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Weekly Contests > Week Eleven (Jan. 6- Jan. 11) 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 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 http://www.goodreads.com/topic... 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 Vain If anyone has any objections to this topic, please go to the Objections post. The rules are pretty loose. You could write about someone you know who is vain, vanity in general, of just have the word 'vain' in the story.

Weekly stories must be at least 500 words long to 2,000 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.


message 2: by [deleted user] (new)

ooo vain, just what all high schoolers have!!!!


message 3: by jeeves... (new)

jeeves... | 306 comments right, i think i'll have a go at this one haha....


message 4: by Clare D' Lune (new)

Clare D' Lune cool!
Dangitall I KNOW I can do this one.... THINK brain, THINK!


message 5: by jeeves... (new)

jeeves... | 306 comments haha, i'm picturing you sitting on a log outside a treehouse, tapping your head winnie-the-pooh-esquely, saying think think think.....


message 6: by Clare D' Lune (new)

Clare D' Lune awww, you caught me!


message 7: by [deleted user] (new)

I have the best idea!! Oh my goodness!!!!


message 8: by Clare D' Lune (new)

Clare D' Lune write write write!!!


message 9: by jeeves... (new)

jeeves... | 306 comments goodluck!


message 10: by jeeves... (new)

jeeves... | 306 comments okay, here goes:


message 11: by jeeves... (last edited Jan 07, 2009 10:05PM) (new)

jeeves... | 306 comments title: Not His Time
words: 914
short story galore would be fine with me, if i'm fortunate enough to win ;)


His boots left momentary footprints on the wet sidewalk as he trudged on his way. He looked in his early twenties; he wore casual clothes: jeans and a t-shirt. Over this, he wore a large black trench coat. It would’ve been a fairly ordinary sight, him walking along the sidewalk, had he not been in the year 1849- the middle of the Victorian Era in England. His dark hair, hanging slightly over his green eyes, drew disapproving stares from the few people he passed. One elderly woman looked as though she was about to say something, but he growled as she passed, and apart from a slight gasp, she was silent. He grinned to himself, moving his chewing gum, which had long since lost its flavor, to the other side of his mouth.
Finally, he arrived on the street that was his destination. Four buildings ahead was a magnificent mansion, out of place on the otherwise mediocre looking street. The sun had recently set, and the light pouring from the many vast windows lit the street in front of the building. As the young man grew closer to the mansion, he withdrew a slightly elongated handgun from one of his many large pockets. He began loading a high-powered tranquilizer dart into the gun, cautious not to prick himself with the needle. With this strength, he’d be out in seconds, and he’d stay out for a good five hours.
When he reached the door, he peered through a window into the mansion, careful not to be seen. He immediately noticed that his caution was redundant. The interior of the building was in such chaos, none would’ve noticed even if he had knocked. People were running left and right, discord reigned. He slipped through the unlocked door and scanned the crowd of frightened people. All were English noblemen and women, dressed in their finest for an evening party exclusively for the richest and most respected in the city. The man scowled at the stupidity of the Victorian era itself; it was nothing but vanity, one’s image was all that mattered- and one certainly wasn’t going to stick up for any of the other nobles; they probably couldn’t even stand each other.
While he was thinking this, he spotted one of the problems: a man dressed in modern clothes, with a ski mask over his face. He was chasing a group of nobles with a long knife extended in front of him. The knife was devoid of blood, so it was evident that the man was merely having fun, possibly stalling for time. One dart to the chest was enough to stop him in his tracks. As he fell, a second man rounded the corner, also wearing a ski mask, this time carrying a gun. Bullets shattered the glass behind the young man as he ducked and ran for cover, loading a second dart into his gun. As soon as the dart was in place, he turned and shot the masked man easily. He quickly headed for the center of the massive hall, where there was an ornate staircase, leading up to a balcony. As he ran up the stairs, people moved out of his way, covering their heads, some whimpering. One balding man stepped out to block the man’s progress, fists raised halfheartedly before him. He did so at the obvious urging of his wife, who stood off to the side behind her husband. The young man raised his gun and pointed it at the center of the bald man’s forehead. The bald man opened his mouth, his eyes locked onto the tip of the gun. He then lowered his fists and slid out of the way, pressing himself hard against the wall as the young man passed.
When the young man reached the balcony, he waved his arms and called out to get everyone’s attention. This was obviously not necessary as both terrorists were no longer a threat, but he, in the eyes of the nobles, was.
“You don’t have to worry about me”, he said in as calm a tone as he could summon, while still yelling loud enough for all to hear. “But you do need to leave now. Something is coming that is far worse than me, or even those two”, he continued, gesturing at the unconscious forms on the floor. “I expect it’ll be arriving soon, so everyone please head for the exi-“
He was interrupted as the wall around the door he had entered from exploded. Once again, people scattered, screaming for their lives as though it could actually do anything to help them.
The young man scowled and stepped back to the wall, spitting his gum out as he did. It caught in the hair of a passing lady, who didn’t even notice as she screamed on her way. The man leaned forward and glanced into the dust, still clearing from the explosion. He could see more terrorists running into the hall, as well as what appeared to be a tank parked on the lawn. He swore quietly under his breath and lowered himself to the ground against the wall behind him. He deposited his dart gun in his coat, and from another pocket drew a different gun, also a handgun, but styled differently. This gun didn’t shoot darts. This gun shot bullets. This gun shot to kill.
The man sighed deeply to himself.
“This is gonna be a long night”, he muttered, and stood up.



