Writing Contest: September Submissions

Writing Contest: September Submissions

Postby Heather » July 25th, 2016, 3:00 pm

Writing Contest: September Submissions!

This is the thread to post your submissions for the September 2016 Newsletter! The main thread for chat/questions can be found here, as well as the details/requirements for submissions, which are also posted below for convenience:


singinghymns wrote:What happens if my story gets chosen the winner?
-Your story gets posted in the newsletter.
-You'll be interviewed about yourself (your history of playing Sims/Boolprop stuff) and your story.
-You will receive the Story of the Month medal: Image.

How do I make my story eligible for a feature?
-3000 word MAX!
-Yup, that's it!
-Once you have submitted your story, your house gets 30 points!
-The winner will receive an additional 30 points for their house.
-The deadline for August will be the 21st. Then a poll will be created for the members to vote on.

What does the timing look like on this?
-If you get selected, please try to have your interview in by the 4th of September before the newsletter is posted. Interviews can still be edited in after the feature is posted, if desired.
-Extra features may be added for special events/holidays!


You're also free to format your work however please, but I'd recommend putting longer pieces of work under a spoiler. Good luck, and happy writing! :)
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Re: Writing Contest: September Submissions

Postby Heather » July 28th, 2016, 6:45 pm

I have a short piece I initially did for an introductory writing course, based off my legacy sims, because really they're really the only characters I have that inspire me to write. It's only ever been read by the professor I did the assignment for, so I'm happy to have somewhere to share it with others!
Shouldn't require any knowledge of my legacy story to be enjoyed. :whome:

Spoiler:
"I told you it was dangerous."

Bellatrix turned the faucet on. The small girl perched on the counter top beside her looked up from the hand she was cradling, and scowled. "I was just trying to help. I wanted to do something fun. Mom never lets me have any fun."

"She's just trying to keep you safe," Bellatrix said as she took her sister's hand, and moved it under the running water. "Hold it here for ten minutes, okay?"

"But it's cold." The girl withdrew her hand from the water, wrapping the other around her burnt finger. "You didn't tell me it was gonna be cold," she whined.

Bellatrix sighed. "Belinda, if you don't keep your hand there the burn isn't going to heal."

"Yes it will. You can heal it with magic." Her sister gave her an insistent look.

"I think we've played with enough magic today," Bellatrix replied, though her fingers moved to the waistband of her jeans as she spoke, feeling for the wand she'd concealed there. It would be so simple to cure the burn with a spell, but she withdrew her hand; it was too mush of a risk. Bellatrix couldn't be sure how the remnants of the potion would react to the spell.

"You're just being mean." Belinda crossed her arms over her chest, and pouted. "This is all your fault, you know."

Bellatrix arched an eyebrow. "My fault? I told you to stay away from my cauldron. You should have listened."

Unsatisfied, Belinda tried again. "Well, I'm gonna tell mom and dad when they get home from work. They'll be so mad. I bet they're gonna take away all of your magic stuff." The corner of her lips curled upwards into a smirk.

Bellatrix shrugged. She leaned forward, and turned the tap off. "I told you it was dangerous."






"I told you it was dangerous." Magnus draped an arm around her waist, running his thumb against her side in a slow, soothing, circular motion. Bellatrix leaned into him; head against his shoulder, hands clenched tightly around the top of the crib. "We all did," he continued, his voice quiet.

"I didn't think the potion would hurt him." Bellatrix's head slumped forward. "I thought... I thought maybe it'd help-" she sniffled "-with the pregnancy."

"He's still perfectly healthy, love." Magnus' gaze drifted from his wife over to the form of his sleeping son.

"He's mute, Magnus." Bellatrix released her grip on the crib, then pushed her husband's arm away. "That's not... that's not normal." She began to pace the small nursery.

"Don't say that." Magnus turned, his eyes tracking her movement from end of the room to the other. "Besides, love, we can't really know for sure until he's-"

"Would you keep it down in here?" The bedroom door burst open, and hit the wall with a thud. Belinda stormed in, wearing a pair of pyjamas, and a scowl that seemed to be directed at her older sister. "The house isn't all yours just because you're the heiress; other people still live here."

