Anything Goes: Short Stories Contest (Closes March 10th, 2007)

Rules:

*Please, don't write a book, yet don't write a quote.
*Erotica to a minimum
*More than 200 words.

Awards:
*1st place: (15 comments)
*2nd place: (10 comments)
*3rd place: (5 comments)
*4th and 5th place (3 comments)
*3 honorable mentions (2 comments)

Awards and all of that will depend on how many entries there are.

Please post entries in this format:

TITLE: blah blah
GENRE: blah blah
AUTHOR: name or author name
CONTEXT:

blah blah
blah blah
blah blah

LINK: (if applicable, in most cases n/a)

Please meet deadline. Short stories may be pre-written, or from scratch.

Can you reserve me if there is reserves?
Also can it be any genre? And what's the maximum word count?

SHORT STORIES PEOPLE
ONLY SHORT STORIES
AS IN, PARAGRAPHS.........
NO RESERVES, TITLE THEM W/E YOU WANT

no maximum word count

I"m really glad someone else did this. My contest flopped because things happened and I wasn't able to judge it. So, thank you for doing this contest. I hope you enjoy it.
And, I hope this counts. If it does not, please tell me and I'll change it. =]
`````````````````````````````````````````
Title: The Dreamer
Genre: The Meaning of Life
Authur: Sheena Ward / xTheEcstasyOfSuicidex
Context:
It seems to the dreamer, the dreamer shall never wake up. Always lost in the darkness of depths and nothingness. If the dreamer where to shout, no one would hear him, and if he were to cry, no one would be there to comfort. What should the dreamer do in his world of make believe? Make up a new ending? But can one dreamer really do that?

And if you tell this dreamer to dance would he dance or stick his tongue out at you? If you told him to believe would he believe? If you told him to love, could our dear dreamer love? The dreamer is out subconscious. Can we tell our subconscious to dance? To believe? Or more importantly, to love? Can the dreamer be independent without the person?

If you tell the dreamer to scream, he just may scream. But what if he no longer can? No longer wants to or thinks (perhaps knows) no one can hear. What then, will our screaming dreamer do?
We are the dreamers of reality. No matter how much one screams, they will never be heard. I now dare this dreamer to be heard. Scream loud, I dare you. Cry your heart out dreamer. Just see how many really care as much as they say. I dare you dreamer.
I. F**king. Dare. You.

Link: http://www.poems-and-quotes.com/life/poems.php?id=723051
Word Count [Extra]: 223

xTheEcstasyOfSuicidex

My 'short' story is like 3000 words long...I'm pleased with it but i dont think it qualifies as short lol

go ahead, please post it.
It gets lonely 'round here, so i have all the time in the world

TITLE: I Love You
GENRE: Lasting Love
AUTHOR: Gemma Stott
CONTEXT:

Xx I Love You xX

She put her head in her hands and tried to block out the memories spilling from her mind. The kisses, the hugs, the way he held her hand and the sweet words he whispered in her ear...

(I love you)

The tears welled in her eyes and she pressed her fists to her face to quell the unstoppable flow. But the damn had finally burst and there was no preventing it...

(I love you)

Those words taunted her. She had had songs stuck in her head from time to time, she had sometimes been annoyed when she couldn't shift it but she would gladly welcome them now, anything to keep those words from swirling in her mind...

(I love you)

It wasn't supposed to end like this. It wasn't supposed to end. They were in love, they were supposed to last. Everyone said so. Didn't those words mean anything...

(I love you)

Why couldn't she keep her temper in check? Why did she have to say things without thinking? Why did he have to be so infuriating? Why did she have to love him so much...?

(I love you)

She would do anything to see him again. To say she was sorry. To say it was such a stupid argument. To touch him. To hug him. To kiss him... The longing overwhelmed her, she had to see him...

(I love you)

She wiped away the streams of mascara and smoothed her hair back. She straightened her dress and stood up. She had to find him. She had to work this out. They were to in love to spilt up over something so stupid...

(I love you)

She heard someone clearing their throat behind her. She didn't have to turn around to know who it was. She felt a hand on her shoulder. She felt his lips on her cheek. She felt his love mingling with hers. And then she felt his words...

"I love you."

*Gem* ©

LINK: http://www.best-love-poems.com/poems.php?id=819848

*bump*

Ok, fine, well here goes, I'll try it. It's nothing like the ones that are already submitted, mine is an actual story whereas the others are really good but they're like..different :S idk what i'm trying to say, but i'll try and see if it fits in the next post!

kk

TITLE: Silent Tears
GENRE: Ummm...life, depression? Not sure.
AUTHOR: Neena Shah
CONTEXT:

*12th June 2004

‘The darkest night shows the brightest of lights…’

