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Winter Solstice [Writing Contest]

Agro

By Agro
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Thar Apprentice

Thar

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[quote name='DaWeirdGuy' timestamp='1355241691' post='6090671']
Not really. There's 14 days, and already a couple of people have shown interest. I'm sorta in the middle of mine,
[/quote]

It's still weird how I managed to submit mine like 3 days in. I'm usually the one who procrastinates to the point where I just give up.

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NoshpalStefan Newbie

NoshpalStefan

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I would like to enter, I could have my story here in a couple of hours (unless I get a Writer's Block, of course). I just had one question, the winner basically has his story stuck to the wall of this forum right? Or is there some other sort of award, or anything of that kind? I'm going to write and post the story regardless, just wanted to ask.

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Agro Newbie

Agro

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[quote name='LiteratureDude96' timestamp='1355477950' post='6092832']
I just had one question, the winner basically has his story stuck to the wall of this forum right? Or is there some other sort of award, or anything of that kind? I'm going to write and post the story regardless, just wanted to ask.
[/quote]The winner will get any story of theirs that they wish pinned for a month. Redeemable at any time.

And guys, you don't "request" or "reserve" or whatever to enter. To enter you submit your story before the deadline. Simple as that.

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NoshpalStefan Newbie

NoshpalStefan

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[spoiler=Frozen Life]

[b]Frozen Life[/b]


The pure, white snow was staring me in the face. I could feel its gentle, calming touch as I felt the intense burn residing inside me. I felt its cries when I transformed its precious white color into a devilish crimson one. It slowly took on a bloodshot gown as it cloaked itself in the red pouring out of my chest. It subtly attempted to hide its fright when it saw the sharp, steel knife lying beside me. I had been stabbed. 



As I lay on the snow, on that cold December night, sensing my heart weep its red tears unto the snow’s white dress, I turned the clock thirty years into the past. On that very same place, I saw myself as a mere child, not more than eight years of age. Standing in my comfortable blue jacket, wearing my new black gloves, stepping on my unusually green boots, I saw a piece of land heavily covered in snow.



I was frightened. I stared for a long time at the snow; I sensed a certain blend of emotions coming from it: anger, sorrow, fear, and many more. In my mind, the snow was a pet for which I needed to care. I slowly moved to the nearby tree, and with all the strength an eight year old could possess, I broke a small branch and took it with me. I slowly approached the snow, crouched as much as the winter cold allowed me, and slowly, I used the branch to draw on the snow. As my hand moved naturally, after a minute I stood up and looked at the snow once more. I had drawn a smile.



Now, as the blood was slowly dripping, I remembered that moment of happiness. I recalled that instance as one of the few when I was truly joyful. The eternal clock once more tampered with my emotions, and I now went back a few years after I had drawn the smile on my precious friend. I had just awoken from my bed, and I was slowly preparing to go to school. As I went out of my house, tenderly warm from my mother’s greetings, I looked at my dear friend, the snow. I ran to it, and to my sweet relief, I saw that the smile had remained on its face. But, as I stared at it with joy, I sensed a brutal, agonizing coldness coming from behind me. As I turned to see, I noticed a few kids standing behind me. I could recognize them by the burning hatred deep confined in their eyes. It was the school bullies.



With a resentful tone, the kids yelled at me for what I had done to the snow, subtly snickering at me. I quickly supposed why they were laughing, slowly establishing that my reality was much different from theirs. I rejected all the insults and simply stood quiet. Yet, that wasn’t enough. My silence provoked the kids, even threatened them somehow. They pushed me, and saw my tears as I fell into the snow, and saw me hiding my face from the shame. As I wiped the tears, I saw the kids sprint away, being chased by a voice coming from afar.



I recall this voice like no other. It was a soft, tender, female voice. Like a majestic beast’s thunderous roar, I remember the voice as soft and mighty, as both strong and weak in its complex simplicity. As I wiped my tears, cleaning my face from all the snow that I had plunged my head into, I turned to see the source of the gently powerful voice. I was correct; it was a girl. 



“Are you okay?” – She asked me with a kind of fragile conviction, she herself seemingly afraid of the school bullies, yet, not the type of fright that transfers to the voice. It was, after all, her thunderous yell that scared the menacing children. In an attempt for assistance, she offered her womanly, yet strangely strong hand. She pulled me from the snow, and offered me her name. “Oh what a lovely name”, I thought to myself, though I was rather unsure whether I had said the thought in my mind or before her slightly judgmental eyes. Luckily, it was in my mind.