Bellatrix stopped pacing. "Please don't slam the door, Belinda." She cast a concerned glance over her shoulder, twisting the neckline of her blouse around her thumb as her son shifted inside the crib. "You're going to wake Comet."

Belinda studied Comet with disdain. "Does it matter? I mean, it's not like he can even cry, anyways."

Magnus frowned, arms folded over his chest. "The noise still upsets him."

Belinda continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I bet he wouldn't be like that if you hadn't taken that potion," she told Bellatrix. "I don't know why you wanted to so badly; it smelled awful... I told you it was dangerous."






"I told you it was dangerous." Bellatrix wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling them closer to her chest. "We've already had this conversation; I don't trust Tosha, you know that," she continued in a low tone. "She wants to hurt him, Magnus, I know she does."

"I just think we might've made a rash decision..." Magnus sat beside her on the edge of the bed, one hand massaging his temple. "What if we were to mix the potion ourselves, instead?" He turned to meet her eyes. "We don't necessarily have to involve Tosha-"

She shook her head, and he moved to brush back the loose strands of brown hair that fell in front of her face. "I've told you before; I could have killed him when I took that first potion." Her voice wavered. "I can't put his life at risk again. I can't do it."

"It really isn't up to us to decide, love. Comet's old enough to make his own decision; he's almost nineteen. What are we going to do if he wants to take things into his own hands?" He pressed a kiss to the side of her forehead. "We won't always be able to protect him," Magnus said in a soft voice.

Bellatrix buried her head in her knees, thinking back to how she'd spent her teenage years: levitating stuffed animals in her bedroom, taking joyrides on her broomstick in the dark, mixing potions in the garden shed... How careless she had been; combining whichever ingredients struck her fancy, and allowing her youngest siblings to watch when really, it was her job to watch them.

It'd only taken a burnt finger to put a swift end to that.

She had thought she was being extra careful when she'd taken that potion while with Comet; she had spent weeks deciphering the ancient spell book, had run her translations over with several high-ranked members of the arcane council, to ensure the right ingredients would be used, that the directions were in the right order, that the potion was mixed right. Her family had been given explicit warning that they were not to go anywhere near the old shed. Even Magnus had kept clear of her work space, despite the fact that he possessed the same magical abilities.

But of course, Belinda had never liked being told what to do.

Bellatrix sat up in a single, sudden movement, eyes wide. Magnus regarded her with a concerned expression. "Bellatrix?"

"I told her it was dangerous."
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Re: Writing Contest: September Submissions

Postby Mauricette » August 4th, 2016, 10:43 am

***
Bella Noir

Spoiler:
My name is John. John Burb, former detective of SimCity's 1st Precinct, fed up with the raw brutality of city life. My wife, Jennifer, has family in one of the city's suburbs, Pleasantview. Her brother, Daniel, suggested we move to their hometown. What a good idea, I thought. A nice quiet place for my daughter to grow up. A sleepy little haven Jennifer and I can live out the rest of our days happily. But that's not what I was in for.

Word gets around fast in a small town like Pleasantview. The day we moved in I was visited by a meek young woman. She knew who I was, that I used to be a cop, and she wanted my help. Young Cassandra Goth wasn't much to look at. Maybe if she cleaned up her face, took down those childish pigtails and tried on a dress that wasn't made in the 1800s she might amount to something.
But the little thing was obviously upset. She said her mother had gone missing and that everyone was acting suspiciously. Her father, Mortimer Goth, refused to acknowledged the situation in the slightest, the police weren't answering any of her questions. She was supposed to be getting married soon, Ms. Goth said. She was adamant that her mother wouldn't vanish before the wedding of her own free will.
I tried to tell her I wasn't in the police force anymore. I tried to tell her I couldn't do anything even if I was a cop. That I wasn't even here when her mother went missing. But Ms. Goth said that's exactly why I was the only person she trusted. I had no inherent bias.
She then laid down a manila envelope full of cash. Five-kay just for listening to her story, she said. More to come if I'd look into her mother's disappearance. I leaned back and ran my hands through my hair. I didn't want to get back into this business. Best case scenario her mother did abandon her. Worst case she was laying in a gutter somewhere. No good outcome either way.
But that money could go a long way into securing that sleepy little haven for my family I was talking about. Jennifer and I didn't have much in the way of funds before the move to begin with. And we'd both been looking for work since we got here. Yeah, alright. I'd take the job.

