Writing Passionates discussion

Otay, so this is the contest rules.


1. Must be less than 2,000 words.
2. No less than 1,000 words.
3. It has to envolve one of the following:

Thoughts of a person who is about to die

OR

Intense situation

4. Make is (semi) appropiate. Ex. No swearing, no gross things (u know what i mean)

Wait, I already posted one...hmmmmm...we can have two going, right?

OOOO this sounds fun :-)
should I post a link to my profile or just post the story on here?

I don't know. Seth has to decide, it is his competition.

funnnnnnnnnn

wens it due?

Oooh, I would be sooo good at the first one! But I don't have time to write it just now. And making it 1000 words is going to be tough.

In fact, I wrote something the other day that would be perfect, but it is only 427 words.

Um . . . It will be due by Halloween. Then people can judge. And I want to post one, so I don't want to judge at all. :) So it's mine, but I'm not a judge

And you can post the story here, OR the link. I don't care.

ok so for some reason my computer is being weird and not letting me post a link, so if u want to comment on my story u can go to my profile.

the ink if u want to comment
http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/2...

Windowsill

1032 words

The windowsill was beautifully crafted, oh so beautifully crafted. Small engravings of sea life and underwater plants, the house was by the beach, after all. It was painted a light yellow color, almost the kind of color that a tea stain on a white shirt would be. Most think this singular windowsill to be ugly, since it was different from all the others, the only strange thing left on the house.

A windowsill. Why a windowsill?

This windowsill is different.

If you looked up from the strange windowsill on this one day, you would see something that would scare all of us. Someone was standing on top of that windowsill. Let’s start with the man’s shoes, they were black, and very old and torn, almost like a hobo’s shoes. That was strange for this man, he was a rich man with wonderful and expensive clothing. Oh, I hate getting ahead of myself!

The man’s pants were a beige color, and tailored by one of the most expensive seamstresses in the area. They came right down to the heel of his torn up black boots. Now his jacket. It was the same beige of the pants, although the tie messily tucked inside the jacket had went awry he was very presentable and looked as if he was about to walk out of the door to go to work.

Now the man’s face.

Now everyone knows that human faces are ever so hard to describe, so think hard. The man had a scruffy beard, not a long and dangling one, it just looked as if he had not shaved in the last few days. His mouth twitched continuously on the left corner, his lips were chapped and bleeding. His nose-well it was a normal nose, no point in going into detail. The man’s cheeks were rosy, and cold. Most likely from the wind at the high spot.

Now eyes, eyes are the tell all symbol, eyes are how humans understand each other, how we read other people. The man’s eyes were large on his small face and very watery too. The man had wild eyes, that looked at everything around him but never focusing, his eyebrows were raised and overall he looked, well, insane.

Now can you guess what the man was doing up on that windowsill?

No, he was not painting the house.

Really? You can’t guess?

The man was going to jump.

His twitching mouth, his wild eyes, and his dirty boots made him look like a perfect candidate for someone to jump off a building, but for people who know him this was not him, he is a happy man they would say.
But still, the man stood up on that windowsill.

The man had stood there for only a few seconds and thoughts ran through his head like a herd of stampeding gazelle. These thoughts were intricately weaved and all connected with one single thing. Jumping.

The man scrunched his face and thought back on his life, which truly had been almost perfect. His childhood, his wonderful parents, and his own life he had created for himself. His job as a successful lawyer, and although the man lived alone he was very content. His beagle, who he loved like a child. So why was the man jumping?

Well a few months before something had happened in his brain, a mix up in all the chemicals that keep everyone alive on this world completely sane. The chemicals changed his thoughts, changed his actions and it was like the man had no control over himself anymore, like something or someone was living his life for him.

So that man stood there and as he had no control over himself he put one foot in the air, and for someone who was watching at that moment he looked like someone had caught a domino falling on tape and slowed it down ten times. The man’s short hair did nothing but ruffle in the wind, and his clothes rumpled and the man fell forward more and more until he was perpendicular to that beautiful windowsill.

Now do you see why that windowsill is different?

The man tilted forward even more, until his head was below his feet and he was then parallel to the house and he was many feet below the windowsill. His body turned around once again and he was facing the ground. And strangely, as the man looked at the pavement, his head was cleared and he could control himself. He could actually think now.

And what did he think?

Oh please god oh please let me live, let me live, I did not want to jump. It was the first time he had ever prayed in his life.

* * * *

The man sat in a blank hospital bed his mind blank. The man was sleeping. His face had changed oh so much, but those special eyes were still the same, those eyes are what were truly amazing. His face were covered in gashes and bruises, something from a terrible horror movie almost. He no longer wore those worn out boots, or the expensive suit, or the awry tie.

All the man had left was his bright eyes and beat up body. The man had been there for one month already and was still in terrible condition, but the one thing that amazed all doctors and well everyone in the medical world was the single fact that the man was alive at all.

The hospital was a buzz that a man has survived falling eight stories and of course he had broken both arms, both legs, a few vertebrate and three ribs. Although he was not paralyzed, the man cried most hours he was awake like he was. Most doctors thought they were cries of sadness, wouldn’t anyone who tried to jump of a building be sad?

