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Weekly Short Story Contests > Week 274 (August 18-24). Stories. Topic: Different Worlds.

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message 1: by [deleted user] (new)

You have until the 24th of August to post a story, and August 25-27, we’ll vote for which one we thought was best.

Please post directly into the topic and not a link. Please don’t use a story previously used in this group.

Your story should be between 300 and 3,500 words long.

REMEMBER! A short story is not merely a scene. It must have a beginning, a middle, and an end.

This week’s topic is: Different Worlds

The rules are pretty loose. You could write a story about anything that has to do with the subject but it must relate to the topic somehow.

Have fun!

Thanks to Bailey for suggesting the topic!

message 2: by Garrison (new)

Garrison Kelly (cybador) | 9027 comments Thank you, Bailey, for giving me a reason to write this story, which is called "Stardust"! :)


Marcus Edge, Morphing Druid
Mitch O’Connor, Space Mercenary

PROMPT CONFORMITY: Stardust is a world different from our own.

SYNOPSIS: Mitch is hired by an intergalactic corporation called World Corp to colonize planets by killing off the inhabitants and burning the plant life, thus getting them ready for rebuilding into the CEO’s image. Mitch has been doing this kind of work for a whole decade, but when he goes to a hermit’s planet called Stardust, he finally meets his match when the one person he has to kill is a shape-shifting druid named Marcus Edge. Marcus can change into any kind of earthen animal from a wolf to a bear to even something as annoying as a deerfly. During the battle, he reveals that the reason he became a hermit was because of his disgust with the human race.

message 3: by Edward (new)

Edward Davies | 1727 comments I was this close to writing a story about Dwayne Wayne and Whitley Gilbert. :-)

(Showing my age!)

message 4: by Edward (last edited Aug 19, 2015 08:07PM) (new)

Edward Davies | 1727 comments Title : Worlds Collide
Author : Edward Davies
Genre : Fantasy
Word Count : 2058
Rating : PG

The two tribes of the Thirteen lived separately, ever since the Great War. In their planetary system there were only three worlds; the first was home to the tribe of the A-M, the third acted as home for the tribe of the N-Z, while the central planet was used as a grounds for trade between the two. It was barely habitable because of its incredible dry heat, and was only used once a week for market day.

L.X. had never been allowed to visit the trade world before; his parents feared that he might be influenced by the N-Z tribal members that came to trade with them, but now that he was thirteen, L.X. could make his own decisions, his own choices. L.X. loved the idea of trading with the other tribe, and finally being able to see why he hadn’t been allowed to have contact with them before was something he couldn’t wait to experience. What would they look like? Would they have two heads like his best friend E.N. has always claimed, or did they have gold coloured skin like C.C. had claimed when his class had done show-and-tell? With his older sister K.T. by his side, L.X. stepped off their shuttle and started the short walk to the market, holding his breath as he imagined what wonders he might see.

As L.X. and his sister walked into the market, his wide smile collapsed under the weight of his disappointment. Every person he could see looked pretty much like the people from his own world. They were all about the same range in height, they all fell into the same variety of skin colourings, and not one of them had more than one head.

“Where are the others?” L.X. asked his sister, “From the other planet?”

K.T. looked around, “They’re all over,” she told him.

“I can’t see any,” L.X. stated.

K.T. sighed, “See that man over there,” she pointed to a man standing at a stall selling fish.

“Yes,” L.X. said.

“That’s Y.T., the fish monger,” she told him, “He’s from N-Z.”

“But he looks just like you or me,” L.X. declared, “Well, obviously much older, and he’s not a girl like you, but you know what I mean.”

“The N-Z tribe do look just like us,” K.T. told him, “We were all one people once, you know.”

“I was expecting to see people with extra heads,” L.X. groaned.

“You shouldn’t listen to stories that E.N. tells you,” K.T. chuckled, “That kids disturbed.”

K.T. walked over to the fishmonger, with L.X. close in tow. She waved at him as she approached, and shook his hand when she got close enough.

“Ew!” L.X. stuck out his tongue, “Won’t you catch something, doing that?”

“It’s just fish,” Y.T. the fishmonger told him.

“I don’t mean from the fish,” L.X. shuddered, “I mean from you.”

Y.T. cocked an eyebrow, turning back to K.T., “Is he new?” he asked her.

“He’s my little brother, it’s his first time here,” K.T. told him, “His friends have filled his head with fantasy stories about what the N-Z look like, and I’m guessing they’ve been telling him you carry diseases too.”

