Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion

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Weekly Short Story Contests > Week 125 (June 7th - June 14th) Stories: Summer Festival DONE!

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message 1: by Edward (new)

Edward (edwardtheresejr) | 2434 comments You have until June 14th to post a story and on the 15th and 16th 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 can be as long or short as you wish (keep in mind that stories longer than 3,000 words are less likely to be read).

Mention if your story is PG-13 or R, stating general content (language, violence, sexual themes).

REMEMBER! A short story is NOT a scene. It MUST have a BEGINNING, MIDDLE, and END.

This week’s topic is: Summer Festival

The rules are pretty loose. You could write a story about anything that has to do with the subject. I do not care, but it must relate to the story somehow.

Have fun!


Kayla ~The Mirthful Messiah~ (Chucklevoodoos142) | 41 comments We Don't Want to Help:
Kayla sighed as Amy rushed past her door, still fretting about the festival plans, and constantly snapping at everyone. So, she'd shut herself up in her room, hoping that the pink hedgehog would leave her alone, so that she could write on her laptop, and finish her diary page.
"Sonic! Where's the cotton candy machine!?" Amy yelled from in front of her door.
"What cotton candy machine?" Sonic called.
She could sense Amy's anger, "You forgot to get the cotton candy machine!?"
She could hear Sonic running as Amy chased him, "AH! Amy! Calm down! Not the hammer!"
She frowned and turned her attention back to the laptop. This summer festival needed to be worth the headache she was getting from Amy's constant yelling. A soft knock on the door jerked her out of her thoughts and she quickly shut the lid.
The door opened and she sighed with relief, "Shadow."
The red and black hedgehog smirked, "Amy?"
"Yeah," she nodded.
He chuckled slightly and sat beside her. She laid her head on his shoulder out of habit and set her laptop aside. Instinctively, he wrapped his arm around her, and silence filled the room. Suddenly, a loud crash erupted from down the stairs.
"Amy! Would you quit trying to hit me-ah!" another crash came forth.
"How could you forget the cotton candy machine!? I don't care if I love you or not, you're dead!" she yelled.
She smiled slightly, "She's really mad."
"She's almost always mad," he replied.
She laughed, "True."
Shadow looked down at her, "Did she asign you to do anything?"
"No. I've been avoiding her to much," she admitted.
He chuckled, "Same."
"Here! I got the machine! Don't hit me!" Sonic exclaimed.
"Thank you!" Amy chirped happily.
She heard Sonic gasp, "I think she smothered him again."
"Most likely," he agreed.
She sat up and looked outside, "I like summer. It's pretty."
"It is your first, huh?" he asked.
She nodded, "Yeah. The flowers look really nice too."
"Always the flowers," he muttered.
She blushed, "Sorry."
He smirked, "You're fine."
"Maybe if I sneak out the window..." she was cut off as he picked her up and carried her out, "Eep! Shadow!"
He landed off to the side of the base and set her down, "There."
"You scared me!" she gasped.
He smirked, "I got you down."
She shook her head and smiled, "Okay, thank you...I guess."
"You're welcome," he chuckled.
She rolled her eyes and walked into the forest. He followed behind and soon they reached a small field filled with daisies. Without a word, they laid down, and gazed at the clouds.
"Look! That one looks like Amy's hammer!" she laughed, pointing to one.
He smirked, "It does."
"And that one looks like the X-tornado and that one...oops. Sorry, I'm ranting again, aren't I?" she blushed.
"Just a little," he chuckled.
She looked down, "Sorry."
"You're okay," he looked at her and squeezed her hand.
She smiled and resumed looking at the clouds. Everything was peaceful for a moment...until a loud shout broke the silence.
"Kayla and Shadow the hedgehog! Get your butts over here!" Amy yelled.
She groaned, "Aw man."
"Sh," he helped her up and they ran deeper into the forest, "Now she can't find us."
She smiled and they started to run faster, soon they were blurs. Every time she started running, it felt like she was free, and she grinned. Suddenly, she slowed down slightly, and spun around in a circle.
"I love summer!" she exclaimed.
"Found you!" Amy yelled, pouncing out of the trees.
She jumped and fell back, crashing into Shadow, "Ah!"
Shadow stumbled a little and they fell to the ground, "Are you okay?" he asked.
She blushed, "Oh...yeah, I'm fine."
"Help me with the festival!" Amy commanded.
"Okay, okay," she muttered.
Shadow helped her and they followed Amy back to the base, "On my mark," he whispered.
She grinned widly and nodded.
"Ready? Set...now," he scooped her up and ran off again.
She could hear Amy's yells of protest, but she didn't care, and hugged Shadow tightly. The summer festival didn't matter to her...summer was already perfect.


message 3: by M (new)

M | 11075 comments Excellent topic, Edward!


message 4: by Saira (new)

Saira (herumouni) | 667 comments It was mine. :) I thought of a story when we left the Strawberry festival here. :D


message 5: by Edward (new)

Edward (edwardtheresejr) | 2434 comments Thank Saira for the topic; I'm just posting it for her.

