FORTNIGHTLY WRITING COMPETITION - WINNER'S ANNOUNCED!

[TwinMoon]

It's the first, the one, the only: FORTNIGHTLY WRITING COMPETITION (drumroll)

RULES:

- Write a story of around 200-350 words on the subject of The Beach
- Entries must be in before 24 May
- Post your entries (or link to your entry) in this thread
- Voting will take place on 24-25 May
- The winner sets the subject for the next competition and starts the next competition
- Top three entries will get a title (the writers equivalent of a trophy)

Happy writing!


VOTING'S ON:

Everyone gets two votes. Explain why you liked those entries.
Giving comments on other entries is encouraged
Voting end monday morning


The top three entrants will be awarded the
“Order of the Big Blue Pencil” 

The first runner up will in addition receive the title
“Hero of the Big Blue Pencil”


and the winner will be awarded the title
“Champion of the Big Blue Pencil”


Oh, and btw: there are small, insignificant trophies which come with these grand, prestigious titles:
      

[Stupot]

Oooh... I'm up for this...
it's probably better this way... every time we try a joint effort it goes tits up.

Look out for mine in a later post...

[ThreeOhFour]

Another first entry to a comp!

I'm not much of a writer (more of a reader, really), but here we go from me anyway. I've not given this story a title, so The Beach will do. Also, I cannot believe I took this thing so close to the words limit :

The Beach

Long walks on the beach, she had said. It sounded trite, cliché but didn’t all girls say that? Tim sighed and looked at his watch. It was seventeen past two. Seventeen past two in the morning, that is.

Whatever he had expected, it wasn't this.

Twenty paces ahead of him, paces marked in the sand still wet from the high tide, she turned around to look at him with a mischievous look. He didn’t like that look at all. “Come on!” she whispered, half giggling her way through the words. “I’m coming!” he replied, wondering why he was actually agreeing to this at all.

“These beach houses are always empty” she’d said. “Haven’t you always wanted to spend a night by the sea, waking up in the morning to the sound of waves? Nobody will ever even know it happened. Just trust me!”

Tim wondered what the hell happened to normal first dates. A boring movie, crappy restaurant â€" not the most exciting things in the world, but this was completely insane. He felt sick; sick that he had agreed to do it, sick that he was even able to agree to something so completely crazy â€" hell, he was sick that he’d even agreed to go out with this girl in the first place. What the hell was he thinking?

They closed in on the house, her giggling and him wishing he was somewhere else right now. She moved up to the window and whispered “I know how to open these, it’s easy. Watch this.”

He couldn’t quite make out what she was trying to do, but she was using both hands and a damn lot of force.

SMASH

The sound of the window pane breaking jarred through the silent night. Tim stared at her in horror. “Damn it!” she murmured “That wasn’t supposed to happen!”

They paused silently for a moment, looking hopefully at the window. Seconds later they heard the sound of the door swinging open and saw a light come on in the room.

Tim turned and sprinted. “Shit!” he hissed under his breath “Shit, shit, shit!”

[Jack Sheehan]

*Space Reserved*

I'm working on a full length short story at the moment so don't expect anything for a little while.

EDIT: Here we go, I decided to make this a companion piece to a full length story I wrote this week, which can be viewed at http://rickjohnsonsfiction.blogspot.com/ if you so wish.

On The Beach

  'Don't put him down there you stupid fuck!' Isaac screamed at Derrick.

  'Shut the hell up Isaac' replied Barker. The rocks were razor like, but from the look of him it wouldn't matter a damn. His stomach was swollen with sea water and blue half circles surrounded his eyes. The long gashes that sliced his shirt were barely bleeding. Derrick was rhythmically pounding on his chest and blowing air into his throat. Isaac had stopped his hysteria and was now staring, panorama eyed at the body.

  'Derrick...' Barker started.

  'Shut it.' It was the first thing Derrick had said since he had fished him out of the water. The beach was completely silent aside from the gentle swash of the tide moving in and the soft thuds as Derrick became more and more desperate. There was no movie like shudder, no spurt of water from his miraculously living body. The corpse lay with the stillness only the dead can achieve.

Isaac lay back against the wet sand with a deer-in-headlights expression as Derrick finally stopped his efforts and collapsed himself, shaking with helplessness.

  'It was just a-.' He failed to finish whatever he thought. Barker stood with an air of finality and breathed out.

  ‘Pick him up and get him into the car.’ he ordered.

  ‘Are we going to take him to the hospital?’ asked Derrick with a childlike gaze.  Barker strode up to him and picked him up by the chin and shoulder.

  ‘No, we are not taking him to the fucking hospital you fucking moron!’ he screamed, ‘He’s dead and it’s our goddamn fault. We are going to get rid of him, do you understand?’ Derrick whimpered something inaudible.

  Mabye he had been too hard on him, Barker considered as he dragged the stiffening body across the marram grass. This was the only way though. Christ he thought, even in my own head that sounds callous.

  Later, as Barker and Isaac drove home in silence, Derrick remained on the beach, watching the overcast sky, the blood on the sand, and the slow night drawing in.


---end---

Exactly 350 words and that wasn't even my intention. Again if you would like to read the companion story kindly go to http://rickjohnsonsfiction.blogspot.com/.

[Emerald]

Meh, I suck at flash-fiction, but I'll give it a go...


