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| >> Campfire Creative >> Other >> Contest >> ID #1807530 |   |
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| [Introduction]
This is the second installment of my Storyteller campfire. I hope this one will have 10x the awesomeness that the other one did, but that's wholly up to the participants. For this one to be a success though, I will need lots of support from the WDC community. Please, if I didn't invite you, request to be invited. The more the merrier. Rules: 1) Don't be offended if I skip your turn. 2) Write in your own voice. You're the one telling the story. 3) I would appreciate it if you would tell your friends. 4) any genre is acceptable. 5) you may write your part in poetry format, but it still has to tell a story. EVERY CAMPFIRE PARTICIPANT MUST CHECK MY LATEST POST IN THE FORUM NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! please...
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 BellaDonna  The sun was beginning to set while I lit the campfire. The renowned storytellers and bards I had invited to this remote place had begun to drift away from their tents and toward the large circle of logs and benches that I had prepared earlier in the week. So far the group was rag-tag and piecemeal, but I hoped that others would join us later in the week. Today, though, this odd bunch would have the opportunity to choose their prompt. I hoped that they had come prepared with their best works. When the stars had begun to wink in the sky and the fire had grown tall and hungry, I raised my hand to quiet the murmuring of the crowd. One by one, they took their seats and turned their knowing eyes onto me. I would be the first to speak on this night and all the nights hereafter. It was an honor that I hoped would do this campfire some good. “Good evening, my friends. I am honored that you would grace this place with your exalted presences.” I looked over their faces in the flickering light and was pleased with the range of emotions that I saw. “Tonight is the first night of the Storyteller Wilderness Conference and I am pleased to welcome you all. I am happy to inform you that tonight’s stories are all open prompt. Tell the story that you think defines you as a writer. Now, I will begin.” My heart thudded in my chest as I began to recite from memory. The ink in my pen weighs down my hand and my muscles ache with satisfaction. I've written all night and into the day, a story of great dimension. Paper is scattered around my bed; the story I’ve nurtured is done. Words echo in silence, from the muse in my head, and I realize that I’ve just begun. Even in sleep, I am haunted by words that circle and spin in my mind. Words, like death, creep and crawl. They hide in my shadow and sleep in my soul. Like a puppet, I write so clear; a story so true no one wants to hear. With renewed vigor and a blank page, I pen something different, but no less strange. A poem of reasons, pleading with the crowd, as to why they should listen to the words I’ve written down. The ink in my pen weighed down my hand and my muscles ached with satisfaction. I wrote all night and into the day, a story of great dimension. I sighed gently and bowed as the group around me began to clap. Then, I returned to my seat; gesturing at the brilliant writer seated next to me. Hallgerd I stood, uncertain what to do, unsure of this unfamiliar company. I had travelled so long, telling so many lies, spinning so many stories that it is hard for me to recognise the truth at all. I chose this life but it is hard... Perhaps it is time to share my burden. I knew it was him, although I had never seen him before in my life. His eyebrows, his chin, his long black hair - they were all Rosy's. I knew how he had come by that small scar above his left eye. I knew that his eyes, though shut now, were blue. Yes, this was Michael. He lay on the flagstones of the courtyard of our summer castle, stiff in his dried blood. My husbands' men-at-arms hurried round him intent on their business. They had returned that day from a campaign in the South, bringing with them news of peace with the enemy, of brigands in the hills, and the dead body of my dearest friend's only son. "It was bandits," my husband said as he carefully cut open the blanket they had wrapped the body in and showed me the poor boy's face. "We lost three men to them in an ambush. I buried the others in the mountains." He rose and kissed my forehead. "But I thought you would want to do something for Rosalind’s boy." "But I promised her I would take care of him," I said, aghast. "I promised him a position safe in the chancery. I arranged an armed escort for him, even! Frederick, what can I tell her?" "It is not my fault, Celia, if that is what you mean." "Oh no, Frederick. I only... But oh God, what shall I tell her?" Frederick sighed. He loved me but he had other things to do and had buried many men dearer to him by far than this boy. Indeed, to whom did Michael matter except his mother and to me, the woman who had promised him a glorious career, the patronage and protection of a great lady. Protection! And he had died on the way from his mother to claim it. "Of course you must tell her it was an honourable death," said Frederick. "And a quick one, I suppose." He patted my arm and left me. There were shouts from the walls high above us: more men marching homewards had been sighted on the road. A bugle sounded its welcome. I knelt on the flagstones and kissed the boy's cheek. The weather had been sweltering for days and he already smelt of decay. Someone had stuffed the blanket with handfuls of wild rosemary to mask the odour as they carried him. I still have Rosy's letter announcing his birth, and all her letters since. Week after week he had grown in my imagination, a vital little force of nature causing trouble among the goats and the orchards of his home. Was there anything that had happened to him in all his eighteen years that she had not passed on to me? I had never seen him and yet he could have been my own beloved son, had I been blessed with one. "Have him carried to my private garden," I said raggedly to my servants. "You have my leave to enter it just this once. And bring Father Ambrose. We will bury him there." This was the greatest, perhaps the only true luxury of my life as the wife of so powerful a noble as Frederick of the Blue Holt. A rose garden, perfect and tiny, overlooked by no window but my own, shaded by trees that rambing roses had quite over-swarmed until there was colour in riot everywhere and intense sweetness in the air and all was peace and tranquillity. I watched for the length of a prayer as the spades bit the earth and in their swinging knocked petals in showers over Michael's corpse. Then I left with an aching heart to climb the spiralling steps to my bower. My ladies-in-waiting were sitting on cushions in the window-seats listlessly tossing some quarrel or other between them. "My lady, Caroline says it is my fault the silk for your new dress was spoiled but I swear it was not. They are all --" "Leave me," I said. "There, Abigail, I told you she would be furious. That silk was twelve shillings a metre, jut think of that when you say your confession on Sunday." "My lady I swear upon my life I never --" "I don't care about the silk!" I shouted. "Out, out, out at once. I have to think." They scuttled away like hens before a fox's bite. "Moody again!" I heard one of them whisper as they pushed out through the door. They were none of them my friends. Only Rosy had ever known how hurt I could be sometimes, how terrified. Only Rosy had ever been able to comfort me when life was bitter. I sat down at the writing desk. It was here I had written to Rosalind every week since she had married and been taken from me, no longer lady-in-waiting but a farmer's wife. We had both been unhappy with the exchange. My letters had been written in tears, hers were sour as her husband's unripe apples. Until Michael came. May God forgive me, I took up my quill and wrote: "My dearest Rosy, He is come at last! And how handsome he is and how like you! Everyone is delighted with him from my husband and his chancellor down to the lowliest scullery maid. I can see that I will have to write to you on his behalf for I think he will be far too popular and busy to send letters to his poor mother as he should. But be patient with him, my dear, you know what he's like..." I stopped, glanced round at my new companions, and my nerve failed me. How could I tell them about the years of subtefuge, the embassies I had undertaken, the people I had associated with, just to gain experiences for Michael's 'life'. I gestured politely to the figure next to me. "If you please," I said. "It's your turn now. I've said my piece." I sat, and the wind whipped the campfire's flames higher as my neighbour rose and spoke. Rose Montgomery I stand up and glanced around, a little nervous. The poem I picked is written down carefully on a slip of paper that is clasped tightly in my hand. I gulp, knowing I have to give an explanation for this one."This is a poem I wrote on the last night at my camp, called Talooli," I say to the people gathered. "This particular moment happened when all of my new friends and I were seated around the campfire, laughing a joking with each other." I look around once more, trying to find words to explain. "he reason it defines me as a writer, more specifically as a poet, is because I live for simple moments like this. They make beautiful poetry, and the words and memories last forever. That is why I picked this one." Around the campfire we sit Telling stories, singing songs Laughing with friends old and new Together in this night, true and true The week has gone by in the blink of an eye And we are all sad to see it end But the friends that we made, and the songs that we shared Stay with us for the rest of our lives Before you know it, all of us here Will be back for another year, in this magical place We call Talooli I sit back down, smiling slightly, fondly recalling the night in my mind. I sigh, and motion for the next person to go. AJ Looking On The Bright Side AJ Looking On The Bright Side  (This writer had arrived to take her place in the circle