Several cold, winter days had passed, and I failed to remove the girl’s image from my mind. Perhaps it was because she was generally remarkable, or perhaps it was because I chose not to. I could still sense her trembling voice collapsing barriers around me, slowly awaking me with a tender spirit. Suddenly, through the secluded walls of my house, I heard a rumbling yelp for assistance. I rushed to the window, stopping with slight shock as I arrived there. In my precious snow, I saw the girl from the previous days, simply laying there, her face covered in purity and coldness, just as mine had been. She…looked frightened.

I immediately put on my winter coat, and I rapidly ran outside to help her. As I stood before the snow, staring at her weeping face, I had come to know a great truth. I needn’t look at the girl as a savior from beyond, as an angel from the stars. She, much like me, was just frightened, weeping from her face what she felt in her heart. The thought was simplistic in its core; it meant that I could share the chains of my heart with another; meant that I was no longer alone. That idea, I must confess, was perfection. I couldn’t dare to miss out on perfection. As she wasted her final tear, and turned around, subtly cleansing her weeping face, she saw me, offering my hand. 



“Oh what a marvelous thought”, I said to myself as I bled on the cold, shivering snow. “It has been an amazing life, has it not?” – I began to talk to myself, inevitably knowing that these were my last moments. I then recalled a bit further from my childhood, to the year I graduated from high school. The memory is joy. It must be joy, for that was the only feeling present. Two people are standing in front of my precious friend, the piece of snow. Bells are ringing, people are cheering, and above all, happiness is spread. The noise is intermittently began and finished, yet the greatest intermission came with the doubly repeated phrases: “I do”. I absolutely had to recall that day. I had to recall it because one of the two people was the girl with the softly thunderous voice; and even more significant for me, the second person was I.


As I recalled that memory, I also recall how I spent my wedding on the snow, on my oldest friend. Many other things have happened on its watch as well. Much of what I am able to remember is the current day, before I had fallen on the snow, bleeding my soul out. I was happily married. I possessed love. Yet, she left. She was no angel, she was no priestess; she was but mortal. I became unsatisfactory. She took all I cared for: the anchors of the heart, the chains of the soul, and simply reinforced them with pain and illusion of a bright future. Who was to trust now? I could trust none, absolutely no one; except, perhaps, I could trust the snow.

What had caused this pain, you might ask? My marriage was filled with happy memories, I must confess. All from the vacation on the pleasant beaches to the everyday coming home from work, I loved every single moment of it, every single moment. Yet, fates have cruel little hands that twist our vision and destroy our hearts. As the years passed by, she drastically changed, and so did I. My love never vanished, and it only slightly altered. But we were but fools of time, fools of this clock that eternally spins, over and over again. What hope was there? I became nothing but a faithless drunkard. And she, she was the one to take care of me, to call out to Lazarus and resurrect my soul. But, as all could see, just like me, she was but a puppet of mortality. Her wings were not pearl white; they were simply darkened with a crimson color.

It all happened one day. I came home one day, that one cruel day. She was there no more. The house felt so empty. It all felt so lonely. I felt as if the house’s walls were staring me and slowly mocking me. On the table I saw a small yellow note dripping with ink. I haven’t read more painful words than those inscribed on that note. I shouldn’t have acted so selfishly, so stupidly even. She left. I couldn’t believe my eyes. She left.

I felt something inside me burn. I clutched my chest, attempting to calm myself. But I couldn’t do it. I simply could not. It felt as if I were going to fall into an endless abyss, one from which I could never come back. I now constantly saw the darkness of it, never escaping from the doom my heart felt.

I began to contemplate on how I would live on now. Love had been a great part of my life. In fact, life seemed worthless without it. Inside I heard silent voices whisper to me “You don’t need love, you’ll find it again, and you don’t need her, not at all”. I knew, though. I knew that I would truly need her, not anyone else. At night, I would not dream of others, I could not rather. I could only see her beautiful face, her beautiful eyes. I had to do something, absolutely had to.

But I didn’t. My feelings, though fatally strong, did not prevail for the positive. It was decided. I could not break fate’s twisted arms; I could only follow them. So, that was it for me. Life, all of its glory and ugliness, all of its splendor and its mystery; it was worthless now. I could not take that it was worthless, but it was. Nothing seemed of value anymore. Perhaps nothing was of value, nothing at all. Such a wicked thought did not belong in my mind; yet, it was there, resonating like a loud bell, never abandoning its shelter. I could not imagine anything similar. No, I could not imagine it at all. All that was left for me now was not a life of looking at the past or future; no I could not see anything like that. The present seemed too harsh to bear. I knew what was left now. The only solution would be a simple end.