{Note: the Italian used in this short wont be found in most dictionaries, but is accurate to the best of my knowledge (spelling might be a little off). Learned most of it from my Italian friend. Also note: If you're Italian, this'll probably be a lot more offensive than I intended. Sorry...}

{Another note: I keep getting odd discrepancies between word-counters. This one counts 365, this one counts 408 and my word-processor, Jarte counts 387. And both the first and second count Ben's entry slightly higher than 350, too. Ben, which counter did you use? In any case, Moony, if you think this is too long I'll shave it down. Probably should anyway...}

{A third and final note: Shaved it down a bit, and it's now the exact same word count as Ben's, whatever that might be (342 on the javascriptkit, which is what I usually go by)}





Backswash

Andrea hated the beach. It was always littered with loud, opulent tourists eating ice-creams and sandy sandwiches filled with more sand than meat. It was a blue-and-gold hell. Andrea stopped walking and turned to his friend, Benito.

"Eh, Benelli, what cazzo is this, amico? Why'd you call me here?"

"Beh," he shrugged. "You work too hard, Andrea. You should take time out to... smell the roses, as they say. How's Angelica?"

Andrea scowled and threw his hands into the air. "Figa d'Oro! Always trying to change me, Benito. Like she's too good for me."

"She is too good for you, Andrea," he laughed.

"Cagacazzo..."

"You swear too much, Andrea. It makes me feel like you're not happy."

Andrea shook his head, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets. "I'm content, Benelli--"

"Benito. We're friends, Andrea -- call me Benito."

They continued walking. They headed towards the pier. The setting sun sent flares of brilliant oranges and pinks blossoming over the horizon, reflecting off the rippling ocean. Benito walked to the edge, leaning over the railing to look down the cliff-face. Meanwhile, the sharp winds slashed Andrea's face and chilled him to the bones.

"It's so beautiful here, isn't it?" Benito said, his voice oddly melancholy.

"What's wrong, Benelli?"

Benito sighed. "I hear you've been doing jobs for my uncle."

Andrea nodded enthusiastically. "Si, qui e là. I helped with the Sicily shipment."

"I hear it didn't go so well," he said, his tone suddenly grave.

Andrea shrugged. "Boh, it went fine. We lost a few men, but we got the whole load."

"Andrea, don't you realise what you're getting in to? My uncle is a dangerous man. This cannot end well for you."

"Che palle, I can take care of myself, Benelli."

Benito turned away from the burning horizon and looked Andrea in the eye. "I wish it were that easy, amico," he said, and pulled out a revolver.

"What are you doing!"

"Because of your brashness, Andrea, the Cosa Nostra found out about our operation."

"But Be-Benito, we're friends!"

"I'm sorry," Benito said, and pulled the trigger, twice. After a pause, he turned back to the horizon with tears in his eyes.

[Tuomas]

So we're writing it here for everyone to see without downloading? I might just take advantage of everyone's ideas and submit my own the last day. Umm, a bit too short for me, sry, won't prolly be attending this time. Especially when I'm writing stuff as work on a daily basis now

[Emerald]

So we're writing it here for everyone to see without downloading?

Same as any other competition on here. The last guy has the advantage of knowing what he has to beat, but the disadvantage of having a lot of good ideas already done...

[TwinMoon]

I might just take advantage of everyone's ideas and submit my own the last day.

Or you could just ask a dozen friends to vote for you.
The idea of this competition is to practise your writing skills. I'm naively assuming it will work this way, since there is no real profit to gain from winning.

If it doesn't work, we can always have a system where it's not public before the deadline, but I'm not distrusting this forum's users beforehand. And even if you steal someones brilliant idea, you still have to write it. Just like you would still have to draw a picture in one of the drawing comps.

[Emerald]

Or you could just ask a dozen friends to vote for you.

Aww man, there's no way I could win at a popularity contest 

Besides, why not judge yourself, like the other competitions? I mean, you're the one who set the criteria

[DarkMaster]

Long ago on a very strange beach the ghost ship was spotted

1897

Alone in a dark room Samuel watch ships come in and out of the dock of beach grimwood samuel sit there thinking about what might happen to the cargo and where the ship might go.One night samuel and robert jones were talking about ghosts if they were real or night "Samuel you know that ghosts are not real there is no proof of them"said robert samuel said "Robert i strongly disagree" "Ghosts are quite common around the town of Grimwood"said Samuel "Remember all those brutal murders in this town from 1701 to 1895, some of the town folk said to have seen ships and people walking around the beach on on the docks"samuel said "and-"Robert interrupted "Lots of people walk on the docks and beach" "As I was saying the town folk said the ships and people were glowing an errie green glow"said samuel.
     There was a calmness in the room for a moment then all of a sudden the wind started getting harder and harder rain started pouring down,thunder shook the town of grimwood  samuel watched as the rain slowly slid down the window robert left and went home while samuel stayed the power went out in the room samuel sat back down in the chair samuel heard noises from outside then he heard the most terrible thing he ever heard an ear spliting scream from inside the old light house samuel sit there in the chair shaking then all of a sudden samuel looked out the window and there it was the Ghost ship.The ghost ship's errie glow frightend samuel then samuel seen the ships saliors most of them were bones except for 13 of them.
      Samuel left the house walking toward grimwood beach every step he took he got closer and closer to the dock he took the last step and before him stood the ghost ship he than got on the ship he hid behind a box he waited watching saliors work moving packages,boxs,and crates around on the ship one salior stood right in front of the box he was behind the salior looked no more than 21 years old he had a sword sticking through his back.The salior was wearing a necklace that said James Flynn samuel said in his mind "that must be his name"then samuel heard someone yell "JAMES!!!!" the salior turned around fast and said "Yes captain" The Captain walked up to james and said " Get back to work" James did what the captain said.
      The Captains name was Alexander Bell he was the Most feared pirate that ever sailed the seven seas.Captain bell walked away samuel got up and walked away from the box as he was walking from the box Captain bell seen him "Ah we have a passager aborad"said Bell right then samuel stoped "Since your on my ship you will die on me ship" said captain bell.Captain bell handed samuel a sword and bell drew his sword and said "Any last words matey?"samuel said "No"and they fought samuel put up a great fight.This is the story of Samuel the Headless

