evil, but hey, I’m blind. I’m entitled to a little fun.
So it happened as it usually does, with the person passing me carefully, like I’m about to freak out and attack them with my cane, when the person slowed down and said, “Hey, it’s you again!”
“Yup...its me,” I agreed. “And you are...?”
“Shane.”
“Shane?” I racked my brains for any Shane I could have met at some point in my life.
“Oh, sorry, um, I met you in the library yesterday,” he said.
“Ah, the sorry guy who I tripped over,” I said, smiling. “I guess we never introduced ourselves. My name’s Mari.”
“How do you do,” he said in a snobby elegant voice. I could feel/ hear him bend over, which I assumed was a bow. I did a prissy curtsied, with my nose in the air. We both burst out laughing.
“So what are you doing here?” he asked, after we had finished laughing.
“I live around here,” I answered.
“Me too!”
“Ironic,” I laughed.
“Yeah. Hey, I’m heading down to the coffee shop, wanna come?”
“Sure,” I answered and we walked a few blocks down to the coffee shop. It was weird and sudden, but it was nice to. I didn’t get out much, or meet many new people, so it was kinda nice when I did. My mom would probably kill me if she knew I was even talking to some random person I didn’t really know, but oh well.
So we got some coffee and just sat and talked about different stuff. School (I was homeschooled), our pets, stuff like that. He was a pretty great guy from what I learned. I was glad I ran into him.
I didn’t see him for a while after that. Finally a few weeks later I ran into him (this time not literally) at the library again. We talked for a bit and he seemed a bit edgy so I asked him what was on his mind. He answered, “Well, see, I have this school project..”
“And...?” I asked.
“Well, I have to do a report on...er....blindness,” he said. He sounded nervous, like he thought this subject would offend me or something.
“Mhmm?” I gestured for him to continue.
“Well,” he rushed on, “I was wondering if I could possibly ‘interview’ you and put you as one of the sources?”
I laughed. He sounded so nervous! “Sure.”
A few minutes later we were in one of the unoccupied meeting rooms in the library. We sat down and there was an awkward silence.
“What do you want to know?” I asked, breaking it.
“Um...Well what does it look like?”
“Like nothing,” I said teasing. “Just kidding, it all just looks grayish white to me.”
He started to take notes. I could hear the pen scratching on the paper. After a few seconds he asked, “What’s it like though?”
“Well, it was hard at first. I’m used to it now. Not that it isn’t hard anymore, it is. But I can handle it now.”
“Do you go by hearing all the time then?”
“No, touch to of course,” I said.
“Oh, like what, for example?” he asked, the pen scratching.
“Well it’s how I ‘see’ people for one.” I answered.
“See people?” he asked. Gosh, hadn’t they had some blind day or something at his school where blind people came and gave speeches or something? He had like no clue.
“Yeah, see people. Shall I demonstrate?”
“Um, ok?”
“Here, come closer,” I instructed. When he did I reached out and touched his shoulder. I made my way up to his face. He was pretty good, he hardly moved a muscle. I felt his face, touching every part lightly.
“See, now I can envision your face,” I announced. “High forehead, prominent nose. High cheek bones, firm jaw.”
“Oh. Wow,” was all he could say.
“And you also glitter to me,” I said. “Some people don’t, but some people do. I just imagine you with glittering skin. I know, it’s weird, but that’s how I think it I guess.”
“Wow. Um, thanks,” he said. I laughed.
“Crap, what time is it?” I asked, remembering my dentist appointment.
“2:23.”
“Dangit, I got to go. Maybe we can get together again sometime and finish this?” I asked.
“Sure, that would be great.”
Mod
By: Arthur
Words: 1,788
Notes: I did not like my story. Oh well. And doubt it made sense.
………..
Jeremiah’s Volcano
Monsieur Sturgeon the French entrepreneur from France looked at the American detective and his eyes looked with deep fright. His usual eyes had been left in France where things looked normal. Not as they did to him in America where people fled each day in a ramrod fashion to show their patriotic freedom as well as lack of concern.
Standing over a half naked man in an alley obviously dead the detective still required a translator to understand Sturgeon’s explanations. Each explanation defied reason. Every problem defied the explanation. “You can tell by his nails.” The translator said. “They are bending in towards himself. And he was a dirty and strong man. Strong muscle strength! It looks like he had no diet and wore heavy clothing.”