So, in that manner, I came outside on the December night, I stepped outside into the shivering sight of nothingness. All was white, I was certain. Yet, I knew precisely where I needed to go. I found my old friend. I stepped right above it. I courageously took out the knife. In but a moment, the deed had been done. I felt the steel of the knife align with the pain of my heart and soul, bleeding out all they possessed over my friend’s frightened eyes. The snow was the only hope, the only friend. It was fragile, it was pure, and it was free. It had at times disappeared, and then it had come back. So, as it fully put on the crimson gown, and I was no longer, I must have asked myself “What now?” What comes after the steel has taken the love, the hate, the hope, and the fear? Am I to expect the love of Paradise? Am I to expect the cruelty of Hell? Or am I to expect the rewinding of the cycle into yet another treacherous dream? I am certain the cycle will rewind. After all, in a dream, cruelty and love are a blend, they are together, and furthermore, they are most stable. After all, you've just been fed the dream of a fellow dreamer, just told the truth of something that might happen, and told the lies of what has never become reality. See, you've been given the blend of golden attributes; just given the love of the creator and the cruelty of the dreamer.[/spoiler]

Just as a heads up, the persona employed in the text is meant to cause the text to be depressing, in case someone mistakes that for something else.

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Thar Apprentice

Thar

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[quote name='LiteratureDude96' timestamp='1355774253' post='6095981']
Just as a heads up, the persona employed in the text is [b][i]meant [/i][/b][i]to cause the text to be [/i]depressing, in case someone mistakes that for something else.
[/quote]

Is it supposed to be italicized? Cause it's kind of a strain to the eyes to read.

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Agro Newbie

Agro

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[quote name='LiteratureDude96' timestamp='1355774253' post='6095981']
[spoiler=Frozen Life]
[b]Frozen Life[/b]

The pure, white snow was staring me in the face. I could feel its gentle, calming touch as I felt the intense burn residing inside me. I felt its cries when I transformed its precious white color into a devilish crimson one. It slowly took on a bloodshot gown as it cloaked itself in the red pouring out of my chest. It subtly attempted to hide its fright when it saw the sharp, steel knife lying beside me. I had been stabbed.

As I lay on the snow, on that cold December night, sensing my heart weep its red tears unto the snow’s white dress, I turned the clock thirty years into the past. On that very same place, I saw myself as a mere child, not more than eight years of age. Standing in my comfortable blue jacket, wearing my new black gloves, stepping on my unusually green boots, I saw a piece of land heavily covered in snow.

I was frightened. I stared for a long time at the snow; I sensed a certain blend of emotions coming from it: anger, sorrow, fear, and many more. In my mind, the snow was a pet for which I needed to care. I slowly moved to the nearby tree, and with all the strength an eight year old could possess, I broke a small branch and took it with me. I slowly approached the snow, crouched as much as the winter cold allowed me, and slowly, I used the branch to draw on the snow. As my hand moved naturally, after a minute I stood up and looked at the snow once more. I had drawn a smile.

Now, as the blood was slowly dripping, I remembered that moment of happiness. I recalled that instance as one of the few when I was truly joyful. The eternal clock once more tampered with my emotions, and I now went back a few years after I had drawn the smile on my precious friend. I had just awoken from my bed, and I was slowly preparing to go to school. As I went out of my house, tenderly warm from my mother’s greetings, I looked at my dear friend, the snow. I ran to it, and to my sweet relief, I saw that the smile had remained on its face. But, as I stared at it with joy, I sensed a brutal, agonizing coldness coming from behind me. As I turned to see, I noticed a few kids standing behind me. I could recognize them by the burning hatred deep confined in their eyes. It was the school bullies.

With a resentful tone, the kids yelled at me for what I had done to the snow, subtly snickering at me. I quickly supposed why they were laughing, slowly establishing that my reality was much different from theirs. I rejected all the insults and simply stood quiet. Yet, that wasn’t enough. My silence provoked the kids, even threatened them somehow. They pushed me, and saw my tears as I fell into the snow, and saw me hiding my face from the shame. As I wiped the tears, I saw the kids sprint away, being chased by a voice coming from afar.

I recall this voice like no other. It was a soft, tender, female voice. Like a majestic beast’s thunderous roar, I remember the voice as soft and mighty, as both strong and weak in its complex simplicity. As I wiped my tears, cleaning my face from all the snow that I had plunged my head into, I turned to see the source of the gently powerful voice. I was correct; it was a girl.

“Are you okay?” – She asked me with a kind of fragile conviction, she herself seemingly afraid of the school bullies, yet, not the type of fright that transfers to the voice. It was, after all, her thunderous yell that scared the menacing children. In an attempt for assistance, she offered her womanly, yet strangely strong hand. She pulled me from the snow, and offered me her name. “Oh what a lovely name”, I thought to myself, though I was rather unsure whether I had said the thought in my mind or before her slightly judgmental eyes. Luckily, it was in my mind.