[Tuomas]

If it doesn't work, we can always have a system where it's not public before the deadline, but I'm not distrusting this forum's users beforehand. And even if you steal someones brilliant idea, you still have to write it. Just like you would still have to draw a picture in one of the drawing comps.

Nah I was just making sure, you see, we used to post them as text files in the writing contest, as they're easier to download and read, rather than filling a whole page with long posts. Of course with 350~ words that's not an issue. That, and the text looks nicer in a text editor than on a forum page.

[TwinMoon]

Nah I was just making sure, you see, we used to post them as text files in the writing contest, as they're easier to download and read, rather than filling a whole page with long posts. Of course with 350~ words that's not an issue. That, and the text looks nicer in a text editor than on a forum page.

Of course it looks better with some make-up. That's why it says:
"- Post your entries (or link to your entry) in this thread."
But people seem to prefer just posting it here.


@DarkMaster:  Your story is original and engaging, but it's about 200 words too long, which is just too much. You'll have to shorten it if you want to be included in the voting.

[PixelPerfect]

It was a beautiful afternoon. Then an airplane came.

“I can’t feel my hand anymore” An cried with a breathed breath softly sniffing and mumbling as constant tiny rivers of tears ran down her face. Trai shouted something uncontrollable and then took An into his arms and quickly pressed his hand against An’s cheek, closed his eyes and whispered: “I know it hurts… we’ll make it... I love you.”

As Trai shed tears he looked in to An’s brown eyes, which were like two pieces of finest translucent marble showing light brown gems inside of them. He saw life fading away with every pulse of the salty stream.

In the distance you could hear how the village was overrun, how people were crying, how metal made impact coming from the distance, how the air was filled with unreasonable and misdirected hate.

An’s hand was melting into the ground and it was already like a pool of greyish goo. “I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you yesterday” said An. Life was already leaving her as the blood ran wildly to the ground. She continued:”I was so dirty from the day’s work”, as she closed her eyes. Trai just held her in his arms and rocked back and forth trying to make everything right somehow: “Just stay with me.”

Another airplane came. It dropped something. That something said: ”Freedom from China Beach”

[None]

Dark Waters

There was something about looking out at the open water. It continued on forever, an endless eternity sculpted from liquid glass.
     Andrew held with bittersweet recollection a memory of himself years ago. He had been much as he was now, standing on the shore, looking out at a vast ocean.  But then he was a younger man, and the sea had seemed to him an endless domain, that with a ship he could roam at will. Through the eyes of a young, eager sailor it was not water at all, but freedom and adventure.
     Now as he stood staring out at the sea, he realized that it was not freedom at all, but a great void that prevented him from leaving this godforsaken island. How long he had been marooned here, months, years, he could not remember.
     He spent his evenings now, watching the horizon. Holding onto some forlorn hope that he might spot a ship. That perhaps that great love of his life, the ocean would not entirely betray him to this distant and abandoned shore. How he dreamed of being rescued.
     The sun fell sleepily behind tremulous clouds. Dark clouds that brought with them the promise of powerful and fearful storms, the kind that had wrecked him upon these shores long ago.
     Andrew began to hear something, a voice, carried on the stormy winds. "Andrew..." it called." Andrew come back into me..."
     Andrew screamed, cursed himself. How weak he was, he was letting this isolation drive him mad! He could bear no more. He knew what he must do. There was a bluff, overlooking the water not far from here. He would go there, he would end this!
     The storm roared above as he made his way up to the bluff, soon he was there, overlooking the dark waters below. "Come back to me..." the sea called from below." Come back to me..." He prepared himself, and leapt from edge into the water.  He hit the water with such force, that it knocked him unconscious. Dark waters drew him in, and at last he would have his peace...

[Play_Pretend]

*lol*  I was reading through these, and thought "Jesus...why is everyone writing about beaches???"  *smacks own forehead*

[Emerald]

Would it be considered 'poisoning the wells' to discuss these stories before the closing date?

[Colxfile]

Seychelles
Lying on the beach on Silhouette Island was a sure fire way to lose all track of time. The sun beat down on my front, face, feet and legs, while keeping the sand hot enough to turn me into a medium-rare steak if I fell off my lounger. The only sound was that of the waves gently brushing up against the shore, and then retreating. The unmistakable aroma of sea salt was slowly seasoning my nostrils. No clouds in the sky. Nothing was around to ruin my relaxing holiday. I was loving every minute of it. Damn right too: I’d earnt this.