“Tell Sturgeon thank you.” Detective Jeremiah American born and bread had little experience on the street. He had grown up in a quiet city and in that part of the well to do of town. His parents had been disappointed in his interests in the police force and concerned especially when he joined after his study in college. He showed interest because he saw everything. Seeing this dead man lying half naked in an alley was his second possible murder.
Why he had been assigned the visiting entrepreneur of France Jeremiah was not sure. He had other partners but since his last collogue Frank retired Jeremiah concluded he will spend most of his career behind a desk in a swamp of old and out of date theories derived by a century of police detectives he felt unconvinced could be important. Records flooded a wing of the building. His office had moved to be next door to it.
“Opps,” said Jeremiah. “I don’t see much but the lack of movement in his limbs.” He was trying to crawl into the alley by the appearance of the body’s direction. The head and arms and a trail of blood going deeper in the other end from the street. The alley lead down to old wooded up doors and was a dead end. Chains and gates were all along building in this neighborhood for night defense.
“bbb . . . bbb ça que bbb bbb . . .” said Monsieur Sturgeon trying to explain what he indeed decided was noticeable. The few clues did not make much sense. There was no way to total up anything conclusive this way.
“Indeed,” said the translator. “A man who could not have walked without shoes does not attempt to run down an alley he knows well to hide without clothes. He would have screamed for help. He must have lost consciousness left out of a car from being beaten and left for dead then crawled.”
~continue
Mod
“Roger that.” Detective Jeremiah had said while thinking exactly the particular same thing, he had seen one murder since he became detective giving Jeremiah one chance of solving his first murder. Death of some person or possible homicide? It was an unsolved case still today. Its moral fiber of that entry as a mark did much to enforce his belief that crimes and homicides were dispersible. A manner of death with complication that lead the police to refuse to let it rest on its own without further investigation. After a deal of man power hours spent trying to solve his first homicide case there were not enough clues to obtain evidence whether it was murder or other and eventually filed in the unsolved cabinet.
Two weeks later the detective unit was not in an old but otherwise closed up abandoned apartment building over on the dirty Westside. Here earlier was found another dead guy baring sufficient marking of a possible homicide. Usually a dead person could mean a drunk stiff or druggie overdosed. Not sufficient to call homicide over to the Westside.
Detective Jeremiah stood leaning in a broken edge of a door way in a hall on the fifth floor. He could feel the urgency of panic of seeing death again. For a homicide detective he hadn’t acquired a stronger stomach each time he was required to see death. Instead he began to close his mind to shut it off. And he concentrated for clues when he turned away from the corpses. He found no admiration in death and seeing it.
“What do we have?” he asked.
“Looks like a homicide. Unidentified middle-aged male, white, well done on the neck, like he twisted when he fell, let’s go in.” the constable mentioned the truth before it appeared gruesome.
“bbb . . . bbb ça que bbb bbb . . .” asked Monsieur Sturgeon pointing to the wrist watch as evidence of well to do in social nobility. The man lay on his side as if he fell, but an angle suggested someone found him and turned him on his side to check his breathing. The children playing who say they found the dead man say they didn’t touch him.
“Is that gold Rolex? How much is that worth in American, five or ten thousand? I suspect he was not robbed.” The translator said speaking Sturgeon’s words in English.
“Let’s get a good look at it, constable slip that Rolex off.” Detective Jeremiah said.
They examined it while the investigation crew loomed around in the background. “Looks so; whatever, a bum wouldn’t wear one of those. He’s presentably dressed and has nice Italian shoes. Coroner will examine him but tell us he has a snapped neck. We measure it and suppose maybe he fell, but maybe it was snapped. We will know more after a coronary.”
They used fluorescing light looking for traces of hairs and finger prints, weapons and foot prints. There were a few left but it was impossible to indicate why the man was up here and whether this was where he died. They found no wallet suggesting the person had lost it already earlier in the night and had no way of getting home so came in here for the night but fell while looking at the building.
A constable entered Jeremiah’s office. “A missing persons report, sir.” Looked like Mace DeRoos a city well-known news reporter who had his own columnist article had been missing twenty-four hours. He had been last seen exiting his local favorite haunts and possibly on his way home. No one has seen him and his butler says he has not returned. Little is known about Mace DeRoos because he lived much alone and privately. A few social parties a year, and his column for The Journal Post had ran his column Art’s Nerd by Night as a local star gossip column digging news about celebrities and exposing scenes and new hang-outs plus he gave advice to people who wrote to his column. People with personal social problems could write in asking advice and Art Star’s a.k.a Mace DeRoos gave his edited opinions, sometimes hilarious crack ups other times just professional sounding advice.