I thought I'd ask Jennifer's family about the Goth woman first. Jennifer's brother, Daniel was an assistant coach, claimed he didn't know the woman or anything about her disappearance. But his wife, Mary-Sue, she worked at City Hall. She said she had to deal with the Goth girl, Cassandra, after her mother went missing.
“You didn't see her when she came into the office,” she said, gulping down a martini like it was going out of style, “she was crazy. Outraged that no one seemed to be taking this seriously. I told her- I had to tell her, her mothers marriage to Mortimer Goth wasn't a happy one. Psh, whose is?” Mary-Sue gave a hateful glance at her husband.
“Everyone in the police department just assumed she had finally abandoned her marriage. Her family. But Cassandra could not- would not accept this. I was sorry I had to be the one to tell her. But I didn't tell her that Bella was seen at Cassandra's fiance's house the night she disappeared.”
“How did you come by this?” I asked.
“There were witnesses, the Caliente sisters. They just moved into the place next door to Don Lothario.”
“Why didn't you report this to the Goth family?”
“I mean, that's rough, right?” Mary-Sue shook her head, “Bella had a lot more going for her than Cassandra and Don's a young, virile man who found her attractive. Why hurt the girl more than I have to?” I nodded. Aside from Mary-Sues parents it didn't seem like anyone had a happy marriage in this town. It made me appreciate my Jennifer. I was starting to understand why she moved to the city.

The next step was to confirm the witnesses statements. Which landed me on the sisters patio, with them in bikinis, taking in the sun. Now these young ladies knew how to accentuate their assets, if you know what I mean.
“We just got to town, we didn't know anything about this place,” Dina started.
“We'd met Don a couple times before. He's totally cute. We'd seen him with Cassandra, too,” Nina said, “but we didn't know the Goth lady was the mother.”
“She takes amazing care of herself. I couldn't believe she was that girl's mother.” said Dina.
“Right, not Don's mother, Cassandra's mother,” Nina interrupted, “that would be disgusting.”
I gave her a questioning look.
“He tried to make out with her,” Dina explained.
“Did he?” I said. Dina nodded like it was the big gossip topic of the week. Heck, for all I knew it could have been.
“But now that she's gone her husband is totally up for grabs right?” Dina said. Nina and I both frowned at her question.
“Hey, if he's single it's fair game. It's not like I'm making a move on him while he's still married,” Dina said innocently.
“Aren't you though? Bella Goth is still just missing.” Nina argued.
“You think she's coming back?” Dina asked.
“That depends. How did she react to Mr. Lothario's advance?” I asked.
“Poorly, she turned him away,” Dina laughed. Nina glowered at her sister. This information would certainly color Cassandra's views of her fiance. Now I understood why the police were reluctant to reveal this information to the family. And I found myself reluctant to tell Cassandra, too. But the fact of the matter was I still didn't know what happened to Bella Goth. It was about time I saw what was so special about Don Lothario.

“You the cops?!”
“No, not anymore.”
“Then I ain't got to tell you nuthen'.”
Needless to say Mr. Lothario wasn't very forthcoming when it came to the situation regarding his fiance's mother. Having been turned away at the door I took a moment to survey the neighborhood. At the end of the street a man feigned like he was grooming his yard. Maybe just a rubberneck, maybe something more. I walked over, introduced myself as his new neighbor and shook the mans hand. He introduced himself as Mr. Dreamer. I jutted my thumb at Mr. Lothario's place, “Not very friendly, huh?”
“Not to those of the male persuasion,” Mr. Dreamer shook his head.
“Bit of a slut?” I blurted. Mr. Dreamer blinked at me.
“Sorry,” I said, “city mouth, I'm sure I'll grow out of it.” Mr. Dreamer nodded his understanding. Bit of a prude, I thought.
“Yeah, used to be a cop, right?” Mr. Dreamer said, mechanically raking the same spot of grass for the last three minutes.
“Yessir, looking into the disappearance of the Goth woman. Not on the city payroll yet, but gotta keep those skills finely honed, you know what I mean?” I grinned. Mr. Dreamer frowned at me. He stopped raking, turned away and went into his house; leaving me rather confused on the sidewalk.