“That’s okay,” Y.T. smiled, “My kids have been told the same stories too.” He reached out a hand to L.X. and ruffled his hair, much to L.X.’s disgust, “Just make sure he holds his tongue around certain people, okay?”

K.T. nodded as Y.T. started to wrap some fish for her, clearly her usual order. She bundled the fish into her basket and the two of them started to walk to the next stalls.

“Why did you let him do that?” L.X. asked.

“Do what?” his sister K.T. queried.

“Touch my hair,” L.X. shuddered again, “He might have anything.”

K.T. stopped in her tracks and held her brother by the shoulder, “You need to learn that just because we were once at war with the N-Z does not mean that you can go about insulting them. It’s a very tricky situation going on between us and them, and I don’t need you going around shooting off your mouth and starting fights.”

L.X. tutted loudly, not liking being told off, “I didn’t even want to come here today,” he lied, “it’s just a waste of my time.”

“Well, if you don’t want to be here, you can just wait with the other kids over there,” she said, pointing at a group of children slightly younger than L.X. who were playing in what passed for a playground.

“I don’t want to play with those little kids,” L.X. complained.

“Well, you’re not coming with me,” K.T. told him, “It’s not easy getting people to trust you at the market, and I don’t want you spoiling the relationships I’ve formed here. Now go wait over there, I’ll be back to get you in an hour.”

K.T. walked away, leaving L.X. to ponder his behaviour. Deciding that following his sister probably wasn’t the best idea, he slowly and reluctantly started to walk over to the playground.

The other children looked like they were enjoying themselves, but L.X. was too old for such childish games. Taking a seat on a nearby bench, L.X. opened up his own bag and pulled out a hand-held game. Switching it on, he started to play.

“That looks like fun.”

L.X. looked up to see who had spoken. A beautiful girl about the same age as him stood over him, the sun shining through her hair and a smile caressing her full lips. L.X. almost dropped the game when he saw her, and he swallowed nervously.

“Hi,” he said nervously, then in answer to the girl’s question, “Yeah, it is fun. Do you want to have a go?”

The girl sat down next to him, and L.X. offered her the game. She took it gently from him and started to play. He watched her face as her fingers pressed the buttons to play the game, and he smiled to himself.

Maybe this trip had been worth the effort.

“Are you here with your parents?” the girl asked without looking up from the game.

“No, my sister,” L.X. replied.

“Where is she?” the girl asked.

“Off getting food,” L.X. told her.

“Why aren’t you with her?” she asked.

“She said I was embarrassing her,” L.X. admitted, “Just because I believe rumours that people tell me.”

“Like the others having two heads?” the girl chuckled.

“Yeah,” L.X. laughed, “Or golden skin.”

“I haven’t heard that one before,” the girl chuckled, “That’s funny.”

“Yeah,” L.X. smiled at the girl. He’d never seen anyone so pretty before; she was even better looking than L.S.N., the best looking girl in his class. He continued to watch her as she played his game, the concentration in her face as she played making her look even more beautiful. Maybe she lived close to him, he thought to himself, then he could go and visit her when they got back home. Maybe they could go out on a date...

“Do you have a girlfriend?” the girl suddenly asked.

L.X. almost choked on the breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, “N-No,” he said, “You?”

“No,” the girl replied, looking up from the game and smiling, “I don’t have a boyfriend either.”

L.X. chuckled, realising how his question must have sounded, like he wanted to know if she had a girlfriend. What an idiot he was.

“Is this your first time here?” she asked him, going back to the game.

“Yeah,” L.X. nodded, “You?”

“Yeah,” she said, “My dad’s around here somewhere. He told me to play over here because I was getting under his feet.”

“I guess we’ve got a lot in common,” L.X. smiled.

The girl smiled back at him, “Say, do you want to go somewhere a little more... private?”

Did he ever!

“Sure,” he smiled, “Why not?”

The girl switched off the game and handed it back to L.X. again. Once he’d put it in his bag, she took his hand and lead him round the back of the playground.

L.X. found himself alone with this mystery girl, and he kept wondering – well, more hoping – what might happen between them. The girl stopped, letting go of L.X.’s hand, and turned to face him.

“You’re really cute,” she said to him, smiling sheepishly, “I just wanted to say that when there was no one else around, just in case you ran off.”

“I’m not running off anywhere,” L.X. smiled back, “You’re really pretty too.”

The girl brushed her hair behind her ears, “Thanks,” she said shyly, “You’re sweet.”

