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 ^^
We learned, over the couple days we spent at the lakehouse, of the other small handful of landings and incidents that occurred. One landed in Spain, another in Australia. North Korea unsuccessfully attempted to fire a nuke at Seoul. Another aircraft (I'm sorry, I can still not call them spaceships. It just sounds too juvenile, especially given the mass causalities) near Las Vegas, two in Brazil, one in Chad.
I'll never forget the day they all left. I was sneaking a cigarette with my girlfriend's father under the back deck (we had both quit, but none of that seemed to matter anymore) and talking about how my job was going. I think we were trying to pretend that everything was fine; I'm honestly not sure.
It was my girlfriend's mother who found us and told us. Stepping out from the patio door, she at first, stopped for a second, presumably taken aback from us smoking, but quickly composed herself as best she could.
"Jimmy (my girlfriend's father's name).," she said. "They're gone." "They're what?" he asked. "They're... they're gone. They left. All of them. They just... They left."
We honestly didn't believe her until we saw it on the television. All of them, all across the world, the ships (apart from the one in Denmark, which, as you know, failed to operate due to the way that it landed), they were just effortlessly floating back into the sky at rapid speeds. It looked almost like a strange science-fiction rapture painting. Oddly poetic and beautiful. These images would be shown again and again on the news for months (and probably years) to come.
No one spoke on the subway ride to my girlfriend's parent's apartment. It truly was a bone-chilling phenomenon. We just all looked at one another with mile-long, yet empty, stares. The silence alone did the talking for us. Is everyone you know safe? Did you hear about the one that landed in Scotland yet? What about the one in Greenland? Are we next? Did you see the dead bodies on CNN? Did you see the... the things? Are we next? Where are you going? There are going to be riots, aren't there? Do you have a gun? Do you know any of the dead in Chicago? Are we next?
We figured it was best to get out of the city. Rumors, though unconfirmed, were circulating of a riot going on in Bushwick. My girlfriend's uncle had a lake house up in Connecticut, and we figured we would be safer there. The long ride up there was mostly silent. We would occasionally show eachother news updates on our phones, or read headlines or excerpts aloud. One landed in Florida. Riots across Paris. One landed in Denmark. One landed in Pakistan.
Though my girlfriend's family are all very well-educated and incredibly well spoken (her parent's were both English professors at Colombia), this situation just seemed to make everyone at a complete loss for words. Occasionally someone would begin a sentence and then just trail off completely.
"How can...." "But... but why..." "I don't....I just don't..."
As you remember, we (at least in the US) were already under martial law at the time, though it ended up not doing much good overall. The sighs on the television are still burned into my brain. For some reason, the first thing that stuck out to me was 'My god, things are getting real. They're not even bothering to censor the curse words.' Next were the bodies, many of them on the ground convulsing, others running in every direction, all of them screaming. The camera panned and, for the first time, I got a glimpse of one of the ships.
It was, in a word: breathtaking. Much media attention has since been paid to the aircraft. Their mechanisms of flight, their many unsucessful landing attempts, their architecture. To be honest, I am still not completely sure how they work. I did, however, see the Vox video where they toured one of them (may those noble reporters rest in peace. Who would have known?) and I know they are just as beautiful on the inside. That shade of green is just... I am speechless again. I think I could live for a thousand years and still never see anything as beautiful.
It was not until I changed the channel that I first got a look at one of the creatures. I am not going to bother to describe them. You have seen them. People much smarter and well-spoken than I have given much better accounts and descriptions of them. I just remember thinking "this isn't like in any of the movies." I don't think I had ever seen an "alien" with hair on its body. And the eyes... dear god, the eyes. I still have night terrors.
There were a few more crashes after that. Two in China, one in Romania, the one that infamously took out most of Vatican City (though miraculously sparing the Pope. If things hadn't gone the way they did after all of this, this one coincidence might have turned me into a religious man). As you remember, this all took place over the weekend. Endless speculation as to who was behind these attacks flooded the media. Was North Korea engaging in war with the entire world, planning to go out in a blaze of glory? Did soeone slip something into the US president's drink? Was it West Asian terrorists? I don't think I had watched that much news since the twin towers were hit. The news coverage was almost like crack, in a way. And besides, this was all on the other side of the world. My girlfriend's brother might have possibly been in danger, but to be honest, I had never et the guy outside of a Christmas or Thanksgiving or two, maybe a wedding. We were definitely safe over here. You probably thought the same thing. Or, hell, who am I to judge, maybe you know better. Maybe you were right.