I surrendered my brief battle to keep my eyelids open, and let myself doze off. I was only briefly woken up by the sound of the hotel waiter filling my glass, followed by a pleasant clink clink of ice cubes after which I drifted off again. I felt surrounded in a comfortable, warm bubble… floating. Just floating. Nothing on my mind, no troubles, no worries to rouse me. And I had another 4 days of this to look forward to. My eyes half opened to take in that clear blue sky again. Perfect. Absolutely…

“JOHNSON!!!”

I sat bolt upright in my office chair, pulling my head off the desk and feeling a chord of drool running down my chin. My eyes struggled to focus on my real-life surroundings, while the fluorescent tube lights burned into my eyes. I shook my head left and right to try and make sense of what was happening.

“You’re asleep at work AGAIN!” said a loud voice behind me.

I spun around and looked at owner of that voice, slack-jawed.

“Clear your desk. You’re fired!”

As I stepped out of the office that afternoon, the cold rain thundered from thick black clouds. It would be a long walk home tonight.

[TwinMoon]

Would it be considered 'poisoning the wells' to discuss these stories before the closing date?

I'd rather you waited until the voting has started.


Wonderful entries so far people, I'm amazed by the diversity. Keep 'em coming!

[Candall]

I have come to know hatred as a dark adrenaline that courses coldly through my veins, rattling my spine with its unrelenting chill.  I shuddered as I dragged my feet along the black-and-white marbled sands of a beach which I’ve come to know as The Widowmaker, as it has left my considerable misanthropy in mourning of those parts of me that once welcomed light.

The tourists were a particulary horrifying ensemble today… a woman in what appeared to be a seaworthy nightgown was wiping her son’s bared bottom onto the shore within mere yards of the rest of the ecstatically oblivous automatons engaging in their ritualistic play within the shallow tide.

My eyes next encountered an absurdly corpulent woman in a black onesie.  She brought to mind the concept of a funery beachball; the flab on her arms engaged in a morbid dance as she extraced a coconut scented ooze from an industrial-sized jug of sunscreen.  From here, she proceeded to slather said ooze onto the hairy back of her equally corpulent companion whose densely hirsute flesh stood as a metaphorical grassy knoll from whence my appetite had been unceremoniously assassinated.

Just as I was beginning to think that my day could not possibly have gotten worse, I heard a scream.  A quick scan of the horizon revealed the source… a young girl was far too distant from the safety of the coast.  I could not control my legs… they hastened toward her location utterly unabated by my mental protestation.  Soon my arms betrayed me as well… they were stroking the rising waves with a violent fervor even as my neck and jaw stubbornly refused my request to simply drown in the act.

By the time I finally reached the snaggle-toothed terror, the sea had called her consciousness away.  I thought that perhaps I would now be able to return to shore, my shockingly self-sacrificial body satisfied in its failure.

I emerged from the sea with her miniature frame draped over my shoulder.  As my efforts in CPR called forth a cascade of seawater, her mother’s gratitude saved my life.

[Emerald]

Heh, very dark, Candall, but in an... uplifting kind of way. What's it called?

[Candall]

Heh, very dark, Candall, but in an... uplifting kind of way. What's it called?

I wanted all 350 words just for the story itself; in the past, it has been decreed that any words used for the title would have to count among the total.  In hindsight, I could have sacrificed a couple of those words without damaging anything.

For what it's worth, I probably would have called it: 

Spoiler

Dark Adrenaline

[close]

[Aljoho]

