Weekly Writing Contest 47

[sarah042]

On Thursday a topic will be chosen and posted by the previous weeks winner. Then everyone who wants to enter will post their piece in the thread before 12:00 PM (-8:00 GMT) Thursday. So that is Wednesday night/early Thursday Morning. Then the previous winner will judge all the pieces and pick the new winner and post it in the entry thread sometime on Thursday (try and do it as early as you can). The weeks winner will then pick the topic and make a new thread and it starts all over again.

Rules:

1. All forms of writing are welcome, whether it be poetry, short stories, essays, fan fiction, or whatever.
2. All entries must be under 500 words
3. All entries will be rated no higher than R this will be at the mods discretion. All entries rated over PG-13 must be under spoiler tags with a warning!
4. The week's judge's decision is final and absolute. There no whining or complaining about another piece being better or the judge not being able to judge. On a flip note lets try and keep it as fair and impartial as possible.
5. Critique will be allowed in another thread, but must remain constructive. Just saying 'your piece sucks' is not allowed and will be dealt with accordingly. Everyone will be trying their best so lets not try to hurt feelings. On the flip side learn to take criticism it will help you become a better writer.
6. Let's have fun with it. This will give you a chance to read others people's writing and let others read yours.
7. A default judge will pick a new winner and topic if the week's judge goes MIA.
8. If for some reason you can't fulfill your duties. Please PM Sarah so that she will be able to take appropriate action so the contest doesn't suffer delays.

This week's topic: A comical aspect
Have fun with this one!

[4thseal]

I'm not to good with teh comedy

The mime was dirty. He once bright-white pants soiled with dark stains of only god knows what where held up by strands of some old, discarded rope, which were wrapped around his boney shoulder. What can only be described as a black, tattered rag was draped a cross his upper body reveling sunken, pale skin. His face was not painting carefully with spots of dark black hovering in a bright white back ground. Rather, the black and white had mashed into a dirt-grey leaving is long faith a mess. He had bowl-hat atop his head. He’d lost his hat long ago.

The mime was a bit lost. Confused was more like it. He’d somehow emerged into a cold city of tall buildings that blocked out the sun, and cold, cement grounds that made the souls of his feet harden to life. Not understanding how the hollow dwellings of a city have an entirely different beat. He didn’t know what to do. More specifically he had no clue what to say. People were different than what he’d been use to. They spoke a different language, wore strange formal attire, and were constantly walking. The went here and there as if all life was meant for was to hurry from one place to another. Up and down elevators, to and fro the revolving doors of the overbearing buildings the traveled. Rarely smiling always living, this was too much for the mime. He’d always acted but never saw the point in actually taking on a leading role.

The mime was lucky. You see, all around the city there were living monuments to guide him through his way. One imparticular man, a rooster – every morning at the crack of dawn he would wake, putting on a tank-top and tight, blue-jeans, he would lean. Stretching in front of a building as the sun arose, he would lean back against the cool bricks of one of the many buildings, lighting a cigarette he would flex his treasured muscle and watch the city come alive…

The mime was fascinated by this man. For forty days and fifty nights he watched the rooster awake and crow to the morning. The rooster, taking notice of the mime’s worship and awe, took passion on him.

“If this city ain’t for you, kid, then make it yours. You don’t got to own land to use it” the rooster balked one day after a surprisingly loud crow.

The mime blinked. Then, the rooster's words carried into his heart. And, he understand the city very well. There was no right way to do things. Yes, many, many people go to and fro each day, up and down, only thinking of their roles and duty. But, other simply watch and enjoy the city.

The mime became dirty. He lived in the streets and dance and made me people happy and proud to be themselves. Through it all, he never said a word.

[Sasuke's Legacy]

I'm such a twisted freak... What the hell is this?

Absolutely Not
By SL

“I’m telling you! Calligraphy can help you do so many things in life!”

“Pah… Piss off asswipe, don’t you have a job to do?”