message 12: by jeeves... (new)

jeeves... | 306 comments hope y'all like it, eh?


message 13: by Clare D' Lune (new)

Clare D' Lune wow! Awesome! You should like continue this story, its awesome! See now, was that so hard? : D


message 14: by [deleted user] (new)

yeah! add more, its great!


message 15: by jeeves... (new)

jeeves... | 306 comments eh, i'll think about it! haha, i really don't know how he got in that time period in the first place, and it's been bugging me, so i'll probly have to come up with something eventually to appease my troubled mind...


message 16: by jeeves... (new)

jeeves... | 306 comments hey, now you guys have to hurry up and write one! haha, i wanna read what other people get outta this topic!


message 17: by Clare D' Lune (new)

Clare D' Lune hahaha


message 18: by Clare D' Lune (new)

Clare D' Lune I'm thinking, I swear I am! Well tryyyying anyway.


message 19: by Chandani (new)

Chandani  (Milkduds920) | 311 comments Monolith that was awesome!!!!!!

im excited for mine!


message 20: by jeeves... (new)

jeeves... | 306 comments thanks :D

haha, so am i, hurry up and write it!!


message 21: by Arthur, Live a little Give a lot (new)

Arthur | 554 comments Mod
im still writing mine


message 22: by jeeves... (new)

jeeves... | 306 comments cool! i'm looking forward to reading it!


message 23: by Clare D' Lune (new)

Clare D' Lune Heres mine!



message 24: by Clare D' Lune (new)

Clare D' Lune Name: Breaking Away

Words: 1622

Genre: Fiction

By: Clare


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I looked at the mirror with contempt. The healthy, tanned girl residing in the cool glass stared back at me with the same expression of hatred. What had happened to me? I picked up a strand of perfectly highlighted blond hair and held it up before my eyes. I looked back at the mirror and for a flash of a second I saw who I used to be. The pale stubborn girl with dark brown hair. The one who didn’t care how she looked, and went to school is sweats when she didn’t feel like getting dressed. Then the flash was over, and I was looking at my current self. The very images of human Barbie. I should be proud of my beauty. At least as proud as my fellow students were jealous. But I wasn’t. I knew how to act though, and no one would guess how I truly felt. They thought I felt exactly as someone who was the head of the cheerleading squad, someone who was one of the most popular girls in the school, should feel. Yes. I was a good actor.

But here, at home, alone in my room, I let my true feelings show. It only happened a couple times a month, lately even less than that, when I felt like this. When I felt like I had lost my best friend. Or like I had died or something. The rest of the time I was with my popular friends, going to popular parties, and the other wondrous things Barbies like me did.

So what had happened? Just too years ago I had been the dark-haired girl upon the bleachers laughing at the blondes, while they did splits in their little miniskirts. My older sister led them with a big smile, her dyed hair whipping and bouncing behind her. I’d always laughed at her. She seemed like a joke to me.
But then, something changed. I have no clue how. I mean, my sis invited me to her dumb cheerleader sleepover, and I came just to see what Barbies talk about when guys weren’t present, and ok, maybe to slip something slimy under someone’s blanket. But instead I got a makeover. I had a feeling that’s the whole reason she wanted me to come, someone to experiment on.

