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Picture Contest! > Contest 4 (August)Done

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message 1: by Clare D' Lune (new)

Clare D' Lune Instructions:
Please do not use a story previously used on goodreads. After the month's contest, you are welcome to put it on your profile writings, but please refrain from using stories you have already put up on there.

You have until the last day of each month 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: 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 is a Picture contest. There will be a picture posted for the month’s topic, and although there are no rules as to what you should write about, we hope that this picture will inspire a story. This contest is different from the weekly contest, also, because in this contest you have the ability to post your stories in parts. For instance, you could post a small part of your story each week. That will give you more time to work, and it won’t be as much pressure on you all to get it done in a hurry. This dividing the story system will also enable the writer to keep their readers on edge until they post more of the story, that way it will pull more readers into the story. Also, there is no need to post the story into parts if you don’t want to. You can post the whole thing at once, or in as many parts of the story as you want in each monthly contest, but each new section must be over 500 words. There is no total word limit, as long as each entry is over 500 words. At the end of the month there will be a poll and a winner. The winner will have to option to have their story on the Short Story Galore website, and the page of winning stories here on Goodreads.


Topic Picture:


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If you have an objection to this picture, go to the Picture Contest Discussion page ( http://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/1331... ). Also, we do not own any rights to these pictures, they have been taken of places such as Google Images. If you would like to suggest a picture, please go here for some info on that: http://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/1331...

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, please just say so.



message 2: by [deleted user] (new)

Title: Miserable Courage
Author: Joelle
Word Count: 713

Of course she loved her husband. But she hated him. She didn't even care that he had cheated on her. In fact, she'd cheated on him too, several times. She just hadn't been stupid enough to get caught. It was a good thing that they were both good actors. When she found out, she'd had to act angry. He'd had to act remorseful. It was what was expected of them. Then, after a few weeks they had acted like they had smoothed everything over. Even though there was nothing to smooth over in the first place. Neither cared. They believed only those who felt threatened would care. Neither believed the other would leave them. Until now.

She'd tried to talk him out of it. This isn't what she wanted. This isn't what he wanted. He said it was expected of him. They both knew that was a lie. No one expected that anymore. No one was going to hand him a white feather if he didn't go to war. The economy needed to be held up. Businessmen weren't expected to go to war. But he had made his decision and nothing was going to change that.

It was mostly young men these days anyway, she'd told him. And some old men who'd been in the army for years and years. He wasn't a young man anymore. He was a middle-aged man with four children. They hadn't wanted him to go. They had begged him to stay. Now he had left. They wanted him back. She wanted him back.

He said he left because of courage. Miserable courage. She would never find another man attractive to her after that, she told herself. He flirted with every girl he came in contact with. He was in her every thought. She rarely crossed his mind. She sat home and cried for her absent husband nearly every night. He would laugh with his army friends nearly every night. She'd drown herself in the written word trying to escape reality. He would drown himself in alcohol to escape this living hell. Neither worked like they wanted them too, their realities always came crashing back, more crushing each time. They were always brought back to their suffering.

After several long months of separation, she ran out of tears. She knew he was still alive. She had to know that. She told the children that every night before they went to bed. They still woke from nightmares. He began to cry. His longing finally caught up with him and he felt it in full force. He wanted to see her again, to hold her again. He only had another month, then he was back on the fast track to loving her again. He would have only fifteen months he could have to go back. He would never look at another woman again when he returned.

In his last week on duty, he was shot. He lost an arm and two fingers. He went blind in one eye. He was sent home as soon as he was well enough. She waited at home in terror that he wouldn't recover from his 'serious wounds' and she would never get to see him again.His flight landed safely and he was greeted by his beautiful wife and children. He kept his promise. His gaze never left her.

He followed her out to the cab she had waiting. They returned home safely and the next morning he began a job hunt. He had been replaced and they needed the extra money. After a good morning kiss he rode away on his search. He didn't yet realize he would never see his wife or children ever again. The last thing he would see was the inside of a fifteen year old cab and a white cat darting from the very thing he could not avoid. Miserable courage.

The cycle began again. Only this time she was devoid of all hope. This time his side of the story was gone. She felt so many things while he felt, nothing. She deprived herself of any hope. As her oldest son grew, she saw his father in him. She wept even harder for the loss of her husband.Of course she loved her husband. But she hated him.


message 3: by Jazz (new)

Jazz (Allthatjazz1901)




Why?

That was the only word that could form in my head.

Why?

Why me?
Why not them?
Why now?
Why?
Why?
Why?

Why?

A tear fell slowly down my cheek, and I didn't try to wipe it away. I just let it fall.

My dark lipstick was still perfect, and my hair only a bit tossled. My outer shell was fine.

But not my inner self. That mirror was shattered.

Another word came to me, and my lips moved to form words.

And I screamed.

"BITCH!" I fell on the ground and put in face in my hands.

I was on my knees on the front porch. My tears fell on my white satin dress, and my hair fell from its delicate bun on the top of my head.

I was becoming a mess. Inside and out.

