The contest will start today April 21'st and end Sunday May 14'th and of course any story submitted after that will be disqualified :P
After that, for one week, we can all vote on which story is better and which story we liked the most ^^ ( Each story can be submitted as a link, and the link can be upvoted)
(This is a possible way to vote without judges, but we can of course change it on a later contest if people want :P )
All site - rules apply.
All entries must be posted in here to be upvoted (Please no downvoting. It ruins the game for everyone.)
There is no maximum or minimum character count limit but please don't make it too long or else next contest there will be .
Just 1 entry per person, so if you write multiple stories, just pick the one you like the most :D
For prizes... I really wish there will be prizes xD but i can't buy you any tokens.
First place - For now you can just pick the next topic of the Writing Contest and any extras you want to add :)
Second Place and Third place - I really have no idea what you guys can win :P Just be proud you reached those places on your own ^^
You can always compete next time :) Don't worry, it was pretty good, even i it was not in the theme. But if i allow everything that has nothing to do with thet theme... It would be chaos XD
blood4bloodgod: Sorry, But Animal's life. Not Humans life. I am in charge here and i disqualify it.
shayneismyname: Yes , there is a theme. Disqualified. I don't care even if you are the best writer in the world. As long as you don't even read the rules . .
Ok, you can only vote for either Jimbei or for Jacobjohn2.
Not just something. A her. The she-lion stepped in. She was lithe, smooth, powerful. She was…beautiful. He called out. She pretended not to notice, taking stock of the cage instead. If this is what punishment looked like, Diata would be forcing himself to suffer through punishment a bit longer.
Outside the door with bars, the annoying man looked to one of his companions, “Yeah, this is really what it’s about. Being a zookeeper, there’s nothing better than bringing two rescued animals together. Diata’s been so depressed recently, but I certainly hope this’ll cheer him up and bring him out of himself.”
The annoying man’s companion looked back at him puzzled. “He’s just a damn lion, man.”
And right as he readied to close his right, he heard it. The key. Someone was opening the door. There was someone behind the door, this time the one on the right. The massive locks clicked. Then the high-pitched voice came.
“Hey Diata, we brought you a buddy. I think you’ll be most happy.”
He jumped up, becoming acutely aware of his surroundings. There the man was, standing in his brown uniform and brown little hat with large boots and tan socks. A big key-ring hung at the man’s belt. This guy was annoying. Always. But today the man seemed a lot happier than normal. Something was wrong. A group of four men just like him came up behind him, pulling in a set of iron bars across the concrete enclosure, halving it, separating the right door from the left. It locked into place. This couldn’t be good.
Then the men left. It was just him and the annoying man. The annoying man did something truly stupid—he pet his head. Diata wasn’t stupid, he let him do it and just snarled. The man got the idea and scurried out. The right door closed, and the locks clicked. Then the locks on the left door began clicking. The door swung open followed by the sound of metal releasing. Then, slowly, something came in. Wait…
His problem really was that he took after his father too much. Yeah, his parents had been good devoted parents. His father always kept him safe. But his father…well, his father was a bit of a bum. Lazy, to be honest. But his father tried. That’s what mattered. His father watched out for him and his mother. Who cared that his father wasn’t the one out there being a breadwinner—what mattered was that his father loved him. Watching out for eight kids is a tough job. That’s why his father was always tired.
He shook his head back in forth. No, he didn’t believe that, not anymore at least. When he was younger, he did. Now, he knew better. His father had just been lazy. His father did protect him and was a generally good guy. He was fairly loyal to his mother even—which was really uncommon in his neighborhood. But his father was lazy. He took after his father. He was lazy. That’s probably why he didn’t do anything to make sure he didn’t get caught.
He stopped pacing again. What did it matter anymore anyway. Here he was, in a cage. He scratched at his nose, stopping a building itch. The time for thinking about things was long past. For now, all this thinking was making him tired. He leapt up onto the large concrete slab meant for sleeping. He stretched, laid down. He closed one eye, the yellow of his left eye slowing disappearing beneath his eye lid.
That’s what got him in here anyways. Yes, that was it. He should have thought ahead. He would have been able to predict what would happen. He could have gotten away. Really, it was stupid. If he had just taken a moment he would have realized that he would have been caught. The man with the vest and gun outside his home should have been clear enough. He just wasn’t looking. He could have seen him. Not to mention the vehicle parked nearby. He should have been smarter. But he wasn’t thinking in the here and now.
He stopped again. There was a noise from outside the door, the one on the left. Behind the bars there was a commotion. He should check it out. Probably. Nah, it didn’t involve him.
A lot of things nowadays didn’t involve him. That’s how it is being locked up. Perhaps if he had accepted the food he had been given he would have been given more leeway. He didn’t eat for the first three days he had been here. He learned quickly what that got him: special treatment. He had been isolated in here while he was examined for illness and depression. Apparently no one wanted him to die early. He certainly didn’t care. He could sleep his way to death. That wouldn’t be too bad really. But his hunger overtook him. And now he was waiting to see what would happen next.