So somehow I ended up with blond hair and pink eye shadow. They had promised they were doing black, so I’d gone with it. They even showed me a box of black hair dye. But after all it was my sister with her little followers. I can’t believe I fell for that. I was about to kill them all when some guys came over. They all looked at me with this weird expression, and they all were wondering who I was. They couldn’t believe it was me. Then they started talking to me. Paying attention to me. And, I liked it. At least I think I did. It felt...different. So I kept the blond hair and the makeover. I still can’t believe I’d been convinced so quickly. How impossibly fast my view had changed.
Why? It wasn’t the guys. I already had a guy. He was my best friend. Alex was the one I laughed with, about the latest pathetic ‘popular gossip.’ The one I always hung out with. We’d been friends since like third grade. He was defiantly the worst part about changing. The looks he gave me afterward. First confused, then unbelieving, after that came hurt, and what he looked at me with now. Distain. It hurt every time I looked at him.

It was so hard and so easy all the time. But it was just acting. So why did I like it? It seemed horrible to me at times like this. Thinking about the constant trips to the restroom to re-apply my lip gloss, the smug looks I had to give to the school losers to keep up my image. That’s all it was. Image. Everything about my life was keeping up image. It was like vanity had completely taken over my life. Vainness controlled me. I’d completely followed in the footsteps of my sister, that I had once laughed it. I knew one of the most popular guys was about to ask me out, that nearly everyone envied me, and yet, this wasn’t what I wanted. Right now I wondered how I could have fooled myself into thinking that. But staring at myself in the mirror, I knew that I’d wake up the next morning, dress myself in pink, and continue with my shallow life.

I look longingly at my closet. I knew way up in the corner, along with all my old dark cloths, were my CDs. My music. I had put them away after changing. I’d put everything away and replaced it with sequins and pink. But the music had to be the second hardest thing to give up. All my favorites, Evanescence, Three Days Grace, Linkin Park, Within Temptation. All stuffed up in the closet gather dust because the popular kids didn’t listen to that kind of stuff. They listened to the pop and rap that was on the radio all the time.

So in exchange for popularity, I’d given up music and my best friend. I yanked at my hair in anger. Why? Why had I? I sat down heavily on my bed, pounding head with my hands. After ten minutes a new resolve hardened in my mind. Time to change back. I had had enough of pink and image. Time to...rebel.



message 25: by Clare D' Lune (new)

Clare D' Lune (Breaking Away Continued)

It was ten o’clock, and very dark outside, so my parents probably wouldn’t have let me leave if I had asked them. So I didn’t. I snuck out my window and went straight to the hair salon that was luckily open until eleven a few days of the week, and only a few blocks away from our house. Within the hour I had my dark brown hair back. I went home and immediately started digging in my closet for my old cloths and CDs. I put the music back on my I-pod deleting the crap I hated, and started ripping apart my horrifying pink room. I went almost wild with the excitement of getting rid of it all. I didn’t care if I cursed myself the next morning. It was worth it just to feel this energy now.

Finally, at 3:00 am, I plopped down in my bed exhausted. The next morning I woke up to the chaos that was now my room. Surprisingly I didn’t feel the regret I was sure I would. Instead, I felt just as ecstatic. I grabbed some sweats, getting ready to wear them to school, but decided to make this a special event. I got out my blackest and started putting it on. A shirt that said ‘Back off’ on it, and black skirt, tights, and boots. I painted my nails black and stuffed my now-dark hair in an extremely messy ponytail. Perfect. I checked the time, and saw it was already ten thirty. I must have slept in. Both my parents worked, and got up and left very early, and my older sister had moved out. So no one was there to wake me up, besides my alarm clock which I’d forgot to set. I shrugged. I’d get there just in time to walk into the cafeteria and make my big entrance. I got in my car and was there by eleven, first lunch hour. I marched in, a little nervous, but more excited than anything else.

It was bigger than I had thought it would be. Everyone stared. Immediately, the girl I was closest to on the squad ran up to me and hissed, “What do you think you’re doing?!” I looked at her for a second wondering how I had ever had the patience to talk to someone like her. Don’t get me wrong, she was pretty nice, but also slow. Superficial, shallow. Just like me. Or what I had been.
“I quit.” I said to her. “Sorry, can’t take it.” And with that I walked away. She, along with the rest of the popular gang, watched me with mouths wide open. I ignored them, and the rest of the stares, and walked to the ‘nerdy/outcast’ section of the cafeteria. There was Alex, staring at me with the same expression as the other, only this one was filled with hope. I sat down without a word, avoiding his eyes for a second of cowardliness, and then forced myself to look up.