At least I remembered everything this time. ...Right?


message 6: by M (new)

M | 11075 comments It’s perfect. Thanks, Edward!

I’ve never been good at keeping up with things. A lot of times, I even forget to put the garbage out on Thursday mornings. A couple of weeks ago, I ran down the street after the garbage truck. The guy on the back yelled to the driver, “Hey! Wait!”


message 7: by Stephanie (new)

Stephanie (chasmofbooks) | 2875 comments Lol.


message 8: by Edward (new)

Edward (edwardtheresejr) | 2434 comments Heh heh.


message 9: by Cheyenne (new)

Cheyenne | 815 comments That's funny M. And I like this topic. Can't say whether I'll be able to spill something out though.


Christa - Ron Paul 2016 (christa-ronpaul2012) | 1365 comments M wrote: "It’s perfect. Thanks, Edward!

I’ve never been good at keeping up with things. A lot of times, I even forget to put the garbage out on Thursday mornings. A couple of weeks ago, I ran down the stree..."


Hahaha I'm sure they get that a lot. Nice of them to stop for you.


message 11: by Isaac (last edited Jun 07, 2012 08:31PM) (new)

Isaac Another Summer Memory

The smell of corn dogs and popcorn drifted through the humid air. Music from the merry-go-round pierced through the loud chattering of the crowd. A Ferris wheel towered over the whole sight, slowly turning.

Two teenage girls walked through the crowd, looking at different stands. “Amy, look over there,” the teenager with a long mocha-colored ponytail that touched her mid-back said.

The other teen, a girl with short, messy blonde hair that reached the end of her chin, looked over in the area the first teen was pointing. Her heart froze as she quickly jerked her head the other direction. “I knew we shouldn’t have come,” she muttered.

The first teen kept gazing in the same direction. “Maybe we can sort this out.”

“No, Carly!” Amy snapped. “What’s done is done!”

Carly changed her attention back to Amy. “What if it’s for the best?”

“You’re always so positive it’s frustrating.”

Carly sighed, grabbing Amy’s arm. “Let’s go, then.”

“Hey,” a male’s voice said.

Amy clutched her eyes closed as they watered. She wasn’t going to look back, she couldn’t look back, she shouldn’t look back—

“Amy, is that you?”

Sighing, she turned around and rubbed her eye. “Hey, Alex,” she murmured.

He grinned. “Can I talk to you?” he said.

Carly nodded at Amy and walked away before Amy could respond. Amy wanted to yell for Carly, but she knew she couldn’t now. “Sure,” Amy said dully.

“Look, I know I hurt you—”

Hurt me? More like almost killed me.” Amy started heading off in the other direction.

“Hey, if you weren’t so dramatic—”

Amy spun around on her heels. “If I weren’t so dramatic?! Alex, do you know how the hell you act?”

Alex opened his mouth and shut it again. Amy glared at him before giving him a nod and walking away again.

“Amy, I need to talk to you—”

“What?” she spat, turning to see him again. “What is so important?”

“I just want to know what happened to us.”
Amy froze again, tears forming in the corner of her eyes. “There never was ‘us’. It was just you,” she muttered.

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

Amy was infuriated. “All we did was go places you wanted to, hang out with people you wanted to, do things you wanted to.”

They stood silently for a moment. He looked over to an empty area. “Remember we had our first kiss there?” he said quietly.

“Don’t remind me,” she answered through clenched teeth.

“What happened to you?” he asked.

She glared at him. “When you left me, I didn’t know what to do. All I had were broken promises. I had to escape somehow, but I never could.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You never have and never will.” She started to leave, heading towards the direction Carly went.

“Amy—”

She stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Don’t ever say my name again,” she threatened. “I’ve vowed to never say yours.”

He watched her leave.

The summer festival continued, oblivious.


message 12: by Caitlan (new)

Caitlan (lionesserampant) | 2869 comments That was sad, but oddly happy, Emily.