But no.

The man was happy.

Something or someone had let him live, let him have a chance to fix whatever had gone wrong with him. Someone had listened to his single prayer.

And you know what.

I’m happy I heard that prayer.

And happy I allowed him to have another chance.

Kidnapped

Words: 1677

“Where'd he go?” I gasp, my breath ragged, my chest heaving. I clutch at my side and stop for a moment, leaning against the building behind me.
Rye looks around wildly for the man, who was right behind us a moment ago. “I don't know,” he says, apprehensive. “It's like he just disappeared...”
I take a minute to catch my breath and stand still, thinking hard. One second I was running for my life, hearing the footsteps pounding the black tar come closer and closer. The next second the footsteps were suddenly gone, silent, as if someone had stuffed cotton in my ears at that instant. The fact that our pursuer has suddenly disappeared is not a good thing; on the contrary, I feel like he's planning his next move, hiding, ready to leap out at us when we let down our guard.
Rye's uneasy look is enough to let me know that he feels the same way. “Well, what are we going to do now?” He asks me quietly, his eyes wide and fearful. Of course he's ten times as scared as I am; he is only eight, after all. I wish I could comfort him right now; the sight of my little brother so afraid is killing me. But I know that no words or embraces will make a difference right now.
I hesitate, knowing what we have to do, but wondering how Rye will take it. “We should go back,” I announce.
I watch Rye's expression go from disbelief to horror. “Are you serious, Leah?” He exclaims. “Go back there? Back to where the man came from? Where there are other men like him?”
I sigh with sympathy and pity. He is so little, none of this makes sense to him. “You don't understand, Rye,” I say firmly. “She's my best friend. I can't just give up. We have to find her.”
“But...the men are scary,” Rye whimpers, looking at me with those puppy-dog eyes. “I don't like them at all.”
I close my eyes so I can't see his pleading face. So it doesn't tear me up inside. “I know, Rye. I know.” Why didn't he stay behind? Why did he have to wake up and see me leaving the house? Why did he have to follow me? Why did I have to bring him into this mess? My eyes fly open, and I glare at him. “Go home, Rye,” I say sternly, not for the first time.
Of course, his response is the same. “No,” he shakes his head, jutting out his chin in that stubborn way. “I'm not leaving you.”
“Rye, those men are scary, like you said. And they want to kill us. I need to go back there and rescue Kara, alone. You can't come with me. You could get hurt.” Or worse, killed. I can't let Rye come.
“No,” he repeats. “I''m coming whether you want me to or not.”
“You better not dare,” I threaten, trying to get him to listen to me. “I'm leaving right now and you stay right here and don't move from this spot. If you come after me, you'll be in huge trouble.”
With that, I spin around and head back the way we came. I prick my ears, but no small footsteps follow. I relax with relief. Rye must have listened to me after all.
I try to remember the right way, twisting through the maze of alleys and side roads, looking for the building we were in half an hour ago. They only look slightly familiar, not really helping me much for exact location; Rye and I ran through these streets with the man hot on our tail before, heading the other direction, so we didn't really pay that much attention to our surroundings.
As I walk hurriedly, I think about the horrible truth I woke up to tonight. It was very late, way after Rye had gone to sleep. I was woken by the sound of a crash. I tiptoed out of my room and peeked into the hallway. My mom was holding the phone to her ear with a shaking hand, her eyes wide and horrified. The reason for the crash lay at her feet; a plate, broken in two. She must have dropped it.
“You're not serious,” she whispered hoarsely to whoever was at the other end. “Kara can't be missing.”
I froze at the sound of my best friend's name. What did my mom mean? Missing?
My mom listened for a second, then spoke in a terrified rush. “Are you sure? Have you checked everywhere? She could just be somewhere else...maybe she went out to sleepover at a friends house without telling you...maybe she just wanted to take a walk at night...maybe...” Her voice trailed off as she listened to the other end say something. And then she gasped. “What? There was a...a note? What do you mean?” Her mouth fell open with shock, and the hand she held on the phone shook even more. “Kara's been kidnapped?”