“Hi,” I said in a hushed voice.
“Hi Mia,” he replied, confusion and hardness reentering his face. “Um, what are you doing here?”
“I...well.... um. Look, Alex I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?” I blushed horribly.
His face softened. “Are you back for good?” he asked quietly.
“Yes,” I looked up at him again, “Yes, I am.”
“Then welcome back!” he said, a huge grin spreading on his face. This is where I belonged. I was happy here. I don’t know why I had spent so much time over on the other side, and I hoped it hadn’t effected my friendship with Alex too much, but either way, Here is where I belonged. Besides, Alex wasn’t known for grudge holding. I smiled back.



message 26: by Chandani (new)

Chandani  (Milkduds920) | 311 comments Awesome!


message 27: by jeeves... (last edited Jan 08, 2009 04:05PM) (new)

jeeves... | 306 comments woot! popular people suck.... sometimes. occasionally.
:D


message 28: by Clare D' Lune (new)

Clare D' Lune haha I guess that was a little harsh. They're not THAT bad as long as they mind their own smug business.... i kinda think my story sucked though, wasn't paying much attention while I wrote it...


message 29: by jeeves... (new)

jeeves... | 306 comments k fine, i'll edit! haha...

no, it was good! haha, fit the topic waaaay better than mine! >.<


message 30: by Arthur, Live a little Give a lot (new)

Arthur | 554 comments Mod

Name: Androgen And The Painting By Ben Marshall
Words: approximately almost a total sum of 1375
Genre: Short Story Fiction
By: Arthur

** * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * **

Androgen And The Painting By Ben Marshall

It was an extraordinary color just to see it. The walls are dull but an orange and only blank along the windows. Now I am close to it only to open it to allow a breeze. It is mild weather and anyway I look at this as it is best for now to have the air circulate. It’s a pastoral feeling which catches me instead of my usually bulldozing. I felt it modestly when my wife suggested we convert this unused den into the new baby’s room.

Androgen had a boy. I mean we had a boy together Androgen and I. It was a somber comfort to me to be with my family who adored my wife. They have forgiven me my troubled past. They no longer look over their shoulder at me when I come in. From my hoodlum days and nights till maturity they now have open hands and greet me with congratulatory smiles. I am a father and I believe they no longer feel I trouble them and have forgiven me. Such promises. Such a history to be forgotten and forgiven.

I thought back to the day, not the day of my baby’s birth, to that other day. Those days that still trouble me when I wake but are far in the past. There was one day I would relive again if I could.

Out one day I met with Dameon a dude that talks about his financial dispositions. In those days money meant a great deal, a hand full of cash could mean power or unknown oblivion. Without cash leads to being unpopular and means death. He leeks out to me what we are now to begin to be studying. I stood and concurring that, I, Fabian, was his partner in alleging to become sequence imposters. Imposters to impersonate people or to become John’s. What I as Fabian then concur was everything Dameon speaks of. Demeon becomes excited talking about burglaries as a living.

I had an older brother caught stealing whom had been imprisoned from everyone including his family and then his reputation was going to hurt.

He never returned my letters. His state prison was one we were never to visit. We lost contact with my brother. He could be in a fight, be hurt and we were just to pretend we didn’t know of him because he no longer really existed.

Demeon’s idea to split our booty was ingenious. He was a good friend. I met him in my youth. We were inseparatable when we was hanging out as teenagers. My parents haven’t really known of him or met his parents. After all he was just one of those faces in a crowd at a mall or on the corner.

I hadn’t met Androgen, yet I will. She hung out with her best-best-friend Astoria. They never went out to do things. If we had internet in those days that two would have been nerds in comparison. Instead I never knew her and she never laid eyes on me or Demeon.

Mr. Runcorn the department store inspector had closed and locked and chained the door which leads to an electrical maintenance room at the back of the local civic shoppers center. Demeon and I had another way in, and if we were lucky the chains meant there was poor security alarms inside.