I think I'll write a story for this. But it'll be horrible XD


message 13: by Cheyenne (new)

Cheyenne | 815 comments Oh my gosh!!! KAT!!! I haven't seen you on here in forever! Did you hear any more from the poetry contest? :)


message 14: by Caitlan (new)

Caitlan (lionesserampant) | 2869 comments CHEYENNE! I haven't seen you in forever either! No, I haven't. I don't think I made it past publication, because it was at the front of the book XD Literally, it was the first one, besides the winner's from last times.....Oh well, at least I'm published :D I can't try anymore now, because I graduated XD So I'll just find other places :D


message 15: by Cheyenne (new)

Cheyenne | 815 comments Congratulations on graduating!! And did it say "Best of Issue Nominee" at the top? If it did than you've got many many months to wait and see if the online voters pick your poem.

I don't know if we've talked since I found out, but in case we haven't and I haven't told you: My poem won Best of Issue :) So I got the scholarship!! And then it lost to the other three Best of Issues. Ohhh weeelll. :p


message 16: by Caitlan (new)

Caitlan (lionesserampant) | 2869 comments Uhm, I don't quite recall. I'll have to check when I'm at my dads.

Hey, congrats! That's awesome :D What poem was it?


message 17: by Cheyenne (new)

Cheyenne | 815 comments I'll check back in some time tomorrow, Kat. So glad to see you!!!! But I've got to go to bed because I have my first driving lesson tomorrow :D (This is probably the fourth time I've mentioned it on the ship, and the crew is probably getting tired of hearing it LOL. But I can't help it, I'm excited!) Sooo goodnighttt. ^^


message 18: by Cheyenne (new)

Cheyenne | 815 comments Kat wrote: "Uhm, I don't quite recall. I'll have to check when I'm at my dads.

Hey, congrats! That's awesome :D What poem was it?"


"Nicht Existenz" (If I'm remembering the spelling correctly.)


message 19: by Caitlan (new)

Caitlan (lionesserampant) | 2869 comments Goodnight. Good luck with driving :D


message 20: by Cheyenne (new)

Cheyenne | 815 comments Kat wrote: "Goodnight. Good luck with driving :D"

Yeah...hopefully I don't die. Oh no! What if my legs are too short to reach the pedals?!


message 21: by Kyra (new)

Kyra (Nikara) | 1221 comments Ack!!! I've missed this thread for so long! Okay...

Kayla, your story was a quick, humorous fanfic of Sonic the Hedgehog (as my brother confirmed XD) that I enjoyed. You did a lot of your work through dialogue, which gave a more scripted sense to the piece.

Emily, I loved your story! It was a wonderful little story shrouded in mystery. I was able to try and come up with different scenarios Alex and Amy had gone through. It was a very clever telling.

Yvind, your story was an excellent work with clear moral. You don't always get exactly what you want, but the alternative may be even better. (Well, that's what I got, anyways...) You and Kayla both used very vivid dialogue.

Great job, everybody!!!


message 22: by Kyra (last edited Jun 10, 2012 12:17PM) (new)

Kyra (Nikara) | 1221 comments Death Rides
2584 words; PG13


Jade hummed softly, adjusting the shoulder strap of her purse so it didn’t pull at her long brunette curls. “You coming?” Martia yawned, eyeing a long line.

“No, thanks,” Jade gulped, glancing up at the roller coaster. “I’ll do fine down here.”

“Ah, c’mon, Jade!” George complained, pulling her into a headlock and rubbing her head. “You can’t miss this one, too!”

Jade pushed against his back, scowling. Slipping free of his hold, she shrugged and said. “Too long a wait. I’ll stay down here.”

“Let her off, guys,” Justin said in a bored tone, smoothing back his auburn hair, which fell across his face rather insistently. “If she’s not ready, she’s not ready.”

Jade scowled at him all the harder. “Shut up,” she growled, smacking his shoulder. Wincing, Justin shuffled away from her, clutching his upper arm.

“If you’re gonna stay here, you hafta go on the next one,” Jose slurred, tugging on Jade’s sleeve. Jade smiled down at him.

“Sure thing, boss. Long as I get to pick.”

“Woo-hoo,” George muttered under his breath. “JADE’S choice. That’ll be real fun.”

“Ah, let her off.” Martia rolled her eyes at Jose and Justin, smirking. “We’ve been going on roller coasters all day. I think she deserves to choose our next ride.”

“Least we know it won’t be a kiddie ride,” Justin said brightly. Ever the optimist. “Since Jose’s the only one here able to go on THOSE.”

They laughed over Jose’s loud protestations. “Just because I’m short doesn’t mean-”

Jade smirked. “Alright, we get it. Just go already.”

“Well, if you’re so eager to be rid of us,” Justin sniffed, turning his chin up in a perfect imitation of Martia’s older sister. “Even though you should be graced by the presence of the high, mighty-”

“My sister’s not that straightforward,” Martia laughed, tucking a black strand of short hair behind an ear. Her chestnut skin glowed bronze in the dimming sunlight.