surrounding the campfire after grabbing up everything she needed to cook plenty of hot dogs, marshmallows, and s'mores. She also had one thermos full of sun tea and another full of pink lemonade. In other words, she was prepared to not have to leave the campfire until the very last person did--that is, unless she had to visit the outhouse.) Since 1987, I have been writing a book in my head. Why since 1987? The reason is because of reading something that helped me to better understand something frightening and confusing that had happened to me back in 1973--and it brought me to the realization that somebody had lied (or, at least, not disclosed the entire truth--as in a case of lying by omission blended with carefully chosen words) to my folks and me. I didn't actually begin writing the book (beyond its being in my head) until The 21st Century when I puttered around with it a bit right here at WDC. Eventually, I would begin to create an actual manuscript. This began early in the century and has been worked on between a great number of other things--everything from sickness, death, and computer problems to a larger number of more pleasant events. Over time as I've learned more, I have expanded the scope of the message I'm sending through this book to where it has actually become several different kinds of messages--as well as a definite maturing of my original message. If this sounds confusing, you'll just have to wait until my book is finished and out there. Would you believe that I have even written a story about the making of this book--or should I say, I WILL write about it when I get to the place in my book where it's time to do so!?! Tonight, I'm actually going to share a passage from my book with you... After taking a hiatus of a week or so from college during which I returned to Anderson and its familiar surroundings, I returned to school deciding to at least finish out the semester and see what happened after that. While in Anderson, I thought about what I would do with my life if I weren't in school. Would I work at Delco-Remy like my folks were doing? I wasn't sure if I were even capable of repetitive factory work and knew that I wasn't up to management jobs such as my folks had. Of course, I could become a wife and mother—but I felt so dead and numb inside at the time that I didn't think it would be fair to marry a guy and have children with him while not having much to give in return. A wife and mother was supposed to be an interactive person, and I just felt like a rag doll who wanted to lie around and sleep all of the time. This feeling just wasn't me, but I didn't know what to do about it except to pray that it would pass soon and I would be back to my old self again. Of course, I wasn't too bad of a writer, if I should say so myself, so I could be a writer—except that gift had also pretty much drained out of me as well. In short, I just really wasn't good for much of anything except being a warm body that some people (such as my mom and dad) were happy to have around. I couldn't even imagine how things would turn out, but I kept praying that I would find the person whom I'd once been. Back in 1973, I could only hope and pray that I would get back to being the person whom I once was. You will have to read my book to learn what the late, great Paul Harvey always referred to as "The Rest Of The Story." Of course, I'll have to finish writing it first. I enjoyed sharing this little excerpt from it with you this evening, but I think it's time to end my turn and pass the talking stick on to the next person. For now, I'm going to enjoy whatever else gets shared around the campfire tonight while stuffing my already overstuffed face... Sum1 Sum1  Startled at being next (I could have sworn I had another 15 minutes at least), I stand, wiping the chocolate from the S'mores off my face with a napkin. I drink heartedly from my glass of tea, and hope within hope that I can match the previous storytellers. Glancing around shyly at my contemporaries, I begin...There are many things in life that I love. One of them is lighthouses. I have a couple, but not near enough. I've made it a point to take pictures of them on my travels whenever I can. But one of my dearest treasures is a simple piece of wood with a 3D representation of a lighthouse on it. Above the lighthouse is a simple message. "Shine, I will always light your way." One day, I once again felt the familiar urge to write, and this poem came to me, based on that picture. Shine ‘Shine’, I will always light your way’ Such simple words on a lighthouse picture Such infinite meaning for love so pure ‘Shine On’ A light, a glimmer of hope, a beacon In times of stress, any time of day I will always light your way My love whispered these simple words Initially, I did not understand their meaning, Perhaps they weren’t completely heard But I always remember, and to them I cling She who lights my life and shows me the way She who loves me every single day Not for who she wants me to be I think of her, and fall to bended knee ‘Shine On’ My Love, think of the love we share, With you in my life, I haven’t a care Cherish every minute we are together, Cry a tear every second apart My heart is yours, our souls unite For we are one in facing life Shine On My Love, I’m right here Loving you, ever more My Dear As I finish, I clear my throat, a little embarassed to be reciting a love poem in this company. I look around the crowd, then glance at the person to my left. "Would you care to contribute something to our humble talk here?" I slowly sit down, being careful of my aching back. Once again I listen, enraptured by the stories and poems being told by the wonderful people in front of the fire.... Salandria I stood up to tell my story and in my excitement, nearly fell on the person sitting next to me. Sorry, hello everyone. My heart raced as I crouched in the dark. Had I been noticed? I glanced around the empty house, just old furniture covered in dust. I went for a walk, it was supposed to be relaxing after a stressful day at work. I hadn't meant to kill anyone honest. What was I supposed to do? They started it. A group of guys were sitting outside and saw me walking. They came over to see if they could convince me to join them. I politely said no and continued walking. Then it gets a bit fuzzy it happened so quickly. One of they guys grabbed my arm and tried to force me back to their house. I take self defense so I knew how to fight so this is when it gets fuzzy I was fighting them off, which at first they thought was funny but then one of them went down. The only problem is he didn't get up. They got really mad and threats were made and they chased me. So here I am hiding in this empty old house. I felt a breath on the back of my neck. I froze. How did they find me. I spun around to face the jerk and screamed when I saw a monster behind me. My mind tried to comprehend what I was seeing. It looked like a giant naked slime covered gorilla. Boy did I chose the wrong house to hid in. [Added by BellaDonna: The young storyteller rushed back to her seat with a blush on her face and the person next to her stood up.] Scarlet Shadow I glanced around nervous not wanting it to be my turn. I was lost in thought when I felt the nudge from the person next to me. Oh God was it my turn already? What was I going to say? Trembling slightly I stood up. I sliced into her flesh slowly, trying to savor a moment I knew wouldn't last. Her muffled screams turned me on as nothing else could. The knife gleamed as I carved into her. I was almost done with the image. It was almost perfect. I smiled to myself. I was definitely getting better at this. I took a step back admiring my work. The beautiful rose I had carved into her lower back was a work of art. The vines were a tricky thing, but I think I got them nicely. Smiling I grabbed my camera. I had to document this it was too beautiful not to. I kept a portfolio of each beautiful work I had created. As I took the picture I wondered how I would end this ones life. I had strangled the last one. It wasn't as satisfying as I had hoped. Maybe I could watch her drown. I haven't done that one yet. I got to work setting up a tank where I could weigh her down and watch her drown. It took me a week to get the supplies I needed. I kept the woman chained in the basement. It was exciting knowing that she was down there. I used that image to get myself ready for my wife. The woman was too stupid for words. I hated her but she was also very useful. The cops rarely looked for a married man when looking for a serial killer. I could use her endlessly and she would be none the wiser. I went down to the basement and undid the woman's restraints. She struggled uselessly trying to escape. Laughing I hauled her into the tank and threw her in. Locking the lid so she couldn't get out I started to fill it with water. This was definitely better than strangling. I could sit back and watch her die. [Added and edited by BellaDonna: This is all I have so far. I just started it. I didn't adequately prepare, the girl said as she walked calmly back to her seat. When she sat, the girl who had went before her put a comforting hand on her shoulder.] arakun the twisted raccoon This fire reminds me of a story that was told one night as a group of friends sat around a fire just like this one. The storyteller swore that every word was true. I'm not sure I believe that, but you decide--One night in the Black Hills, a bunch of us were sittin' around the campfire drinkin' beer and tellin' stories, each one taller than the last. Jim was just finishin' up a whopper of a story about spaceships and elves when two strangers walked out of the woods. I couldn't see their faces too good, but I could see they were both carryin' rifles, so I put my hand on my own gun just in case. "Evenin' folks," said one of the men. As he came into the firelight, I saw a silver star on his vest. He pushed back his hat to reveal a big handlebar mustache and eyes the color of steel. "I'm Sheriff Will Rawlins from over in Silver City and this here's my deputy, Dan Keller. You mind if we share your fire for a spell? It's been a hell of a day." "No, Sheriff, we don't mind at all," I said. "That is, if you don't mind listenin' to some