%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
Entries for Contest |
|
Time to write. |
Image 1 The storm had come up out of nowhere; severe and damaging. In the course of its duration, it had managed to knock out the power, leaving the girls to cower, under their covers, as they listened to the wind howl; rocking the house; and the hail assault the roof over their heads. Thus, shivering in fear, their anxiety was heightened as a light beamed in through the keyhole on their door. . |
Image 2 Standing alone, within the confines of his mind, Oliver peered out through his open eye; protected by its lens. There was no balance. There was no cohesiveness. There was only mind-boggling, echoing, silence to shroud him in darkness. If only he could connect with the world. But, no. It was safer inside. . |
Image 2 Having fallen hopelessly behind on his paperwork, while on leave, Neville chose to stay late and catch up a bit. The rest of the employees had gone home to family and supper, but he remained. It was quieter, and easier to concentrate, when he was alone; enabling him to make better progress. He did not, however, notice the passing of time, and before he realized it, it was the middle of the night. Sighing in resignation, the young banker set aside his current project, and he stood to make ready to leave. Grabbing his cloak, he was already thinking of his order of tasks for the morning; fending off the darker thoughts that he knew would come. It was all well and good for the others to have family, and supper, to go home to. He was happy, for them and their complete lives. His life, however, would never be complete again. His once warm hearth; tended by his young bride; would be cold upon his arrival, his bed would be empty, and there would be no sound of soft breathing as he attended his nightly ministrations before bed. His home would be as empty as his heart. Having been apprenticed at a young age, Neville's quick mind, and sharp wit, had allowed him to learn quickly; granting him a rapid rise in the ranks of the financial institution. To the pride of his father, the young man had become vice-president, of the establishment, at the tender age of twenty-eight, and all was going well with his life. The icing, on the cake, were his recent nuptials. Neville had met his Jenny a year before his promotion to second-in-command, and they had fallen in love at once. The courtship was formal, as both had been raised to propriety, but it was quick, because neither wanted to wait to start their lives together. Therefore, by the time he was offered the higher position, the date had been set, and the plans were being made. Until the day his wife fell ill, it seemed as if the honeymoon had yet to come to an end. They were almost two years married, and she was expecting their first child. Things were going well, at work, and the world seemed to favor him and his. Unfortunately, though, even the most blessed must face troubles at one time or another; lest the balance be tipped, too far, in one direction. Jenny's breathing became labored, at the end, and her heart weighed down with the effort of maintaining its pace. Then, both Jenny, and her heart, became too tired to continue. She had died, in her sleep, as Neville lay cradling her head to his chest; professing his love, and praying for a miracle. Yet, the miracle never came. The scene played in the young widower's mind as he locked the front door to the bank, and a tear slipped, out of one eye, to roll down his face. Choking back the sobs that threatened to follow that single tear, the heart-broken man tried to find solace in the fact that his loving wife had not had to go to Heaven alone. She would have the company of their unborn child's soul to guide her. This thought, however, only made the struggle that much more difficult as, had the child been able to be born, he would have; at least; had a part of his Jenny to hold onto. Before he could lose the battle with his sorrow, Neville turned; setting a brisk pace with which to make it home. For, even though his home was silent and empty, it was private; allowing him his place to grieve. |
Image 1 The day had been long, the journey a tiring one, and he still had far to go. Sitting high in his seat, Jeremy breathed the sigh of the weary. The wind had developed a bite, and there was ne'er a tree to buffer the sting, so the old man had paused to snug his cap tightly over his ears. Looking about, he sighed once more. The world may have been desolate of color, but there was still beauty to be found, and the old traveler couldn't help but to admire the wonder about him. Things were different now, but that was to be expected. And, although not all changes were bad, even some of the good ones were still harsh on the system; especially a system as aged as his. Shrugging, as he pushed off his melancholy, Mr. Jeremy Proudfoot gripped the reins a little tighter, and; nudging his traveling boots with a tap of the laces; continued on his way. He wished to get through these wastelands before the suns came up the next morning. The heat they brought down, upon the world, could be devastating, and he did not wish to be broiled alive. At least, not until he made it back home, and could tell his loved ones of his travels. . |
