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Thread: Story contest 1!

  1. #1
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    Default Story contest 1!

    *Announcer's voice* "Welcome to the first story contest hosted by yours truly, the walking Beatitude HU-MI-LI-TY!"

    *Crowd goes wild as I walk onto the stage.*

    "Good morning Evony Roleplayers, unless its not morning then good whatever. Ha ha ha... right."

    I walk began walking back and forth waving my arms around emphatically.

    "This is the premier showing of the story contest! This week's contestants will be competing to see who can write the best short story, whether it be action, mystery, fantasy, sci fi or WHATEVER! Though not Romance, please no romance Ha ha ha... fine."

    I put up my hands in a motion of surrender before pulling a pointer out of thin air.

    I then point my pointer into thin air and the word 'style' appears, "Points will be awarded based on Style! Originality! Entertainment! Flow! Thought provocation! Grammar! Suspension of Belief! Logic! The writers will vote on each others works anonymously and explain what they thought could have been improved!"

    I start dancing a jig.

    "I'm so excited I can't contain myself! Writers come on in!"

    *The crowd goes wild again as the contestants walk in.*

    I pull a podium out of thin air and stand up on it looking down at the contestants, "All this week you will be standing here writing your story, no bathroom breaks, no food, no entertainment, just write, write, write!"

    My phone rings I answer it then put it back down, "Actually we aren't legally allowed to prevent you from doing that... anyway just write down your stories,ten thousand words or less hand them to me anomalously and then I will post them...!"

    I began waving my wand, causing a bolt of lighting to explode mid air, revealing a large white space in mid air, "There! For all to see and vote on! So get to writing!"

    ***

    That was fun to write, now in case you didn't catch it, you have a week to write a story ten thousand words or less, then PM your stories to me then I will post them for everybody to vote on. That way no favoritism or anything happens as its all anonymous.

    I figured a week was enough time for a short story and I decided since this was the first one, theme-less, topic-less and challenge-less would be the best way to start.

    Here is the voting format

    Grammar: (1-10)
    Entertainment: (1-10)
    Suspension of belief : (1-10)
    Flow: ((Readability)1-10)
    Thought provocation: (1-5)
    Originality: ((1-6) Note, original in this case doesn't mean unique, just fresh.)
    Style: (1-5)
    Logic (As in there is no after the story "Doh, why didn't Theadore just do X !?): (1-7)
    What did you like:
    What did you dislike:
    How could it have been improved:
    The only real power comes out of a long rifle. - Joseph Stalin

    A Kentucky Long Rifle

  2. #2
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    Default

    Reserved for stories.

    Breach

    Mike leaned over and vomited once more, quickly wiping sickly green bile from his lips. He hadn’t eaten in two days, but his body could always find something to regurgitate. He’d read the articles months ago, when things weren’t like they were now. They said the disease rested in a human’s body for around two months before it became active, that at that point there was no treatment to save you. The rest of the world had found that out all too bitterly, and when the quarantine failed it was imminent the States would too.

    Shoving a ragged coat to the side, Mike reached out for the small plastic bottle, grasping weakly at it. His arms ached from hours of crawling across the shattered house, and his chest felt like it would burst open any moment. Mike hoped it would, to spare him from the unbearable pain stabbing across his spine to his brain. Finally maneuvering his fingers around the bottle, he brought it to his bleeding lips, his burning tongue reaching for a drop of water. All that came out, however, was a taste of bitter dust. Suddenly filled with a screaming fury, Mike raised an arm and lobbed the empty container across the house, where it bounced lightly off a scorched wall. Cursing under his breath, he felt the strength that had occupied his body just moments earlier fade. Crumpling in on himself, Mike shuddered violently as he felt his stomach lurch again. This time there was no bile, but instead thick blood streamed out of his mouth. Shuddering violently, he looked up to the crimson skies for salvation, his last breath leaving his liquefying lungs with a hiss.

    A booted foot crunched a stray piece of oak furnishing as the man looked down at the adolescent’s body. We could have helped. We could have saved him, Jim. Reaching down, the man’s HASMAT suit wrinkled as he closed the boy’s lifeless eyes. The world isn’t what it used to be, Stan. We can’t afford to take in every hungry dog we lay eyes on. There’s no helping the sick; they can’t be spared. Came the dark response.
    Last edited by Humility; 06-11-2010 at 06:04 PM.
    The only real power comes out of a long rifle. - Joseph Stalin

    A Kentucky Long Rifle

  3. #3
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    Reserved for story
    The only real power comes out of a long rifle. - Joseph Stalin

    A Kentucky Long Rifle

  4. #4
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    Stories for reserved
    The only real power comes out of a long rifle. - Joseph Stalin

    A Kentucky Long Rifle

  5. #5
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    Story for reserved
    The only real power comes out of a long rifle. - Joseph Stalin

    A Kentucky Long Rifle

  6. #6
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    Reserved stories for.
    The only real power comes out of a long rifle. - Joseph Stalin

    A Kentucky Long Rifle

  7. #7
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    Reserved story for me!
    The only real power comes out of a long rifle. - Joseph Stalin

    A Kentucky Long Rifle

  8. #8
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    Is there a certain style we have to write our works in?

  9. #9
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    No you don't. Just skillful use of various literary styles is a good show of skill.
    The only real power comes out of a long rifle. - Joseph Stalin

    A Kentucky Long Rifle

  10. #10
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    Quote Originally Posted by Humility View Post
    No you don't. Just skillful use of various literary styles is a good show of skill.
    Alright, thanks.

    ~John

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