really wild stories." "Heard you tellin' stories when we walked up," said the deputy. "And we got one to top all of 'em." "Now, Dan, don't go borin' the folks with that story," the sheriff said. "Dan here only has one story and he tells it over and over." "Don't pay Will here no mind," Dan chuckled. "This ain't his favorite story but every word of it is true. It happened right here in the Black Hills about two years ago. An outlaw named Jack Barnett and his gang had robbed the bank up in Deadwood and shot a deputy while they were makin' their getaway. They tried to hit the bank in Silver City the next day but me and Will were waitin' for 'em. Ol' Jack's horse threw him in the fight, but the rest of the gang got away. Anyway, a couple days later, me and Will were takin' Jack up to Deadwood to get hanged. I told Will we shouldn't oughta do it alone, but he figured Jack's gang would scatter like spooked horses without their leader. We were halfway up the trail through Hell Canyon when five of 'em jumped us. Now you might know that Hell Canyon got its name because it's hell gettin' in and hell gettin' out, so all we could do was go like the devil and hope we could ride faster than they could shoot. We weren't countin' on eight more of em waitin' for us just around the bend." Dan sat back, stared at the fire, and puffed his cigar. "Go ahead," growled Will, standing up. "Finish the blamed story and get it over with." "Yeah, tell us what happened," I said. "How did you get away?" Dan stubbed out the cigar and got to his feet. "That's just it," he chuckled. "We didn't." Both men tipped their hats, and vanished into thin air. [The woman smiled enigmatically and returned to her seat.] Richard_freeman I got up, cool and concentrated. Everyone before me had been either over-energized or shy. I had a bit of experience in public speaking so the gazes of interest and criticism. My eyes closed and without a slight sign of doubt or fear I spoke. “Once upon a time there was this man without a face who wondered off to a white and black land. There, people were all white and black. Some wore masks that smiled and others such that frowned. They kept away from him, because he had neither face nor mask. And so he walked in the land of the white and black alone. He found nothing of interest there. The land itself was a barren waste filled with black and white buildings, which all resembled each other so much. Ash and dust covered the ground and flew in the air with his every step. These puppets all looked at each other with frowns and smiles and scratched, beat and ate. Everything! He felt more faceless with every step he took in this tasteless country of masquerade and deceit. Once, as he was crossing a hollow city full of extended hands that tried to take off each other’s masks, he saw something extraordinary. It was a shining silhouette of a woman! Not a white…, not a dark female, but the glittering outlines of a femme fatal, that drove the masked men wild and blinded the females and made them fade in the outline of a shadow. Her glow as if glimmered, over the masks and melted them slowly and without them realizing, their slick, featureless heads were revealed. In their stupor, which this sacred beauty emanated, they did not see how the goddess grew tired and moved above their meaningless existence. The man could not let something as pure as her get away. He walked and then ran towards the light, and the closer he got the more transparent he felt his body turn. The brighter it got, the heavier his limps became. As his shadow grew taller, he started seeing the features of his goddess. The man extended his arms towards her and that is when she saw him and her face was not one of disgust or irritation but one of happiness and vigor. She grabbed his arm and the warmth crawled gently down his arm and into his very soul. Suddenly out of jealousy, the faceless white and black people pulled him away from her. She flew away slowly in the air… like a dream flies away from the mind, but that did not matter to him anymore. He was no longer a faceless man! There was a beautiful smile written all over his well-shaped face. The white and black people let him go and left him gazing at his hand. In it he was holding a lovely feather!” My short story ended and as I looked around I saw their mixed reactions. With a word of gratitude I took a step back and sat. BellaDonna When Richard took his seat, I stood and held up my hand to quiet the muttering that his story had started. It took a few minutes for the discussions to die down, but when they did I had my guests full attention. I waited another moment, enjoying the theatrics that this unique circle allowed. "Hello, my friends. I have enjoyed your stories tonight, but now it is time to rest. The next round will commence tomorrow at sundown. Sleep well." It was on the next night, when the sun was just a sliver on the horizon, that the group returned to sit around the already blazing fire. I smiled at the new additions to the group as they found a place among their comrades. It was really amazing to have this large a group. Already, it was larger than the group I had formed before. This Camp was really going to be a success. "Hello, again, my friends. I hope you have spent the day preparing for tonight's campfire. Tonight, I will speak first. The poem I have to share tonight is called Fooled. I hope you like it." I loved like a child, more innocent than was wise. I loved like a woman and that love was blind. How could I have been fooled by his tender, caring kisses? All I have I have left is my heart, broken. Would life be better if I had never spoken? How could I have been fooled by his tender, caring kisses? I went to him like a wide-eyed child. I confessed my love as my heart beat wild. How could I have been fooled by his tender, caring kisses? His back went rigid; his face became a mask. The words he gave me, I knew were the last. How could I have been fooled by his tender caring kisses? My face was flushed as I sat back down and I hoped that no one would notice in the flickering firelight. The person next to me stood and... Rose Montgomery I stand up once more, a big smile on my face as I have enjoyed listening to everyone's stories. I have another poem to share, and I am excited to do so."This poem is called Thunderstorm," I say to the gathered writers. "I was sitting outside one day, in the middle of a thunderstorm, while I wrote it. I was actually trying to draw, but I'm not the best artist. I figured that writing was my best bet to capture the storm, so that's where this poem came from. So, here I go."{ I take a deep breath and begin to speak in a clear voice./b} The menacing clouds come rolling in I shiver in a jacket thin. The cold wind blows across the way, In this place I cannot stay. In my perch upon the tree, Far away lightning I can see. Thunder claps above my head, I wish I was home, in my bed. Thunder claps and lightning flashes, In the creek I hear the splashes. So much rain; it’ll overflow, Where, oh where can I go? Hail begins to pelt the ground While rains drops scatter all around. The thunderstorm has arrived And hopefully we will survive. The water level begins to rise, The top of the creek is its prize. The creek will flood the land around, And the soak the dry, grassy ground. The rushing rapids are raging past, All the currents flow too fast. That dry ground needed a shower, In order to grow all the flowers. I must capture this moment, I must prevail. To run for shelter would be akin to fail. But the storm is growing; I can’t wait, I go inside, but that I hate. I sit down again, and motion for the next person to begin their story as I wait eagerly. AJ Looking On The Bright Side I can't believe it's my turn already! Let me finish eating this hot dog, and, then, I'll share a little parody with you that will also be finding its place in the pages of my upcoming book,,,The Twelve Places Of Employment At my first place of employment, my employer gave to me A raise in my salary. At my second place of employment, my employer gave to me Dinner for two And a raise in my salary. At my third place of employment, my employer gave to me Three leering looks, Dinner for two, And a raise in my salary. At my fourth place of employment, my employer gave to me Four nights in Paris, Three leering looks, Dinner for two, And a raise in my salary. At my fifth place of employment, my employer gave to me FIVE OVEN BUNS!!!!!! Four nights in Paris, Three leering looks, Dinner for two, And a raise in my salary. At my sixth place of employment, my employer gave to me Six "You are WHAT!?!!!!!"s. . . FIVE OVEN BUNS!!!!!! Four nights in Paris, Three leering looks, Dinner for two, And a raise in my salary. At my seventh place of employment, my employer gave to me Seven "~!@#$%^&*!!! You did it on purpose to trap me!"s, Six "You are WHAT!?!!!!!"s. . . FIVE OVEN BUNS!!!!!! Four nights in Paris, Three leering looks, Dinner for two, And a raise in my salary. At my eighth place of employment, my employer gave to me Eight "The little SOBs don't look a thing like me!"s, Seven "~!@#$%^&*!!! You did it on purpose to trap me!"s, Six "You are WHAT!?!!!!!"s. . . FIVE OVEN BUNS!!!!!! Four nights in Paris, Three leering looks, Dinner for two, And a raise in my salary. At my ninth place of employment, my employer gave to me Nine "You can't prove they're mine!"s, Eight "The little SOBs don't look a thing like me!"s, Seven "~!@#$%^&*!!! You did it on purpose to trap me!"s, Six "You are WHAT!?!!!!!"s. . . FIVE OVEN BUNS!!!!!! Four nights in Paris, Three leering looks, Dinner for two, And a raise in my salary. At my tenth place of employment, my employer gave to me Ten "~!@#$%^&* paternity tests!"s, Nine "You can't prove they're mine!"s, Eight "The little SOBs don't look a thing like me!"s, Seven "~!@#$%^&*!!! You did it on purpose to trap me!"s, Six "You are WHAT!?!!!!!"s. . . FIVE OVEN BUNS!!!!!! Four nights in Paris, Three leering looks, Dinner for two, And a raise in my salary. At my eleventh place of employment, my employer gave to me Eleven "If my wife finds out, I'll be singing first soprano!"s, Ten "~!@#$%^&* paternity tests!"s, Nine "You can't prove they're mine!"s, Eight "The little SOBs don't look a thing like me!"s, Seven "~!