Image 2 Sitting on the edge of her seat, Emmy watched in wonder, as the screen came to life with light and color. It was her first time seeing a movie in an actual theatre, and she could scarcely sit still. Then, as the opening scene began; a vision of birds in the sky; she felt the world melt away. She was not, simply, watching the scene any more. She was part of it. Her world was new, and she delighted in the miracles of men. . |
Image 1 The world destroyed, Long ago, By man's own greed, Of what lay below, His feet. The future lost, We soar above, And guard the love, But at what cost, Of life. Thank God that some, Could see ahead, And think to fear, That all'd be dead, Too soon. They planned for it, And sent some far, To guard the ones, Made after war, Was done. The world will heal, In time renew, And things that grew, Would provide meal, To eat. We wait for this, Our home on Earth, To recover from, This time of dearth, Complete. How long will it be before we can return? |
Image 2 As they traversed the path through the woods, Jack and Tami watched their steps, because the trail could be treacherous at times. They were on the family camping trip, and Tami wanted to go exploring. It was Jack's duty to look after his little sister while their parents built up the fire to cook, so he chose to give in to her pleas. Every so often something on the trail would catch Tami's eye, and she would pick it up to show it to Jack. Once, it was a silver button off a coat. Another time, it was a dime that had been ground into the soil, by so many treading feat, that it was only the bare edge of the coin that had glinted with the touch of the sun and caught the young girl's eye. Yet another time, it had been a stone that had veins of yellow, and gold, running through it. Jack, as patient as he could be with his little sister, only sighed every time she bent to pick something up. He would nod and agree that it was neat, pretty, or strange, and they would continue on their way. When she picked up a red sequin, however, he chose to give in to her urgings to "play explorers"; knowing that she wouldn't give up until he did. "That's not a sequin!" He exclaimed. "It's a ruby!" "A ruby?" Tami questioned as she turned the sequin over; making it shimmer in her hand. "You mean like on Dorothy's shoes?" Snatching onto the idea; knowing it would make her happy; Jack smiled and said, "Yeah, just like on Dorothy's shoes." Pausing a moment, as he thought about how to make the little squirt even happier, the boy asked, "Where's that rock you found?" "Why?" Tami wanted to know. "'Cause, I wanna look at it," he explained. Digging around in her pocket, because that's where Tami put everything she picked up, she found the stone and held it out for her big brother to examine. "Here it is!" she proudly proclaimed. "Hmm," Jack pretended to ponder. "Look'it, here," he pointed, "see that yellow?" "Uh-huh," she nodded. "Maybe this rock was a piece of the yellow brick road!" he exclaimed. Jumping up and down, knowing that she had managed to pull her brother fully into her game, Tami bounced up and down excitedly. "It is! It is!" she screamed. Bending closer to her ear, Jack whispered, "Shhhh. We don't know if the wicked witch is around." Covering her mouth, and giggling behind its protection, she nodded in agreement. "Let's see what else we can find," Jack suggested as he took her hand in his and urged her to keep going on the path. Continuing on their way, they were both now looking for trinkets, and it seemed as if former campers had been all too happy to supply their game with necessities to make it complete. They encountered a pair of swimming goggles, a funnel, and a mouthpiece for a scuba diver. They also found an Indian Head penny, a paperclip, a popsicle stick, and a hairnet. Each item was met with excitement and awe from Tami, and amusement and quick thinking from Jack; as he decided how to use them in their story. His little sister couldn't fit all of the items in her pockets, this time, so Jack ended up carrying the larger items. As they walked, he turned them over, in his hands, and worked out an idea. So, knowing that they were getting close to the campsite, the boy finalized his thoughts. Stopping, Jack turned to his little sister. "Look'it, here," he said as he led her over toward a tree. Eagerly following him, Tami watched as he bent down and started putting some things at the base of the tree. Jack used the goggles, funnel, and mouthpiece to form a face; using the hairnet and paperclip to aid. He leaned this up against the tree and stepped back and smiled down at Tami. "See," he explained, "it's the Tin Man, too." Squinting her eyes, and tilting her head, the little girl could imagine that this was the Tin Man from the cartoon version of the movie. She liked that one better, anyway, because the witch wasn't as scary. So, she smiled and looked up at her big brother. "I wonder where the rest of them are." "They went home, remember?" He prompted. "Oh, yeah," she nodded. "Come on," he took her hand and tugged. "We better "go home", too, before our food gets cold." Smiling, Tami readily agreed, and she skipped along next to her hero; still mindful of her steps. |