Six months ago, I never thought I’d be happy again. I thought I’d forever see funny things and not laugh; I thought I’d look into the mirror and always see this miserable girl with red, angry slashes covering her body; I thought I would always sit alone in my room every evening, crying, as I sliced my arm with a piece of broken glass.
But I’m not like that now. I’m not depressed anymore. It wasn’t easy. A lot of people didn’t think I could do it, but I did. I proved them wrong, and I got through the worst time of my life, all because of Alex. So now I want to tell the world my story. I want to tell the world how one special person helped me through my darkest night, and believed in me when no one else did…*

I’ve suffered from dyslexia for as long as I can remember. Ever since I was little, I’ve struggled with words and numbers. I only learned how to write my own name properly without any mistakes when I was about eight or nine. Dyslexia never really bothered me for the first few years, because I never knew I was different to any of the other kids, and they didn’t know I was different to them. In middle school, I realised that I was a slow learner, and I was in all the low groups. Still, it didn’t bother me too much – occasionally I would get frustrated with myself and start crying because I couldn’t do my homework or whatever, but on the whole, I was OK with it. My friends knew about it, and would help me when I was stuck, without making it obvious to everyone else, and they cheered me up when I was down.

However, when I got to upper school, all that changed. Everyone soon figured out that I was one of the ‘thick’ people, and started teasing me. At first it was just little things, like calling me names and telling me how stupid I was, but I wasn’t used to people saying things like that, and so I got upset. I tried not to show it, but it didn’t always work, and when people realised how much they were getting to me they gradually started bullying me even more. It was things like ‘accidentally’ elbowing me so that my books would fall on the floor, threatening to hit me…sometimes actually lashing out and pushing me over, or hitting and punching me. They would copy my work in class; work that I spent time on to make sure I got it right, and they would get the credit for it – teachers thought that I was copying them, because I had dyslexia, and so I got into trouble. My homework was taken from me, and again I would get into trouble, whilst they got the credit for all the hard work and effort I put into it. They told me that if I said anything to my parents or a teacher about it, they would “get me”. I was scared. If this was what they were doing without any provocation, what would they do if I told on them, and they actually had a reason to pick on me?

At first, I coped with it, by telling myself that they would soon find someone else to pick on instead of me, and that it would soon get better. It didn’t. None of my so-called friends would stand up for me, which upset me more than the bullying itself. The bullies didn’t know anything about me, and they just happened to choose me as their prey, but my friends knew who I was as a person, and the fact that they just ignored what was happening shocked me…but not nearly as much as Katie, my ‘best friend’ did. She was even worse – she started bullying me as well! Here I was, going home in tears every night, and dreading coming to school each morning, and the people who were supposed to be there for me whatever happened just abandoned me, and the one I thought I could rely on the most actually started on me a well!
Every afternoon, I would go home and act normally around my parents, but then I would quickly go to my room to do ‘homework’. When I was on my own, I just sat on my bed and cried. Why me? What had I done to deserve this?

To cope with what was happening to me, I started writing – it sounds ironic doesn’t it? The thing I was being bullied for not being able to do was the thing I was trying to do to cope! For a while, I found that putting my feelings down on paper helped me to cope by getting it off my chest; it felt like it was a lighter worry now that I had shared it, even though it was only my diary that I told! Sometimes I just wrote what had happened to me, and how I was feeling, but often I would put it into poems or quotes.
Although it helped a bit, eventually writing poems didn’t help as much anymore, and one day I hit myself in frustration. I didn’t mean to, but I was so angry and upset that I just did it – and it felt good.

