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Weekly Short Story Contests > Week 411 (May 10-16) Stories Topic: Fire And Water

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message 1: by C. J., Cool yet firm like ice (new)

C. J. Scurria (goodreadscomcj_scurria) | 4309 comments You have until the 16th of May to post a story and from the 17th to around the 21st of May, 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. Only one submission per person is allowed.

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: Fire And Water

Thanks goes to C.P. for suggesting the topic!

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

Most of all have fun!


message 2: by Garrison (new)

Garrison Kelly (cybador) | 9620 comments Hey, everybody. I’m sorry I haven’t posted anything yet for this contest, but the past week has been tiring to say the least. Too much food, too many sugary treats, too much hot weather, and a Soulfly concert on Mother’s Day. I might need an extra day to recover from my exhaustion, which leaves me with Wednesday to write chapter ten of Beautiful Monster. I hope I can get it done by then, because the Fire and Water prompt fits perfectly into the scenario I’ve created for Windham and Shelly’s final confrontation. If you’ve read chapter one of my ongoing novel, you know what’s about to happen. If you didn’t, then you’ll be pleasantly surprised. Either way, it’ll be good to get back into my creative work again. Thanks for being patient with me.


message 3: by Garrison (new)

Garrison Kelly (cybador) | 9620 comments AUTHOR: Garrison Kelly
TITLE: Beautiful Monster, Chapter 10
GENRE: Dark Fantasy
WORD COUNT: 1,500 on the dot
RATING: PG-13 for violence and swearing



(FLASHBACK)

Windham Xavier wandered down the darkened hallway with a whip in one hand and his “theatrical prop” in the other, albeit the latter held behind his back. “Where is that bitch?” he kept muttering to himself over and over again like a monk’s chant. He didn’t have to look too far out of reach. All he had to do was ease a large wooden door open to see his rapist dancing in her black wedding dress, all alone in her personal library with lit candles around her. Windham secretly wondered what kind of books she was reading that would make her act the way she did.

The elf couldn’t believe how arrogant and happy Shelly Atwood looked while twirling around obliviously like that. The dance party was over as soon as Windham finally got her attention with the crack of his whip. The vampire lady jumped at the harsh sound before slowly turning around to see her victim fully dressed in his metal armor. The raw emotions on his face protected even more of himself than he was letting on. Shelly, on the other hand, had wide eyes of horror.

She chuckled nervously, “I bet Torger’s not going to be happy with you.”

Holding it by the long, greasy hair, Windham revealed his theatrical prop to be the head of the vampire stepbrother in question, dripping with blood from the neck down. Shelly’s terrified breathing deepened while the elf bluntly said, “Torger’s not going to like shit.” He then drop kicked the head like a soccer ball across the library and at Shelly’s bare feet.

Shelly whimpered while kneeling down and cradling the severed head in her arms like a baby. “No,” she sobbed to herself. She accidentally got blood on her face as she wiped away her tears. “No!” she repeated over and over again before going into a full-on crying fit.

“Your crocodile tears have no effect on me,” said Windham coldly. “You knew that this was a long time coming. You knew you couldn’t keep me under lock and key forever. For god’s sake, you and Torger were too lazy to tighten the fucking straps! I guess forcing me to marry you wasn’t that important after all.”

“…You….you’re a fucking monster!”

“My, how quickly the roles have reversed. Bullies seem to have no problem playing the victim when it’s convenient. Meanwhile, I’ve been a victim of yours for god knows how long. Every time you kissed me, every time you touched me, every time you got me off, all I wanted to do was the same thing you’re doing now: bawl like a fucking baby!”

Shelly continued to wipe away tears with bloody fingers. She smiled sadly at Windham and said, “You can cry in front of me if you want to. I won’t judge you.”

“Give me a fucking break!” snapped Windham as a tiny tear rolled down his cheek. “I’ll bet you anything that if I was a disfigured fat fuck, you wouldn’t be saying that shit to me! You kidnapped me because of my looks! You didn’t bother to get to know me! You don’t even know my fucking name! Well, let me formally introduce myself! I’m Windham Alfred Xavier. Yes, my initials spell the word WAX, but that’s about the only funny thing there is about me. What I’m about to do to you is far from comedy unless you’re talking in terms of Dante.”