Its a bit long (900 words) ... i got a bit carried away, but heres my entry

Red And Blue

The cold air bit at his every inch and threatened to freeze his bones, but he pressed on over the sandy plain. A dim reflection of his predicament passed casually through his head, odd considering the odds resting on his shoulders. He, he thought he had a name but nothing came at the thought, had to cross the beach, futilely fighting the cold and walk across the frozen ocean towards the island. He wasn’t sure what he had to find there, he thought he’d known once, but his mind seemed shrouded in a layer of thick fog, His head aching with the sudden torrent of effort it took to think he resolved not to ponder again. The frosted field gave way to a sheer cliff.
Looking around for a path he saw none. Wondering what he’d do, he casually swung his rucksack of his shoulder, ignoring the dim pain thought brought. The icy straps were frozen and dipping his hand inside the case, he felt like he had been enveloped in ice, but with resolve he kept reaching. His hand clasped around something that made the air seem warm. Palely aware of shivering he clasped to small metal figure. The figure was of polished brass, and casually he swung back his arm and propelled the figure as high as he could. Ducking and diving, he lunged aside. He landed painfully on a rock, but he barely had time to feel the pain before a sound reached his ears.
   Thunder ringing in his ears he turned, the sheer cliff was gone and in its place stood a mass of rubble. He revelled in the warmth of the fire of a moment before, but rapidly it dissipated and he stepped in to the chill. Bloody Hell! There’s no way it was this cold before! The thought passed through his head followed by a momentary brain freeze. His head felt stuffed with wool but he stepped onwards
   It took him the best part of an hour to reach the island across the frozen sea. When it cam in sight, nearby in the shrouded fog, the dim shape of a mountain rearing out of the sea, a knife piercing the sky. As he neared it the enormity of it only greatened. Feeling as though the cold would freeze his blood he pulled his coat more firmly about him and pushed on, bracing the winds, his mind set on his task.
   What he thought was another hour of steady walking passed, and the air began to get warmer as he began to climb up the steep face. It struck him what he was about to do, and he let out a bitter laugh. His memory felt less clouded. It was warmer. The though was no longer a dim brain freezing reflection, his mind seemed to be working. As he climbed higher the snow and ice slowly became scarce, until he suddenly noticed there was none at all. Sweating he unzipped his coat, then his fleece, removed his shoes, till finally the summit came in sight and he reached for his bag. He felt in his bag for another small figure, this time of a gold like substance, though he knew it wasn’t gold. The figure was warm now, bringing out yet more sweat in his palms. As he reached the summit his mind rushed back and he remembered everything. His name was Matt Saunders, his father, the asshole who had gotten the world into this mess was the “world famous scientist” who had tried to toy with the worlds weather using a bunch of magnets and a huge contraption that produced the static electricity that had first wracked the world with torrential rains and thunder, the wreaked havoc with the seas, causing them to fizz due to a build up of chemicals, and finally freeze, killing tens of thousands, including his father. He reached the summit and felt hot tears on his cheeks. Not caring he pressed on, and looked down in to the roiling mass of red he took a deep breath and just as casually as before let the figure go, this time dropped into the mouth of the volcano. With an o so familiar roar, as though of thunder, the volcano seemed to give off a loud belch. Turning he ran. This time the beach rushed up to meet him quickly, and the large expanse of beach around the island was not covered in thick sheets of ice, but sat still as a calm lake. He felt the sand beneath his bare feet, each individual grain seeming to burn a mark into his soles, not looking round he stared out to sea. It seemed a fitting place to die, surrounded but serenity on one side, and chaos on the other, battling till one had to one, it seem ironic that one way would save him, should the sea win, but the other the world. Wading up to his waist in the water Matt ducked his head under and waited. After a few minutes he heard a hiss, and the water around him fizzed and bubbled. He had won, yet he had lost. It seemed strange the cost of victory, like a thorn covered rose, yet a thousand, a million times over. Ignoring the water bubbling around him, ignoring the pain, he waited

[Emerald]

Now that's hardly fair...

[Pet Terry]

Pure

Nancy waited.

She waited for the morning to come.

She waited for the mist to disappear, for the sun to rise.

Her dress, once white and sparkly as pearls from the deepest ocean, was now wet and dirty of sea water and sand.

In front of her, Nancy saw the turbulent sea. Everywhere else, nothing but sand. Heavy mist muffled everything around its curly arms. Occasional dark shapes moved in the distance. Nancy didn't hear a thing from the rumble of the sea, but she knew that they called for her.

”Come here, little child, come here”, they called.

The voices, they were enthralling. The fascinating tones hinted of a better place, of a place where Nancy could have been herself. Nancy felt confident. She knew she had only one choice. She knew what she had to do.

Nancy took a step forward. Somewhere in the distance someone was calling her name. Nancy knew it wasn't one of them. This voice was boring and scared, it lacked the tone. Why would Nancy want to be with someone whose voice lacked the tone? Why would she want to be with people who didn't know better? Nancy was right, everyone else was wrong.

Nancy took another step forward. The boring voice was getting closer but Nancy didn't notice it anymore. She heard something else, something better. She heard only one thing.

The water was cold but Nancy didn't care. She didn't feel the cold. Instead, she felt all warm and soft inside. They were getting closer. Nancy felt them moving around her feet. She felt the warm and the soft grabbing her legs and slowly pulling her under water.

”I'm home”, Nancy said and smiled. Her voice had the tone.

[rock_chick]

As I strolled along the shore I could fell the swell of the water hitting my bare feet, it was a relief from the more than tepid sand beneath my feet. I was watching the ebb and flow of the ocean but my mind was filled with other things. This was the first place I met Jordan, I had told myself to stay away from here until bittersweet memories of us were less predominant but I felt myself urged to return. I can still remember how he first caught my attention, he had this strong, powerful physique, it was hard not to notice it as he jogged past me like a surfer concentrating on riding a wave. I was not one to approach strangers but he had this magnetic attraction that drew me to him. I decided to abruptly stop him and ask some mundane question, a rather lame line about whether he frequented this beach often. He could sense I was nervous but smiled and to my surprise and delight he began a conversation. Little did I know that that day would forever change my life.

My memories were disrupted by the realisation that the water was making my feet almost feel numb with cold, for as I was reminiscing I had stopped strolling. I edged back to dry land and as I turned around to leave I saw Jordan, but he was not jogging. He was embracing what I assumed to be his new honey. I was torn between feelings of sadness and anger; I was clearly still in love with him and felt how dare he take this woman to our place? I manoeuvred my way back to my car, careful to avoid him noticing me, for that would have been too much torment. As I was about to drive away I realised that it was never our spot, it was where we met but it was never ours and the anger dissipated but the sadness stayed with me for months to come.

The reason for the edit was just to make a grammar correction.

[rock_chick]

Now that's hardly fair...

I agree, it's clearly way too long to be a viable entry, no offence but it's the rules of this contest.