So from then on, if writing didn’t help, I would hit myself, and take it out on myself instead. Then I started scratching and cutting myself, first with my compass, and then with sharper objects like a razor blade, broken glass, scissors, and anything I could get my hands on that would pierce my skin. It sounds stupid that I was hurting myself because of what other people were doing to me; most people would say ‘Why hurt yourself if you’re angry with other people?’ – hey, I even used to be one of those people. But the truth is, if writing your feelings down doesn’t help, and you haven’t got anyone to talk to, then you just want anything that might help you forget about everything. Hurting yourself physically makes you forget about all the emotional pain that you’re going through, even if it’s just for a few minutes. But then when the physical pain goes away, the emotional stuff comes back again, so you hurt yourself in order to forget, and soon it becomes a vicious cycle that is difficult to break.

Apart from when they were bullying me, people didn’t take much notice of me, so it was easy to hide my scars. No one wondered why I was suddenly wearing long sleeves all the time, or why I answered a little too quickly to questions about any marks people might have caught a glimpse of – I was just a very clumsy person, and I kept bumping into walls and scratching my arms.

This carried on for a while, and I thought nobody cared, but out of the blue, a guy I had never really paid much attention to started being nice to me. He was really friendly, and always smiled and said ‘Hi!’ when I passed him in the corridor. Suspicious, during an art class, I asked him what he thought he was doing, and he replied that he liked me, and wanted to take me out! I was amazed, and said yes. I was over the moon that someone actually liked me! Matt was a lovely boyfriend, always smiling, and looking out for me – when he was with me, people didn’t bully me; it was only when I was on my own. He insisted on walking me home each day and when we went out on dates he always paid – he was a real gentleman! It seemed too good to be true, and unfortunately, I realised that when people say ‘if something seems too good to be true, it probably is’, they are right. On our fifth date, we went to the cinema, and then back to his house afterwards, and we had done before. No one was home, so we sat on the couch to watch some telly for a while, and I was cold so I cuddled up to him. After about twenty minutes thought, Matt started to get a bit restless, and his hand wandered to my skirt. I moved away from him and asked him what he was doing, and he replied that he wanted to touch me and sleep with me! I was appalled, and I got up and slapped him and started to walk towards the door. He pulled me back and started asking me why I had gone out with him and let him pay for the dates if I hadn’t been planning on giving him something in return? By this time, I was struggling to get away, and he held me down with even more force. I sobbed that I would give him back the money and more if he would just let me go, but he refused.

‘I don’t want your money, I want to have sex with you.’
I screamed that I didn’t want to have sex but he dragged me upstairs to his room and started feeling me all over; he put his hand up my top, down my skirt, all over my legs, and after what seemed like hours, lifted up my skirt and raped me. I tried to blank out what was happening to me. Finally, it was over. I grabbed my stuff and ran out of the house as fast as I could, trying not to believe what had just happened. I ran to the park and sat on one of the swings, crying my eyes out. Was that the only reason he was nice to me? To get me to have sex with him? I couldn’t believe it. I thought he was different to everyone else. Obviously not.

Once I had calmed down enough to be able to act normally in front of my parents, I went home and took my razor out and added a few more lines to the collection on my arm before having a hot bath, trying to scrub away what had just happened to me.

For the next few days, I stayed off school, feigning illness. The following week, however, my mum said I should be better by now and that I had to go to school. I was dreading it, and sure enough, I had every reason too. The bullies hadn’t forgotten me, and they started on me almost straight away, laughing and taunting.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I honestly wanted to kill myself; I didn’t see why I should carry on living, if my only purpose was to provide entertainment to these bullies. Over the next few days, I began planning my suicide. I couldn’t do anything like overdose, because that might not work. I might be found in time to be taken to the hospital. I thought of plenty of different ways to go, such as jumping off a bridge, shooting myself, hanging myself etc., but in the end I decided that I would slit my wrist and bleed to death. That way I would get one last chance to feel the razor sliding across my wrist and feel the relief of finally leaving this hell.

I didn’t write a suicide note; I would leave my diary out, which would explain much better than a little note ever could…but I did write one final poem:

A Silent Tear

I cry a silent tear
That nobody knows
It is red and deep
A scar is all it shows

I cry a silent tear
Once every night
The knife heals my pain
Blood is in my sight

I cry a silent tear
And tonight it made sound
The tear took over