“-incredibly aggravating private schoolgirl of-”

“We get it,” Jade repeated, rolling her eyes and shoving him towards the line for the coaster. “Have fun,” she called after her friends. Leaning against a billboard, she drew a sketch pad out of her shoulder bag, also producing the array of professional artists’ pencils Jose had given her for her birthday last year.

Selecting a thin, dark pencil with a fine point, she drew the pencil over the page in a wide arch. Smoothing the curve with her finger, she set to work building on the shadowy arch, turning it into the top of the loop-the-loop of the roller coaster the pressed itself against the sky.

She didn’t realize how much time had passed until Jose slammed into her side. “Nice work,” he said, grinning up at her, his raven hair falling across his dark brown eyes.

Jade screamed and dropped her pad in the dust. “Jose,” she scolded, retrieving her pencil, which was rolling towards a cotton candy booth. “Don’t you have better things to do than give your friends heart attacks.”

He shrugged. “Probably not. I have no life. Say, what was on the page before the new one?”

“A rose. Where are the others?”

“Just getting off. I ran ahead. And ruined my pants in the process, by the way. You should’ve seen me! I slid on my butt the last eight feet. Momentum slammed me into you.”

Jade arched an eyebrow. “You’re right. You really don’t have a life.”

Jose scoffed and probably would’ve retaliated, but right then the others appeared in front of the roller coaster line.

“You’re looking kinda suspicious, Jose. What’d you do to poor Jade?”

“Ruined my sketchbook,” Jade growled, showing Martia the dusty page.

Her eyebrows shot up on her forehead. “Jose!”

George jogged up to the threesome, Justin trailing behind him. “Miss us?” he grinned.

“It’s been nearly a nearly a minute,” Jose pointed out.

“Right, so you’ve missed us.”

Martia turned the boys’ attention to Jade. “Alright, Jade,” she cackled, rubbing her hands. “We came up with a proposition in line.”

Jade raised an eyebrow. Martia sounded mischievous, which was not a good sign. “The boys came up with it, didn’t they?”

“Don’t worry, it doesn’t involve you jumping off a cliff this time,” Jose comforted her.

“All I wanted was a turn on the Wii up at the motel! Jumping off Mount Everest was not an option.”

Parachuting off Mount Everest,” George corrected her, “and the proposition is this: you go down the ride of our choice. Then you get to pick the next three rides.”

“No,” Jade said, sliding her sketch pad and pencils back into her bag. “That’s not happening. Here’s my proposition to you: I’ll go down the ride of your choice, as long as I approve. I’ll go easy on you and not limit it too much. Then I get to pick the ride afterwards.”

“Done,” Justin decided for the rest of the group, knowing the deal wouldn’t get much better than that. “Which ride should we make her go on, team?”

Jose pointed up to another roller coaster, but before he could name it, Martia stopped him. “We are not making her go on the Fireball, Jose. My eighteen-year-old cousin threw up on that ride last summer. How about that?” she nodded to a Ferris wheel.

The boys all nodded their approval. Jade’s heartbeat sped up, even though she knew it could be a lot worse. “You’re really pushing it,” she managed through a tight throat. “But fine. I’ll go on the...” she squinted at the tiny sign by the wheel, trying to pick out a name.

Justin unfolded a map of the fairground. “The Wheel of Doom,” he announced, wiggling his eyebrows at Jade.

“Cheery,” Jade replied, trying not to throw up with worry. “Now lets go, already.”

<><><><><>

“Next six,” the employee in the red polo shirt said in a monotone.

“We’ve got five,” Martia told him, crossing her arms. The employee blinked, then turned to the family of four behind them.

“We’ll wait,” the mother said, smiling at the group of friends. “You all go on ahead.” The seven-year-old holding her hand cocked her head at Jade, and she tried to force a smile through her fear.

Jose slid his still-dusty butt across the makeshift plastic bench in the carriage. Jade entered next, steeling her nerves. She chose a seat on the bench that Jose didn’t just rub dirt on. Martia sat next to her, and the other two boys slumped across from them.

“What? No seat belts?” Jose asked, surprised that what he considered a “kiddie ride” didn’t have seat belts.

“No,” Justin answered him. “Just don’t stick your head out too far and you’ll be fine.”

Jade knew he wasn’t talking too her, but she still repeated his words over in her mind, trying to find comfort in them. Then a buzzer rang and, gripping the edge of her seat, she gasped as they ascended into the sky.


message 23: by Kyra (new)

Kyra (Nikara) | 1221 comments Death Rides (cont.)