I think it was around 4 in the morning on Tuesday when the first one successfully landed in Chicago. My girlfriend and I were (finally) fast asleep at the time when I got the phone call. My heart sank to the pit of my stomach immediately. It was Keith. I had a feeling this was not one of his late-night wasted phone called, especially not now.
"Turn on the TV *right now*," he told me. "What channel?" I was still half-asleep at the time as I stood up and fumbled my way around the bedroom towards the living room. "Dude, literally any of them."
And so I did.
I hung up immediately. I could not, no matter how greatly I tried, possibly begin to find the words.
At first we thought it was the Russians. It was a reasonable inference at the time, to tell you the truth. It was all we had at first- news reports of multiple explosions across the country; one in Moscow, two in Ural, and one in the Far East. The cause of the explosions were not immediately known.
We would later learn that, for the most part, the aircraft had disintegrated upon impact. What we did have, however, were the videos. Dashcam videos of the incidents (apart from the one in the Far East) and the aftermath. The aircraft were moving as speeds much too quickly for the cameras to really catch, but the grousome aftermath, perhaps unfortunately, were not. In the video that Slate made famous (I still wonder how much money that paid for that video, and how uch they later ended up making) in which the vehicle doing the recording was only a couple dozen meters from the site of impact, the explosion, famous, was so loud that the camera immediately ceases to record audio.
I am sure, however, that the video you are most familiar with is what BBC and the like have dubbed "The Moscow Crash." I am sure you know it well enough for me to not get into too much of the nitty gritty details. Yes, it is the one on the highway with the bloodied woman, in her agonizing, animalistic, guttural screams, is carrying her dead toddler in her arms. It is the one that MSNBC infamously neglected to censor hey eyeball dangling feebly from her socket.
My girlfriend almost threw up when she say this, and demanded, through her tears, that I turn off the television. She had a brother vacationing in Germany at the time and feared greatly that a massive war was about to break out in Europe. She thought it was kamikaze attacks. We all did.
He eyed the cup for a long second, and then grabbed the large spoon beside it. He dug the spoon into the yoghurt, scraped it along the bottom of the cup, and flung the spoon and all it bore into his mouth, lashing drippings onto the table and the front of his shirt. He chewed and mixed, and spat the entire contents of his mouth next to him on the ground. Spitting twice again for the sake of completeness, then rising to his resting position on his chair.
"Mira." "Yes Frank?" "There was peaches underneath that yoghurt wasn't there." "..." "That's why the cup wasn't transparent." "..."
Frank took a casual sip from his coffee.
"I'm sorry, Frank."
Frank swallowed vigorously and smacked his tongue.
"Good coffee."
Frank rose and walked out to the porch and made his way to the shed.
The old man awoke as he usually did: one eye at a time. His shoulder joints groaned under the weight of his sinewy arms as he hoisted his suspenders onto his back. He raised himself onto his knees and began the descent down to the morning kitchen table.
"Good morning Frank," said his fat wife cheerfully.
Frank just gave her a dirty look and sat down at the table with his face in his hands.
"Fixin up to be a good day, this," said his fat wife cheerfully again.
Frank grunted and slowly brought his hands from his face to his coffee mug. As he took a sip, his right eye fell on a small cup of yoghurt in front of him. SHE put it there.
"Mira." "Yes Dear?" "What's this?"
Mira turned around and saw the cup.
"It's your yoghurt Dear. You've been having yoghurt every morning since that bowel obstruction you had." "I know what 'n where obstruction I had, you know damn well what I'm askin."
Mira stared at him blankly.
"Why's the cup not transparent?" Why Frank, does it matter?" "I told you a hundred times woman. I want a transparent cup for my yoghurt."
Mira turned back around and spoke over her shoulder.
"Oh it'll be yoghurt, whatever the cup Frank." "It'll be yoghurt, sure," Frank muttered.