And death is what I found

I cry a silent tear
Everyday and every night
No one heard my cries
‘Til the night I made it right

I cried that silent tear
And it called out for a friend
The day it spoke
Was too late, it was the end

Everything was meticulously planned; my parents had to go out the next Friday evening, so that would be the night. I wouldn’t get disturbed and stopped then. I would go home after school, write a last entry in my diary, and the relieve myself from this life. My parents would come in late at night, they might check up on me then or maybe in the morning. Either way it wouldn’t matter, I would have gone anyway.

It was a Monday, so I had four days to get through. Every time I was bullied, I just thought ‘I won’t have to put up with this for much longer, so you can do what you like to me. You can only taunt me for the next few days and then I’ll be gone.’

On the Friday, I went to get the rest of my stuff out of my locker at the beginning of lunch, (I had been taking a few things away each day so it wasn’t too heavy to carry home on the Friday) when a group of people came up to me and started calling me names. I just ignored them and carried on emptying my locker, looking forward to the evening when I could get away forever. It seemed a much bigger group than normally, and they didn’t like me ignoring them at all, so they started pushing me and hitting me. I fell to the ground and curled up into a foetal position and covered my head while they kicked me and threw my stuff around.

Then, something amazing happened. Someone shouted at them to stop hurting me and to get lost. When I was sure they had all gone, I peeked out and saw a boy I didn’t know. After making sure I hadn’t broken any bones or anything, he helped me sit up, and asked me what happened. I said it was nothing, and attempted, but not succeeding, to hold back my tears. I started to pick up my stuff and he told me not to, and he collected it all together. He wanted to take me to the nurse, but I insisted I was all right, so he put my stuff into my bag, put it onto his back, and helped me stand up.
‘OK, lets go and find somewhere for you to sit down for a while. I really think you should see the nurse, but if you’re sure you don’t want to, at least sit down.’

With his help, I managed to get to a bench in the corner of the field, where we wouldn’t be disturbed.
‘Now, what happened?’
‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter.’
‘Yes it does. You might not think it matters, but it does to me.’
‘Why do you care so much? Its my problem, not yours. I’ll deal with it.’
I was really hot and so I rolled back my sleeves without thinking. I realised what id done, and rolled them back down immediately, but it was too late, Alex (as I found out his name was) had seen my arms, but he didn’t laugh or tell me I was pathetic either, which was what most people would have done.

‘How long have you been hurting yourself for?’
He said it in such a gentle, caring way, instead of the loud angry way I was half expecting, and I don’t know why, but I just found myself opening up to him. I started to tell him little bits of information because I didn’t want to bore him or anything, but I was getting really confused about it all, so he said to tell him everything, right from the beginning. It all just poured out of me, and I must have spent a good twenty minutes – half an hour telling him everything, but he just listened. He didn’t say anything, he just let me talk, and I told him about the dyslexia, the bullying, my friends turning on me, about writing the poems, and then self harming, being raped, and finally, that I had been planning on killing myself that night. Once I had finished talking, I was feeling embarrassed because I’d just told a complete stranger about my problems, angry, because talking about it had made me realise just how bad what Matt had done to me was, but I was also relieved that I had got it all out.

Alex didn’t say anything, he just moved up closer to me and put his arm around me, and we spent, I don’t know how long, just sitting there, hugging. The bell for the end of lunch had long gone, but we stayed where we were. After a while, we pulled apart, and started talking. Talking to him made me realise that self-harm isn’t a good way to cope, and there were better ways to take out your emotions. He said that he would help me stop cutting myself, if I promised never to think about killing myself again because I was too important and special. He made me feel better than I had in a long time, and I realised I didn’t want to kill myself anymore – if I did, I would lose out on having such a great person in my life.

*That was all a few months ago, and I am completely over the self-harm and depression now. I have slowly started to rebuild my life, and I received counselling. The scars are starting to fade, and I am so much happier now. It was all because of you Alex, the person I dedicate this story to. I wouldn’t still be here now if it weren’t for you; you were the solid rock I held onto when everything else just blew away. I want you to know that I will always be here for you, no matter what, and I will love you forever… *