She took L.X.’s hand again and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. He felt his cheek burning as he felt the softness of her lips against it.

“Would you like to go out some time?” L.X. asked bravely. He didn’t want this girl to get away, and he really hoped she wasn’t just messing with him like that time F.E. had put her hand down his shorts, then squeezed really hard.

“I’d like that,” the girl said, then frowned, “You know what, I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s L.X.,” L.X. told her, “What’s yours?”

The girl stared at him with worry, “Your name is L.X.?” she asked.

“Yes,” L.X. said, “Why?”

“Mine is N.G.” she told him, and L.X.’s heart stopped in his chest.

If her name was N.G., then that meant she came from the other tribe.

She was his enemy.

“You’re from the other planet?” L.X. asked, his eyes burning as he tried not to cry.

“Yes,” N.G. told him sadly, then smiled again, “But does that really matter?”

L.X. thought this over. All his life he’d been told that the N-Z were his enemy; that he could trade with them but nothing else. A-M and N-Z could never be friends. That kind of relationship would never work.

“But how would this work?” L.X. sighed, “We don’t even live on the same planet. We come from different worlds.”

N.G. shrugged, “We could make our own world,” she said, “right here. What do you think?”

L.X. looked her in the eye. She looked a little sad, but there was also a happiness on her face. She still held his hand tightly, and he squeezed it even tighter.

“I’d love that,” he told her, “but what do we tell our families?”

“They’ll understand,” N.G. said, “We’ll leave them a note. Maybe it’ll make them think differently about how they think about each other.”

N.G. took a notebook from her own bag and started to write. It was a goodbye letter – the most beautiful goodbye letter L.X. had ever seen – and when she’d finished writing, they both signed it and left it on the ground before walking away into the desert.


K.T. finally finished the weekly grocery shop and returned to the playground where she’d left her brother. She looked around briefly but couldn’t see him anywhere.

“L.X.?” she called out, but didn’t get a response. She dropped her basket to the ground, running over to the playground and grabbing one of the children.

“Have you seen my brother?” she asked, “He’s got brown hair, dark eyes, he’s carrying a red and blue back pack?”

“Yeah,” the kid said, “I saw him go off behind the playground with a girl. She was real pretty.”

K.T. let go of the child and ran to the alleyway behind the playground. She could see no sign of her brother. Then she noticed his hand-held game sitting on the ground, holding down a piece of paper.

“N.G.?” she heard a voice calling, and a man came around the corner, “Say, have you seen a young girl around here; blonde hair in a summery dress?”

K.T. had bent down to pick up the paper and was reading over it, her tears welling up, “Did you say her name N.G.?” she asked.

“Yes,” the man said, “I’m her father, O.N. Have you seen her?”

K.T. showed him the letter, and O.N. gasped as he read what his daughter had written.

The two children were never seen or heard from again, but N.G.’s words in her letter served as a reminder to the people of A-M and N-Z that they had once been friends, and it might take a long time, but I think they might be friends again, sometime in the future. Don’t you?

message 5: by Julie (new)

Julie Grenness | 137 comments From Julie:
(Short short story==190 words.)

Post Christmas in suburbia. Lazy daydreaming of another, different world. Hopelessly trying to escape to another land. Pressing her anonymous face against the smooth cool window, as the suburb trails by in heated days.

Lone dogs stroll past, busy at nothing, as the roses sag, the birds commence gathering in the slumbering afternoon. In her reverie, the woman winds back the years. Vignettes fade through her dozing. Early childhood mud pie making in the heat of the father's vegetable patch. She recalls the fruit trees' bounty, the taste of the sun-ripened apricots, full of nectar.

She reminisces swimming in the local river, no indoor chlorinated floaties here. "Don't come back if you drown!" her father says, as he snoozes at the sunny river edge. Another place, another time. Same little old town, same people at the same school, partying and marrying, reproducing and divorcing same sort of people. Generations who wing around the world, always returning, never far away. Faces appear, no names, as they meet and greet in the same old shops. Nothing happens, nothing changes.

'Way back when', she escaped on the train. Came back home on the 5:15. Adventure by rail, to the big city, to study, to learn to dream, to love learning, to be learned.

An interesting life, too long to mention, all a dim grey maze of chances, mistakes, and love. She lingers on the broken wheels of life, returning to her small town, never faraway, her childhood home.