“I didn’t kidnap you because of your looks, Windham,” sobbed Shelly. “I actually wanted someone to love me for the rest of my life. Is that too much to ask?! Is it too much to fucking ask that I get some goddamn unconditional love?!” The vampire lady shot up to her feet and tossed the severed head to the ground before letting even more tears fall.

At this point, the victimizer looked too pathetic for words, according to Windham. He almost felt sorry for her. He felt enough sympathy at that moment that he spoke to her with gentleness in his voice instead of rage. “I know it isn’t fair. I know how hard you try. But if you want love and affection in this world, you have to earn it by being a good person, not by throwing a fit. Your looks alone would make any man lucky to have you. But it’s your coldhearted attitude that makes you the most unattractive woman in the world.”

Shelly’s sorrow turned to bitter anger as her fists clenched and her body trembled. She bore her vampire fangs while kneeling down to pick up her stepbrother’s head by the hair. “Screw you, Windham Xavier...Screw you!” Without missing another beat, Shelly rushed into combat with her victim, swinging the severed head around like a morning star. She was surprisingly quick with her assault as Windham had to work extra hard to dodge every strike. He ducked down to avoid a high shot and winced as the severed head smashed the stone doorway.

Shelly raised the head in the air and attempted to splatter Windham’s brains across the wall. But the elf was ready and landed a whiplash to the rapist’s stomach, opening a nasty crimson wound and doubling her to the floor screaming like a bitch. The last of Windham’s sympathy for this woman dissipated as he now bore a look of disgust on his face. He continued to strike her with the whip and open new fountain gashes on her thighs, arms, chest, and face. She could do nothing but scream until her voice was raw and bloody.

Windham’s eyes grew wide with wild rage. He clenched his own teeth and breathed like a psychopath. “You think I’m done with you?! You think this is over?! It’s not over until I say it’s over!” growled the elf. “Where the hell is my grappling hook?!” He felt around his waist area and found what he was looking for. He gazed at it for an uncomfortably long time with violence in his eyes and a smile on his insane face.

The elf dragged Shelly by her bloody arm toward the center of the library while placing one of the tall candle sticks above her. “Yeah, I like this already! Woo-hoo!” he exclaimed. Windham attached the grappling hook to his blood-soaked whip and twirled it around before tossing it over the tallest bookcase in the room. He still wondered what it was Shelly liked to read. Porn? Romance novels? Pornographic romance novels? Whatever it was, he was certain it couldn’t have been good for her already fucked up brain.

“There won’t be enough water in this world to put out the fucking fire, bitch! Not even all my pent up tears could put this shit out!” screamed Windham as he tugged on the bookcase.

“You can still cry in front of me! It’s not too late to show me you care!” whimpered Shelly in her bloodied state.

“…Goodbye, beautiful monster,” said Windham with a mocking air kiss at the end. A few more strength-defying tugs and the oversized keeper of erotic tomes came crashing down upon both Shelly at the lit candlestick. The sickening crunch of bones and the burst of flames nearly made Windham orgasm with delight.

Even as everything around him started to burn, Windham danced around shouting “Woo-hoo!” and singing “I need to ignore the pain!” The flames burned brightly around him as Shelly’s life juices flooded the floor. Not even blood as cold as hers could extinguish the singeing flames. Windham couldn’t put the fire out himself even if he wanted to. Instead he ran down the hallways of the castle singing and shouting while flailing his arms in the air like a loony toon.

The flames grew around him and what was once a stronghold of royal fortitude crumbled into ashes and rubble. Windham’s insanity was the perfect mask for the adrenaline-boost he was feeling. He ran away from the inferno clowning around and even adding back flips to his dance repertoire. Once he reached the front door, he leveled the heavy wood with a wrestling-style drop kick (it was already softened somewhat from the spreading blaze).