George grinned at her. “You hanging in there, Jade?” Jade bit her lip until she could taste the metallic tang of blood, but she still nodded.

Jose leaned his head out the carriage, peering at the fairground below. “Jade, you’ve got to see this,” he exclaimed, leaning further out. “It’s like those birds-eye view pictures from that series you’re drawing!”

She shook her head this time, determined not to look out over the fair. Something she’d never admit, even to her friends, was that even drawing those pictures made her queasy. She’d been hoping they might help her over come her fear of heights, but to no avail.

Martia twisted around to peer behind them. “Oh, Jade,” she said softly, her green eyes lit with wonder. “You have got to see that.”

Slowly, but with a pounding heart, Jade turned around. The view was, without a doubt, spectacular, but it still made her slightly dizzy.

But she couldn’t stop looking.

Jose caught sight of the two girls, both of which had turned completely around, their knees pressed against the carriage wall, their legs folded under them, staring out into the vast beyond. Grinning, he switched seats, tapping on Jade’s shoulder. “Hey, Ja-”

Jade, not expecting his touch, instinctively recoiled from it. All she knew after that was that her hands had slipped from the carriage’s window, and that suddenly nothing was toughing her, not even the bench, and someone, maybe Martia, was screaming, their voice further away than she thought it should be...

And then she hit something solid.

Recoiling from the pain, Jade was suddenly aware that the light breeze she’d felt in the carriage had intensified by a million, so strong now that it seemed to be slowly pushing her towards the edge of... the edge of whatever she was on.

Jade, gritting her teeth, slid her hand around the platform she seemed to have hit. It was smooth and moist from the elevation, which did not help brace her against the wind in any way. There were no handholds.

Her heart was pounding so hard, the whole platform seemed to shake with each beat. Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a deep breath and then, opening her eyelids, rolled to the side, against the wind, until she reached the edge of the platform and hooked her hands around the edge of it, all too aware that if the wind were to change direction, she’d plummet to her death. Jade forced herself to keep her eyes open and asses the situation.

She had fallen from the carriage, which was right above her. Martia was screaming frantically for someone, anyone to save her friend, and the boys were all calling to her, telling her it’d be alright. Suddenly sick, she pressed her forehead against the plastic platform, trembling.

Jade felt her platform rocking back and forth, and, wrenching her eyes open, she found it was moving. She’d fallen onto the carriage below hers. Forcing down a hysterical, frantic giggle as she recalled that she could’ve died (and still could die, though she tried not to linger on that), she felt the carriage she was lying across suddenly stop.

Now, with no upward motion to keep her pressed against the carriage, the wind intensified further, threatening to wrench her fingers from the carriage’s roof and slide her across it to her death. Jade squeezed her eyes shut again. Too panicked to process her surroundings, she could be falling, for all she knew. She could already be plummeting to the ground, unable to stop herself from hitting the ground with a sickening splat! that resounded in her mind as she imagined it, but she probably wasn’t falling yet because she still felt the plastic roof under her fingertips. She couldn’t feel any plastic under her, and she wasn’t sure why, maybe because the wind was lifting her from the rooftop gently, forcing her to float in her air, but she still felt plastic under her fingers.

As long as she could keep the plastic under her fingers, she would be fine.

And then her carriage gave a violent lurch.

Blinking back tears, Jade forced her eyes open, because she still wasn’t completely sure if she was falling or not, and she desperately wanted to know if her fate was sealed yet. She noticed that the carriage was no longer lurching, which was fortunate, because the first movement nearly threw her over the edge of the carriage, and she was nearly certain that if a second lurch occurred, she wouldn’t be able to keep her hold on the rooftop.

There was an actual platform rising up to her, one made of metal. A man, tethered to a rail on the platform, was on it. Jade estimated that it would reach her in maybe forty-five seconds. Less than a minute. But lying there, with Martia crying and screeching above her, and the boys yelling, trying to comfort her, it felt like hours before the platform was level with hers.

The man squatting on it reached a hand out to her. He called something to her over the wind, but she couldn’t hear. Jade shook her head, confused. She had to keep plastic under her fingers. Had to hold onto the plastic roof, or she knew she’d die. She wasn’t sure that she could even hold on long enough to grasp this man’s hand if she lifted so much as a finger.

The wind decreased. She cautiously peeled back a hand, the man calling encouragements to her.

And then the wind changed direction.

It was the luckiest thing in the world that she’d been able to grab that man’s gloved hand in the split second before it did, because otherwise the wind would’ve tossed her to her over the roof of the carriage like a rag doll, and she’d have been powerless to stop it.