Image 2 (2124184) Separated during the time of war, sisters Inga and Ivana had been placed into groups according to their ages, and the line had been drawn. One was on the German side, one was not, and; even though the war had ended; they dared not cross that boundary, for fear of death. Thus, they stood across from one another, longing to embrace, but prevented from reaching out so much as a hand. . |
Image 1 (2124071) It was only a game, to she and her friends, as they sat in a circle around the girl lying on the floor. The final credits to the movie, "The Craft", were silently rolling up the television screen in the corner, as a couple of the girls giggled about putting their fingers under their friend's butt. No one expected the game, of "Light as a feather, Stiff as a board", to work, and none were surprised when it didn't. Not a one of them, truly, believed in Majik. Nor was a single girl, actually, concentrating on what they were playing at, as their minds were too busy thinking about boys, beaches, and bonfires. Summer vacation had just begun, another year of school had ended, and these teenage girls; who had all been friends since kindergarten; were having their first sleep-over of the season. They had watched "Hocus Pocus" one and two, and then finished off their movie watching with "The Craft"; the scene from the sleepover still on their minds when it was finished. Hence, their play at mimicking the witches in the movie. Janna, who was the hostess for this annual gathering, loved her friends fiercely, but she was feeling a bit out of sorts as everyone began to wind down and settle. While she would readily admit, to anyone that asked, that her mind wasn't on the game any more than the others' were, she wasn't so sure that nothing had happened, because she had felt a stirring in the one chosen to have her butt touched. Passing it off as wishful thinking, she had opted to not say anything to anyone else. However, as she lay in her bed, listening to her friends' snoring, a nagging tug came at the back of her mind, imploring her to examine that feeling more. It wasn't the first time she had felt energies stirring, and she had an inkling it wouldn't be the last. Sitting up in bed, she was careful not to kick one of her friends, in the head, as she swung her feet to the floor. She stood and picked her way across the room; lifting her feet high to step over each sleeping form; stopping, as she turned the doorknob, to glance back and make sure no one had been disturbed. Nodding to herself, satisfied that they were all snugged in for the night, Janna made her way out of her bedroom and down to her mother's. "Mom," the girl whispered as she tapped on her mother's bedroom door. "What is it, sweetling?" was her mother's reply; the endearment warming Janna's heart. "I have something I need to talk to you about," Janna explained as she slowly opened the door and made her way into the room. Closing the door behind herself, Janna glided over to sit where her mother was patting; next to where she sat propped on the bed; and sighed as she began. The conversation that followed was open and revealing, but not so shocking as the girl had first assumed it would be. The things her mother had to tell her, while a surprise, felt as if they were more like puzzle pieces, sliding into place, rather than a bomb being dropped. She knew there was going to be much learning needed, but surprised herself with her acceptance of being born a witch. It neither upset, nor angered, her. Rather, it seemed to comfort. Leaning over to hug her mother, Janna whispered, "Thank you," in her ear, and turned to leave the room. Clearing her throat, the girl's mother suggested, "You might want to go up into the attic, my sweet one, and have a look around." "The attic?" Janna thought to herself in awe. The attic was a place of mystery and wonder. Unlike other peoples' attics, theirs had never been used for storage, and she had yet to hear a mouse scamper about, above her head. It was a place that the children were not allowed to go, although their mother went up there often, and they were taught to respect their mother's space. Therefore, this open invitation was unexpected. ***** ***** ***** ***** Ever mindful to not disturb those that were resting, Janna eased the ladder down from its nesting space, took a deep breath, and began to climb. As she pushed the opening, in the ceiling, up and poked her head into the space, she saw a glow coming from her right. There was a window, high in the wall, that was allowing the moon to shine through. Following her instincts, the young girl drifted over to the space below the window, discovering books, candles, notes, incense, and so much more. It was a, veritable, treasure trove of objet d'Majik, and she was thrilled at the discovery. Even so, as she knelt in front of an arc of candles, she told herself that she had no idea what she was doing, and cautioned herself to not meddle with too much. This warning in her heart, and in her head, did not keep Janna from wishing there were a little more light, so that she could look at things more clearly. That's when it happened; the stirring of energies that she was beginning to become familiar with; as candle wicks came to life, with flame, on their own. Gasping in surprise, she jumped, causing one of the candles to snuff out. It's smoke wafting in the moonlight. Awestruck, and mystified, Janna watched as the smoke twirled into the air; her hand reaching out, as if with its own will, to dance in its coils. Her journey was just beginning. |