And then, with a pang of horrible intuition, I knew what had happened to Kara.
I left the house right away, but when I squeezed out through my window, I accidentally knocked into Rye's window. He woke up and demanded to know where I was going, and then threatened to tell mom if I didn't let him come...so I had to let him. But he didn't know where I was going, or how I knew where to go.
Footsteps snap me out of my reverie, and I freeze. Has the man come back after all? But then I recognize the footsteps- small, slow, careless. With a groan, I slowly turn around, dreading what I am going to find. And sure enough, Rye is walking towards me, a determined expression on his face.
“What did I tell you?” I hiss at him angrily. “Go back to where I left you!”
“No,” he says, yet again. “I won't!”
Time is ticking away. Time in which they could have already killed Kara.
“Fine,” I snap. “Come. Just listen to me and don't cause trouble.”
Rye's eyes light up, then he falls in step beside me. I start to speed up, aware of the seconds ticking away, half of my mind returning to my reverie.
When I overheard my mom's conversation with Kara's mother, I knew that she had been kidnapped by the same group of people that were behind all the other kidnappings in town. It was always on the news; and the kidnappings had been all to similar to be caused by different people.
And Kara was part of the same pattern.
So I set out looking for the kidnapping group, with no more information about them than what they'd done. And somehow I stumbled upon their hideout- but before I was able to do anything, one of their men spotted us and chased after Rye and I, pursuing us through the twist and turns of the back alleys in the city, before his footsteps suddenly stopped.
I tune my senses back to the present and furrow my brow. “We're getting close,” I realize. I don't know how I can tell; it's just the feeling in the air. The same kind of feeling that I felt when we were first looking for them.
Rye simply nods and keeps walking fast.
And then the building looms in front of us, and I recognize it from when Rye and I first entered it before. Rye looks at me, his eyes full of fear. And then we pull open the door- which is unlocked, just as before- and step in.
A blast of air conditioning hits me. We look around the office building. It seems empty; no one is inside, and the cubicles are unoccupied. Before, there were men standing all around, including the one who chased us out.
In this instant, I abruptly understand why the man stopped chasing us.
“Rye. Quick. Let's get out of here.”
Rye, surprised by the urgency in my voice, simply stands still, confused. “What do you mean? We just got here, and we haven't found your friend yet! Plus no one's around, yet.”
“Exactly!” I cry exasperatedly, grabbing Rye's hand and trying to pull it towards the door. “Don't you see? It's a trap. We need to leave before it's too late!”
But it's already too late. The noise comes from all around us as the men pour out from their hiding places, surrounding us in a circle. Making sure we have no way out.
And every one of them is holding a gun, pointing straight at Rye and me.
A shot comes from one of the men. The bullet seems to fly in slow motion...directly towards Rye, quivering with fear next to me.
I cry out with shock as Rye is suddenly on the floor, screaming, bleeding. “No!” I wail. “Rye!” I drop to the floor next to him and put my hands over his wound, as if trying to stop the blood from flowing...I don't believe it, I can't believe it, it's not happening...he shouldn't have come with me...
I look up at the sound of a click, lifting my bloody hands in front of my face out of reflex. And I know that I'm next.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Rye, for not stopping you from coming. For not forcing you to stay behind. For letting you get into this mess. I'm sorry for not stopping the bullet before it pierced your skin. For not jumping in front of you and taking it myself. I'm sorry for not saving you. For letting you die. Sorry.
I'm sorry, Kara, for not finding you in time. Sorry for not rescuing you from these monsters soon enough. I'm sorry for not being able to stop them from taking you. Sorry for anything. Sorry for everything.
Sorry mom and dad, for being so stupid. For letting Rye die. For dying now.
Sorry, sorry, sorry.
Sorry, and Goodbye.

Dang! I even had one that would have been great, but alas it is 4779 words. And i have to go push cows today so i wont have time to write one before the deadline.

How do you want me to judge things? Anything other than ranking the stories 1-10? There seem to be only two entries so far. Do you just want me to rank those two. Did you say you were adding an entry? It's after Halloween, so there shouldn't be anymore entries. What exactly do you want me to do?

Okay Randi, you might want to check with Seth before listening to me, but I'd put it in a word processor.
1 is way too many errors, 10 is no errors.
Then see how well it goes with Seth's theme.
1 is not at all, 10 is just like it.
Then judge it on how appropriate it is. It probably should rank in PG to PG-13 level.

1 is Triple X, 10 is PG to PG-13

yeah, you can listen to Riley. And I didn't finish early enough, so too bad for me :P

XD

Can someone judge this already...??

Okay, so do you want me to judge it? I'll judge it and Operandi can accept it or not.
Toli:
Words: 10, stayed in the limit.

Theme: 10, Well done.

Appropriety: 10. Good job, perfect score.

Sella:
Words:10

Theme:10

Appropriety:10

haha thanks. lol XD

So I guess you're tied.

Seth, do you really want to be a girl? I mean, girls are awesome, but seriously?

WHAT?

Yeah, he wants to be a girl so he can be a lesbian! Duh. But he already is, so he doesn't have to worry about it. :P

WHAT??????????

Mod titles. His says that he wants to be a girl. Or something like that.

haha XD

It says, and I quote:

*Sigh* I wish I was a girl...Bcuz they're cool!

grr Seth ur sick.

it is pretty creepy... but maybe he's just messing around.

somebody else probably changed it...

he changed it now, tho...

ppl keep changing my status thing without asking me. it's REALLY getting on my nerves. (that's why my current status is what it is...lol XD)

sorry?

hee hee i should change it and then ull kill me...


jk

NOOOOOO!!! GRRRRR!!! IF YOU DO THEN YOU DIE!!!! AND ILL CHANGE YOURS TO 'I HATE DAVID ARCHULETA!!" *GASP* so don't even DARE!!! lol XD

lol lol lol lol lol

ha! rachel got owned. LOL XD

oooooooo

lolza

haha XD