We made our way through a vent on the roof. Demeon slid down first and called me next. The two of us looked around the department store. We were expertly quiet for sound and movement detectors and hadn’t expected they used them because they would likely set off every night like some of those other impossible security jobs. But still we were quiet.

We had a loot and went back up the vent. Once we were out, Demeon had the idea that we then put on masks when we leave because it wasn’t criminal after the fact, and to prevent being noticed carrying our loot to his apartment near-by.

He was quickly a professional when dealing with stolen goods. He would get top dollar. After all our theft was in the paper and our crime was a once done deal, because why would they not set up a new security after the big break-in.

I returned home to be surprised by my young brother, he’s a wimp, he has real friends though, and was talking about girls. All three of them, Olli, Wendell, Phillips my little brother Phil. Olli the boy with cool Elvis-Style hair when born. Wendell with the latest arcade game.

I had to take a corner and almost missed them before one of them caught the bag I was carrying with something exciting I stole protruding out. He had to know how it worked in real, real life, for real. Guys avoid these dudes, they don’t know.

I got through convincing them I spent money on it, tempted but didn’t attempt to sell it to one of them. Demeon was the master mind, would he sell a rifle to his little brother? Maybe not, but I convinced them there was enough birds out there on wires interfering with cable television.

Two years later I had a hand full of cash, I was almost the age to be finished school if I had remain in one. I was running fast past a block I hated because it stinks you know when I saw Waldorf
Out of nowhere pushing a girl out of his car onto the street. I went over and helped the girl to her feet. I apologized for Waldorf and told her he was nothing but a pimp. She shook my hand and thanked me for being a civil helper and understanding her story. She didn’t want to have anything to do with him, he just had been a boy she once knew as a boy and invited her into his car. She went but he asked her personal questions that frightened her and she demanded to be let out. So here she was on this block.

I knew she didn’t even know where she was so I offered her my arm. She took it. I made a new friend of her. I wasn’t vain like Waldorf who was nothing but a pimp. I looked presentable. I was even though I hadn’t changed in two years much except I now had hands full of cash.

I walked her to her home and she saw she looked haggard from being pushed out of her car. She wanted my name and number and asked me in. it was a wealthy home, and I should have known if I was judging her clothes.

Finding it less and less threatening I looked at the pictures in the hall. She ran up the spiral stair that led to Detroit somewhere. I was petting two tiny twin pooches that whimpered to strangers inside the house. Her mother was home somewhere, probably in a bath somehow. A butler passed me carrying towels to lord knew where.

The door bell chimed oh my lord. I turned quickly to a painting by Ben Marshall. Actually the only one I liked but was probably a copy even though it was a place of such wealth.

The butler hurried down the stairs and he no longer had those towels. He opened the door to welcome in Androgen. My jaw dropped a little. My hands in my pockets hung. I knew what love meant once I saw her. I knew I had no future. I knew I had to change.

The End


message 31: by jeeves... (new)

jeeves... | 306 comments cool! ha, i have a nephew named damian... different spelling, but whatever haha...
good story though!!


message 32: by Arthur, Live a little Give a lot (new)

Arthur | 554 comments Mod
yeah almost the same though.


message 33: by jeeves... (new)

jeeves... | 306 comments yupperz! (sorry clare i stole that word... it'z addicting...)


message 34: by Clare D' Lune (new)

Clare D' Lune Wow That was AWESOME Arthur! But I'm confused, who'd he fall in love with? Sorry, I'm stupid...

wait, that was my word? *sneakily gets out the old boot* you shalt pay for that!!!

jk : D of course.


message 35: by Arthur, Live a little Give a lot (new)

Arthur | 554 comments Mod
yeah it was Androgen and Fabian, i feel guilty it wasn't clear, i don't want to imagine i wrote a turkey


message 36: by Clare D' Lune (new)

Clare D' Lune No, I thought it was great! I'm just a very overly confused girl.


message 37: by jeeves... (new)

jeeves... | 306 comments psh, yeah ya are.... jkjkjkjkjkjkjkjkjk don't hert meee.... or kik me owt...
:D


message 38: by Clare D' Lune (new)

Clare D' Lune *Looks menacingly at Monolith and brandishes shiny-new-polish Boot*


message 39: by Clare D' Lune (new)