“He lost his wife not too long ago. The cops didn't take a good look into it. They didn't take a good look into the Broke murder either,” Coral Oldie said, looking out the window at her roses. It was a gray morning. Rain sounded a soft rustle in the streets. Mrs. Oldie was Mary-Sues adoptive mother, as gray as the morning with tired eyes and a warm smile.
“Cops don't seem to look into much around here,” I muttered. Mrs. Oldie nodded.
“Anyways, a new cop in town, looking into the disappearance of Bella Goth instead of the murders of his wife and Mr. Broke,” she weighed, “he's thinking that because the Goths are silly rich they're getting preferential treatment.” Now I understood Mr. Dreamers behavior.
“I didn't know he'd lost his wife,” I said, “Ms. Goth came to me the day I moved in. I don't know anything about this town.”
“Then you made yourself look like more of an ass,” Mrs. Oldie sighed. I suppose I did at that.
“But Ms. Goth is paying me to look into her mothers disappearance. I'm not even a cop here. If I was maybe I could look into his wife's murder,” I said. I didn't like being accused of preferential treatment. But I also wasn't a cop anymore. Young Ms. Goth was a paying client. Mr. Dreamer wasn't. And even if he was Ms. Goth came to me first. If I was going to take on his case I'd have to make this clear. Shit, when did I become a private dick?
“They both have children, too, you know. Mr. Dreamer and Mrs. Broke,” Mrs. Oldie calmly sipped her tea, gazing at her rose bush, “only those kids know their parents aren't coming home.” I took a moment to assess Mrs. Oldie. She was poignant. Somehow I admired that about her.

After visiting the Oldies Jennifer and I took in a quick flick and fooled around, harking back to our earlier years. One flaw I readily admit to is public displays of affection, witnessing or preforming. Afterwards we caught a late lunch on Main Street.
When I was a detective in the city I didn't talk about my cases with her. Our marriage was still new, I didn't want her getting that close to that part of me. Like I said, those were some pretty dark days and, after a while, it just became routine not to talk about it.
However here, I felt I should talk with her. It was her hometown after all and she had an insight into these people that I didn't. She vaguely remembered Cassandra Goth as a weird little kid, but she knew the Goths were big fish in the community. She was sad to hear that Darlene Dreamer had passed recently, and that Brandi's husband Skip passed away, too. She remembered being close with Darlene and Brandi in school.
“And Mary-Sue was always ambitious. It's one of the qualities Daniel loved about her,” she said.
“He doesn't appreciate it anymore?” I asked. Jennifer lowered her head sadly.
“She's a strong woman. I guess he didn't realize how he'd feel about himself in comparison.”
“Heavy... you said the Goth girl was weird. What do you mean?”
“She was a dreamer. I don't mean like Darren Dreamer, I mean she lived in her head. She had a rich fantasy life. Sometimes those fantasies seeped out into the real world. She was an only child for a long time, and her parents didn't have much time for her, so it makes sense.” Jennifer trailed off. I got the impression something happened once. And whatever it was Jennifer wasn't really comfortable with Ms. Goth afterward.
Rich fantasy life, huh? That might warrant checking out young Ms. Cassandra Goth. I looked at my watch. “Almost time to pick up Lucy from her first day of school.”
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Re: Writing Contest: September Submissions

Postby RavenAngel888 » August 5th, 2016, 8:18 pm

Hi, just something I wrote a long time ago. I think I was 16 or so. You know that time in your life where you just don't feel like you fit in or even if you're really a person at all. At the time, a friend actually turned this into a song. So I guess I could also say I'm a songwriter :lol: :spin: Looking back on this, at the ripe old age of 33, I actually don't think much has changed. I'm still the weird one in the house/at work. Having different religious beliefs and sexual orientation to what is considered the "norm" is probably what did it. But, and this is the kicker, with age came wisdom and I now wouldn't want to change myself just to fit. I am me and me is pretty damn awesim!

Spoiler:
every time I say a word...
Each time I try to fit in...
Every moment of every day, I,
I rediscover the truth...

This is not my home...
This is not my world...
This isn't where I belong...
So where?

Where will my voice be heard?
And words understood?
Where can I feel at ease, and
Where can I be happy?