Wow that's long lol, but yay, it worked! wooo!

[Btw, the first and last paragraphs, which have a * at the beginning and end, they're part of a diary - they're in italic font normally to differentiate, but obviously on here you can't do that so...]

got it! thanks for posting it!
It's not that long, trust me, i've written some books. I forced my friends to read my book... yea, so, this is nothing hun! lol.

please keep posting people!

It's not long, as such, but I thought it might be too long coz it is compared to the others that have posted!
I'd love to write a book, but I'm not really that good at writing.

What have your books been about?

Okay I'm gonna like Try this. I'm gonna start to write it now. When you get me writing I tend to write alot so if I write too much Im sorry.

nothing is too long

btw: the first ten chapters of my book are on here. It's my first book, not my best. look up THORNS and look for yellowfeverlime

Title: The Answers Lie In The Past
Author: SoSickOfTears-Jenni
Genre: Thriller
Context:
I walk slowly into the room, my eyes searching in every direction.
I notice the spattered red stains on the walls and my stomach takes a sudden dive as I wonder if it's blood.
I manage to somehow avert my eyes and take in the rest of the room.
The walls are painted a sickly, depressing white, and the room is hardly furnished except for a small chest of drawers in the corner.
I hesitantly make my way over, my heart beating with anticipation and anxiety.
Will the one thing I so desperately seek be right here in front of me, in one of these drawers, like I had been told it would be?
Or had I been lied to by the one person in the world that I thought could be trusted?
'You'll never find out if you just stand here!' I silently yelled at myself.
I inched my way over to the drawers and noticed I was trembling.
With shaking hands I opened the first one.
Of course it wasn't in there, that would have been to easy!
I moved to the next one, only to find that that to, except for a lot of dust, was empty.
'Please,' I prayed as I made my way to the final one. 'Please let it be in here.'
I closed my eyes tightly and quietly slid open the drawer.
After what felt like hours, but in reality was only minutes, I forced my eyes open.
I felt my heart speed up and my eyes widen in excitement.
It was there!
Right where it was supposed to be!
I carefully removed the heart shaped box from the drawer and placed it on the floor in front of me.
I wanted to open it so badly, but I couldn't seem to bring myself to do so.
This tiny box held all the answers to my past...it would tell me why I was the way I was....why my mother left me with her best friend when I was just four years old and took offf to places unknown...why I hadn't seen my father since I was ten years old...and why half of my family and friends had died...
I stared at the box as tears fell down my face.
Would the answers finally bring some truth and understanding, or would they bring yet more heartache and untold sorrow into my life?
I picked up the box and held it close to my heart.
Suddenly I felt a small draft and I frowned in confusion.
There were no windows open and I had made sure I closed the door behind me when I had entered the room.
I began to get a prickly feeling, like I was being watched.
I started to turn around, but to my horror, as I did so, I felt cold hands encircle my throat.
''Drop it,''
The words were quiet but harsh.
I glanced longingly at the box in my hands and slowly placed it to the floor.
''Up,'' the voice ordered.
I slowly made myself rise from where I had been kneeling.
''You made a big mistake coming here,''
''I just wanted to-''
''Quiet,'' the voice interrupted me.
And then I felt it.
The cold barrel of the gun pressed against my head...

Darkslayer Chronicles Part One(Prologue)
By Lauren Crandall
Genre-Fantasy
::=]

(this is like the prologue of the book)

~As Serafin watched in horror, the largest and darkest shadowspirit he had ever seen emerged from the edifice. He then came to the horrid realization that this shadow creature was a demomshade. The large building in the now isolated city was used as for church, school, and bonding ceremonies before the Great War began. Very meticulously Serafin began to wrap the holyweed onto his hand, wrist and up his arm. He was already wearing his magic whitecloth attire and face covering, but it was necessary that all his flesh was covered with either whitecloth, holyweed or dove feathers. If he made one mistake, and even the smallest part of his skin was touched by a shadowspirit, let alone this demonshade, there would be fatal consequences.