deletedover 7 years
Furries Frier Us Rifer Us Firer Us Surfer I Ire Surf Ire Furs Rise Fur Ires Fur Sire Fur Surer If User Fir Ruse Fir Rues Fir Sure Fir Rue Firs Re Fir Us Re Surf I Re Furs I Re Fur Is Err If Us Res Fur I Dog F*cker Rucked Fog Duck Forge Duck Gofer F*cker Dog F*cker God F*ck Gored Cork Fudge Rock Fudge Ruck Defog Deck Of Rug Deck Fur Go Duck Ref Go Duck Erg Of Duck Re Fog Doc Keg Fur Cod Keg Fur Curd Keg Of Crud Keg Of Cud Keg Fro Cud Keg For F*ck Red Go F*ck Dog Re F*ck God Re F*ck Do Erg Ruck Ed Fog Ruck Def Go Ruck Fed Go
might actually end up doing this seriously, watch this space lmao
deletedover 7 years
♪♪ Clifford needed emily ♪♪ ♪♪ so she chose him for her own ♪♪ ♪♪ and her love made clifford grow so big ♪♪ ♪♪ that the howards had to leave their home ♪♪ ♪♪ clifford's the best friend anyone could know ♪♪ ♪♪ he's the greatest dog ever ♪♪ ♪♪ I really think so ♪♪ ♪♪ clifford's so loyal ♪♪ clifford! ♪♪ He's there when you call ♪♪ ♪♪ I love clifford, the big red dog ♪♪ ♪♪ so they packed up the family car ♪♪ ♪♪ and the howards left the city ♪♪ ♪♪ they moved to birdwell island and found many new friends ♪♪ ♪♪ there to greet clifford and emily ♪♪ ♪♪ clifford's so much fun, he's a friend to us all ♪♪ ♪♪ I love clifford, the big red dog ♪♪
deletedover 7 years
Eddie Willers pulled his shoulders straight, in conscientious self-discipline. He had to stop this, he thought; he was beginning to imagine things. Had he always felt it? He was thirty-two years old. He tried to think back. No, he hadn't; but he could not remember when it had started. The feeling came to him Suddenly, at random intervals, and now it was coming more often than ever. It's the twilight, he thought; I hate the twilight. The clouds and the shafts of skyscrapers against them were turning brown, like an old painting in oil, the color of a fading masterpiece. Long streaks of grime ran from under the pinnacles down the slender, soot-eaten walls. High on the side of a tower there was a crack in the shape of a motionless lightning, the length of ten stories. A jagged object cut the sky above the roofs; it was half a spire, still holding the glow of the sunset; the gold leaf had long since peeled off the other half. The glow was red and still, like the fire: not an active fire, but a dying one which it is too late to stop. No, thought Eddie Willers, there was nothing disturbing in the sight of the city. It looked as it had always looked.
ok please go easy on me im really insecure about my writing :3
"Who is John Galt?" The light was ebbing, and Eddie Willers could not distinguish the bum's face. The bum had said it simply, without expression. But from the sunset far at the end of the street, yellow glints caught his eyes, and the eyes looked straight at Eddie Willers, mocking and still—as if the question had been addressed to the causeless uneasiness within him. "Why did you say that?" asked Eddie Willers, his voice tense. The bum leaned against the side of the doorway; a wedge of broken glass behind him reflected the metal yellow of the sky. "Why does it bother you?" he asked. "It doesn't," snapped Eddie Willers. He reached hastily into his pocket. The bum had stopped him and asked for a dime, then had gone on talking, as if to kill that moment and postpone the problem of the next. Pleas for dimes were so frequent in the streets these days that it was not necessary to listen to explanations, and he had no desire to hear the details of this bum's particular despair. "Go get your cup of coffee," he said, handing the dime to the shadow that had no face. "Thank you, sir," said the voice, without interest, and the face leaned forward for a moment. The face was wind-browned, cut by lines of weariness and cynical resignation; the eyes were intelligent. Eddie Willers walked on, wondering why he always felt it at this time of day, this sense of dread without reason. No, he thought, not dread, there's nothing to fear: just an immense, diffused apprehension, with no source or object. He had become accustomed to the feeling, but he could find no explanation for it; yet the bum had spoken as if he knew that Eddie felt it, as if he thought that one should feel it, and more: as if he knew the reason.
deletedover 7 years
It was a long week with his owner out and about as always as Scrap sensed it. With his owner sleeping in he knew that they were staying home that day like they did every week. It was finally the weekend. He wagged his tail as he snuck under their blanket, snuggling up next to his owner.
After waking up he started to run around the house barking, after hearing a nearby helicopter. He was in a really good mood and it was yet another fun day in his life. His owner grumbled, getting up and going into their scent room for an hour before coming out to make breakfast for the day. He loved eating the bacon bits that his owner gave him, and always called him such a good boy. His eyes widened as he chomped down on the bacon. ^3^
There was a knock on the door. His ears shot up as he ran up to it, barking. No one was supposed to be there that day! His owner opened it up as he saw a 6 foot tall dog. He started barking again going up to sniff them. They smelled like his owners friend! He thought to himself how a dog could be that big, thinking it was that owner's dog, but a new friend is a new friend! They played fetch for a bit before the new friend went upstairs with his owner, closing the door. After a nap later Scrap saw his other friend come out of the door! He wondered where his owner went, but now he had two six foot dogs to run around with them! They took him for a walk, and although people stopped and stared they stopped to get cheeseburgers and ice cream and meet a ton of new six foot tall friends as they all went to the dog park to him and play. What a shiny day!