This is not my home...
This is not my world...
This isn't where I belong...
So where?

But, there isn't enough time,
And no memories are left.
I wouldn't even realise I'm home,
Even if I was...

The truth is, I'm different...
'Cause I'm alien...


Sent from my BlackBerry 9720 using Tapatalk
You HAVE to read this!
The story of the Whitelight's
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Re: Writing Contest: September Submissions

Postby Ani-Mei » August 7th, 2016, 1:16 am

This is an old story I made for Boolprop 2.0 when Thai would post a quote, lyric, or a picture. We would then have to make up a story based on it. It's four years old and I had to add some more to it, it's also 3000 words exactly if my Word counter is to be believed. Although it does kinda end right in the middle of something:

Spoiler:
Picture, Quote, Lyric Prompt
Between Two Worlds

Chapter 1

When you come from an average family, in an average town, and hold an average job, one begins to wonder if they are destined for something other than mediocre or average. And I am no different. When you get to my age, you begin to realize that is nothing for you in this world except what you make yourself. Magic is the stuff of children’s fairy tales and stories, as an adult you lose the ability to perceive the innocence of magic because the weight of the world crushes you. You are an adult now, you have responsibilities; and expectations to fulfill, you have bills and car payments, mortgages and rent to pay for, you have to buy food since the fridge won’t fill itself like you thought it did when you were a kid. Now, it’s nearly the end of the year and the hype about the 2012 thing is nearly reaching a fevered pitch, some think that the world will end on Doomsday, otherwise known as December 21, 2012; 12-21-12. And if you are at all familiar with the theory of 23, then you know that it’s a bad sign. And the date, if you add up the numbers, is 23-23-23; divide the two and three and you get .666, the Devil’s number.

I will admit that on some level I do buy into that theory, and I don’t tell many about it. Telling someone is likely to mean you are nuts. But what if you’re not nuts? And you see things differently than others? I do; at first, I thought I was hallucinating when I saw my first fairy. She was dancing around one of my orchids in my bedroom one night. I blinked a few times and rubbed my eyes to make sure it was really there and when she saw me looking at her she vanished. I shook it off as the result of the strawberry daiquiri I had before bed and thought nothing more about it. Then I saw another fairy at work. This time there were two of them, and they were dancing on my keyboard spelling out a strange phrase that I didn’t realize was English until I took a closer look. The two fairies vanished again once I got closer and their message remained on the screen:

“Open wide the veils of time and space; throw back the curtains that separate the two worlds and enter; free of mind and body to a world the likes of which you never imagined possible.”

When I read those words aloud; suddenly my office vanished from all around me and I was being sucked into a place that was warm and green. I felt light and free; a feeling of pure freedom. I landed gently on the lush, green grass and looked around. An unnatural light surrounded me and illuminated my shadow. I froze when I saw two shapes behind my head. I spun around trying to locate the object that was casting the shadow and there was nothing behind me. Something grazed my ear, I put my hand up to brush it away and screamed; my ears were pointed!! I saw a stream nearby and I ran to it. I gazed down at my reflection and saw the objects that were casting the strange shadows were delicate paper-thin wings that were glowing with a soft, baby blue colour. My hair was long and fell down my back between my wings in long, cascading waves and my eyes were a soft purple hue. My hair fell down my front, covering my breasts. My clothing had become a thin, light, silken tunic that draped my body and accentuated my curves. What in the world happened to me? Was this the result of being overworked and stressed out? It was four days until Christmas and the world was in chaos due to the hysteria of 2012, today was exactly one year before it was supposed to happen. What was going to happen to me now?

I sat back on the grass and drew my knees up to my chest, I had to be hallucinating, or I was asleep at my desk again, one or the other. My wings settled down and laid flat against my back, I watched the lazy stream in front of me flow by. It was oddly calming and it helped to soothe my mind, I felt my eyelids growing heavy with the hypnotic flow of the stream and before I knew it, I was sound asleep. I pulled my hair around my body like a blanket and settled down, unaware of the eyes that had been watching me this whole time. The figure grinned and turned to the companion beside him.

“She’s here; the one we have been searching for. Alert the queen.” He said.

“Yes, my prince.” The other replied.

“We have been waiting for so long; you will be the one who will save us.” The prince said.

