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Event 3 - No E's - DT



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Sun Feb 11, 2018 1:00 am
Elinor says...



For any questions, comments or discussion regarding the No E's event.

All our dreams can come true — if we have the courage to pursue them.

-- Walt Disney




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Sun Feb 11, 2018 10:01 am
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Mea says...



*flops after spending half an hour and getting approximately one sentence in*

No 'e's is so hard! I keep thinking I can finally say what I want, and then realizing a word has an e in it.
We're all stories in the end.

I think of you as a fairy with a green dress and a flower crown and stuff.
-EternalRain

I think you, @Deanie and I are like the Three Book Nerd Musketeers of YWS.
-bluewaterlily




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Sun Feb 11, 2018 1:31 pm
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RaidenCheese says...



This is like, beyond hard.
I'm cool as a cucumber
Even if I'm in a pickle


Two possibilities exist: Either we are alone in the universe, or we are not. Both are equally terrifying.




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Sun Feb 11, 2018 6:31 pm
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Que says...



I love how there’s a 1000 word limit. I can’t even get close to that. XD
Parlez-vous français?




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Sun Feb 11, 2018 6:44 pm
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Elinor says...



@Querencia ->

Yeah, I honestly don't care about the world limit, and I want you guys to focus on the stories and not think about it being a certain length, so I said 1000.

Everyone -> If it helps, I've enspoilered the winning entries when I last judged this event. Hopefully they give you some inspiration.

Spoiler! :


Gold


I want to fly among our stars.

I always thought I was on my own in this. For if a scholar said, "What is your most darling fantasy?" I would say, "To fly among our stars."

And this scholar would smirk, and turn away, and say, "That is absurd."

And so I do not talk about it. If any folks ask my most darling fantasy, thinking to know my mind and soul, I am struck dumb. I say nothing. I talk to nobody.

But today is contrary. Today, I know: I am not on my own. Today, I find Margo.

Margo is standing at a train station today, clad in a black skirt and crimson high-tops, ignoring all by way of an iPod and its buds. Margo has a viridian iris and curly black hair that glows in sunlight slanting through grimy windows.

Margo is dazzling.

I sit in an adjoining chair. Margo is clutching a book, scrutinizing it with a thumbnail against pink lips. It is Foundation by Isaac Asimov.

"Is it good?" I ask. Margo looks down, to my chair.

"Your book," I clarify.

"I think so," Margo says. I would frown if my book was cut short, but Margo grins. "You can borrow it."

Thinking to know this mind and soul, I ask: "What is your most darling fantasy?"

And Margo says, "I want to fly among our stars."


Silver

“What did I do?” My stomach twists and I can’t stop thinking. My hands can’t stop shaking. All I want to do is to curl up into a ball and stop living.

“It wasn’t human,” I say, though I know nobody is around. “It wasn’t human,” I say again, “It was just a blob of—“

My words stop in my throat and I want to throw up. I am lying, and it hurts my mind just as badly as my body hurts. Familiar cramps rack my body and I sit down slowly, hoping blood won’t drip out in clumps of – I can’t think about that. Not again.

You hurt him.

That thought twists back to kill my soul. I saw Baby – no not a baby, just a blob -- wiggling about in ultrasound. I wasn’t going to look -- I didn’t want to look -- but I did. I saw that it was a tiny human, a boy. I saw him twirl about in what almost could pass as lackadaisical bliss. I was so happy.

And I got rid of him anyway.

“Why did I do this?” I ask to nobody.

But I know why. I know. I had no options. Adoption? How could I afford cost of labor? Caring for it? With what support? I couldn’t do it now. And not with that man as a dad… I had to dump that poisonous cobra. I couldn’t trust him. No, I couldn’t trust him. Not with my body and not with my child—

My child.

Our child.

I dig my nails into my palms until blood springs up from my hands.

I told him about our baby. I was so happy at that instant as I told him. But I saw his lips thin and his hands flinch and I was so afraid. That man – that cobra – struck. His hands cut around my throat until I thought that I would faint. I don’t know if I did faint. My mind hurt so much.

It was Baby or him. And I couldn’t pick Baby. I couldn’t pick my poor, poor son. Not without dying.

Now, I wish I had known how painful living was from now on. If I could pick now, I would rot in my coffin happily. That way, I would not hurt so much.