Summer rolls on, the world turns, the passers-by pass by, meandering and languid. Time slows, she sits. Hearing Einstein's voice within her, "Nothing happens until something moves."

message 6: by Garrison (new)

Garrison Kelly (cybador) | 9027 comments AUTHOR: Garrison Kelly
TITLE: Stardust
GENRE: Space Opera
RATING: PG-13 for swearing and violence

When Mitch O’Connor’s spacecraft touched down on the world of Stardust, he couldn’t believe how small it was. It truly was a retreat for an introverted hermit like Marcus Edge. The door to the pod-like spacecraft opened and Mitch clunked down the stairs in his spiked metal power armor while carrying a gauss rifle that was bigger than his own arms. “Oh, this is too easy. Too damn easy!” he said to himself.

Stardust wasn’t the most complex world in the galaxy. Smallness aside, it appeared to be a jungle land complete with coconut trees, dirt trails, tall grass, plant life, just your everyday nature trail on planet earth. Even for a planet this tiny, Mitch still had a problem finding his target Marcus Edge. It didn’t help matters that the space mercenary was stomping around on the ground in his gigantic metal boots. Then again, his job didn’t require a great deal of stealth, so he didn’t dwell on it much.

“Marcus Edge!” shouted Mitch through an amplified microphone inside his space helmet. “I know your ass is around here somewhere! I’m feeling pretty good today, probably because toasting your little world is going to be the easiest thing I’ve ever done! So here’s what I’m going to do, Marcus: I’m going to give you the chance to get your hermit ass off this planet so that when I burn down the plant life and kill all the animals, you won’t have to be a part of it. My boss at World Corp wants to turn your little home into a vacation getaway. It don’t look like much of a vacation right now, buddy boy. It looks more like…”

Before he was allowed to finish his oratory, Mitch O’Connor’s legs were snatched up from underneath him and he hung upside down on a vine. He was so far off the ground that when he dropped his rifle, he couldn’t pick the damn thing back up again. “Oh, you’ve got traps now?” he said. “Well, I got news for you, smart ass: I’ve been doing this shit for a whole decade and ain’t no vine going to stop my ass from burning everything in sight!”

His boldness turned to fear when he found himself face to face with a Venus Fly Trap, the owner of that tight vine. This particular plant had teeth the size of railroad spikes and blood oozing from its mouth like a waterfall. Mitch’s lips were vibrating and his eyes widened at the sight of this monster. And then he went back to being bold when he said, “Wait a minute! Why the hell am I scared of a goddamn plant?”

With his metal space helmet, Mitch O’Connor unleashed a powerful head butt to the Venus Fly Trap, loosening a few teeth and spraying some more blood, but more importantly, loosing the vine’s grip on the mercenary’s legs. Mitch plummeted to the grassy ground below, but his metal armor protected him from injury, so he pretty much picked himself up, dusted himself off, and found his rifle again.

“Is that all you got, Marcus? Some stupid plant? Oh, this is going to be easier than I thought! And I’m making millions off of this job! It’s like Christmas came early!” boasted Mitch.

“Don’t be too sure of that, you disgusting human!” said the busted up Venus Fly Trap in a raspy voice. With Mitch watching in awe and horror, the plant morphed into a human being wearing bear skin clothing and a raccoon cap on his head. This was him alright: Marcus Edge, hermit druid.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be, huh? You want to put up a fight? Well, goddamn, man, you’ve got one now, bitch!” shouted the soldier for hire when he raised his gauss rifle and opened automatic fire. That many plutonium bullets would have been enough to shred a normal human being into dust. Hell, the surgeons would need a microscope to put his sorry ass back together again. But when the storm of bullets ended, there was no corpse.

Instead all Mitch O’Connor got was a deafening bird squawk right in his left ear. Marcus, who now morphed into a parrot, continued to blast his windpipes in his opponent’s ear and double the man over as he got a headache. When the druid believed his adversary had enough, he flew off into the sunset and left Mitch to clutch his aching head.

The sudden drop in volume inspired the mercenary to aim his rifle and unleash another rainstorm of violence upon his opponent. The shredding impact only resulted in one feather this time. On measly little feather.

“What the hell’s going on here?!” Good question, Mr. O’Connor. What was going on was that Marcus Edge had now morphed into a charging rhino. The tank-like beast barreled and stampeded his way across the grass and knocked a few trees over. With little time for his opponent to react, Marcus gored Mitch and sent him flying backwards several feet, knocking a few trees over himself.

That power armor was a blessing for Mitch since he had just survived a high drop and getting spear tackled by a rhino. But now the mercenary was feeling the pain. He was so exhausted from these attacks that he took longer than usual to get up. He crashed into trees, for god’s sake. Trees! Yet he continued to be brash and cocky in the face of danger.