~Although young for a darkslayer, Serafin was anything but ignorant. Trained in a family of a super naturalist mother and darkslayer for a father, Serafin had been surrounded by all things paranormal while growing. He was forced to learn the vital techniques to protect himself at a very young age. Unfortunately, his training had been cut short after a fatal accident. At the young age of only fourteen he and his sister, Syaine who was a year older, were alone in their fight against the DarkWorld.

~After both Serafin`s parents were debreathed during one of the largest battles they had fought in, he and his sister made a pact. The siblings assented that whatever they did their powers could not be taken and used for the DarkWorld`s advantage. Meaning they could not be debreathed. The two agreed they would die fighting before they would relinquish their powers. And fight, the two siblings did. For a year and 9 moons, they fought the DarkWorld and defeated almost all the shadow creatures they encountered.

~In the midst of their grief they swore a pact and ceremonially made them as one. They each drank on ounce of the other`s blood and pricked the tip of each finger in their left hands. Then they proceeded to recite an enchantment which would make them of one person. This ritual gave them the highest of sympathy; if and when one was injured the pain and injury would be equally distributed between the two. Also, if one began to be debreathed, the sibling`s soul would entwine itself upon the other soul, causing the two souls to mesh together. The two souls would then reside in the protected sibling`s body until it was safe for the other to return to it`s own.

~Unfortunately, something had gone terribly wrong during the last battle. A shadowspirit, which Serafin would later learn was a demonshade, disengaged the pact between Syaine and Serafin had established. It then proceeded to debreathe Syaine, so forcing her to join the Darkside and betray the LightFaction. But before the demonshade had a chance to rid Serafin of his soul, something amazing, and awful, occurred. A light consisting of pure white swirling with black engulfed him and he was teleported to the forest behind the large edifice building. This was where he saw the demonshade appear and he finally conceded that this was his destiny.

~Luckily for Serafin, the shadow creature had not seemed to catch sight of him yet. Still, soon it would not belong until the demonshade would feel his aura. Serafin knew what he must do. He must defeat the head demonshade and release his family`s, and the rest of those debreathed, souls from the dark curse that was set upon the LightWorld.

all set!

o.O i dont know what you mean?

nm ♥

*bump*

ha now i forget whta i didnt know.

-unbump-

BUMP!

POST SHORT STORIES PEOPLE!

Can It be partially poetry?

i guess...

Just A Dream?
by Kristi H.
Dark/Love

Once upon a time, I suppose it was a Thursday, night came upon us in Church camp during the summer. The pastor had just finished his sermon and let us out. It was around 11 at night; some of us were playing pool in the dead of night. Others daring enough to roll themselves in huge tires, hoping to splash into the lake. I cringed, just imagining how cold it would be, additionally envisioning little frogs and fish touching the unlucky underwater visitors.

I wasn't scared of getting mosquito bites or freezing. For that reason, I didn't wear a jacket, nor carry any repellent. The tall streetlights shone on the sand. On the other side of the lake, I could see lights flicker within the residents' houses. The moon reflected in the black, icy water. I decided to walk around for a bit; for once, I didn't want to play pool.

For an entire hour, the only things I had accomplished were beating five kids in pool, walking around without any money for food, and winning two rounds of chess. It was still a little cold. I sat down for a few minutes and quietly chatted to a few people from my cabin. I still wasn't allowed to go to my cabin for one more hour.

Sitting on a bench, I steadily looked up at the sky; it was a joy to see it in pure ebony, so unlike the city. The silvery-brown trees contrasted with the blackberry-ice clouds. I stuck my feet into the sand, feeling the soothing coolness. I closed my eyes to feel the rustle of the wind.

Suddenly, I realized as soon as I opened my eyes that the wind wasn't the only thing rustling. Standing in front of me was a tall, lean boy who appeared to be around my age. He seemed to be glowing; his image lit up against the surroundings. I remembered staring at him as I was walking an hour earlier. He probably didn't know I existed. He asked what I was looking at. I kept staring at the sky, hoping he wouldn't laugh at me or something worse. Instead, he just kept talking. "Don't the stars look beautiful tonight?" I nodded; I couldn't tell if I was smiling. My face felt frozen. He was trying to be nice. I heard him say something else and laugh lightly. I had no idea what he said. He walked away in the opposite direction. I closed my eyes, and he had disappeared just as suddenly as he came.

As everyone's groups walked to our cabins, I asked myself some questions. Who was he? Why did he talk to me?