By the time Windham ran his heart into exhaustion, the burning castle was far behind him, but was no less beautiful to look at in the distance. Daylight had already approached, so the sunshine made the flames even more heavenly to look at. Windham had stopped clowning around and dropped to his knees, mouth drooling, eyes dripping, and muscles aching and pulsating.

“I did it…” he grinned to himself. “I did it. I fucking did it. They’re dead. They’re finally dead! The nightmare is over!” The last part of his celebratory rant was clearly a lie as his senses dulled out and his mind numbed itself to the pain of rape. It didn’t stop him from singing one of his favorite tunes of all time in his angelic voice: “Crush the bones…burn the body…crush the bones…burn the body…crush the bones…”


message 4: by Edward (new)

Edward Davies | 1727 comments Title : Basilisk Catalyst (Helen Singer, Chapter 17, Part 1)
Author : Edward Davies
Word Count : 1465
Rating : PG13

I stared at where Alfie had been standing, unable to believe what I had just seen. Had he really just vanished through a wall? Or had I imagined it? I barely heard Fran’s footsteps behind me as she jogged to catch up to me.

“I put it back,” she told me, talking about the key to the drug fridge, “I pretended I’d forgotten my phone and dropped the key to the floor, then made out I’d noticed the key when I was looking for my phone. It was pretty easy, really, and I don’t think they suspected I was p to anything…”

She paused, finally noticing the expression on my face, “What is it?” she asked, “Why are you looking like that?”

“Alfie,” I finally managed to mumble, “he’s… gone.”

I don’t think Fran understood quite what I was saying because her response was, “Well, isn’t that a good thing? At least he isn’t hassling you anymore.”

I shook my head, “No, he disappeared… through the wall.”

“What?”

“Over there,” I pointed to the wall that Alfie had vanished into, “there’s was a bright light, like fire, and, and music, and then he just… vanished.”

“You mean he passed through the wall?” Fran asked, “Not through a door or something? Are you sure?”

I nodded again.

“Well, let’s take a closer look,” Fran said, grabbing my hand and heading towards the shop front where Alfie had disappeared. I thought in that instant that she was just humouring me, but at least she managed to get my legs moving again.

When we reached the building, we stared at the wall, trying to see where there could have been some sort of entrance way we might have missed. It would have been easy to find an entry on any other shop front in Grave’s Hollow, but this shop seemed to have been abandoned, and the doors and window were boarded up, so there was no chance that Alfie could have just opened the door and walked in; nothing so simple for us, I guess. The walls themselves showed no sign that any bright light or fire had been present; if anything they were damp, dripping in places with stale green water. I looked at Fran, who looked doubtfully back at me.

“I know what I saw,” I told her, positive she thought I wasn’t sure about what I’d seen, “I’m not imagining things.”

“I’m sure you’re not,” Fran replied, looking at her watch. I know, it’s so strange that she actually wears a watch, “but we don’t really have time to look into Alfie’s disappearance right now. If it is something screwy going on, and it’s related to the Flamel curse, then we have to get to the police station as soon as possible.”

“Why?” I asked, not quite putting two and two together.

“Because if the curse is affecting something out here – and it really shouldn’t be if Basil has been cursed – then we need to get this sedative to him before he changes into a Basilisk!”

Fran’s words snapped me out of my confused funk, and I could feel my eyes widen, “Let’s go,” I said, and began running the few blocks to the police station, Fran jogging along behind me.

When we reached the station, slightly damp from the evening drizzle, we headed straight to the front desk where I knew my mum was due to be working that night. Thankfully she always puts a list of her shifts up on the fridge, so we know how to get hold of her in an emergency.

“Helen?” my mum said, looking up from the counter, “Fran? What are you two doing here?”

“We can’t explain right now, mum,” I said, “but we have to see Mr Iskander.”

“Mr Iskander?” my mum repeated, “Why? What for?”

“He might be dangerous,” Fran tried to explain.

“Might be dangerous?” my mum almost laughed, “We know he’s dangerous, that’s why we’ve locked him up. He knows something about those missing children, I’m sure of it, and in the morning he’s being transferred out of here to answer for his crimes.”