Image 2 His shroud flows free, His bones, they creak. This one who lurks, Where'ere you seek. What do you see, When he draws near? The man who lived, Or, a monster to fear? |
Image 2 Alone and weary after the raging storm, the wizard roamed the giant's castle. Gazing around himself in wonder, he was awestruck by the beauty brought to light at the hands of creatures that seemed to bumble about the world. Every step, every new room peered within, and every hall he wandered brought, to his eyes, visions of things that caused him to gape in amazement and appreciation for the talents of the immense community of giants. Never, had he imagined, that such creativity lay within their seemingly simple minds. Coming to the end of the latest hall to catch his eye, the wizard encountered a set of enormous double doors; closed, save for a slight crack, as if someone had just gone through them and not closed one of them, securely, once entering the room. This crack, he discovered as he approached the doors, was wide enough for him to slip through. Turning sideways, to ease between the intricately carved doors, the wizard looked up, and up, scarcely able to breathe, as he was overwhelmed by amount of time, energy, and love that must have gone into every detail of making these doors. Although the slight opening, between doors, had allowed for the wizard to slip into the room, it had not allowed any evidence of the dazzling sunlight that was streaming through the huge opening in the chamber's ceiling, to leak out into the hall. Having walked through darkened halls void of torchlight, and peering into rooms barely lit by what light could make it through the drapes that hung on the windows, the wizard was not prepared for the brilliance of the sun, and he was temporarily blinded. Throwing up his arm, to shield his eyes, he chanced a view from beneath its protection. As his eyes adjusted to the light, the wizard was able to determine that the chamber was a library, filled to overflowing with enormous books; the centerpiece of the room comprised of a pedestal, upon which rested an open volume. Other books had been strewn about as if in a frenzy. Yet, among the appearance of chaos, there was a stack of books that leaned to form a stairway to the pages revealed. Whether by design, or happenstance, the wizard was unsure. Lowering his arm, to gain a full view, the wizard discovered the source of the light. The domed ceiling had been rendered, by the storm, and the sun was streaming in; focused on the open pages atop the pedestal. Not to be deterred from his exploration, by wariness or fear, he began the trek to discover what the pages held. Thus, armed with his wit, and aided by his staff, did he reach the top of the stairway of books. Once again, as he read, his breath was stolen. |
Image 1 I was babysitting for the Edwards family, again, on a wintry October night. Snow had come down, out of the mountains, early that year, and the storm had become too blustery for trick-or-treating. To not make it a total dud of a night, however, we decided to watch movies instead. The howling wind, combined with the slushing of the snow against the windows, would be the perfect backdrop. Although the kids were disappointed about the loss of candy, they were excited about the idea of staying up late and falling asleep in front of the television. It was something they were hardly ever allowed to do, and was always a major treat in their eyes. That night, it was especially so, because they got to do it wearing their costumes. The movies couldn't be too scary, because Trixie was only six, and she would have nightmares. Little Henry, though, at the ripe old age of eleven said he could handle anything I could. Therefore, with his mother's permission, after his little sister had passed out on the floor, we moved the tiny one to her room and started the "real' scare-fest. Halfway through the second movie, old Hank crashed out himself, and the rest of the night went smoothly, as was evidenced by my snores when Mrs. Edwards arrived home. Not wanting to disturb me, along with not wanting to force me to make my way to my house, next door, through the man-high snow drifts in the middle of the night, Mrs. Edwards called my mother so she wouldn't be worried. As the sun came in through the ivory sheers covering the living-room window, I oriented myself with my surroundings, stretched, and woke to the sound of soft voices (accompanied by some giggling) coming from the direction of the Edwards' kitchen. Smiling, I got up to join them. Mrs. Edwards handed me a cup of coffee and a picture drawn by one of the children. "Apparently," she explained, "we had a nightmare last night." I groaned, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Edwards. I could have sworn Trixie was fast asleep." Sighing, I took a sip of my coffee and granted, "She must have snuck out and hid in the hallway." Mrs. Edwards winked at me and giggled, "It wasn't Trixie." . |
 Log in to Leave Feedback |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