@#$%^&*!!! You did it on purpose to trap me!"s, Six "You are WHAT!?!!!!!"s. . . FIVE OVEN BUNS!!!!!! Four nights in Paris, Three leering looks, Dinner for two, And a raise in my salary. At my twelfth place of employment, my employer gave to me Twelve-million in hush-money, Eleven "If my wife finds out, I'll be singing first soprano!"s, Ten "~!@#$%^&* paternity tests!"s, Nine "You can't prove they're mine!"s, Eight "The little SOBs don't look a thing like me!"s, Seven "~!@#$%^&*!!! You did it on purpose to trap me!"s, Six "You are WHAT!?!!!!!"s. . . FIVE OVEN BUNS!!!!!! Four nights in Paris, Three leering looks, Dinner for two, And a raise in my salary. (Obviously, I no longer really "need" the last-- but I never turn down money, honey!) After sharing the parody, I grab a couple of Kosher dill pickles, ask if there's any ice cream around, and sit back down to listen to the others... Sum1 I stand and look around at my comrades. I wonder at the crowd. It's larger than it was last time I stood, did I fall asleep and miss something? For a brief moment, I imagine that they have heard about this campfire, where great stories and poems are told. Stories of yester year, poems of epic proportions. I even imagine that they came here just to listen to me. Then AJ nudges me and whispers, "Come on old man, it's my turn soon, and I have a whopper to tell." Startled out of my reverie, I begin....Have you ever listened closely to windchimes? I have, and I often lose myself in their sweet song. At many times in my life I have been in love with a beautiful woman. Yes, each was beautiful, maybe not in physical appearance, but beautiful to me just the same. On one occasion, we lived in seaprate states, but chatted every night on line. One night she wasn't there because in her real life, she had an outing with friends. I sat there alone contemplating life in general, when a gentle wind began to blow. It was fairly hot out, so this breeze was a welcome respite. As I sat there, I imagined her next to me. The breeze became her voice, whispering softly in my ear. These are the words I heard. If I could count the times, I’ve heard the wind blown chimes Their notes so soft and sweet, Pealing beautifully down the street The message that I hear, Is heard so loud and clear, Your name whispered through the air Telling me that you are near I look around to see, If you are indeed close by But all there seems to be, Is emptiness by my side But if I listen even more To the pealing of the chimes, A feeling fills my core, I know that you’ll be mine So I wait the hours alone, Listening to the chimes But I’m not alone at home, You’re with me all the time Knowing that the now group saw me as the romantic I am, I glanced around, then took my seat once more. But not before grabbing another hot dog and glass of tea. Wait, are those cookies over there? Salandria I stood to tell the rest of my tale. I would like to continue where I left off.The monster grabbed me by the hair an dragged me towards the back of the room. I tried to get free of it's grasp no luck it was too strong. I screamed again, this time in anger, monsters weren't real this couldn't be happening. The monster continued to pull me deeper into the house. "Let me go!" It stopped and smiled a lopsided toothy grin. "Not yet." It drooled as it spoke. Surprised it could talk I stopped fighting. "What are you going to do to me?" It smiled wider showing it's sharp crooked teeth. "Once I am done playing you wont want to leave." It sounded confident. I screamed again. It picked me up like I was a child and carried me down into the basement. I fought it with all I had but it just threw me down roughly on the ground. It took off the rags it had on an it proved to be very male and very excited. A young couple stepped into the light. "Don't worry young lady the woman said, I know he seems scary but once he shows you how wonderful it is you'll feel better. The man stepped forward "Yes dear he is wonderful. I screamed again and tried to get up and run but the couple stepped in front of me an the creature was behind me.... [Added by Bella: The young woman sat and gestured to her twin. It seemed she was done for the night.] Scarlet Shadow I stood up uneasily. and promptly vomited on my twin... sorry. haha nerves. Can I pass this time? Oh I guess I could give it a try... Well I believe I left off with the mad man watching a woman drown. The man watched as the woman struggled and had a moment of true inspiration. He grabbed his camera and began taking pictures. It was art in its truest form. Placing his camera gently down, he grabbed his sketch book and began to capture the perfection he had created. So engrossed in what he was doing he had lost track of time. He was almost late getting back to his stupid bitch of a wife. She would be home in a few minutes. He regretted having to stop, but there was nothing he could do to help it. He put everything away and locked up. He hummed tunelessly as he climbed the stairs. It was going to be a fun night. He barely finished cleaning up when she came in. He kissed her and said, " Lets go out for dinner tonight, I already pulled something out for you to wear." She sighed she really wanted to rest but if he had gone through the trouble of picking something out for her the least she could do was go out. He definitely had good taste. He had chosen a sleek blue dress that showed all of her finest curves. He watched her as she put it on. She went slowly knowing that's what he wanted. She gave him a quickie before they left. Dinner was kinda boring at first. Some snotty upscale place her husband liked. But he was in a mood that turned exciting. About halfway through the meal he whispered, " Lets do something crazy." She giggled and asked, "What did you have in mind?" .. I wanted to continue but my stomach turned and I nearly vomited again. Instead I motioned for the next person that it was their turn. Carmela Moonblood "I brought a couple of pieces with me, but which one do I read. Which one is suitable?" I stood up slowly and drew out a orange piece of paper out of my pocket. "I guess this one will do!"Don't you ever get bored of being stood on! Every day, I get pulled out of the nice cupboard to be put on someones feet. These feet make me stink. I hate smelling bad, but I haven't got much choice as I can't wash myself. There is one good thing about being a shoe. I get to see sights that not everything would see. I have now seen westminster when I was in the london eye and I have seen the eiffel tower complicated structure when walking up it. I do feel sorry for something I do without meaning, quite often, I find myself staring at a bug that is about to be squashed by me. How could I? I always try and stop it, but there isn't much I can do to stop the person wearing me. There is a lot of pain involved in being a shoe. I get stabbed with nearly every step by little stones and I also kick things, sometimes footballs but sometimes wall and floors. What possess the person to kick walls and floors? Another problem is gum, disgusting people spit there gum on the floor and then they get stuck to me. It is so uncomfy for me to have something stuck on me. The worst time in my life is my end, when I get put in the bin. The dreaded bin, I have lasted about 8 months now. I know I don't have much time left. Today I am going out to the park. Quite a simple thing, you would think but not for me. I have to stare at grey pavement when I am walked on and then I have to be tickled as grass is surrounding me. Suddenly I hear a squelch and feel a sudden cool wetness beneath me. Dog poo! Just beautiful, the shoe next to me sniggers as I put up with the smell of what I just landed in Now would be the time that I see the most beautiful shoe I have ever seen. She would ignore because of what I was covered in. She was a flip-flop, a beautiful bright orange shoe. Wow! Curse the owner of me. One day, I will get some sort of revenge and I will show him what it's like to love at first sight then have that taken away from you because of what you look like and smell like. Time to play football, brilliant. My day is going from bad to worse. What is the point of life, I may as well be binned now! I can't say much about the football, it just reminds me of pain, pure pain that will not stop for thirty minutes after the football. Have I ever said how some of my friends are destroyed playing this game and only last a day or two. That is terrible. Why can't I have any control over what I do with my life? Instead stupid humans run it and ruin it pretty fast. I would rather be sat in the cupboard than destroyed in a few days. The cupboard is warm and usually dark, I don't like the dark but you get used to it. My days over and I am sat in the cupboard again. The easiest place to relax. I smile to myself at this quick piece and gestured to the person next to me. arakun the twisted raccoon "Hey, quit poking me! It can't be my turn already. Oh, it is? I'm sorry, I'm not myself today."Let's see, what kind of story can I pull off the top of my head? What kind of supernatural creature should I talk about this time? Vampires--no, they've been done to death. Werewolves, no werewolf stories are too hair raising. Mummies--no, they're all wrapped up in themselves. I know, I'll tell them a story about my favorite supernatural creatures, shapeshifters." Listen everyone, because you are in grave danger right now. In these woods dwells a clan of bandits. They are led by a matriarch who is older than the trees themselves and who possesses all the wisdom of the forest. The bandits are creatures of the night, able to see in the dark better than you can in daylight. Nothing of value is safe when they are around. They laugh at fences, locks and guard dogs. Often one member of the family will distract unsuspecting travelers while her relatives steal them blind. I can't describe them, because nobody has ever seen them in their true form. It is said that they can transform themselves into a duplicate of any person, any animal of the forest, or even--Oh, my god, look at that tree, it has a face, it's moving, its--! As the startled campers turn in the direction of the perfectly ordinary tree, I transform into my true form, a raccoon, and slip