I was trying, oh god, was I trying to forget what had happened. But I just couldn't. The events played over, and over, and OVER again like a friken DVD placed on repeat.

I wanted someone to shoot me.

I wanted to piece my heart, and blow out my brains.

I wanted anything, anything but this.

It was worse then torture.

It was worse then pain.

It was fear.

It was grief.

And it was mine.

I had no sympathy for anyone but my self. And I never would ever again.

"You don't know me, and you never will."

I said that straight to her face.

And she laughed.

She laughed at me.

"You're pathetic." she said.

She spat on me.

"You're a fake, a froud. You're N.O.T.H.I.N.G."

And I was frozen. I couldn't move, couldn't speak.

She spun on her heal and took one more glance at me.

"Bye Bitch."


I hadn't moved.
Not until now.

I tried to stand. I grabbed my knees and pushed off of the ground.

"IT'S NOT MY FAULT HE LOVED ME MORE THEN YOU!" I screamed it out to the world, pretending that she could still hear me.

"It's not my fault that he said my name before he died." I mumbled to myself.

None of that was my fault.

How am I a froud for that? I loved him, more then a person could love themself. None of it was fake.

Sure, I lied about my family, on their "perfectness" and reasons why he couldn't meet them. But that was for his own good, my family was a mess, and I was becoming one too.

But everyone lies. Right? Everyone lies...

Don't they?

I stood there on the porch, becomming drenched with rain.

And I started to laugh.

Laugh like a mad man.

"Ha ha ha ha." My hand slammed down on the wooden railings of the porch, gripping it with all my might.

I was still crying, still a mess, but I was comming to my senses.

Somewhat.

I took one wobbly step off the porch, and slowly got into my car. Turned on the ignition, and drove.

I arrived at the house in fifteen minutes and I walked up to the door and knocked.

Footsteps came, and someone opened the door.

"...Yeah?"

SLAP!

"Bye Bitch." And I walked away.


message 4: by Jazz (new)

Jazz (Allthatjazz1901) Title: Bitter Sweet
Words: 527
______________________________________________
Why?

That was the only word that could form in my head.

Why?

Why me?
Why not them?
Why now?
Why?
Why?
Why?

Why?

A tear fell slowly down my cheek, and I didn't try to wipe it away. I just let it fall.

My dark lipstick was still perfect, and my hair only a bit tossled. My outer shell was fine.

But not my inner self. That mirror was shattered.

Another word came to me, and my lips moved to form words.

And I screamed.

"BITCH!" I fell on the ground and put in face in my hands.

I was on my knees on the front porch. My tears fell on my white satin dress, and my hair fell from its delicate bun on the top of my head.

I was becoming a mess. Inside and out.

I was trying, oh god, was I trying to forget what had happened. But I just couldn't. The events played over, and over, and OVER again like a friken DVD placed on repeat.

I wanted someone to shoot me.

I wanted to piece my heart, and blow out my brains.

I wanted anything, anything but this.

It was worse then torture.

It was worse then pain.

It was fear.

It was grief.

And it was mine.

I had no sympathy for anyone but my self. And I never would ever again.

-"You don't know me, and you never will."

I said that straight to her face.

And she laughed.

She laughed at me.

"You're pathetic." she said.

She spat on me.

"You're a fake, a froud. You're N.O.T.H.I.N.G."

And I was frozen. I couldn't move, couldn't speak.

She spun on her heal and took one more glance at me.

"Bye Bitch."
-

I hadn't moved.
Not until now.

I tried to stand. I grabbed my knees and pushed off of the ground.

"IT'S NOT MY FAULT HE LOVED ME MORE THEN YOU!" I screamed it out to the world, pretending that she could still hear me.

"It's not my fault that he said my name before he died." I mumbled to myself.

None of that was my fault.

How am I a froud for that? I loved him, more then a person could love themself. None of it was fake.

Sure, I lied about my family, on their "perfectness" and reasons why he couldn't meet them. But that was for his own good, my family was a mess, and I was becoming one too.

But everyone lies. Right? Everyone lies...

Don't they?

I stood there on the porch, becomming drenched with rain.

And I started to laugh.

Laugh like a mad man.

"Ha ha ha ha." My hand slammed down on the wooden railings of the porch, gripping it with all my might.

I was still crying, still a mess, but I was comming to my senses.

Somewhat.

I took one wobbly step off the porch, and slowly got into my car. Turned on the ignition, and drove.

I arrived at the house in fifteen minutes and I walked up to the door and knocked.

Footsteps came, and someone opened the door.

"...Yeah?"

SLAP!

"Bye Bitch." And I walked away.


message 5: by Clare D' Lune (new)

Clare D' Lune Sorry I went way over the date for posting the poll! I'll get it up right away! go vote ppl!!


message 6: by Arthur, Live a little Give a lot (new)

Arthur | 554 comments Mod
Congratulations Jes for winning this contest!! Which must be exciting, huh?
I like this part, it has charisma, "Why?

Why me?
Why not them?
Why now?
Why?
Why?
Why?



message 7: by Jazz (new)

Jazz (Allthatjazz1901) Oh, thanks! hahaha. :)


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