My body throbs and blood drips down and soaks my pants. A cramp rips through my body again. I ball my fists and start to cry. I thought it would turn out okay. An abortion. Wasn’t it going to turn out okay?

If it is okay, why do I hurt so much?

I curl up into a ball and rock back and forth. And in my mind, words from my childhood spring to mind. If I am still, I can almost touch my mom’s soft rosary. My mind starts to calm and I ask if salvation is still within my grasp. I don’t know, but I am willing to try. I sigh, biting my lip. My body stills and a tranquility floods my soul.

Softly, I pray, “Hail Mary—“


Bronze

It’s warm out today so I walk back to our old farm. I follow a solitary road through vacant country, a band of dirt and rocks spanning out toward unknown limits. A monotonous horizon of dying hills rolls by, and among such uniformity I almost miss it—but at first sight I know without a doubt. Wood planks, sprawling across muddy ground as if thrown by uncaring gods. I stoop among brown, dying grass and pick up a board, turning it around in my hands. Scorch marks run along its back, and an inscription--initials cut into wood by a child.

A catch in my throat; I stand up again.

Visions of days from long ago push into my mind and burn across my sight, of spirits who now occupy only ruins of a barn. I look up, towards clouds racing past a falling sun that throws out its last rays.

“I’m sorry,” I say, and my words ring across a hollow world.

And I turn and run, away from ghosts that I know will follow.

All our dreams can come true — if we have the courage to pursue them.

-- Walt Disney




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Sun Feb 11, 2018 7:00 pm
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zaminami says...



whelp

I guess that my idea to do a commercial script thing is in the trash

dang
tartaglia, they/he lesbian.
i also go by skylar and reginald!
First member of the bio trio™.
victim of the writer’s block disease




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Sun Feb 11, 2018 7:12 pm
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alliyah says...



I've got my entry figured out, as far as it's going to go at least. I think the hardest thing was to find a way to get around the word "the" and not make the writing seem too stilted. Interesting exercise though, as it literally makes you think of whether or not to use every single word. :)
you should know i am a time traveler &
there is no season as achingly temporary as now
but i have promised to return




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Sun Feb 11, 2018 8:19 pm
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RaidenCheese says...



So wait, we don't need to have 1000 words?
I'm cool as a cucumber
Even if I'm in a pickle


Two possibilities exist: Either we are alone in the universe, or we are not. Both are equally terrifying.




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Sun Feb 11, 2018 8:34 pm
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Elinor says...



@RaidenCheese No, that’s the limit. It shouldn’t be longer but it can be as short as you want.

All our dreams can come true — if we have the courage to pursue them.

-- Walt Disney




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Sun Feb 11, 2018 8:37 pm
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RaidenCheese says...



...I am a literal potato
I thought I needed 1000 words
*hops off to finish story with renewed vigour*
I'm cool as a cucumber
Even if I'm in a pickle


Two possibilities exist: Either we are alone in the universe, or we are not. Both are equally terrifying.




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Sun Feb 11, 2018 8:49 pm
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Mea says...



*reads winning entries*

Welp, mine is pretty bad in comparison. Ah well. For me the worst part was definitely "the" and "me". Just AAAH.
We're all stories in the end.

I think of you as a fairy with a green dress and a flower crown and stuff.
-EternalRain

I think you, @Deanie and I are like the Three Book Nerd Musketeers of YWS.
-bluewaterlily




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Mon Feb 12, 2018 12:06 am
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SnowGhost says...



"The" is killing me!
Just killing time until time kills me.




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Mon Feb 12, 2018 2:37 am
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zaminami says...



omg I just found a loophole I'm so proud of myself.

or should I say

mysolf.
tartaglia, they/he lesbian.
i also go by skylar and reginald!
First member of the bio trio™.
victim of the writer’s block disease




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Mon Feb 12, 2018 4:29 am
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RaidenCheese says...



Ahhhhhhhh nooooo I don't think I'll be able to enter this one ;-;
I fell asleep and school and ;-;
I'm cool as a cucumber
Even if I'm in a pickle


Two possibilities exist: Either we are alone in the universe, or we are not. Both are equally terrifying.







"You, who have all the passion for life that I have not? You, who can love and hate with a violence impossible to me? Why you are as elemental as fire and wind and wild things..."
— Gone With the Wind