With that the stout man snorted indignantly, rattling the shining, coffee colored handle of his briefcase in a busy fashion before pedaling away. His dull grey suit squeaking with mediocrity, squeezing the short gentleman in uncomfortable plainness (especially around the midriff). A loud sigh whooshed through the air, chasing after the balding person who had failed to listen, trying to call the busy worker back.

“Piss! What did I expect…”

An athletic, tall lad sighed again wearily, deprived of a sunbeam of hope yet again. It happened pretty often, when a stranger would be passing by and he’d try to explain to them the wonders calligraphy had to offer, but they just blazed onward. In fact, it happened nearly every time. And if you looked at it with brutal honesty, not one person in the entire city of Maphrodite had bothered to stop and to listen to a youngster. Young was an understatement really; only seventeen years since the womb and boy had life delivered. Jet-black hair, clinging with sweat and grime, clung violently to the edges of his shoulders, with brilliant emerald eyes. Although muscular and bronzed by the sun, he looked like a beggar, adorning worn clothes from the dump as his wardrobe. He didn’t care though; it was quite flashy looking, the purple sweater and green shorts with matching holes everywhere. You couldn’t keep such a young and lively spirit down for long, especially someone who was as devoted to enlightening the world as him, so soon a bright yellow smile was back on his face as he tried to find more people to pester.

“Din! Get back to work! I hate you!”

Yeah, working as a garbage man was just temporary until he could show everyone how calligraphy could help citizens in every day life. The kid named Din would get patents and everything on it, and it would make himself rich while helping others. Perfect plan! So with that in mind, he finished his workday and collected his usual twenty cents after nine hours of loading trash. Whistling he strolled down an alley before catching sight of a hideous creature on the side of the road, who was actually a girl, and was nearly identical to Din in appearance (but Din didn’t realize he was raggedy). But what had caught his attention was the familiar strokes of the hand she used…

“Calligraphy!”

It was beautiful! The girl was covered in warts and scars from a rough life on the streets, but she was going to make both of them filthy rich! A new genre of art had been created, patented by Din Fire, and Din had taken the inspirer to the top with him. Once rich, the now beautiful girl smiled at him, both in a street by a restaurant. Din started cheerily.

“You’re so pretty!”

“You think so?…”

“Of course… “

“……. Is this love?”

“Absolutely not.”

[Ashen]

Dear Monday,

You are truly the most hated day in the week. Nobody likes you not even your mother. I hope you cry yourself to sleep at night knowing that you are more hated than Hitler, Stalin and Osama merged together. The amount of dread you cause the mass populous is so great it is consider a weekly crisis; the amount of tears you cause can fill the Pacific ocean twice over. Why can't you be like Friday or Saturday, at least Tuesday brides us with new merchandise like newly release DVDs or Video Games? I hope you semi-die, whereas you are dead, but still alive to see that no one will attend your funeral.
Sincerely,
Every-fucking-body

Ouch, but enlightening me on why are you writing hate mail to a weekday?

With enough of these, they could take him off the calendar.

But wouldn't you write hate mail to Tuesday next.

And Wednesday and so on. My true plan is to have eventually have a week consist only of Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

You are truly special.

[sarah042]

Sorry for taking so long, work caught up with me

As for the topic this week it was actually a friends idea, after reading a piece I'd written she said I needed a bit of comedy in my writing. Well I've been trying ever since but haven't succeeded as yet....now for the judging.

4th - The imagery was nicely done, a solid entry on the whole but very dark. Really wanted to see something light from you, but at least you stayed away from the climbing

SL - Where did you get this idea from? You wrote about it beautifully and the ending was superb. Fantastic entry.

Ashen - Your letter to Monday was short and to the point. I was unsure about the part beneath the letter though. It would have been a more solid entry if you gave some description about the writer/circumstances that triggered the letter.

The winner this week : SL

Thanks everyone, I know this is not the subject you're accustomed to incorporating into your writing but I thought it would be a nice change.