“He could be dead by the morning!” I shouted, “In fact he will be dead within minutes if we don’t get to him now!”

“What is wrong with you, Helen?” my mum asked, glaring at me hard, “Are you on something?”

“No, I’m not on something,” I would have rolled my eyes if this wasn’t such a serious situation, “but we have to get to him tonight, before the sun sets.”

“Before the sun sets?” my mum actually chuckled, “What is he, a vampire or something?”

“No,” said Fran, “he’s a Basilisk.”

“A Basilisk?” my mum laughed, “You mean like the mythical beast? What are you two playing at? You’ve never acted like this before, Helen. Is this Fran’s influence?”

“This is serious mum,” I glared at her, starting to get very frustrated, “people could die if we don’t stop this thing tonight.”

My mum finally stopped laughing, but she just looked angry instead, “Helen, this is not a joke. This man has possibly been kidnapping children, he’s been seen wandering the streets naked for God only knows what reason, so this is not a joking matter.”

“We’re not joking, mum,” I began, “he’s going to turn into a monster tonight, and if we don’t stop that transformation he’s going to die and we’ll never find out what happened to Ladon and the other missing kids.”

Suddenly my mum snapped to attention, “Ladon?” she repeated, and I realised that I’d slipped up by mentioning my brother’s name, “Did you say Ladon is missing?”

I breathed a heavy sigh, “I didn’t know how to tell you,” I explained, “and with dad getting turned to stone and then all the other kids disappearing…”

“Dad turning to stone?” my mum shook her head, “Can you just stop it with this nonsense for just one second – are you saying that the man back there in the cells has taken Ladon? Has done… who knows what to my baby boy?”

“He’s hardly s baby any more, mum,” I began, but I didn’t get to finish my thoughts as my mum got up from her desk and marched towards the cells, mumbling to herself.

“I’m going to kill him,” she said, “I’m going to kill that son of a…”

“Quick,” Fran hissed, “get after her. This might be our only chance to stop the transformation.”

We shadowed my mum as she headed to the cells, her shoulders hunched as she stopped at one of the cells, her face pressed close to the window in the door.

“Get up,” she shouted at the figure slumped on the single cot in the back of the cell, “Get the hell up off that bunk, you child molesting piece of filth!”

Fran and I slunk up behind my mum, my hand reaching into my left-hand pocket for the vials that would hopefully put Mr Iskander to sleep until the curse was lifted. I looked at Fran, who had already emptied out one of her diabetes syringes in preparation for our plan. It’s funny, I always think of diabetics as being fat, but Fran was actually pretty slim.

“Hey!” my mum screamed through the door, “Are you listening to me? What have you done with my boy!”

I looked over my mum’s shoulder, trying to get a look through the tiny window at Mr Iskander. He was barely moving, but he didn’t look like he was asleep. His shoulders moved up and down as he lay there, ignoring us but, as I watched, something strange started to happen.

His back started to twitch and stretch, jerking and cracking as we looked on. His backside gave a spasmodic jerk, and what looked like a long black tail shot out of it. My mum gasped, taking a step back from the door.

“What is that?” she said quietly, “What the hell is going on?”

Before I could do anything, Fran cold cocked my mum, knocking her to the ground.

“What the hell?” I whisper-shouted, “That’s my mum!”

“We can’t afford to let her see Basil change,” Fran said, crouching down next to my mum’s comatose figure, “now quickly, try to find the keys to the cell door so we can actually apply this sedative to him before he gets any bigger.”

I crouched down with Fran, searching my mum for the keys, “I can’t find them,” I finally gave up the search, “she must not have grabbed them when she came down here.”

“Then we’ve got a big problem,” Fran said, standing up and looking through the glass at the steadily growing figure of Basil Iskander, transforming into a Basilisk inside his jail cell, “and it’s getting bigger by the second!”

(continued next time)


message 5: by C. J., Cool yet firm like ice (new)

C. J. Scurria (goodreadscomcj_scurria) | 4309 comments Totally forgot to do the polls and contest. Will put them all up after work!


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