[TwinMoon]

'Murder your Darlings', Arthur Quiller-Couch said in his now famous lecture from 1916.
All creative people will recognize having a good idea which doesn't really fit, but you want to put it in there anyway. Sometimes you can manage to pull it off, most of the times you end up with a really obvious wig.

The 350 word limit is not just a rule telling you to remove adjectives, it's also a way to force you to think about the structure of your writing and be creative and economical with your words.

You probably know where this is going: your entry can't be allowed, Aljoho.
There's a lot that could be trimmed, the first paragraph, the references to his amnesia, etc. I can tell you like writing as much as I do, but it's also important to know how to tell a story within a word limit. I'll turn a blind eye at 360 words, but 880+ words is too much.

I wanted all 350 words just for the story itself; in the past, it has been decreed that any words used for the title would have to count among the total.  In hindsight, I could have sacrificed a couple of those words without damaging anything.

Um, yes. Titles count towards the total, I thought that went without saying?   (ok, ok, I forgot to put that into the rules)

[Twirlly]

Like Red Wine

With sand caressed toes, they walked along the shore, and the autumn night air caused her hair to sway in a seductive rhythm, making his heart race. He had thought about this moment a million times and how perfect they would be together since the first time he saw her on campus freshman year, and now they were seniors.

Over the past week he planned tediously for this special evening, contemplating every possible situation of the night, and was determined for all to go smoothly. He still reveled at his idea to use his parent’s beach house, which he’d decided was the ideal place for him to execute his plans.

The moon glowed magically on her skin as they sat on the candle lit blanket that he placed prior to her arrival. He pulled a bottle of merlot, her favorite, from its cooler. As he prepared to serve her, he reached for the corkscrew that lay next to the bucket and lifted it against the cool sea breeze…

Following ten swift stabs, his hands began to shake and he dropped the coiled instrument now covered in her essence. He watched as her blood was drunk by the sand and absorbed, like the spilled wine, into the blanket. After a few moments, the edges of his mouth began to shift, and a malicious smile spread across his face.

He felt utter delight knowing that she would never be able to cause another person the pain she had inflicted upon him through her countless rejections of his affection for her. Although she would never know he knew that she only went out with him as a part of her sorority hazing, he knew he had done justice for many men that she had and was sure to have harmed.

[TwinMoon]

Last chance to enter!

[Dualnames]

ENTRY:

What's THE correct way to start a story? Is there a typical way to start a story? I don't think so. And even if there was a typical way, wouldn't that mean that all stories would start the same way? Some say that the above sentence is wrong, and some say it is right. Maybe if those people say it at the same exact time it will be perfect but for this moment it's wrong, but in the next moment it will be right. Those were John's words at the beach the last day of May, in an island that its name matters a little, and even if some consider it important, those 'some' are in proper numbers so few, that their opinion is considered an  not-so-important one. Anyway, John was a small taylor down in this not-so-important island and he had that little chit-chat about how books should start, if they should start in the first place, with his daughter Janine, who was trying to write something up, but couldn't store and express her ideas the typical writing way. She was feeling a little awkward about the fact, that she should restrain and express her inspiration, which she had none at the time being, but that's not the point, with limits. And above all the things she hated, and she could hate many things, even things that you can't possibly hate, was that feeling. So she tried to talk about it with her father , who despite being her father in the first place , could help her so little. But she was not aware of that fact. If she was, she wouldn't have started talking to him. So they talked in the beach, for hours and hours. Mostly talked about the beach, and not about her feeling. They talked about how the sun fells on the sea when it's diving to go get some sleep. How the birds feed themselves. And how gorgeous surfers try to show-off, resulting in injuries and bruises. And how rocks loved to have those surfers hug them once in a while. They talked about passing boats, but they both realised a little later on, that there were no passing boats around this not-so-important island, for quite a long time.


Author's note:
i think i've passed the limit a little bit. But reading the story will give you the point.

[Jack Sheehan]

Last chance to enter!

Hey why? I was intending to do something tommorow, and it's only the 22nd.

[TwinMoon]

The last two days were intended for voting. The 24th is when the voting was supposed to end. I'll admit that it's confusing since the title mentions it ends the 24th.

I'll extend it to saturday morning, ok?

[rock_chick]

Author's note:
i think i've passed the limit a little bit. But reading the story will give you the point.

It's 376 words, I use Microsoft Word to check word counts for these sort of things, since it's only a bit over the limit I'd be inclined to allow it but then that'd be unfair to other people who might have left out other things they would have loved to have put into their entries but followed the rules so even though I'm probably going to sound like a bitch I don't think this should be a valid entry, however since you're only over the limit by 26 words if TwinMoon agrees it's not valid than I think you could find some way of limiting it to 350 while still maintaining the main part of your story and having a real chance of winning.

I realise this is the second time I've mentioned that someone in this competition should have their entry invalidated for breaking the rules but I entered a short story competition for acclaim and money once and if I'd broke the rules I'd have been disqualified and not even got a chance to try again, then again my entry didn't get any prize but I will say from the little of the entrants writing I've read(I didn't want to know too much about what I was up against) I think lots of you guys have real writing talent!

[Jack Sheehan]

Check my original post in the first page for my story, looks like I just slipped in under the deadline. Cheers for the extension.