away. I hope my story gave my children enough time to do what I asked them to do. If they were able to steal all the hot dogs and s'more ingredients, we'll be able to eat for weeks. "Billy for the last time, the marshmallows are clean. Go ahead and eat them. You don't need to wash them first." Captain Carousel My turn, hmm... I think I've got a poem that suits the moment,With orange fire glowing on, You'd not believe who sees, Who breathes and leers before the dawn, And skulks about with ease. For you see, my friends, our backs are turned, And the undergrowth's alive, And we know not what fate we've earned, Or when it will arrive. And I wonder who'll first feel its breath, Its hot smoke down their back, And in their fear will hope for death, In the midst of the attack. So pretend to listen to these tales, While your eyes just dart around, Keep biting on your shattered nails, And hope that you'll be found. [Added by Bella: The young man smiled and returned to his seat as the others around the campfire clapped.] BellaDonna Hello, again, everyone. I am so glad that your all here, but I have to say the lack of preparedness on some parts is astonishing. Those of you that haven't spoken yet, especially. I am sorry to say that I am disappointed. Sigh... well, I guess the show must go on. the next round will commence shortly. Thank you for listening and tonight I will begin with a poem called Atone.I sit in a place outside time where this is no reason; there is no rhyme. I sit here because I have died. I have nothing left to give inside. My reason to live has gone away. It has left me fumbling to find my way. It left me here to sit, atone, to contemplate why I'm alone. And as I sit, I fail to see just what is really wrong with me. With a sad sigh, I sat and gestured to the writer next to me. Sum1 Gosh, time flies by so fast. I've been sitting here watching each of you, reminiscing about the past. I remember a time a few years ago, when my family loved sitting around fires like this telling stories. My Uncle Dave told the best ones. But fires weren't the only things that drew us together for stories. We used to love having potluck dinners at someone's house. This is a limerick about one of those times,,,,A Potluck Family Dinner Aunt Suzy made chicken for dinner, So good, t’was really a winner, Now the chicken was stuffed, With marshmallows fluffed, Was really fat, not thinner. Aunt Betty provided the pie, Was the apple of my eye, Had peaches and cherries, And other types of berries, Its crust was surely dry. Cousin Mary, she made the gravy, Her specialty from the Navy, Was blue like the ocean, Her own secret potion, When stirred, it was quite wavy. Uncle Mark, he brought the wine, Made with grapes from his own vine, But it tasted like beer, Which I found a bit queer, But still, it was very fine. And I provided the bread, It baked while I was in bed, Okay, it wasn’t homemade, To get it, I dearly paid, The baker, I'd have to wed. Now we all had quite the feast, Together our meal had been pieced, What brought us all together? In this very foul weather? Why, a meal to honor the deceased For my Uncle Dave is dead, Fell while getting out of bed. Tripped on a sock, That had been wrapped around a rock, You weren’t thinking rock, but something else instead. I look around smugly, knowing that most of you didn't have 'rock' in your mind as I recited this. I smile at everyone's slight discomfort, and slowly walk to the fire. Anyone ever walk through fire? Let's give it a try! But honestly, you go first, then I will, as long as you don't wince or show any signs of pain. What? No takers? Dang, guess I'll have to enjoy more s'mores and other tasty snacks. I slowly take my seat, easing myself down so as not to irritate my back again. I lean back and relax, listening to the person next to me begin their story.... Salandria sighing I stood and glanced around. "I would like to change it up a bit I have a new story to tell I hope you like it."I saw a woman standing by the side of the road, she looked so lost and confused I had to stop. "Excuse me are you all right?" She was wearing a 50's stile waitress outfit. "I need to get back to the diner." I don't usually pick up strangers but she seemed a bit desperate so I said, hope in I will take you." "Thank you so much."She got in and said."it's not far to drive but it is a bit of a walk." "It's no problem." I smiled. "I was thinking about stopping to rest for a bit anyway. Driving through the night is tougher than I expected. My name is Loshana. "Oh thank you again, I am Marie." A few miles down the road she pointed to a small sign that read The Happy Place best food around. "There it is dear." I pulled into the parking lot an we both got out. I opened to door to the diner and the sent of hamburgers and fries made my mouth water. "I'll tell Frankie to fry you up something special as a thank you." I started to protest but she insisted. After my meal I went on my way. I didn't get far because of a horrible accident involving six cars blocked the road. I thought wow I am glad I picked up Marie. I turned around to go back to the diner an thank Marie she just saved my life! When I got to the diner I was shocked to see the building was burnt and old. I looked around confused. I saw a man collecting cans and ran over to him "Sir What happened to the diner?" "There hasn't been a diner hear for thirty years." I smiled and sat back down glancing at my twin "Please don't throw up on me again." Scarlet Shadow I stood quietly trying to remember where I had left off. Emptiness is all that came to mind. I looked around nervously hoping to find some clue to where I had left off. Then my twin said," Please don't throw up on me." Which brought me back instantly. Smiling I started my tale again...The Husband was contemplating something wicked." Go to the bathroom and remove your underwear then come back and stand at the bar." The wife smiled understanding exactly what he intended. For a brief moment the man felt a faint whisper of feeling for the stupid woman. Maybe she wasn't as stupid as he thought. He shook the thought away and went over to the bar. She was there bent over leaning on the bar. He came up behind her when he was close enough to do so without being noticed, he slipped his cock out and into her. He made slow movements so as not to attract attention. She struggled not to make any sound as he slid in and out of her. He nearly got them caught when he started moving faster and moaned with pleasure. Luckily it went unheard because of some football game going into overtime or something. When he finished he told her to go get cleaned up so they could finish the meal. The rest of the meal went by without much excitement. The man couldn't help but think perhaps his wife wasn't as useless as he originally thought. She knew what made him happy and did it without question or complaint. When they got home he shoved her down onto the stairs saying, " Lets do it right here." She smiled and lifted herself enough to make it easier for him to enter her. He took her hard this time. shoving into her until she screamed his name. He wondered what should would think if she knew what he was. He contemplated telling her but dismissed it almost instantly. She wasn't ready for that yet. Maybe he could test her a bit. Tell her something small and see what she does. It would be a shame to lose her. If she reacted badly he would have to kill her. He decided to sleep on it. The wife smiled as she watched her husband sleep. She like him had a secret. She knew all about his nasty little hobbies. Well I am going to leave it there. I smiled as I motioned to the next person to go. I didn't throw up this time. AJ Looking On The Bright Side I have decided to share a book review that I've just written. I hope you enjoy it and will be encouraged to buy the book I've reviewed here, the one that came before it, and the one that is due to come out to complete this medical mystery trilogy skillfully written by Dr. Michael Rushnak. The names of the books are Terminal Neglect, The Savior Vaccine, and Denied.Who Left That Severed Head Lying In A Park--And Why!?! Not too far into The Savior Vaccine, you'll encounter a severed head lying in a park, sandwiched between two sharp-edged stones! You might have your suspicions re: who had done this and why, but it will be near the end of this page-turner that you'll learn the identity of the killer and his motive. Will it be a surprise or not? There are plenty of violent deaths in The Savior Vaccine, but none of them are, in my opinion, just placed within the pages of this novel as what is often called "gratuitous violence." No, there is definitely a purpose for each death--whether talking about individual deaths or large numbers of people being killed. All of this seems to (mainly) center around whether or not a new, (supposedly) cancer-fighting vaccine called NeoBloc is safe to take. Even before the severed head was found, there was a tragic slaughter of many people of all ages--and this is how the story begins: with the 46th President Of The United States learning that her sister was among those who were at ground zero when a Uranium bomb went off in Minneapolis! Her sister and others in that area were killed instantly--vaporized by the bomb--but there were others who were far enough away to survive yet close enough that it would be likely that they would be getting some form of deadly cancer due to fallout exposure. This is why President Jane Williams is so anxious to get NeoBloc out there to the masses. However, she will be having trouble getting The Surgeon General (Dr. Jonathan Rogers) to go along with this without further investigation, because he has good reason to believe that NeoBloc might end up doing more harm than good--MUCH more harm than good!!! What information has he been given--and, if he truly has said information, why doesn't it seem to be available anymore? Is there any other way to get proof other than the way that is no longer available to him? What motive(s) do various ones have for getting it out there to the public? Are those motives well-meaning? Based on political ambitions? Based on greed? Based on something even more sinister than political ambitions and greed? The answer