As it was, she was still tossed freely into the air, but the man was an anchor, gripping her hand, pulling her to the platform.

As he clipped a tether to her jeans, he yelled over the wind, “Are you okay?”

Jade nodded once, still stunned. She clutched at the metal railing, still shaking, and squeezed her eyes tight shut again. The man, clearly unsure of how to comfort her, sat in silence.

The platform stopped lowering. Lifting an eyelid, she surveyed her surroundings. The soft, sweet, dusty road lay only a foot from her. Gasping, she threw the tether off and practically flew off the platform, landing on her side. Jade curled into a ball, and finally, finally, allowed herself to cry.

She’d almost died. She could’ve died.

The Ferris wheel was moving now, but those in line were now backing away, quickly dispersing to other, safer rides. The man stood and made to leave. “Thank you,” Jade whispered to him, hoping he heard. “Thank you.”

The man froze. “You’re welcome,” he replied. “Just doin’ my job, really.”

“I could’ve died,” Jade croaked, blinking back more tears. “I almost died. Thank you...”

The man smiled, then turned and vanished into the crowd. Jade felt a hand on her shoulder. “Jade?” It was Martia. Sitting upright, Jade turned and smiled at her. “Jade!” Martia gasped, bringing her into a bear hug.

Something large and heavy hit Jade’s back. “Jose,” she giggled, reaching another arm across his shoulders.

He was crying, too. “I’m so sorry,” he gasped. “This is all my fault. I didn’t mean to... to...”

Jade brought him into a group hug. Justin and George finally reached them, yelled enthusiastically, and enveloped Jade further, smothering her completely. Smiling, laughing, she wept on Martia’s shoulder. “I love you guys,” she whispered. “I love you guys...”

Justin tore away first. “Jade, I swear, you’re gonna give me a heart attack before I turn twenty.”

Jade laughed softly. “I think.. I think I’ll skip... my choice of ride,” she managed voice still shaking.

“You know what?” Jose grinned, punching her shoulder playfully. “We all will.”

Helping her to her feet, the five friends moved back towards the fair, arms curled around each other.

Jade was in the middle. Glancing back at the Ferris wheel, she shuddered.

Jose looked up at her. “Jade?” Jade glanced at him. “I swear to God I will never, ever make you go on a roller coaster ride. Ever.”

Laughing, Jade pulled him closer to her.

The friends vanished into the crowd of the summer festival.


message 24: by Kyra (new)

Kyra (Nikara) | 1221 comments OH!!! LOL, I didn't realize that was there!!! Thanks... sometimes I have trouble staying in one perspective, and I must've skipped that when I went back to proofread. XD Thanks for reading it, too... I'm glad you enjoyed!


message 25: by Tim (last edited Jun 11, 2012 12:56PM) (new)

Tim Malaise

      I tried praying for rain on the day of the Sunday School picnic, but the morning dawned bright as a surgical instrument. I can only conclude that I have been damned.

      Marilyn, my receptionist, still believes I am a good man. I repeatedly try and fail to live up to her vision of me.

      Marilyn is unreasonably fond of my English accent. To my shame, I cultivate this accent in order to intimidate the poor farmers unwilling or unable to pay their bills. My accent clobbers them over the head with all the authority of the British Empire.

      On the desk is a framed photograph taken the day I graduated from Medical School. My hair razor parted, my spectacles rimless, I am self serious, full of promise. I can't stand looking at it. Every day I turn the frame to face the wall; every morning it has assumed its original orientation. Marilyn dusts it assiduously.

      The colour version of me, up to date, is less prepossessing. My scant hair is combed over my freckled scalp; I have jowls, wattles almost, and my abdomen is grossly distended. My nose has the tell tale bloom of advanced alcoholism. I have gone to seed, an appropriate metaphor for a rural physician.

      The sun is not over the yardarm, as my nautical forbears would have said, but it is indeed up, and this is as good a reason as any for a drink, just a small one. It is going to be a difficult day. I tell myself that it will fortify me, or at least quell the tremor in my hand.

      The scotch dilates my blood vessels and that old familiar warmth spreads through my body. The light inside the office has changed quality, has softened, become more golden; outside, the backlit caragana blossoms appear to glow. Yes, this day will go off without a hitch.

      Before long the minister and his minions have arrived with card tables, coffee urns, coolers, bags of oatmeal cookies, bulk wieners, Koolaid. The Church Woman's Committee and volunteers of all stripe are festooning my garden with balloons, hammering signs into the lawn and trampling my flower beds. I see that two little boys have broken branches off the poplar and are sword fighting. Likely my services will soon be required.