“Is that all you got, you son of a bitch? What are you going to change into now, a small puppy? Are you going to bark your way to victory?” yelled Mitch.

Changing from a rhino back to his human form, Marcus slowly approached his nemesis and said, “No, I’m not going to do any barking today. That’s been your job since you landed on Stardust, you asshole.”

With Mitch watching in awe of his opponent, Marcus continued his speech with, “You know what I detest about the human race? You people think you have the right to conquer whatever the hell you want. You did it on earth with pretty much every group of people that wasn’t white, including Indians and Africans. That’s all you guys do: just take, take, take. You have some oil? I’ll take that. You have human rights? I’ll take that as well. Is that supposed to be impressive? To who, exactly? Your mother? Your father? Your trophy wife? The president himself? How many more people have to die before you’re finally satisfied with the things you already have! You make me sick! You all make me sick!”

An uncomfortable hush had fallen over the scene and then Marcus laid into Mitch some more, “That’s why I came to Stardust: to get away from it all. And now some space jockey like you decides to come to my world and sell it to some rich asshole? Let me fill you in on a little secret, buddy boy. Stardust isn’t just any tiny planet. It’s the product of my own imagination. As long as I keep being creative, I can manipulate any part of this world I want while you only have that stupid rifle to overcompensate for your small penis. To put it in words even a money-hungry thug like you can understand…you were screwed the minute you stepped foot on my world.”

This would have been the best time for Mitch O’Connor to get back in his spaceship and tell his bosses at World Corp to shove it. Just leave now while he still had his peace of mind and still had his health. But instead he decided to keep playing the role of an arrogant jerk-ass. He yelled, “You worthless piece of shit!” prior to opening fire yet again.

Except this time it wasn’t just plutonium bullets. It was also fireballs, ice sickles, lightning bolts, biological sludge, and laser beams, all of which were hidden compartments on his rifle and all of which were necessary in doing his job to destroy entire planets to get them ready for flipping.

After unloading a cataclysm of agony that Armageddon itself could never produce, Mitch didn’t even check to see if there was a corpse this time. He just dropped to his hands and knees, breathed deeply, and laughed his ass off. “I got you, bitch! I got you this time! And there ain’t nothing you can do about it!”

Mitch was so busy laughing his way to insanity that he didn’t realize he was sinking in a mud pit. Even when the mud was completely covering his space helmet, he couldn’t have cared less. It was when he was underneath the mud pit and into a cavern of filth that he realized what was going on. The realization hit him even harder when Marcus was standing there with his arms folded saying, “What took you so long?”

“No…no…this ain’t happening, man! This ain’t happening! Don’t you ever fucking die, man?!” screamed a deranged Mitch O’Connor.

Marcus laid a hand on his invader’s metal shoulder and said, “Old druids don’t die. They just get better.” With Mitch shedding tears of defeat, Marcus Edge transformed into a gigantic grizzly bear and started chewing and mauling his way through the metal armor, which at this point was a lot like opening a can of Chef Boyardee ravioli. Oh, the meat sauce inside was going to be so worth all this rage.

message 7: by Edward (new)

Edward Davies | 1727 comments Julie wrote: "From Julie:
(Short short story==190 words.)

Post Christmas in suburbia. Lazy daydreaming of another, different world. Hopelessly trying to esca..."

You should change the layout and post this in the poetry competition. It flows really well.

message 8: by Garrison (new)

Garrison Kelly (cybador) | 9027 comments Edward, your story this week is the perfect strike against racism and xenophobia, albeit in a sci-fi backdrop. These kinds of lessons, such as not prejudging others and to call things they way you see them, can work in our modern world as well. It’s not too much to ask that people actually get to know each other. LX and NG got to know each other quite well, even if it was only a short amount of time and a little too soon. That is the one issue I have with this story: their relationship and all the commitments they take together happen way too fast. It’s almost like speed dating, but with less awkwardness. Other than that minor complaint, I have nothing else to say except for congratulations on joining the fight against racism with your sweet story!

message 9: by Edward (new)

Edward Davies | 1727 comments Garrison wrote: "Edward, your story this week is the perfect strike against racism and xenophobia, albeit in a sci-fi backdrop. These kinds of lessons, such as not prejudging others and to call things they way you ..."