He remained hidden in the bushes, just watching the beautiful girl sleeping soundly by the Nocturne Stream; the stream’s power had the ability to soothe a troubled mind and allow the person to relax. Everyone who came here from the Other World came to this place, and she was no different. But this girl was the one that had been sent to save them all. He watched the girl, wondering if she was indeed the one who had been given the gift. The gift was something that usually did not show up in the modern era of the Other World; from what the prince knew of it, humans had forgotten the magic of their world in favour of technology and sciences. Magic was nothing but fairy tales that they tell their children at night to send them to sleep with pretty thoughts and dreams. The prince had visited the Other World, in secret of course; if he were ever caught he would never be allowed outside the palace without an armed retinue again. Their legends told them about one of their royal line, he had ventured into the Other World in search of a woman who could carry with her the hopes of his people. His mission was to enter that world and find the right woman to leave his gift with; the gift of a child. The child he sired with the woman would eventually find their way back here to his world and save them from eternal damnation; the strength of a human and a fairy would come together to save them all.

Fairies could actually become any size they wished to be, most of the time they chose to remain small, it made it easier to escape capture that way. Only this time, he chose the size of a man to take on in the Other World. Once he had found the right woman, he made sure that she would notice him and want to allow him to become close to her. The prince who now watched over the sleeping one was descended from the same ancestor who left for the Other World. This girl was of their blood, part of the royal line; if she was found by the enemy who was out to destroy them it would be the end of everything they know. The prince looked back as the royal guards arrived carrying a stretcher for her, she would be taken back to the palace where she would awaken and learn why she was here.

“My prince, will you be accompanying the girl back to the palace?” One of the guards asked.

“Yes, I just want to make sure that no one else will be appearing here tonight.” The prince replied.

“As you wish sire.”

He waved the guard away and stepped out of the brush, the portal that she had come through looked closed; the incantation was required to open it again so he was sure that it would not be opened from the Other World’s side. The fairies who had delivered the message were back now and the prince was satisfied with the portal. He joined the guards and headed back to the palace.

******

Chapter 2

As I slept my dreams were filled with images that I did not recognize. Images of a man looking down at me in my cradle, he was handsome and it appeared that he was glowing. I had no idea who this man was but I was not afraid of him; I remember him reaching down and taking my tiny hand in his, he said something…but I can’t remember what it was. And after that night I never saw him again; growing up I never had a father, my mother apparently thought that he had left us and never spoke of him much. Whenever I asked, she would begin to cry and change the subject. I wondered if my father had hurt her and she didn’t want me to know that. Of course, once I was older I went in search of him. My birth record at the hospital where I was born listed the father as unknown. Usually that meant artificial insemination so the father’s name would not be released. It did little to help me out, what if I got sick or something and it was hereditary? I would never know if that meant I could carry it on to whatever child I had, doctors ask for a medical history when you go in for the physical the first time and when I had to do that, I couldn’t fill in many details. I knew about all possible conditions on my mother’s side, but my father’ side was completely blank. I told my mother about my research into my paternal heritage and about the unknown name being placed on my birth record, I told her what it meant and she got angry saying that she would never do that and that I did indeed have a flesh and blood father. She loved him, dearly; I could tell but why then would she not want me know about him?

My mother died about five years ago so I’ll never get to know who my father was now. I was angry at her for the longest time, leaving me like that, leaving me all alone with no one. I had no siblings and my aunts and uncles were also all gone; I have cousins but I don’t know where they are now. And I very much doubt that my mother would have told them anything about who my father was we were not the closest of families. And I told myself that I would never do the same to any child I had, I would not leave them without answers like my mother did to me. But…I got swept up in my career and my social life never really went far enough to find a man to settle down with, my work was all I had. Then this happened; I got sucked into a weird place. Story of my life it seems, left alone in a world I didn’t know, leaving behind all that was familiar to me. Perhaps it’s a punishment for not making more of an effort to have those connections with people. I woke up after that, it was still dark but I wasn’t outside anymore. I sat up and looked around; someone had moved me to a bedroom. I threw off the covers and went to the window, I was in a tower below me was a courtyard with shadows of people moving about like a guard; where was I? This place looked like something out of Lord of the Rings; towers and parapets with guards patrolling the grounds, I could see fires along the walls and the shadows of mountains beyond them, the moon was full and bright and actually looked kind of pink, rather than white; it was strange. Why would there be a pink moon? I heard the door open behind me; I hid behind the thick, velvet curtains and hoped that whoever or whatever came into my room didn’t see me.