      A slightly larger drink might be in order.

      The minister is outside my window performing some sort of dumb show. He's an earnest young man with far too many children. He is something of a half-wit, which is traditional in his profession. I give him a wave and return to pretending to read a medical journal.

      But now the minister raps on my window, mimes cutting something with scissors. Good God, someone hasn't given birth, I hope! But no, he holds up a ribbon. Ah, yes, I remember him blathering on about an opening ceremony, cutting the ribbon, that sort of nonsense.

      It's a bit much, really. I don't begrudge them using my garden for their annual picnic as there's no decent park within walking distance of the church, but must I actually take part in the ridiculous pageant?

      Apparently I must. They feel they must honour me.

      A rather large drink is required in order to face the throng of idiots. I walk with stately deliberation to the apple bobbing station over which the mayor presides. Monty Stelmack owns a used car dealership, which makes him an excellent candidate for mayoralty.

      "Hey, Doc, thanks for letting us use your yard for the picnic," he grins, displaying far too many teeth for my liking.

      "Indeed, indeed, my pleasure. The least I can do for the community," I mumble.

      One of the minister's children, Dougie or is it Daryl, I've delivered so many of them I've lost track, is pulling at my trouser leg. "Doctor, Doctor, we need you," he implores. The child is remarkably strong for his size and I temporarily lose my balance, upsetting a bucket of apples as I reach out to steady myself. I stoop to retrieve the errant fruit. Stifled laughter. This will not do. I draw myself up with as much dignity as I can muster and set off towards the refuge of my house, my study.

      But the minister, whose name perennially escapes me, intercepts me before I can effect my escape. "Doctor Andrews, we're about to open the festivities. Would you do us the honour?" He presses a large pair of shears into my hand, and stands there fairly wagging his tail with anticipation.

      "I haven't got all day," I snap.

      The minister's tail stops wagging and his ears droop.

      I sigh. "Oh, very well. Where is the bloody thing?"

      He leads me to where a banner stretches between the blue spruce and the weeping birch. 10th Annual Presbyterian Church Picnic is printed inexpertly across the roll of paper. I stride towards it brandishing the shears above my head like a Saracen at the gates of Jerusalem. A great cheer arises as I sever the umbilicus and the picnic is born, afterbirth to follow.

      "Speech! Speech!" some lout in the crowd hollers, and soon the rest of the them take up the chant.

      There is, however, one person who isn't calling for me to speak. She stares at me without expression. It is, of course, Mrs. Cathcart. Mrs. Cathcart, whose child died of a burst appendix. Died of a burst appendix? you might ask, in this day and age? How could that have happened?

      But, oh yes, you remember, wasn't it Dr. Andrews who told her she had an overactive imagination? Wasn't it Dr. Andrews that told her it was just something the boy had eaten? That same Dr. Andrews that waved Mrs. Cathcart and her gravely ill son from the office, then promptly passed out on the examining table?

      How could this be? Here is the good doctor himself, the centre of attention, the magnanimous doctor addressing the attentive parishioners!

      The world spins, the world spins.

      "My friends, good people of the church, the church of..." What was it a church of, exactly? "... the church of this town. Welcome to the picnic. Please make yourself at home. I welcome you as you have welcomed me into your community."

      Cheering. Except.

      "This wonderful community, in which all people are accepted, even foreigners such as myself."

      Foreigners? In the crowd I see Ukrainian faces, Irish faces, Icelandic faces. Faces of the multitudes who left their benighted countries to flee famine, persecution, war and pestilence. All these faces looking at their inept and worthless doctor with such respect and admiration.

      I stand still for a moment, not sure how to extricate myself. "Forgive me." I can't think of anything else to say. Despite the countless faces in the crowd, my eyes are inevitably drawn to the still expressionless Mrs Cathcart. "Forgive me," I say again.

      But she turns and walks away, walks across the expanse of lawn and through the gate in the hedge. I hear the click of the latch as if magnified.


message 26: by Kyra (new)

Kyra (Nikara) | 1221 comments That is positively brilliant!!! I love the vivid imagery and character endowment shown in the story. It's marvelous!!!!!


message 27: by Edward (new)

Edward (edwardtheresejr) | 2434 comments Let's try this again.

Decent stories, everyone. Emily had a good last line. Tim, oddly paced, but otherwise nearly perfect.

If I sounds a little clipped, it's because I already typed a much longer explanation and it didn't save.