Personally I felt it moved too quickly as well, but it had to! Originally they were sixteen, but as the story progressed I made them younger so that they're quick friendship felt at least a little more believable. Kids make friends at the drop of a hat. "Do you like trucks? Me too! You're my best friend! Yay!" Stoopid trusting kids! :-)

message 10: by Garrison (new)

Garrison Kelly (cybador) | 9027 comments You make a good point there, Edward. You're a father, so you should know. :)

message 11: by Edward (new)

Edward Davies | 1727 comments Garrison wrote: "You make a good point there, Edward. You're a father, so you should know. :)"

He's only two! :-D

message 12: by Garrison (new)

Garrison Kelly (cybador) | 9027 comments He's teeny and tiny! ^_^

message 13: by Edward (new)

Edward Davies | 1727 comments Garrison wrote: "He's teeny and tiny! ^_^"

No, he's a monster! We don't know where he gets his height from - I'm only 5'7" (about 170cm!)

message 14: by Garrison (new)

Garrison Kelly (cybador) | 9027 comments You're only 5'7"? You'd probably come up to my chest (I'm 6'2"). Hehe!

message 15: by Edward (new)

Edward Davies | 1727 comments Garrison wrote: "AUTHOR: Garrison Kelly
TITLE: Stardust
GENRE: Space Opera
RATING: PG-13 for swearing and violence

When Mitch O’Connor’s spacecraft touched down on the world of Stardust, he cou..."

"Davey. Davey Crockett! King of the Final Frontier!" That's what I kept singing in my head whilst reading this craziness. It was reminiscent of that scene from 'The Sword In The Stone' with the fight between Merlin and Madam Mim. Some fun silliness, though I thought it was going to end differently when Marcus mentioned that the planet was controlled by his imagination...

message 16: by Edward (new)

Edward Davies | 1727 comments Garrison wrote: "You're only 5'7"? You'd probably come up to my chest (I'm 6'2"). Hehe!"

Sweet Christmas! I'm tall compared to my parents! :-D

message 17: by Garrison (new)

Garrison Kelly (cybador) | 9027 comments I read your Davey Crockett comparison and laughed my ass off, Edward. You're an awesome critiquer. :)

Hey, if I put Mickey Mouse ears on you, you and I can reenact that cartoon "Mickey and the Giant"! Hehehehehe! "I killed seven with one blow!"

message 18: by Edward (new)

Edward Davies | 1727 comments Garrison wrote: "I killed seven with one blow!"

That's what she said. :-D

message 19: by Garrison (new)

Garrison Kelly (cybador) | 9027 comments Hehehehehehe!

message 20: by C. J., Atm Seeker in the "Lin Kuei" (new)

C. J. Scurria (goodreadscomcj_scurria) | 4214 comments Edward wrote: "Garrison wrote: "He's teeny and tiny! ^_^"

No, he's a monster! We don't know where he gets his height from - I'm only 5'7" (about 170cm!)"

Wow, if you say you're "only 5'7" than I must be a Hobbit! (just joking). :D

message 21: by Edward (new)

Edward Davies | 1727 comments CJ wrote: "Edward wrote: "Garrison wrote: "He's teeny and tiny! ^_^"

No, he's a monster! We don't know where he gets his height from - I'm only 5'7" (about 170cm!)"

Wow, if you say you're "only 5'7" than I ..."

You should see my dad! Honestly, he's 4'10"! Not a lie (and he's not a dwarf!)

I'm in the right country for Hobbits! :-)

message 22: by [deleted user] (new)

(Does the worlds have to be made up or can you use the current ones that exist in fantasy lands?)

message 23: by Garrison (last edited Aug 20, 2015 09:19PM) (new)

Garrison Kelly (cybador) | 9027 comments Shine & Loki & Me & Kahmunrah wrote: "(Does the worlds have to be made up or can you use the current ones that exist in fantasy lands?)"

Either one would be fine.

message 24: by [deleted user] (new)

(Today, in USA Mountain Time, is the 20th. So I have 4 more days left to write a fantasy world story for this.)

message 25: by Ajay (new)

Ajay (ajay_n) | 1135 comments Polls are up, Pirates! Please cast your votes to secure a ticket to the Pirates' Carnival: Skull Island :)

Link for Short-stories: https://www.goodreads.com/poll/show/1...

Link for Poetry: https://www.goodreads.com/poll/show/1...

message 26: by Anne (new)

Anne (annefrn) | 916 comments Edward wrote: "Title : Worlds Collide
Author : Edward Davies
Genre : Fantasy
Word Count : 2058
Rating : PG

The two tribes of the Thirteen lived separately, ever since the Great War. In their planetary system the..."