“Miss? Why do you hide behind the curtains?” A female voice said.

“Where am I?” I cried.

“Why, you’re in the palace miss. Where else would you be?” She replied.

“What palace? Where is this place? Who are you?” I said.

“Minuetta; I am you lady servant. And this is Lightstone Palace. Won’t you come out miss?”

I peeked around at her; she was shorter than me with long black hair pulled back into an intricate braid. She wore a light green linen tunic with gold trim that went down to the floor. Her blue eyes studied me; like she was trying to see me through the curtain. She had pale peach skin and a light sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks and nose.

“How did I get here?” I asked.

“Please, miss come out and I shall tell you. It’s chilly by the window at this time of night.” Minuetta replied.

I cautiously came out from behind the curtain; she smiled and set down the wash bowl she had been holding and picked up another dress from the chair beside the nightstand.

“There you are miss; as pretty as a picture.”

“Where am I?”

“I told you miss; Lightstone Palace. Please put this on, the queen is awaiting your arrival.”

“The queen?” I repeated.

“Why yes miss, she is most eager to speak with you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know miss; I am just here to help you get dressed.”

“I can dress myself, I don’t need a maid.” I replied.

“As you wish miss, I shall wait outside for you.” Minuetta said.

She bowed and left the room. I looked at the dress; it was made of velvet and shimmered between purple and blue in the candle light of the room. It had an embroidered pattern of a flower down one side of the skirt and a separate corset piece for the top half of it. I did like the colour of it, it seemed to match my eyes, or rather my new eyes that I had in this weird place. I saw myself in the mirror and could still not get over how different I looked. My hair was now blondish rather than the brown it was back home, I never thought I’d ever look good blond, but somehow the look suited me. I held it against me, it looked like it would fit perfectly and it was a lot warmer than the light thing I had on now, I shrugged and began to get changed. I struggled with the corset, I never liked these things but somehow it managed to close on its own once it was in place on the dress and it didn’t choke me like I thought it would. Underneath the chair was a pair of low-heeled shoes that were the same shimmery colour of the dress and fit me perfectly. It was a little strange that this place, whatever it was, knew my sizes perfectly.

******

Chapter 3

Minuetta led me to a grand ball room and as I entered trumpets blared and the dancers moved off to the sides as I walked down the immense pathway towards the dais at the far end. Upon it were three thrones, all made of gold and some sort of shiny white stone the curtains that decorated the walls were a rich, purple velvet that stood out against the pale, pink walls. I stopped at the foot of the dais and waited, the ball room fell silent as the trumpets announced the arrival of the royal family. I watched as the king emerged first from a hidden door in the paneling of the wall that I hadn’t noticed before now. The queen followed him and took the left throne beside the king, and finally a young man came out and took the right throne beside the king. He looked at me and smiled; his pale brown hair shimmered in the light of the chandelier above, I had to look away for a moment because I felt a warm blush creep across my cheeks under the prince’s gaze.

“So the traveler has finally come from the Other World; I had not expected that to happen in my lifetime.” The king began.

“Our history tells of a time when a portal of light would open by the shores of the Nocturne River and through it a traveler would emerge. The traveler would save our kingdom from the Great Darkness that has been encroaching on our lands for the last few centuries.” The king continued.

“The traveler is born of a human and fairy, and she will be drawn to the land of her father by forces that she cannot understand. All we knew was that the traveler was female, we did not know when or if she would ever arrive. This was six centuries ago; after the Darkness became strong enough to break through the barrier around our kingdom.” The queen added.

“But I’m not a hero; I work in an office nine to five and come home to an empty house. I don’t understand why you think I can do anything like save a whole world.” I said.

“If this were true; your words would not have opened the portal. You are born of our people, this is your home.” The queen replied.

“I don’t even know who my father was, mom never said and then she died before she could tell me.” I said.

“Your father was our ancestor; King Anlyth Aeveyre the only one of our people who could cross the barrier between worlds. And no one has been able to do it since he died; until now. This was seven hundred years ago.” The queen explained.