Several cold, winter days had passed, and I failed to remove the girl’s image from my mind. Perhaps it was because she was generally remarkable, or perhaps it was because I chose not to. I could still sense her trembling voice collapsing barriers around me, slowly awaking me with a tender spirit. Suddenly, through the secluded walls of my house, I heard a rumbling yelp for assistance. I rushed to the window, stopping with slight shock as I arrived there. In my precious snow, I saw the girl from the previous days, simply laying there, her face covered in purity and coldness, just as mine had been. She…looked frightened.

I immediately put on my winter coat, and I rapidly ran outside to help her. As I stood before the snow, staring at her weeping face, I had come to know a great truth. I needn’t look at the girl as a savior from beyond, as an angel from the stars. She, much like me, was just frightened, weeping from her face what she felt in her heart. The thought was simplistic in its core; it meant that I could share the chains of my heart with another; meant that I was no longer alone. That idea, I must confess, was perfection. I couldn’t dare to miss out on perfection. As she wasted her final tear, and turned around, subtly cleansing her weeping face, she saw me, offering my hand.

“Oh what a marvelous thought”, I said to myself as I bled on the cold, shivering snow. “It has been an amazing life, has it not?” – I began to talk to myself, inevitably knowing that these were my last moments. I then recalled a bit further from my childhood, to the year I graduated from high school. The memory is joy. It must be joy, for that was the only feeling present. Two people are standing in front of my precious friend, the piece of snow. Bells are ringing, people are cheering, and above all, happiness is spread. The noise is intermittently began and finished, yet the greatest intermission came with the doubly repeated phrases: “I do”. I absolutely had to recall that day. I had to recall it because one of the two people was the girl with the softly thunderous voice; and even more significant for me, the second person was I.

As I recalled that memory, I also recall how I spent my wedding on the snow, on my oldest friend. Many other things have happened on its watch as well. Much of what I am able to remember is the current day, before I had fallen on the snow, bleeding my soul out. I was happily married. I possessed love. Yet, she left. She was no angel, she was no priestess; she was but mortal. I became unsatisfactory. She took all I cared for: the anchors of the heart, the chains of the soul, and simply reinforced them with pain and illusion of a bright future. Who was to trust now? I could trust none, absolutely no one; except, perhaps, I could trust the snow.

So, in that manner, I came outside on the December night, I stepped outside into the shivering sight of nothingness. All was white, I was certain. Yet, I knew precisely where I needed to go. I found my old friend. I stepped right above it. I courageously took out the knife. In but a moment, the deed had been done. I felt the steel of the knife align with the pain of my heart and soul, bleeding out all they possessed over my friend’s frightened eyes. The snow was the only hope, the only friend. It was fragile, it was pure, and it was free. It had at times disappeared, and then it had come back. So, as it fully put on the crimson gown, and I was no longer, I must have asked myself “What now?” What comes after the steel has taken the love, the hate, the hope, and the fear? Am I to expect the love of Paradise? Am I to expect the cruelty of Hell? Or am I to expect the rewinding of the cycle into yet another treacherous dream? I am certain the cycle will rewind. After all, in a dream, cruelty and love are a blend, they are together, and furthermore, they are most stable. After all, you've just been fed the dream of a fellow dreamer, just told the truth of something that might happen, and told the lies of what has never become reality. See, you've been given the blend of golden attributes; just given the love of the creator and the cruelty of the dreamer.[/spoiler]

Just as a heads up, the persona employed in the text is meant to cause the text to be depressing, in case someone mistakes that for something else.
[/quote]You're a little under 500 words below the required amount. You won't be accepted unless you fulfill the requirement of being within 2000-3000 words.

http://www.wordcounter.net/

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NoshpalStefan Newbie

NoshpalStefan

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[quote name='Agro' timestamp='1355876854' post='6097446']
You're a little under 500 words below the required amount. You won't be accepted unless you fulfill the requirement of being within 2000-3000 words.

[url="http://www.wordcounter.net/"]http://www.wordcounter.net/[/url]
[/quote]

Sorry my bad, I actually wrote this for another contest as well that required 1500 words or less, but I'll expand it and resubmit it later today or tomorrow.

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NoshpalStefan Newbie

NoshpalStefan

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Hold up, so is it just me and [size=3][color=#1E4371][font=tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif]Yan-Tsundere Barrel then? If so, then It[/font][/color][/size]'s going to be rather interesting.

[size=3][color=#1E4371][font=tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif]Furthermore, when will the voting thread with the two entries be made?[/font][/color][/size]

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Agro Newbie

Agro

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le sigh.

Seeing as no one but 2 entered, this event has been cancelled. :\

Sorry everyone [i]who actually had the decency to say they would enter and then still enter[/i].

Thanks for pinning this too, Rinne. You can take it down now.

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