Clever name play with the initials! (It took me awhile:-))

message 27: by Edward (new)

Edward Davies | 1727 comments Anne wrote: "Edward wrote: "Title : Worlds Collide
Author : Edward Davies
Genre : Fantasy
Word Count : 2058
Rating : PG

The two tribes of the Thirteen lived separately, ever since the Great War. In their plane..."

I wondered if people got that! My favourite was L.S.N. (Alison). :D

message 28: by Sean (new)

Sean Collins Workingman's Title

“I didn't like it,” Herman said.
“Well of course you didn't!” Mick howled.
“You were his childhood friend,” I astutely pointed out.
“No no no,” Herman said, “I just thought Harry was an idiot.”
“Well of course you do!” Mick continued to laugh.
“What makes you say that?” Herman asked.
“You think everyone is an idiot,” Mick said more seriously.
The wind blew past us as we passed Rodrigo’s Pizza Place. We had just finished watching a movie at Brighton Theater and it was a long way back until we reached our cul de sac.
Herman paused, and then said, “you’d think they’d have less business on a night like this.”
“Don't act like you're upset,” Mick said under his breath.
The girl’s face turned toward us as we walked by the store window. It was our first communions, thirteenth birthdays, graduations, all at once. Her portrait changed to a still life smile and pneuma poured out of her tired eyes.
“Oh shut up Mick,” Herman said even more softly.
The winds stayed constant around us and the leaves blew with style and grace. The night was dark above us but our peripheral was filled with lights from local stores. Indeed the wind blew louder than during the morning, but at least it wasn't raining.
He was her first obsession. She hadn’t been around the block a couple of times. She wasn’t one of the first to get it and wasn't one of the first to lose it. But even though the earth is very old, spring still looks a little different after every winter.
“I would think it flattering,” Mick said. “You aren't blind right?”
She stood up now, and started to dismiss her friends. Herman, leading Mick and I, hurried his pace as he noticed her presence.
“Why dost thou make such haste?” Mick asked.
“I feel a storm coming,” Herman replied. “Can't you feel the wind?”
“Yes,” I said smiling, “evidently Rodrigo turned the AC up.”
“It’s definitely toasty in there.”
Mick put his hand on my shoulder and spoke loudly, “Something must have caused such a rise in temperature.”
“Deputy Allen should arrest both of you for such implied vulgarities!” Herman sarcastically gasped, mocking all involved, most of all himself. “You should be ashamed of yourselves!”
“Speaking of deputies,” I began, “your debutante arrives, my grace.”
The girl had finally made her way out of the restaurant and approached us.
“Hello boys,” she said.
“Now’s not the time,” Herman said coldly.
“Oh ignore him,” the girl said, turning to Mick and me, “you know the fits he can get into.”
“Lets go guys,” Herman said.
“She’s coming with us,” Mick and I said in unison.
Herman glared at the girl and sighed. After that, we continued our through the town and I began to smell flowers on the girl. She giggled loudly at whatever anybody said. It was a high pitched laugh, reminiscent of that laugh I heard in a garden long ago. She skipped back and forth as we descended into the darkness, further and further from the town lights.
“If the farmer has no silo,” the girl sang, “and his fuel cost runs high.”
“You better cut that out,” warned Herman, breaking the cloud of only feminine voice.
“That’s how much I’d love you,” she continued.
“You are trying my patience,” Herman horsley huffed.
“A lover’s quarrel,” Mick began to narrate.
“If you’d only let me try”
I continued, “enter man and woman.”
The girl changed tones, “no more, she practices her speech”
Mick smiled as he saw my intent and ran with it, “the setting is late at night and the two are alone...outside...pizzeria”
Herman, lacking all visible emotion, continued leading the way down the sidewalk. Water started to flow down the cheeks of the girl. Herman didn't love her back. He embarrassed her in front of all his friends. She had left her own friends for him. She hadn't even finished eating. I thought all the people in the restaurant stared as she had dashed out of the door. But no, it was just starting to rain.
“We didn't need to see the end of Der Steppenwolf,” I said. “Then we would have been in our dry homes by now.”
“I saw it coming,” said Herman. “I think we all saw it coming.”
“I didn't see it coming,” the girl said. At this, thunder roared out a warning from above. Cars on the road were bombarded by rain and water inundated the streets. My jacket and hat embraced the rain and wore it as a trophy. Vision blurred, I look up at the sky, at the night, at the clouds. Water briefly touched my eyelids and then continued the natural course down to the sidewalk.
Ignoring the girl’s comment, Herman slowed his walk and turned to me. “Sean, my boy, is truth that which is always harder to find?”