[Emerald]

How exactly does voting work? Is it up to the public, or the entrants, or some 'judges', or what?

I have a feeling there aren't many people with the patience and devotion to read every single entry, weigh their merits as a piece of creative writing and make a perfectly unbiased judgment.

Not mention that if the whole point of a 350 word limit is to encourage people to cut away the excess rhetoric we use and leave a glittering gem, having the public decide seems like an odd juxtaposition. The public are idiots -- the Da Vinci Code was one of the top-selling books of all time for chrissake...

[rock_chick]

How exactly does voting work? Is it up to the public, or the entrants, or some 'judges', or what?

I have a feeling there aren't many people with the patience and devotion to read every single entry, weigh their merits as a piece of creative writing and make a perfectly unbiased judgment.

Not mention that if the whole point of a 350 word limit is to encourage people to cut away the excess rhetoric we use and leave a glittering gem, having the public decide seems like an odd juxtaposition. The public are idiots -- the Da Vinci Code was one of the top-selling books of all time for chrissake...

Those idiots are the ones that make or break writer's careers, like it or not if you publish a novel your sales and books popularity are based a lot of the publics interest in it, not some bunch of so called experts, a book is written for an audience and that is the public, I'm not saying I agree with some of the public's favourite shows and such but it's reality. If you want to have a more real idea of whether an audience likes something you need to let them choose, it doesn't mean you agree with them. And then if not the public who should be considered qualified enough here to be a judge and why? However these issues need to be dealt with for this competition to be successful, how the voting system works is important regardless of how you feel it should be conducted so I'm not attacking you.

[Tuomas]

I think it's only fair to expect people who submit a story of their own to vote or at least read through the other stories too, especially if they wish to have their own story voted on. At least I would not wish to see posts like, "Oh, I didn't win. Why didn't anyone vote, lameasses" if you don't vote yourself. Though I'm not going to vote, I'm too busy at the moment, and I can't get fond of the forum layout stories, most of which seem to be done in 5 minutes, no offense intended of course.

Oh, I and I remember I once recorded something fun under the topic Beach if you want to hear

[TwinMoon]

I feel it's arrogant for me alone to decide which are the best, I prefer people to vote. Maybe I'm being too optimistic about this, we'll just have to see.

The DaVinci Code is popular because every chapter presents a new plot twist / surprise. People like thrillers. (By the way, people who say it's their favourite book ARE morons, since most of the facts presented in it are wrong.)

I don't agree with you Tuomas about the quality, I think there are a few genuinely well-written entries.

[TwinMoon]

VOTING'S ON!

Everyone gets two votes. Explain why you liked those entries.
Giving comments on other entries is encouraged

As a kickoff, I'd like to give my thoughts on the entries. I'll look mainly at structure, style and how well it holds the reader's attention. Spelling and grammar won't be commented upon too much since not everyone has English as their first language.
Every comment will consist of something positive followed by something negative.


The Beach
+ Switching between Tim's thoughts and descriptions of what's happening drives the story forward.
- Tim's attitude towards the girl is totally passive. I'd understand him better if he told her that breaking into a beachhouse wasn't such a good idea.

Backswash
+ The dialogs are very good; remarks like 'you work too hard' and 'how's Angelica' really make the characters come alive. The foreboding is good: Andrea hates the beach, there's a sharp wind, etc. all point towards the unfortunate ending.
- I don't like all those white lines between the dialogs.

PixelPerfect
+ "I'm sorry I didn't kiss you yesterday." This sounds realistic; of course that's what is most important at a moment like this.
Alternating between personal (Trai and An) and impersonal (the village) works very well.
- After the first line "It was a beautiful afternoon", if you give a long description and exaggerate how beautiful the afternoon is, the line "Then an airplane came" has much more impact.

Dark Waters
+ I like your style of writing: "endless eternity sculpted from liquid glass", words like "forlorn" and "marooned" really suit the dark romantic mood.
- If you described Andrew as a more desperate man, I'd understand his suicide more. He still dreams of rescue, and is sane enough to distinguish reality from illusion. Even when stranded on a deserted island, it's difficult to kill yourself.

Seychelles
+ Descriptions: Sound of waves, smell of sea salt, sound of ice cubes. These can invoke a lot in readers.
- The downbeat ending is unsatisfying, giving it's a humorous story. Maybe if there were more clues this guy is a slacker I'd feel less sorry for him.

Dark Adrenaline
+ The great sarcasm makes this so much fun to read. (At least, I hope it's sarcasm.) The style fits perfectly.
- The last sentence: "her mother's gratitude saved my life." which I don't understand.

Pure
+ Very strong writing (reminiscent of Dylan Thomas), Nancy was totally believable.
- Repeating the name Nancy got slightly annoying after a while. Maybe first person would suit this better.

rock_chick
+ The structure is very good. From perceptions to recollection to flashback and then to the harsh reality. Flows really natural.
- Using more paragraphs would make it easier to read. Examples of where I'd start a new paragraph would be after the lines:  "...filled with other things.",  "concentrating on riding a wave."  and  "woman to our place?"

Like Red Wine
+ The skipping of the actual deed works great, since your mind fills in the blank with more
horrific detail any description could. Also, this suggests the murder was done in a blind rage.
- Nothing really, except if you rephrase the last sentence as: "...her sorority hazing, he knew she
would never hurt a man again." it would be a more punchy ending.