varies from individual to individual... How about the motives NOT to have it issued as planned? Are all of those motives pure? Before I end this review, I want to give you a few thoughts... President Williams is the 46th President--which means that she's the second person to hold the office after the end of the 44th President's time in office. The 44th President is our currant one: President Obama. Since there's talk about working towards her re-election, this means that she's in her first four years--and, according to the novel, is in the first part of that. If you have read Terminal Neglect, you will know that she wasn't an elected President but, instead, had to take the reins while still Vice-President. Whether President Obama turns out to be a single-term President or else stays in The White House for another four-year term, we still aren't thinking about this story being set way off in the future. It is almost the here and now!!! Could there really be a "MAD" attack on our country in the near future from without--and how about from within!?! Is it possible that the author (a medical doctor) knows something that most of us don't know which has motivated him to write the trilogy of Terminal Neglect, The Savior Vaccine, and (soon to come out) Denied!?! I believe that Dr. Michael Rushnak has created this trilogy not only for entertainment purposes but, also, to warn us to stay alert in hopes of nipping this worst case scenario in the bud before it even has the chance to blossom! One more thing before I pass the talking stick to the next storyteller, Michael has recently announced that you can get a really great deal on this book by going here: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/64218 In his words: "Special Promotion--20% off the price of THE SAVIOR VACCINE if you purchase your eBook--good on the Nook and the I-Pad through the Smashwords Epub format. Just register with Smashwords using this link (takes a minute) and insert the following coupon code (AS97D) to get the 20% discount. Select the Epub format to download to the Nook and Apple I pad. (If you have a Kindle, you must directly go through Amazon--not through Smashwords) The price of THE SAVIOR VACCINE using this coupon is $7.99!! Enjoy!!" I think that Michael is simply amazing, and I hope you'll look him up on Facebook and tell him that Ainsley Jo Phillips sent you. Keaton Foster is not me! [Added by Bella: A man stands up and, without pause, begins.]Fearing the MAD attack or even worse, four more years of Obama he turns to Jesus. Just in case… Does Heaven Need A Dishwasher? Jesus who are you why did you come here only to leave so soon. I would prefer to have my sin if you would not have to be dead, I didn't ask for such a thing. He has risen is something said, such an unexplainable thing. They call you the king of kings, the son of man, and the deliverer of our kind. Nothing like a little pressure friend. I would think that people would benefit greatly from seeing you in person over seeing you hanging from a cross, such a thing as death seems quite permanent. They say you arose to your feet after a few days of some much deserved sleep. How did you managed to move that massive stone, and then fly off into the unknown. Superman ain't got nothing on you. They call where you live Heaven, its somewhere between the Earth and the endless sky. All that have ever lived in the name of your passing are said to reside within your kingdom of light, far beyond the darkness of night and the casualties of life. It sounds like Disneyland but without any rides. I wanna go there but I fear that I have been far less than a Christian and more of a comedian. Apparently and unfunny one. I have been saved, what an ordeal that was, after all I can't swim. I have accepted you as my king but then again I have written some ridiculous things about you and all that you represent. I stand tall behind freewill and my right to express. I fear nothing (except clowns) because you taught me that. I often say that you must have a hell of a sense of humor. The problem is when I do, no one ever laughs. I know Jesus that my assumption is the truth, God I can only hope. It is said that when we die we go to Heaven and stand at the gates; waiting in line there, we remain until Saint Peter says right this way. Once we are inside your kingdom of light we are given something to do because let's face it eternity is a continuous loop and with nothing to do It will feel like…well, an eternity. A priest once told me that our Christian way of life and our work in the name of God determines our place in Heaven. If that is the case then I fear I will be shoveling shit or digging a really big ditch. Maybe even taking out the trash or giving baths to cats. God, anything but that. I could write you some rhymes or a song about being so divine. Maybe a story about being alive, say stuck on an island with nothing but pie. Or in the shoes of a private eye helping a damsel in distress find out if her guy is stepping out on her at night. This wonderful gift you gave me could certainly carry over to Heaven, but if I didn't, I must confess that I would not regret any of this. Therefore, Jesus whatever you deem fit I will not complain a single bit. But before all of that I was wondering does Heaven need a dishwasher? If so I could do that I am really good at pans and I almost never get Dishpan hands… [Added by Bella: He sits again and gestures theatrically to the person next to him.] arakun the twisted raccoon My friends, do the shadows around us frighten you? Close your eyes and lets leave these dark woods and this fire behind. Imagine yourselves on the sunny plains of Africa. Nothing frightneing could happen out in the bright sunshine, could it?Though it was still early in the morning, the sun was so hot that it seemed to scorch the sky. The savannah was unusually quiet. The animals, birds, and even the buzzing flies had taken shelter from the oppressive heat. A pride of lions was on the move, heading for the nearest water hole. A big male shook his heavy mane out of his eyes and snarled at a half-grown cub who was in his way. His throat felt like it was filled with dust and he was thirsty enough to swallow half the water hole by himself. Come here... The big cat stopped and turned his head in the direction of the voice, every muscle in his body on instant alert. Nothing was there except a big old baobab tree standing like an island in the sea of grass. Come closer... The lion stood stood staring at the tree, ignoring the rest of the pride as they continued without him. Suddenly he was so tired that he forgot all about being thirsty. The shade of the twisted old tree looked so inviting. Maybe he would just lie down and take a little nap. He walked over to the tree and lay down in its shade. That's right. Stay here. Sleeeep... As the lion drifted off to sleep, the heavy vines hanging from an overhead branch began to move. Several vines drifted down, twisting toward the sleeping lion. When they reached the ground, they suddenly reared up and wrapped themselves around the lion like a mass of wriggling snakes. Instantly awake, the lion slashed at the vines with his claws and roared, but the roar was silenced as the vines wrapped around his neck. Gnarled roots pulled themselves from the ground and pulled the lion toward the tree where a gaping mouth opened up to swallow him. Seconds later, the lion was gone, and the tree stood silent and unmoving, except for one vine swinging on the wind. A hunter resting on a nearby rock blinked and shook his head. The heat must have made his mind play tricks on him, because he could have sworn he just saw a tree swallow a lion. He stood up and began walking back to his village when he heard a whisper. Come here... He was suddenly very tired. Richard_freeman I stood up, leaving this folk tale at the back of my mind, and began my story."While she was heading back home one night, Milvena met a man of evil. He was not like any other man she had met before. He was young and energetic, tall and well-built, with a long black hair that hang around his face, covering his big black eyes. Those eyes of his stood still between his eye lids and not a tremble could be sensed in them. His hands did not moved while his legs pushed him slowly as if with grace. His glare- a dim, silent hammer, had hit her first of all, and frozen her slightly plump body. Then her eyes saw the knife in his hands and shock knocked the sense in her, as she made a step back. But the man of evil did not even noticed it. His steady, monotonous pace was working its way to the darkest corners of her brain- waking nightmares that she had not yet met. And then her torso shivered and the sound of his feet crunching on the the ground vibrated all over her skin. Now she could not make another step, even though he had almost got to her. She suddenly felt her legs had made a few steps back on their own, as if her whole entity was trying to escape the stun this man of evil had cast upon her. Milvena made another step back and felt her leg hit something behind, and without even realizing it, her face and eyes had come off this tiger of the night and focused behind her. She had almost forgotten where she was. This old city of decay and ruins, where remnants of the past's glory were left to the mercy of mother nature.It was in one of those remnants' rock blocks that she had al,pst tripped upon. Veliko Turnovo- once a proud capital of a great nation now was but a small city with dwindling population, a shadow of its former self which streets were filled with gangsters and junkies... and him! "Him!" her mind cried out as her head turned around to see him next to her. Their eyes met and she could finally see that his face was crimson- as if a part of some mating retual. Her large breasts spread out as she breathed in. That second she felt his right hand crawl through her bosom and as Milvena opened her mouth to shout she was ceased by his cold, thin fingers. "Do not worry! I wish u no harm." a cruel lie no doubt, but suddenly fell down on the ground. She realized that the blood on his face was none other but his and without even realizing it crouched next to him. As she snapped out of it she stood up and took a step back. "Are