Clare D' Lune : D


message 40: by jeeves... (new)

jeeves... | 306 comments *smiles.....bigly*
:D :D :D :( :D :D :D


message 41: by jeeves... (new)

jeeves... | 306 comments hey, what happened to your shiny title? modz must have tiltlez!!!!


message 42: by Clare D' Lune (new)

Clare D' Lune I got rid of it... : D if I can think of something else humorous to say perhaps I shalt return a title to my moderator position... or w/e... : D

Hey, no more storieS???


message 43: by jeeves... (new)

jeeves... | 306 comments hmm... i'm a mod on a different group, and my title's "eater of pie"... pretty dramatic, no?

yeah, chandani was all exited, but apparently she gave up... :(
janelle said she had a great idea too... they better hurry up if they're still trying, only another day!!


message 44: by Chandani (last edited Jan 09, 2009 07:46PM) (new)

Chandani  (Milkduds920) | 311 comments HEY! I WAS BABYSITTING TODDLERS FOR 5 HOURS TDAY AND YOU KNOW WHAT I DID WHEN I GOT HOME?


I finished my story!!!!!

Name: Undergound
Word count: 1thousand and erm.....*checks* 1432!!

*******************************Part one!***************************************

We are creatures of the dark. Demons who have been eternally damned to this hell they used to call earth. Under the cities we roam like savages. We kill ruthlessly and though some of us try our best to restrain ourselves, in the end all caution is to the wind. Resistance is futile, for fate has another plan. Through our passages we rove, killing our enemies, and fighting to survive. In this place there is no love, there is no light and there is no hope.
This is the land of devils.

I have been told of what our home used to be. So long ago, when the two legged wandered the earth. This place was a city, a great city of wonders and light. Now it is an abyss, one that rivals that which resides deep within our souls. Los Angeles is what they called it. A city of bright nights and of happier times. That was so long ago. That was before the disease and it was before the drop. It was long before the change, and in a time where monsters like us, were nothing but stories.
It is hard to believe that we were once human. We were once alive! Now the light has been robbed from our hearts, leaving them to rot from the inside out. Here life is an uncivilized purgatory.
The killing, the insanity and the darkness, it is all normal for me. This life is all I have ever known, but I beg to learn more. I grovel at fates feet and beg for light.

Thousands of years ago, the world began to change. Slowly but surely people began transforming into monsters. The changes did not show physically for almost a thousand years; it started with greed. Selfishness and power corrupted innocent minds, and forced foul thoughts into benevolent people. At a pace slow so slow that you could barely notice it, the human race began to change. Greed shone from the inside out, paling the skin to a sickening
complexion. Deception threw us into an everlasting crouch, and made our eyes dart suspiciously. Power hunger made us strong, ugly and cannibalistic. And vanity made us loathe all that was different. Now almost all humans have been wiped clean from the earth. All that is left now is the barbaric tribes, of monsters.


Around the same time that the human race became a nearly extinct one, there was a geological drop. An earthquake in San Francisco shattered buildings half way across the country. Houses were robbed, and never rebuilt. We learned to live within the rubble, and me made our lives out of sloppy seconds. The sewage systems remained undamaged despite the earthquake and we put them to good use. Different tribes have established their own underground communities, and passageways. Underneath fallen cities we build our homes. We have families, though the biological tie means almost nothing to most of us. I live in pipeline A directly underneath what used to be the Hollywood walk of fame.
The only time my estranged family and I speak to each other is on the hunt. “Deversus.” My mother snarled at me. I had been distracted looking through a small crack in the piping. “What is it?” I said, my voice abnormally high for my kind. “You never eat. You must become strong or someone is going to make a tasty meal out of you.” She licked her lips slightly. I groaned. It was disgusting to hear your family members talk about eating you. “I doubt they would. She’s too skinny!” My little brother Infestus chimed in. “I’ll eat later. Don’t worry about it.” I muttered not really paying attention to the conversation anymore. I heard a deep sigh from my father. I turned around again to stare at him. “What? Why do you all have a problem with me not wanting to eat right now?” I asked, on the very brink of my patience. No one said anything, so I simply got up and started walking away. “I’m going home. I’ll see you later.” I ran off towards my pipeline exhausted and hungry. I could have eaten right they’re with them, feasted on their cannibalistic meal but I did not. When I was much younger, I began to question our way of life. I began to wonder if there is not hope for us. I began to dream of a better life. So I promised myself that I would be different. I swore to remain abstinent from eating our normal food, which sadly is, our own kind


message 45: by Chandani (last edited Jan 09, 2009 07:47PM) (new)

Chandani  (Milkduds920) | 311 comments *******************************PART 2*******************************
In Los Angeles there are two clans of monsters. Atrox and Dirus. For hundreds of years we have been at war with one another. All over the world, groups fight over territory, power and food; we are no exception. Under and above ground, we have our boundary lines. Atrox mainly occupied northern Los Angeles, while Dirus, my clan inhabited the south. I felt a deep abhorrence towards both barbaric clans—even that which I call my home.