So what brought him here, really? While he wanted to blame his environment, he couldn’t. He’d had many siblings, but none of them ever ended up like him. No, it wasn’t just the environment. He definitely shouldn’t have fought with his brother. That was the reason; he was sure of that much. He found his brother with his sister and….well that was just it. He kind of lost it. All control, all composure, gone. Who could blame him? How could the dirty little rat even consider it? Who did he think he was, lying with his sister? And maybe if his sister had gone along with it, he could at least understood. No. It was wrong. Period. But justified or not, here he was. Get in one fight where someone dies and the other almost dies, you can almost be sure you won’t see the morning. Just, in this case, he survived to morning. He just was locked away.
And despite all that, his parents found a way to love and protect him. And he came out just fine. His mother, who worked day and night to keep him safe and fed, who had to do most of the heavy lifting, found time to play with him and try to teach him. Sure, her experience was limited, but she taught him as well she could. He learnt, he really did. Just…not well enough to keep him from behind bars. It wasn’t his fault he was a violent kid. It was the world he grew up in. It really was. If the world had been handed to him on a platter, he wouldn’t be here. He never knew of any other way to get what he wanted but violence.
He stopped pacing to look up at the light coming through the bars. The concrete muted the beauty of it. On any other day, he probably would have found the light annoying. But today, he enjoyed it. It was a reminder of the outside world. Of the world that he had and let get away. It was disappointing. To own the world, to climb to the top and mount it, and then to fall so far. He didn’t mind the concrete. He didn’t mind the bars. No, what he minded was the freedom, the space—all of it taken away from him. To run and not need to stop. To love who he want when he wanted and never look back. To be able to just sit and stare at the world and know it was staring back. He could be dramatic at times. He began pacing again, now oblivious to the nostalgia brought on by the sunlight.
He stretched, yawned, checked his surroundings. Still the same. No change. Not that he expected any. That’s not the way the world normally worked. Or, at least, not so much for him. For probably the third time in a single day, he paused a moment to consider what had landed him in this predicament.
Some would claim it was his upbringing. It’s only natural. When bad things happen, it’s the parents that are blamed first. Improper upraising and breeding. The violent ones are always not disciplined enough. Or, bad seeds from bad trees. And, while it might be true, he would be the first to say his parents were actually very nurturing. They had always been there for him. They had always been ready to defend him against what life might throw. And certainly they hadn’t lead him down this path. Probably, they, of all others, would be the ones least proud of what had happened--and in his family, pride was a pretty big deal.
Of course, it wouldn’t be right to say his parents were entirely blameless. Afterall, they probably didn’t even care enough to check what had happened to him. That’s if they even knew he was gone yet. If they were alive. Being fair, he thought, it was his fault they didn’t know where he was. It was him who had run off. He was just going out into the world to make a way for himself, but he kind of left family to the side. That exonerated his parents at least, right?
The next morning, I found her in the kitchen, making a pot of coffee. I knew the look in her eyes. She was high.
I made no mention of it, though. We had been through this before. It was a battle for a later time, and honestly, I just didn't have the energy. With enough of a push, I'd probably happily join her, especially having lost my job.
After a lengthy silence, she looked up at me.
"You know what's going to happen, don't you?" she said without emotion.
"Hm? No. What?"
She took a deep, long, almost tearful breath.
"They're going to come back one day," she said.
"What? Did you see something on the news?"
"No... No, I just know it."
"No,' I tried to assure her. "They left. They left for good. We're safe now."
She shook her head dismissively, and drifted her gaze out of our apartment window and into the city.
Again she spoke. "They're going to come back one day. And they are going to be stronger."
I said nothing. Maybe she was right. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe there would be more of them. Maybe they would know where to go. Maybe they wouldn't. Maybe they would come in peace. Maybe they wouldn't. Maybe they wouldn't come at all.
Many news agencies, churches, and governments, have their theory as to why the extra terrestrials left, and as to why they invaded us in the first place. Was it war? Did they retreat? Was their mission peaceful, but the first couple of crashed led them to believe that we had some sort of force-field on our planet or perhaps that we had shot them down? I'm sure all of you have your own theories as well. I have mine, of course, but they're very personal to me.
Things were not the same after that. I'm not sure they ever will be. Hell, how could they ever be? A few wars broke out, a global recession that experts predicted will take decades to recover from, millions of jobs lost. And the funerals. God, I never though I would go to so many funerals at my age.
One night, I woke up from a nightmare, and found my girlfriend in the bathroom maneuvering a needle in the inside crook of her arm. upon seeing me, she immediately started bawling.
"I'm sorry," she cried. "I know I promised. I just. I'm so sorry. I'm so scared."
We fell asleep together on the bathroom floor as I held her.