I should write mine ...


message 28: by Edward (last edited Jun 11, 2012 01:52PM) (new)

Edward (edwardtheresejr) | 2434 comments Oh, and none of these are PG-13 or R. Only "Death Rides" could even qualify as PG. More important than the rating is what it is rated for. Some people would prefer to avoid heavily detailed violence, some would rather avoid explicit sexual situations, so that's more key than the actual letter.


message 29: by Kyra (new)

Kyra (Nikara) | 1221 comments (sigh) Fine. But, technically speaking, we were told to rate our stories PG 13 or R. PG and G ratings were not mentioned.


message 30: by Edward (last edited Jun 11, 2012 06:54PM) (new)

Edward (edwardtheresejr) | 2434 comments Rate them if they are PG-13 or R, not necessarily rate them PG-13 or R. G and PG aren't worth mentioning.


message 31: by avree (new)

avree Everyone has really great stories - a vast selection of different story ideas, especially for such a specific (I don't know, I feel it's specific :P) topic. Good job :)


message 32: by M (new)

M | 11075 comments You’ve posted some of the most beautiful writing in the group. Just throw something out there.


message 33: by Saira (new)

Saira (herumouni) | 667 comments I didn't think it was too specific since there are so many festivals during summer. Like here we had the Strawberry festival in Pungo, the Black Beard Pirate festival in Hampton and Harbour Fest in Norfolk. Three festivals in less than a month, plus OpSail all over Norfolk and Virginia Beach. Pretty much any fruit or vegetable that is harvested in summer or flowers that bloom in summer or just about anything that isn't associated with other seasons, particularly fall and winter, can be turned into a festival in summer, so that's why I chose that more specifically. Mine should come up soon. Been gone and tired most of the weekend with OpSail going on. SO wish I could have gone back today and stand round the Indonesian ship listening to them talk!! XD


message 34: by Kyra (new)

Kyra (Nikara) | 1221 comments Edward wrote: "Rate them if they are PG-13 or R, not necessarily rate them PG-13 or R. G and PG aren't worth mentioning."

Fair enough.


message 35: by M (new)

M | 11075 comments Edward wrote: “. . . G and PG aren't worth mentioning.”

That’s why no one ever reads the stuff I post.


message 36: by Edward (new)

Edward (edwardtheresejr) | 2434 comments M wrote: "Edward wrote: “. . . G and PG aren't worth mentioning.”

That’s why no one ever reads the stuff I post."


A) I read them. B) People read my last story, which was remarkably G rated. And liked it, for some reason. I sent it to a guy who usually just has stuff read to him, and he liked it. It was weird.


message 37: by Edward (new)

Edward (edwardtheresejr) | 2434 comments Alex (Al) wrote: "M wrote: "Edward wrote: “. . . G and PG aren't worth mentioning.”

That’s why no one ever reads the stuff I post."

Are you kidding me?"


Probably.

On an unrelated subject, in honor of G.K. Chesterton, can next week's contest be "Cheese?" He died on the fourteenth of June, you see.


message 38: by M (new)

M | 11075 comments I was trying to be funny. I’m nothing if not lascivious. Edward, thank you! Your commentary on my stories is more helpful than you can imagine.


message 39: by Edward (new)

Edward (edwardtheresejr) | 2434 comments So ... about the cheese thing ...


message 40: by Kyra (new)

Kyra (Nikara) | 1221 comments (sigh) I'll start writing...


message 41: by Edward (new)

Edward (edwardtheresejr) | 2434 comments Yay, cheese-related poetry next week! *childish little dance*

To be clear, no one saw that.


message 42: by Kyra (new)

Kyra (Nikara) | 1221 comments (shielding eyes) No, no one did.


message 43: by M (new)

M | 11075 comments Thank you, Alex. It’s nice to have friends who don’t beat around the bush.


message 44: by Edward (new)

Edward (edwardtheresejr) | 2434 comments I thank y'all. Now, I'm going to try to start a geek argument in the Chat thread.


message 45: by Cheyenne (new)

Cheyenne | 815 comments Edward wrote: "Yay, cheese-related poetry next week! *childish little dance*

To be clear, no one saw that."


I don't know what you're talking about. Ahem.

Cheese related poetry...... Hmmmmmmm that one will either be very hard or very easy.


message 46: by M (new)

M | 11075 comments Anyway.


message 47: by Edward (new)

Edward (edwardtheresejr) | 2434 comments I should write a story for this week. I'll make it ... a Mauchi story, or something.


message 48: by Edward (new)

Edward (edwardtheresejr) | 2434 comments This what you do: Post the name, the rating, what it's rated for, then put spoiler tabs on either end of the actual story.


message 49: by Cheyenne (new)

Cheyenne | 815 comments Couldn't help but laugh at that one Al.


message 50: by M (new)

M | 11075 comments I’m shocked. Simply shocked.


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