you alright?" she feebly said a few seconds later. "I am now. I have killed so many, and would have killed many more, including you, but I stopped myself." he breathed hard as he showed her the bloody blade. His hand convulsed and the knife fell on the cold ground with a noisy clatter. She stood next to him, watching in awe as this man of evil was taking his last breathes of life. "This is the only way I can atone for all the horror I caused to so many." he said, not a glimps of regret or remorse in his eyes, but a strange smile. He slowly breathed in, and as he watched Milvena in the eyes he grinned even more and his head drooped. Milvena ran as fast as she could now, as far away as she could, not realising her whole mouth was covered in blood, because she was trying to forget the man of evil, she met that night, when she was heading back home." I finished and threw the stick at the next person. Then sat. Ruler of the Werecats She stands slowly, well aware of all the eyes on her embarrassed by the sickness that had kept her abed for so long and began to recite... She had been alone for going on 19 years. All though middle school and high school she hid behind an individualistic front, never letting on how lonely she felt watching her friends dating while she remained single. In the back of her mind she’d always wonder, “maybe he’ll be different” whenever she met someone new. It would never be true though; the guys already had someone else or were just jerks. Nearly a full year after graduating high school, she finally stepped into the dating game. He was just graduating that year himself, putting a year younger than her 19 years. Who would’ve believed a simple year would make them so different. For a month or two things were okay, but then he started to act like he wasn’t that committed. She’d call just to talk or suggest something they could do together, but he wouldn’t answer and she wouldn’t hear back from him for days. Spending time with his friends and packing were much more important to him. He went away to school and things just got worse. She’d call or text at the wrong time (he was either asleep or in class) and then not hear back for weeks. He finally texted, TEXTED mind you, and broke up with her. In doing so he also broke her previously unblemished heart. Relieved that she was finally able to speak her peace, she passed the stick onto the next person and retook her seat, warming her hands on the fire as she tucked the warm blanket back around her body. BellaDonna I sighed as I looked around the campfire at the many who had participated in this spectacular conference. They were all so different and so similar. It was interesting to watch the interactions between stories. The pats on the back from older authors supporting the younger, the joking atmosphere, and the new friendships being formed. The sun would come up soon and then the campfire would go out and the conference would be over. I would be sad to see them go, but I hope they come back for more the next time around. Slowly, I stood and the camp quieted. Patient and impatient eyes all turned to me. Thank you all for coming. I appreciate the support that you've all given me. I also want to point out to those of you with a certain obliviousness that we've recently received an awardicon. Thanks to all of you for making this such a success. To begin the next and final go-around, I'l start us off with a poem that has always been close to my heart. Piano Man. A handsome devil passionately playing, slowly swaying. Piano man, my piano man Smirk on his face, focused gaze. Fingers, long and quick. He’s a musical genius. A classic romantic. He’s the piano man, My piano man Divine melodies send hearts drifting, pulses soaring. Piano man, my piano man Music that whispers to the hopeless drifters. Melodies that dance in the wind. And it goes without saying that my piano man’s playing. He’s the piano man, My piano man I took my seat gesturing to the person next to me to step up and take their turn. Carmela Moonblood My go? Uhhhh....Eyes Of Wonder Her sparkling blue eyes, staring into mine. What was she? What were they, the amazing things that are in front of me? No time passes as I stare, into her wonderful world. Don't make me leave, the goddess will cry! What will happen then? [Added By Bella: The woman sat back in her seat and gestured regally to the person next to her.] Keaton Foster is not me! Jesus Stole My Buick By Keaton FosterSpeeding away, Down the old dusty road Behind my home goes my Buick. I may never see again this time. Unless I stop him once and for all. I would give chase but I feel it would be pointless. I know all too well whom it Is behind the wheel. Last Sunday he did the same thing. It's my neighbor again. I recognize him from a Statue of his likeness that stands outside The Christian church that I attend. Last time when I caught him in the act, I ran out the door and yelled hey you! A polite voice said, yes my son? I quickly replied you are no father of mine, You are stealing my most treasured ride. Remember commandment number eight Thou shall not steal I screamed! You actually believe that crap For Christ sakes! He so eagerly replied. I am not stealing your Buick, I am just borrowing it. I need to get to town, I am late for first services At Church again. Why Christians meet at 7 a.m. On a Sunday is beyond me. I will bring your car back, I promise. I would not lie, After all, I am the son of man. Trust me, he yelled as he sped away. Screaming, yelling And cursing his very name I hopped on my bike and Followed close behind To myself I said, That son of a bitch! I mean not literally of course. In no time I found My way to the church In the center of town. Like before I followed the Trail of oil that led the way to Where my precious Buick had gone. This is not the first time, Jesus has stolen my ride. Nope not at all, In fact he has stolen It many of times. Like always he is easy to find, After all where else would he be on a Sunday. I mean really come on The guy only works two days a week. The rest of the time, he is drinking cheap beer And mowing lawns for extra cash. Like before I approached him standing At the altar, I prepared to scold him For stealing my Buick yet again. I thought of turning him in this time, But to tell ya the truth I am not sure If his papers are in line. I mean if he gets deported who is Gonna mow our lawns and pick our fruits? I don't know about you but I don't Want those crappy jobs. I would call the police, but not even I Am mean enough to turn in the savior Of all humanity. I am gonna play it safe just in case he is Not as all forgiving as the good book Tells us he is. So I would handle it as I have The many of times before. I ran inside and before The entire congregation I shouted at the top of my voice Jesus H.Christ! Amen, They so eagerly replied... [Added by Bella: Keaton took his seat and indicated that the young man seated next to him should go. The man shook his head to indicate that he wasn't prepared and the person next to him eagerly stood up.] Ruler of the Werecats The next young woman rose to her feet, feeling much recovered since that last time that she'd spoken and more optimistic besides. "Not all lives are guided by the negative circumstances the occur, you'd be surprised at the joy that can resides just around the corner." With that she began again on her story. The next day, a guy she had been talking with came to see if she was okay. HE was her shoulder to cry and helped her get through those tough days when she was feeling low. The mask she’d been hiding behind for so long was gone, ripped to shreds with no hope of getting it back. Luckily, she had a chance to get away for a little while in a trip to the beach. Hundreds of miles away, she was almost able to forget her heartache. As her vacation was drawing to a close, she received some happy news. Her shoulder to cry on friend, a guy shed secretly liked for years, was interested in going out with her. HER, with her broken heart and the scars the pieces had made inside her. She’d asked him to give her a couple days and he did so. She finally told him “yes” the Sunday she returned from the beach. That following Friday was the best date she’d ever been on. Things were awkward at first, two friends making the transition from friends to boyfriend and girlfriend. The girl was also sick with a cold and was pretty miserable, but her new boyfriend was patient was patient, much more patient than her previous boyfriend had been. He dropped by to see her often at work and let her know by his actions that he cared about her and would be there for her. He simply waited until she was feeling better, but he also asked how she was feeling every day, inadvertently telling her how much he liked her and really wanted to show her. When they finally shared their first kiss it was an absolutely magical moment. Had she been a delicate Southern Belle then she probably would’ve swooned with that first kiss, but she was just a tough country girl with a slightly stuffy nose. Things could only go up from there. They would often just hang out at each others house, cooking for each other and just learning about each other. Their likes and dislikes weren’t identical, but things would be boring if they had been. Months have passed since then. They’re still growing into themselves as adults and learning more about what being in a serious relationship is all about. They sometimes butt heads, but when you put two stubborn people together that’s bound to happen. The girl’s outlook for their future is bright. Certain things still need to flourish and become more firmly rooted before evolving into the next steps in her hopeful dream of what’s to come. She loves him dearly and looks forward to watching their relationship grow. Taking a moment to look around the campfire at all the other storytellers she smiles before retaking her seat to wait for the next author to speak their piece. Captain Carousel I have a story, I guess. Well it's more like a conversation I overheard in the woods not too long ago.I was alone, moving quietly through the trees, when my ears caught words, the source for which went unseen. Somehow, I could tell who spoke, and strangely, it went like this: I could