Mace DeRoos’s butler and his personal assistant came into the morgue to identify the body but found it gruesome.
The butler identified him. The body found yesterday in the abandoned apartment was DeRoos. And the assistant had to back away and gasp for breath. Somewhere in his mind Mace DeRoos could still have lived or at least in jeopardy until the assistant saw his cold corpse.
Something glittered in Monsieur Sturgeon imagination. The dead body in the alley had the similar fatal marks of a broken neck and fall. But there would be no connection between a poor person who may have been robbed and then pushed out a car breaking it in the fall. Or there could be a strange coincidence. Since on death occurred a few days ago, why not another? Wasn’t it coincidence?
“bbb . . . bbb ça que bbb bbb . . .”
“Monsieur Sturgeon would like to see DeRoos’s residence and office.” The rookie translator stated for Sturgeon. “To look at possible break in entries.”
“The butler says he did not return home.” A constable shrugged to Jeremiah suggesting it was the obvious place to look only to not expect finding anything if he had not returned home. Not questioning the French detective or his motives they searched both premises. After their searching and finding the entire house was undisturbed through the night they then left satisfied that there was no sign of forced entry at either the house or his office.
“Well another dead end,” Jeremiah said, thinking about the coincidence of two broken necks. “What did you hope to see in the house?”
“bbb . . . bbb ça que bbb bbb . . .”
“He said, ‘I only think it a crime too. Back in my country where there is a mystery there is time to commit a crime.”
“What?” asked Jeremiah.
“He planted wireless bugs in each room.” Said the translator. “he suspects the assistant may have known an outside person who we triangulate the murder. Why if the assistant was to receive insurance would he not commit such a crime to a glitter gossip column writer.”
“We had a warrant to search the place; did we have one to place bugs?”
“I have an international interest in this investigation, by my waiver I got permission to ride this with my emissary people.”
“Oh that will hurry this up; huh they allow you to act as a spy as well as an investigator?”
“Something of its kind, yes.” Translated the constable to Jeremiah.
They sat for a few hours in a van listening to the talk between the assistant and the butler in the early twilight of the evening.
“bbb . . . bbb ça que bbb bbb . . .”
“What did that mean?” asked Jeremiah.
“He wants to get coffee after the couple’s confession.” The constable translated.
“Confession? What couple?”
Then suddenly they watched the assistant going into the house.
“There you are Frederick. My god. Do you think the police will now quit?”
“Barny, I will not tell you again to shut up. I don’t want to talk about DeRoos or the police. We have another week until I receive the insurance and you the assets then we can change our identities. Maybe go south together and live like free men.”
“bbb . . . bbb ça que bbb bbb . . .” said Monsieur Sturgeon.
“What does that mean?” asked Jeremiah
Monsieur Sturgeon tried again in English this time trying to phrase himself. “The cuckoo flews the coop.”
“Ah, I know what that means. We have them once they finish embezzling the money and they intend to leave we will have the evidence they did it together to steal the money.”
The ‘happy conclusive’ End
Mod
The poll is up for this contest. <>
Good luck everyone. Get to the poll and vote!!!
Mod
Congratulations, Clare. Good stories everyone.
lol thanks! I have my permission to put it up on short story galore. lol >.<
Please do not use a story previously used on goodreads. After the week's contest, you are welcome to put it on your profile writings, but please refrain from using stories you have already put on there.
You have until Saturday afternoon to post a story on here. Please post it directly onto this topic, rather than posting a link. Also, please do not discuss stories on here. You must go to Weekly Short Story Contest Discussion for that. This will avoid any clutter and confusion, so that people can simply come on here and read the story, without having to read comments on the story.
This week's Topic is Glitter If anyone has any objections to this topic, please go to the Objections post. The rules are pretty loose. You could write about something that glitters, like water in the sun, a fairy, etc. Or you could just have the word in the story.
Weekly stories must be at least 500 words long to 2,500 words long. (if the whole story won't fit in one post, divide it into two)
Good luck!
Clare
P.S. PLEASE say if you would like to have your story on Short Story Galore, if you win. This way it wouldn't take me ages to get your consent afterwards. This includes adding a link to your stories. If you want to have your story on the Short Story Galore, but not the link, just say so.