“He’s dead? How?” I asked.

“The journey killed him; there was nothing we could do.” The king replied.


******
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Re: Writing Contest: September Submissions

Postby Jesslb429 » August 20th, 2016, 10:04 pm

I wasn't sure if I was going to enter anything in this. However, after seeing the deadline is tomorrow, I jumped. I wrote this piece a year or two ago when I was still enrolled in an MA program. It's on the shorter side. Hope that is okay.


Spoiler:
My Violinist
Abel smiled at me. For the past twenty years, he always smiled at me in that dopey way. His top lip sat asymmetrically in such a way that his left side appeared crooked. It was always just a tad higher when he smiled. When we were children, it was less noticeable, but with age, his face has taken on new lines that drew attention to old imperfections previously unknown. Rolling his eyes, they diverted away from me and to the burnt orange skies. His fingers danced in front of him, tracing the clouds and jet streams in the sky the way a child would. Reaching out, I began to pull the pieces of grass off the back of his vest. Moving slowly, his muscles rolled and twitched under my fingertips, tensing once I reached his neck.
“Clara, We can't keep ignoring-”Abel muttered softly, reaching for my hand. Staring at the ground, I could feel myself pulling away.
“Abel, stop. We don't need to talk about it. How about you play something for me? Hmm? Like you used to?” His eyes no longer glowed with loving contentment. They instead looked back at me, sad and concerned. Closing my mine, the wave of guilt washed over me, intensifying when the violin began to echo through the surrounding trees. The sad lullaby swelled and soared through the air. I was a child again.
I was ten when I first heard him play. In the summers, the grass outside the family compound would grow just shy of my knees. Unlike the genetically altered honeysuckle hybrid that grew within those walls, the grass beyond was wild and , although it would take hours for the itch to truly subside, it was a feeling of something beyond control.
It was in that grass when I first heard him play. Starting as a whisper, tricking my young mind into believing that it was something magical. The ethereal string rose and fell on the wind, lilting with the breeze. For months, I stood in that grass, waiting for the mysterious violinist to play, letting their music crest over the hill. Kicking up the warm mud all over my dress, twirling on my toes for hours. I pretended to be a villager in a close-nit community, dancing during the night, enjoying nothing but each other and the music. Like the ones in the stories my nanny used to read to me while I was sick.
As the leaves changed over and died, I wandered closer and closer to the source,scrapping my knees bloody and tearing every outfit I owned until I met my violinist. An explorer on an adventure, everyday, I would get closer and closer before the sun dipped below the mountains and father would be dispatched to find me. Then finally, for all the torn skirts and muddied pants, I found him. A few years older and much taller, his fingers slid long the neck as the moved the bow with fierce precision. Abel lived with his father in a small cottage in the woods about a mile from towering cobble walls I had learned to live with. He became my secret friend, playing for me just beyond the hill before the trees. As he was now, only we are older and much closer to one another.
A chilled breeze had picked up as he played, the universe syncing itself with Abel for a brief moment in time. Goosebumps pricked my skin as the notes shifted and the grass rustled right along with it. The magic was there. Part of me wondered what the point of death was if heaven was already here, but was quickly silenced by a hot ball of guilt in my stomach. Without notice, tears began to fall from my eyes, quickly turning to hiccuping sobs. In a second, it disappeared. Abel stopped playing and instead pressed a small kiss to my forehead before placing his own there. The wind whistled in my ears as the hot tears dribbled to my jaw.
“Shhhh. It's not forever. You'll come back.” Deluded lies that may have worked ten years ago, but with every year, I learned that lies could only hold things together for so long. I pulled away from him and stood, brushing the dirt and grass from my legs. Twisting the ring on my left hand, I stared at his. Empty and calloused from years of dedicated practice.
“I should have run with you. They would have never known. We were so good at hiding, you and I. We would have struggled, but we would have been happy.” Another lie, perhaps, but what he needed to hear. Slowly approaching him, our lips met one last time. The chance of finding my way back was slim. Pulling away, I could see the sun dip below the trees and sky darken. Letting go of his hands, I stared at him one last time.
“Keep playing.”
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26 Little Failures The Zany Zanes: An OWBC{Completed}
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