It was in late December when the raids began. It started with rouge Atrox members crossing the boundary line into our territory. Shrieks of fury filled our underground world. Fires spread like an airborne disease, melting our pipelines, and killing all in its path. As our city began to melt, I began to feel the alien emotion of fear. Adrenaline pumped through my dry veins, as I rushed above ground. Once outside the sewage system, I saw the sheer insanity of war. Children and adults a like attacked the Atrox’s. They set fire to their own homes, and killed their own families. At first I had been horrified; now I saw a chance. I could escape! Somehow in this madness I could slip away, to a different place. I could forget Los Angeles. Leave Dirus and Atrox to the past. I didn’t bother thinking twice, I ran long and hard towards the north. I ran past the madness and the killing, until I came upon the Atrox border. Every fiber of my being told me not to step over that line. Every lesson that this life had taught me, told me to back away. But I ignored these rationalizations. I leaped, and landed onto the Atrox soil, which was also war-torn and burnt, to a crisp. But I could care less. This was my freedom; this was me escaping the life I had always hated.

Cautiously I walked through the rubble of this foreign land. I planned on walking all the way through Atrox, into the Californian wilderness, where I could be free.
For hours I walked, listening closely as the battle cries from my old home faded into the back round. As I wandered I searched through the rubble, for a possible companion or simply for someone to talk to. I came across a building that was half standing, half leaning against the remains of another building. I slowly entered the building, looking around warily, for any potential threat or dangers. In the building I found only dead bodies and ammunition. Neither of which I cared for. I was just about to leave when I heard a strange rustle in the shadows. I twisted around and stared intently at the shadows.
“Whos there?” I said, trying desperately to make my voice sound as menacing as it should be, but it only came out as a frightened whisper. Slowly, a figure emerged from the darkness. It was an Atrox, that much could be seen from the large scar on his arm—the symbol of Atrox. It was tall but slender for our kind, its crouch barely more than a hunch, and as it came into the light, I saw that its skin color, like mine was an orange-ish tan, rather than the green we are so accustomed to. “Who are you?” the boy spoke finally. He was most likely no younger than I, yet his voice sounded like that of a child’s.
“My name is Deversus.” I said calmly. The boy cautiously inched closer to me, into the light. The light hit his face and revealed his features. He was like all of us, a strange looking head and pointy ears, but something was so…different. As I looked closer I saw his eyes. They were a sparkling green, brighter than anything I had ever seen underground. “What is your name?” I asked, still mesmerized by the sparkling emeralds.

“Decorous.” He said.

I knew right then, that together, we would discover the hidden treasures of love.



TO BE CONTINUED...WHEN I FEEL LIKE WRITING IT.





message 46: by jeeves... (new)

jeeves... | 306 comments hahahaha "when you feel like writing it" niiice...
awesome though! sorry i ever doubted you haha!


message 47: by Chandani (new)

Chandani  (Milkduds920) | 311 comments Thanks!!
Lol its okay.


message 48: by Arthur, Live a little Give a lot (new)

Arthur | 554 comments Mod
This week story contest is closed. Please summit story now.

The vote will be from Saturday afternoon until Sunday night. This will give lots of time to any goodreads member interested in these stories to read and vote for their favorite weekly short story. And Monday we will have a new topic to begin to write about. It's been a good week. Let's begin the votes for our favorite story. Good luck everyone. See you again Monday.


message 49: by Clare D' Lune (new)

Clare D' Lune Wow that was awessssome chandani!!! I love that last line: "TO BE CONTINUED...WHEN I FEEL LIKE WRITING IT."

That was realyl cool though! I'm so torn, they were all so good... who to vote for?!?!?



message 50: by Chandani (new)

Chandani  (Milkduds920) | 311 comments Lol thanks clare


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