eat, said the bear, As the wolf bore its teeth, I am large, and I'm strong And my word I could eat. So could I, said the wolf, As his fangs dripped blood red, There is flesh in this wood, We are soon to be fed. They sit, said the bear, Round a burning campfire, Their backs to the dark, They ignore our desire. Not ignore, said the wolf, They don't know us well, We're shadows to them, Their idea of hell. I myself am no wolf, And you are no bear, We're just faces you see, For their every nightmare. We're the sounds in the woods, The fears they can taste, That from which they run, When alone making haste. We're always behind them That lost breath on their neck, And when they search the shade, It's for us that they check. And we're getting closer, And we always will, And the last thing they'll see, Will be us and the kill. So for now let them laugh, For they don't know they'll die, And don't know we'll be there, In the blink of an eye. [Added by Bella: The poet, smiling mysteriously, settled back into his seat.] Rose Montgomery I think I'll tell part of the story of one of my main characters. Her name is Rose Montgomery. She is fifteen years old and is a princess on a planet called Zenth. She's a bit of a rebel, and this excerpt from my novel explains part of her reason for running away from home.Rose's mother glided down the hallway, diapproval written all over her face. Rose wondered what it was she'd done wrong this time. "Yes, Mother?" Rose spoke in formal Zenth, as was the tradition around elder family members. "Do you take me as an idiot?" her mother screamed, dropping her usual Zenth accent and taking on the sharper words of the Americans. "No, Mother," Rose said in as polite a voice as she could muster. "Well that's something," her mother snapped. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? Did you think you could just wave your admission papers in my face and I would let you go?" Rose's heart sank. Her mother was talking about the Academy. Rose had thought that if she pre-applied and was accepted then her mother might consider sending her. Apparently that wasn't the case, however. "Well, you're not going." Rose had expected it, but the unjust of it made her words come out sharper than intended. "Says who? I want to go to the Academy. It's one of the best schools in this universe! You have to let me go!" "I don't have to let you do anything," her mother replied icily. "Besides, you've already been accepted at Charleston." "Charleston? Mother, you can't be serious." "Oh, but I am. You're going to Charleston if you intend to be queen." Rose knew she shouldn't argue, but her mother had gone too far. There was no way she was going to Charleston. It was nothing but a private school full of rich, self-centered, untalented girls and guys. "No! I refuse to go to that awful place!" Rose's mother looked shocked. She had never been told no before. Rose was proud of herself for sticking up for herself, but also scared at what the outcome might be. Who knew what her mother might do to her? All her mother did was smile. "That's what Grace said, too." Rose glared at her mother. Grace was her oldest sister and Rose hadn't seen her since she'd left for Charleston two years ago. Rose missed her desperately. She had been the only one Rose could really talk to without having to worry about her mother finding out. Rose had begged and begged her mother to let her visit, but she wasn't allowed. Charleston went year-round, too, so Grace hadn't been able to visit. "What about Grace?" Rose demanded angrily. "Why can't I ever see her? When is she coming home?" "I'm home now, Rosie." Rose froze, her old nickname hitting her like a slap in the face. She turned to see Grace leaning against the wall behind her, a smile on her face. Grace looked the same as before, except for one thing. She had lost her open, easygoing expression. It had been replaced by the cool look of indifference that most royals wore. "What happened to you, Gracie?" Rose whispered. A flicker of something - pain, maybe - crossed Grace's face. "I grew up, Rosie," she said. "And it's time you did too. Charleston is a wonderful school. You'll be happy there, with me." "No!" Grace laughed, but it wasn't like her old one. "Trust me, it's for the best." Rose decided then that she was never going to end up Grace, twisted and warped into being her mother's idea of a perfect daughter. She was going to be herself. She was going to be independent. She needed Emma. [Added by Bella: The woman returned to her seat satisfied that she had said her piece.] Carmela Moonblood A love story, but still about vampires  “Oh. I don’t believe it, I have finally done it,” I murmured. “It may be huge and quite terrible looking, with all the cogs and gears and that ghastly wooden needle. But I believe I have finally completed my un-lifes wish,” I turned to my trusty assistant and blood donor. “I have done it, Elizabeth, I have done it!” The reality was setting in, I was finally going to get rid of my curse and be human again. A beautiful human with a wonderful beating heart was going to be walking out of this dank building whilst it was still day and not night. Elizabeth smiled at me radiantly. “Congratulations, I presume that I have to run it. I don’t think you could do it whilst the vampirism is getting drawn out of you,” Elizabeth said, holding the smile in place. “Oh, yes.” I then dashed up to her and kissed her full on the lips. “Sir,” Elizabeth drew away and blushed. ”What are you doing?” She then turned away and looked at the De-Vampirizer, as I liked to call it. “Showing my joy,” I then turned to my new life. If I had put every single minute cog in place, I should be able to walk around in the sunlight with a beating heart and a hunger that isn’t for blood. But, as I said before, if I have put every brilliant cog in place, I will still be able to live as long as I live. “Sir, I don’t quite understand how it works. Yes, I know how to use it, but what does it do?” Elizabeth asked after recovering from the kiss. “It quite simply draws out all of the parts of my blood and brain that craves blood and stops me from walking in sun. Once that is done, only human blood should be left and that will restart my heart and let me be nearly normal again. Don’t you think it is brilliant?” “Sir…” Elizabeth started. “Yes,” I replied, I presumed she was going to say something that was worrying her, and to be honest I didn’t want to hear anything that was going to upset me. "I-I-" She faltered, "I think it is a wonderful idea," "That is not what you were going to say Elizabeth," I said, boaring my gaze into her. "Right! When are we going to do it then?" She said, returning that wonderful smile to her face. I regained my composure again and started fiddling with levers and re-adjusted some cogs. "I am going to stand by where the needle is going to go in to my head and then my arm, once it has sunk in for the first time, pull this lever," I began the explanation. "I know, sir, I know," she said. "I'm sorry, I guess I'm worried that this is going to go wrong," I then began the walk that seemed to last forever, so I could reach my de-vampirism. "Do it," I almost screamed, and then braced myself for the needle. Who knew a vampire could be afraid of needles? I heard the lever being pulled and then the grinding of hundreds of tiny cogs. The needle began it's slow descent to my head and I slid into the chair, I thought I could stand, but I didn't know how painful this might be. I would probably need to stay still, if I wasn't careful, I risked breaking it. I gasped at first contact with the needls, then let out a spine-tingling scream. It had entered the delicate layers of the brain. "Sir, are you okay?" Elizabeth's voice was full of worry. I tried to nod and then remembered that I might break the needle if I wasn't careful. "Yes," It came as a strangled cry. I blacked out or fainted then, as the next thing I remember is another stabbing pain on my arm. It was the needle re-entering to draw out the vampiric blood. I screamed again and felt the pain as my blood was withdrawn, I hadn't felt a pain similair to this since since I was changed. Now there was a numb and tingling sensation all over my body as the needle was being withdrawn for the last time. It felt like pins and needles, but I hadn't had them since I was human. "Elizabeth, has it worked?" I asked. I then slowly opened my eyes and saw her hovering over me with a small cut in her finger. "How does this make you feel?" She asked. "Really, really..... hungry," I said with a sigh and I slowly stood up. "I guess it didn't work, then." "Try and bite me and see of your fangs appear. Then we will know for sure." I stepped towards her and went for her neck, I felt my fangs and almost cried. I bit her and she writhed momentarily in pain, but it soon passed to the usual feeling of joy at the thought of giving to keep someone alive. I withdrew, tears streaming from my face. "I know something that will make me feel better," I said, an amazing idea had just come to me. "Name it," Elizabeth said, she sounded excited, as if she would do anything for me. "How would you like to be like me?" Elizabeth laughed and then lunged herslef at me and we fell to laughing to the floor. "I guess that is a yes," I said as I bit her again, this time killing her in a single bite. She would wake up again in a few hours, and she would be like me. I didn't feel like I needed to be human anymore. I sit back and turn to the person next to me, a wide smile on my face. BellaDonna I stand and wait until the conversation dies out. Then, I speak. Sadly, it is time for our campfire to come to an end. Have a good nights sleep, look over the additions, stop by the campfire forum, and submit your vote for Best Campfire Addition. Until everyone votes, I can't tally it up. So hurry up and VOTE! The End! © Copyright 2011 BellaDonna, Hallgerd, Rose Montgomery, AJ Looking On The Bright Side, Sum1, Salandria, Scarlet Shadow, arakun the twisted raccoon, Richard_freeman, Carmela Moonblood, Captain Carousel, Keaton Foster is not me!, Ruler of the Werecats, (known as GROUP). All rights reserved. GROUP has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |
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