I stopped thinking about the rain and turned to the posed question. Surely, answers of the universe are never easy, just given the universe’s size. And we had learned in language class that humans have been searching for truth for thousands of years, and that shear length of time implies that many have failed. But what of black or white? Blue or pink? Two plus two?
“No,” I replied. “One need only observe two plus two.”
Herman stopped his walk, causing the whole group to stop, and then continued with us still following. “Mick do you think he had to kill Hermine?”
Mick and I broke out into giggles and I said, “Herman, my boy, you have nothing to fear.”
“No no no I just think that we can definitively prove that two plus two equals four.”
The girl broke in. “Well of course you can. There are two single and two people in a relationship. Two and two makes four people total.”
Herman sighed and looked up in vain for the stars. Up there resided the legends of antiquity, the real models of heroics. I knew he was looking for a place to hide. Stones were falling from the sky all around him. Surely he thought much of the riddle he that stood before him. Like a knot that was so difficult to untie. But time and it’s wonderful passage can unravel it. It just takes some...time. Herman has a heart of lion about him though. He can stand it.
The girl stayed by Herman’s side. The rain, as expected, had caused her dress to flatten against her body, revealing all of springtime’s hard labors. I would have seen her brand new necklace around her neck but Mick knew I wasn't looking there.
The two now walked slightly farther away from us, I attempted to engage Mick, “Why not us have such luck?”
“Oh you know,” he said. “You just wear it all the damn time.”
Assuming consternation, which included opening the mouth slightly and raising the eyebrows, I looked Mick into the eyes, “but you know it looks great.”
“It does not and you know that just as much as I do,” Mick responded, cooly. “Use your hood for God’s sake!”
Mick insulting my hat didn't bode well with my own image. The wearer of this is forever endowed with the powers of infinite charm. In fact, there it is, out there in reach, my image. I could touch it but I really shouldn’t. Its fragile as it is.
We wandered aimlessly for more than half an hour. We passed the rundown auto shop, whose previous owner shot himself. Wifely issues. The rain continued to pour down as we walked through the town’s mostly commercial district. It fell and then ran into the various cracks in the sidewalk. Newspapers and cigarette butts sheathed the pavement. There was no way to tell when the rain would stop as the sky above refused to show any color besides black.
Talking between the four of us continued steadily. Herman began to slowly warm up to the girl as the conversation moved to a game of chess the two had played together to the day’s sermon and then Mick and I retreated as we knew our presence was no longer wanted.
“Look at this here chap,” Mick said to me. I stopped and followed Mick’s finger as if it went on and on until it abruptly reached a statue, of a postman, right in front of us, to my left. “What was in his head before he was struck dead and frozen right to this spot?”
The postman had a darkish gold complexion that was very from actual gold. In fact, it looked even more like several. The pencil in his right hand was brown and he held it above a piece of paper which he also held in his right hand. The question, for the millisecond it passed in my brain before leaving through the other ear, not only puzzled me, but scared me. It was like asking why bad things happen to good people, why do we park in driveways, why we all know how to ride a bike, why the leaves turn color in the fall and then turn back to the other color in spring and fall off the trees in between then, or why zero divided by zero is not one. All relatively the same answer.
“All the other things he could have had for breakfast that morning,” I said as I couldn't stop my face from not smiling.
Mick turned and looked at me through the rain. He knew my meaning, as he always did. His eyes seem to dart to my head as if to quickly read my mind and then return back to my eyes so quickly it looked like they had been looking at my eyes the whole time.
“I did not have cereal this morning,” he said.
Now I had to smile: “neither did I.”
“But what of him?” inquired Mick.
“Look at his face. It’s all wet,” I said. “He’s been crying something fierce.”
“And those letters,” Mick said as he looked at the illegible markings on the fake piece of paper. “There not being delivered. Why they’re his!”
“Old letters,” I said, “during the war and before she saw the nook as her only choice.”
Mick stepped back from the statue. I didn't feel sorry for the image I had planted into his brain. We all had to come to terms with it. I tried to put an end to that eerie sound of silence the only way I knew how.
“He was a gamblin’ man and lost all their savings money. Forced to sell their house and hit the streets for money.” I knew had only exacerbated the situation. So a little more wouldn't hurt. “And then here they are after all these years.” I shrugged; I had to play the role. “Read em and weep.”

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