Traditional Showcase Writing Competition Hall of Fame

Kitty · Apr 5, 2010

Competition 1, voting ended 4/4/2010. Task: Must include mention of a red hairbrush

Winners:

Shadow*91 (2 votes)

A Moment of Rest

"It's been a nice day, hasn't it? So sunny and warm." A young girl said as she sat down on a park bench. She was 5'8" and had slightly tanned skin. Her light brown hair as long and flowed down her back. She was wearing a light blue dress and white shoes. Hanging from her shoulder was a white purse.
"You said it. I wish everyday could be like this." A boy came up and sat next to her. His black hair was short and spiked up. He was wearing a denim jacket and blue jeans. He was slightly taller than her, standing at 5'11". He was white and it looked like he had spent too much time indoors.
As the two sat there they smiled at the peaceful surroundings, and each other.They were on a stone bench in the middle of a beautiful park. There were some trees behind them and dotting the rest of the scenery as well. Other people were also enjoying the park on this bright and sunny day. Some were walking their pets, others playing games, and a few were enjoying nice picnics. As the two teenagers sat on the bench; each was looking around at other things, though both glanced at the other when they thought they weren't looking. The girl began rummaging through her purse for something. She pulled out a red hairbrush, but quickly set it aside. Other various make-up materials such as lipstick or nail polish were also pulled out and set aside. Finally she pulled out her cell phone. She set it down and started putting everything else back in her purse. As she picked her phone back up she noticed she got a new text message.
Turn Around.
She wondered what it meant but did as it said anyways. As she did she saw the boy holding up a small blue box in his hand. "What's that?" she asked, a little confused as to what was happening. The boy simply smiled kindly and opened up the box. Inside was a gold necklace.
"I got this for you." he said.
"It's beautiful." She said as she picked it up.
"Like you." he said. As she tried to put it on he got up and helped with it. He sat back down once he finished. She went and looked through her purse again, pushing aside a red hairbrush as she pulled out a small mirror. She looked at how the necklace looked around her neck and smiled. as she set the mirror down and hugged the boy. "Oh thank you so much. I love it."
"Your welcome." He said as he returned the embrace. When they finally pulled back the boy smiled at her as she continued looking at the necklace on around her neck. Finally she put the mirror back in her purse and after looking at the boy for a little, she reached out and pulled him into a loving kiss.
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Dark Riku (2 votes)

Till Death Do Us Part

A black wind blows, tearing my hope asunder.
Splitting my life into a chaotic mass of scars,
I find myself upon a riverbank.

My hopes and my dreams lie here in a pleasant slumber.
Seeming to sleep in my embrace,
A red hairbrush in hand
I recall a silent vow.

“Till death do us part.”

Spare me my past sins, for I want nothing of them.
This black sky, these dark waters,
They hold nothing for me now.

O, how my hands are stained.
As the ocean is vast, my suffering is never ending.
I would have it end now.

With weary eyes, and dying limbs, I approach the shifting abyss,
thick and unrelenting it’s flow.
As if all the world’s pain lie within.

“Till death do us part,” I whispered silently.
My dreams, my burden, became light.
They turned ash in my arms, carried serenely by the wind,
Beyond the river’s banks.

A calm settled over my heart.
At last…sleep.
I took my first step into the dark,
At once I sank.

I am free.

“Till death do us part, indeed.”
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Kitty · Apr 26, 2010

Competition 2, voting ended 4/25/2010. Theme: Medieval Times.

Winner:

Haresuno (3 votes)

Tral bobbed and weaved as the throng of people moved along. His breath was coming to him in heavy pants and his legs burned as if they were on fire. The small bundle of food that he had stolen was huddled in his arms, close to his stomach, and anyone who got in his way met the blunt force of his shoulder. It didn’t matter where he hit them so long as they got out of his way.

The city guard wasn’t exactly after him, however the baker’s wife certainly had a mean swing with a rolling pin, and he did not want to be on the receiving end. So he ran. He ran as fast as he had ever run in his whole life. Probably the fastest he would ever run.

His feet slid across the gravel, and his worn cloth shoes caught the tiny bits of rock like a net did fish. He hated being a poor. Stealing for his food, his clothes and even his shelter some days. But he didn’t want to die more. So he stole. If the gods had a problem with the way he wanted to live they could send him to oblivion later. Right now he had to live.

Pushing off on the balls of his feet, the alleyway was a blur. The noise of the crowds on either end of the way deafened his ears to his own foot falls.

From behind him he could hear the huffing voice of the baker’s wife as she yelled, “Get back here you maggot covered filth!”

He didn’t dare look back. Looking back meant fear and he didn’t want to admit he was afraid. So he ran on. Jumping small crates as they presented themselves and even toppled over a few barrels in hopes of slowing the woman down. It didn’t seem to work.

Gritting his teeth, Tral ran up a tower of boxes and jumped onto the low roof of a nearby house. Luckily it was a sturdy building and the roof was well thatched. Turning around he jumped once more, on to the opposite building and ran. A jump again to the building on his right took him away from the main streets and even further away from the crazed woman. Early on in his life he had learned the value of running roofs. They were a place of menace to those walking below, and a high-way for street rats like him.

Having lost the baker’s wife, Tral leapt into a new ally and ignored the stench and filthy water at his feet. The important thing was that he had gotten away with enough food to feed his sister. If only just his sister.

Sagging against wall, he liked his lips and tried to catch his breath before pushing on. His entire body ached and his legs pleaded for mercy. A kind of mercy only met when asleep, or dead. He couldn’t sleep, and the latter choice was out of the question. Before too long, the red-head was back on his feet, ignoring the protest of his body and fueled by the drive to live. Now that he had gotten away he would be free to work his true element.

The crowds.

It didn’t matter what city, town, or even a road way, people would ignore him unless he gave them a reason to notice. Blending in with the menagerie of people was easy enough because of that, and with his short stature no one could spot him quick enough before he saw them.

Oh the advantages of being a kid.

Solemnly, Tral wove his way once more through the stream of people. Being careful to stay away from the edges and even more careful not to bump into others. There was no telling what the actual bums of Ectelo would do to a child with food – just to save themselves.

When he grew up, he would be a knight and make sure to never act like one of them.

As the sun began to sink from its zenith, the short boy found his way to the very edge of Ectelo. The food in his arms would be enough for the day, and only for his sister but so long as she was alive he would wake up tomorrow – starving or not – and make sure she lived.

The small shack of rags they had made was sinking again. What with all of the rain it was no surprise really. Before the night came most of it would be dry, but he knew already that Elyse would be sick come morning. Unless he gave her his shirt. Again.

Before he entered the hut, he stopped and took several deep breaths. He wouldn’t look the greatest but he had to at least show her that he wasn’t tired. That he hadn’t just run the Aervo marathon. “Elyse,” he called out as he dropped low and shuffled in, “I’m back!”

The moment his gray eyes came up from the cold cobble stones, horror washed over him. Inside their small hut was a strange adult with unruly black hair, and a beard as scraggly that came down to his chest. Fierce brown eyes locked with his and a small grin split the man’s grimy face. “How do you do, Tral. My name is Cral. You’re going to be my squire.”
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Kitty I Survived The BG Massacre Staff Member Administrator

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