Dualnames
(I feel I'm missing the point of your story, but I tried to give some criticism anyway.)

+ It has a unique and original style; I like how it moves fast through a lot of details.
- This story consists of unrelated facts: why is it necessary to mention Janine hates a lot of things? Why the long abstract talk about whether the opening sentence is wrong or right? Why did
they talk for hours about the beach? If you made things connect more it'd be a better story.

On The Beach
+ The characters of the three people - Isaac, Derrick and Barker - are clearly established, which is no easy task in 350 words.
- There's no plot twist, as a standalone story it's not very interesting.


My two votes go to:
"Pure" by Petteri
"Dark Adrenaline" by Candall



The top three entrants will be awarded the
“Order of the Big Blue Pencil” 

The first runner up will in addition receive the title
“Hero of the Big Blue Pencil”


and the winner will be awarded the title
“Champion of the Big Blue Pencil”


Oh, and btw: there are small, insignificant trophies which come with these grand, prestigious titles:
      

[Jack Sheehan]

I vote for 'Pure' and 'The Beach'.

[Dualnames]

Author's Notes:
Well, I didnt consider myself smarter or more in sort of a way to be put above others because I wrote more words. If i make them less you miss the joke about the passing boats. So if someone wants to vote more fair, if fair is a possibilty, I hereby allow him to skip the last sentence. My comment(author's note) was not supposed to be sarcastic or mean or anything, it was supposed to be a in-joke. I've written half a book called Bookish Hunt Down, and the book starts kind like this little story, though its more connected than this story. This story was written fast and it barely has a point. It is mainly a story that has some jokes, like the surfer joke.

Twin Moons comments:

[1]why is it necessary to mention Janine hates a lot of things?

And above all the things she hated, and she could hate many things, even things that you can't possibly hate, was that feeling


Well, Janine hates many things. That is a fact. And above the infinity as described from the phrase, [even things you can't possibly hate], is the feeling she has about starting books. All this is done for emphasis. She hates many things an infinite number possibly since she hates things it's not possible to be hated she hates above that infinite number that feeling.


[2]Why the long abstract talk about whether the opening sentence is wrong or right?[


Because that is the feeling that Janine hates.


[3]Why did they talk for hours about the beach?

Because she needed to talk about her feeling to someone.

[4] If you made things connect more it'd be a better story.

I'll agree with that comment. Totally.

Anyway to voting.

My votes go on:
Dark Waters
Seychelle

[rock_chick]

When does voting officially finish and are only entrants and yourself allowed to vote? I didn't realise you would be allowed to vote in a competition you were in so I kept myself from mostly reading other people's entries until now, I've got through some of them but it's getting late over here.

[Pet Terry]

Dark Adrenaline by Candall, well written and depicted, overall a very good read. I could well imagine this being a excerpt from a book.

Seychelles by Colxfile, great and unexpected twist, after which everything just gets worse. Well depicted, too, I could almost feel the sun burning my skin in the beginning, the dull atmosphere of your average office in the middle and the cold and depressing rain in the end.

[rock_chick]

The entry by PixelPerfect
"Dark Adrenaline" by Candall

[Twirlly]

I feel kind of silly now that I realize the maximum words was 350 and not 300 like I thought, but anyway on to my votes:

The Beach by Ben304
Dark Water by ShonenAiGuy

I would love to give comments on all the entries, but time doesn't permit me to right now and I wanted to make sure I voted before time is up.

[Colxfile]

My two favourites were

Pure by Petteri and
Dark Waters by ShonenAiGuy

Aside from being well written, Pure - rightly - scared me. Dark Waters, I feel, painted the scene the best, conjuring up a clear castaway situation in my mind.

[TwinMoon]

Sorry it's somewhat chaotic, I'm having some personal things to deal with.

Voting ends monday morning.


I forgot to mention that while Dualnames' entry is over 350 words, it's still allowed. As a rule of thumb I keep a 10% margin, so 380 words would be the maximum.
I don't like to be overstrict, but of course I didn't tell you about the margin

[Candall]

My votes go to "pure" and "seychelles."

I liked "Pure" because it left a lot to interpretation.  Why was Nancy hearing voices?  Was the sea really talking, or was she schizophrenic?

I agreed that the word "Nancy" was used a bit too often until I re-read the paragraph... someone was calling her name, probably frantically, and probably many times.  I don't know if you did that on purpose, Petteri,  but it was very clever.

I liked "Seychelles" because of the teriffically handled imagery.  I also like the fact that in spite of knowing nothing about the main character, I can totally identify.

[TwinMoon]

I think we can consider this competition a (small) success: 11 entries isn't bad. But, without further ado, let the ceremony begin:

TIED with three votes each at fourth, third and second place:
Dark Adrenaline by Candall
Dark Waters by ShoneAiGuy
Seychelles by Colxfile

You're all knighted as Heroes of the Big Blue Pencil!



And the winner is *slowly opening envelope*
Pure by Petteri!

The Champion of the Big Blue Pencil!

I notified Petteri he could start the next one when he's ready, be on the lookout for it!

[Pet Terry]

Oh thank you, and congrats to Candall, ShonenAiGuy and Colxfile as well.

I'll start a new competition shortly.