All I know is, that one moment felt like a dream. Especially when I found out that the entire week, he was in the cabin right next to mine.

I searched for him the next day, but I had no idea who he was. The Mystery, I told myself. There were at least 40 other boys that were just as tall and lean as him. I don't even remember what he looked like, besides his hair, his body type, and what shirt he wore. Usually, people change shirts the next day, so it's hard to figure out.

Month later, I wrote this poem:

There was a night
A long time ago
When I was sad,
Scared and alone

The night was filled
With an ebony sky
The stars twinkled softly
Like a guiding light

My hair cascaded
Rippling down my back
In waves of the ocean
Lost without a raft

I was afraid
To tell anyone hi
I was nervous
That I would cry

My skin glowed eerily
Under the moon
The waves swept under me
Like a giant monsoon

I felt so lonely
For no reason
And I was freezing
Out of season

I walked past pool tables
My shoes in the sand
Wishing that someone
Could hold my hand

My fingertips trembled
My soul turned to dust
I seemed to be hollow
And filled with mistrust

I was shy
What can I say?
At least it was night
Not the middle of the day

I saw a boy
‘round the same age as me
With a camouflage shirt
That was gray, not green

I kept my eye on him
But he didn’t look my way
Just walked off by himself
In a way, we were the same

I sat on a bench
As silent as could be
The dark my captor
Living on a dream

His hair was short
And he was sweet
As he walked towards me
With sand-covered feet

I didn’t pay attention
I was looking at a line
That seemed to be drawn
In the heavenly sky

It had never
Been there before
And when I looked past it
I could see much more

The boy smiled at me
And I felt special, too
The center of attention
For a minute or two

He asked what I was looking at
I pointed to the sky
He said, “Don’t the stars
Look beautiful tonight?”

He was staring at me
And I couldn’t help but smile
As the waves swept off my feet
My pain left with the tide

He tried to crack a joke
But I could barely listen
I just saw the stars
And definitely him

I thought of him
As long as night could stay
Even though that boy
Has long gone away

For it was just a day
In summer camp
Normal, I could say
With the moon as my lamp

Sometimes I think I should have talked to him, but I find myself realizing that it could have ended up strange. These days, I think about that night that felt like a dream. It was magical. I hope that this year, and the years later of camp, I might see him again. Just possibly; after all, some dreams DO come true!

lol... I just wrote this in 1-2 hours ^-~ RL

v-v I'll find the poem I wrote about this soon. Hopefully I'll post it somewhere within the story.

*bump*

i edited my story. =]

o.O

*bump*

THIS CONTEST IS NOT CLOSED
post short stories! Closes the tenth! Get your stories in now!!!!!!!!

POST YOUR SHORT STORIES PLEASE!

....maybe people haven't got anymore short stories?

Hmmm, this was pushed to the third page...but are you going to judge it anytimesoon?

I will begin judging now but i will allow entries until the day of the results since so few people entered. If you would like to you may enter more than one.

TITLE: Did He Care?
GENRE: Sad/Lost Love
AUTHOR: HiddenxSoul
CONTEXT:

I used to look into those beautiful, big green eyes of his and see the rest of our lives flash before me. It was simply amazing. Enchanting, even. It barely seemed real. We flowed among the branches of each other's heart, and held each other close. We were each other's destiny. That was really all there was to it. Certain words such as 'marriage', 'house', and 'children' were sprung upon us. We laughed them off, knowing that right now we didn't have to worry about such things. We knew in the future that those certain aspects of our lives would seep back in somehow and we would embrace them with generosity, happy for them to finally be upon us, leading us into a brand new world. At that point though, we knew we had time. We had the rest of our lives, we knew...

Now I look into those dark, swollen eyes that hold burden upon burden of hidden secrets. Avoiding truths is his workload, and resisting what was once a temptation has become his frame of mind. No longer the doting couple with a brand new life ahead of us each day. We are now mere skeletons of our former selves. We are now lost, and bewildered, and once again need the comfort of each other's arms - but for different reasons. He has left me. He shows that he no longer cares to be around me, or even cares for me. It makes me wonder, did he ever care at all?

LINK: http://www.poems-and-quotes.com/sad/poems.php?id=829571

Just to let you all know, this contest will OFFICIALLY close the DAY BEFORE i post the results. Just so i get a few more entries, i will let it stay open for another week (or two depending on the posting activity)

Thanks for entering!
Good luck,

Stephen White