HipForums Writers Contest Call for Entries!

Discussion in 'HipForums Writers Contest' started by MeAgain, Jul 12, 2020.

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  1. MeAgain

    MeAgain Dazed & Confused Lifetime Supporter Super Moderator

    The desire to create is one of the deepest yearnings of the human soul.”
    Dieter F. Uchtdorf​

    Here is another chance to showcase your creative side.
    This forum is a place to highlight our members' short story writing talents.

    Submissions will be accepted for a two week period, after which a chance will be provided for all members to vote for their favorite entry.
    Stories may be fiction or non fiction, must contain a title, must be be original, and all regular forum guidelines apply.
    Stories are limited to 500 words. Questionable entries will be checked for word count. Any story that exceeds 500 words will be truncated at that point.

    “Start writing, no matter what. The water does not flow until the faucet is turned on.”
    Louis L’Amour
    Finally, here is a classic example of an short story to inspire us all!

    "For sale: baby shoes, never worn."

    Remember we're all in this to have fun!​
    mysticblu21 and Sierra like this.
  2. ~Zen~

    ~Zen~ Wizard in the Castle Administrator

    The first bi-weekly writer's contest begins today!

    Submit your short stories to this thread, and don't forget to include the title!

    At the end of two weeks we will post a poll so the site members can vote for their favorite story.

    I am looking forward to the creative ideas you have :)
    mysticblu21 likes this.
  3. 500 word limit? I'm just getting started at 500 words.

    WOLF ANGEL Senior Member - A Fool on the Hill Lifetime Supporter

    HI Zen,
    Is this as per poetry Contest? (i.e. You should start a new thread for each piece, with the title of the piece as the title of the thread?)
  5. Idlewild

    Idlewild Members

    Here's mine:

    All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
    All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
    All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
    All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
    All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
    All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
    All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.​
    All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
  6. MeAgain

    MeAgain Dazed & Confused Lifetime Supporter Super Moderator

    Yeah, I know, but I thought we'd start simple.
    I wrote one last night and went way over, so I went back and cut the fat!
    Bicaptain My Captain likes this.
  7. MeAgain

    MeAgain Dazed & Confused Lifetime Supporter Super Moderator

    Put the story in this thread.
  8. MeAgain

    MeAgain Dazed & Confused Lifetime Supporter Super Moderator

    But it needs a title.
    Idlewild likes this.
  9. MeAgain

    MeAgain Dazed & Confused Lifetime Supporter Super Moderator

    Here's what I came up with. 432 words, titles don't count.

    Traveling Eternity Road.

    It was a time of nickel bags, cheap wine, and automobiles.

    Cruising south, a nine-hour drive one way, give or take a joint or two. Plenty of weed, beer, a stash wrapped in foil, and three AWOL marines.
    Willie the Worm was at the wheel, the Grunt and his buddies in the back. I was riding shotgun.
    Racing the night; trying to get back to the base before the sun. Avoiding the brig. We were running her tight, transmission heat burning my leg, passing cars, trucks, and buses without a care.
    We did our first hit early that morning, when it was wearing off we did another. Coming on strong, storming the night.

    The Grunt got lost at Breezewood. Ultraviolet lights in the toilet seats. Dragging him back to the car, we didn’t stop again for a while. Playing it safe.
    Pulling over again somewhere, some when. Walking in the woods, standing at a tree, a star twinkled in my eye. And all was One.

    Then we were gone again, eternity road.
    Empty now.
    The astral plane, lost in time.

    Pushing one hundred and twenty, headlights at the rear, a Fury on our tail.
    “Bill,” I said. “Cops.”
    “Fuck ‘em,” was all he replied.

    And so as it pulled beside us I snuck a peek. An arm emerged. A bottle of wine, a face, a smile, a laugh.
    Crazy George, Florida bound.
    Two comets in the night, burning, burning, burning bright.
    I took a drink, gave it back, then we pulled over, had a smoke and continued on our separate ways. George to his fate, we to ours.

    At an all night station they were pumping gas, checking everything in sight. Tires, radiator, oil, all the glass. Speed freaks. The dip stick was gone.
    “We got one in the garage.” They shouted as they ran away.
    I leaned on the car as a VW Bug screamed past, someone hanging on the front, another on the back. Whooping and hollering it disappeared into the night.

    I reached into my pocket for my little square tinfoil stash…..
    It was gone.

    They tore apart the garage, we tore apart the car.
    No dipstick, no little tin foil stash.

    We made it to the base on time. Dumped the marines, bought some baloney and took a nap.
    Then we headed home.
    Out of cash. Low on gas, burnt out, tired, beat.

    We pulled over somewhere, some when.
    Walking in the woods, standing at a tree, the sun was low and a twinkle caught my eye.
    On the ground, a little tinfoil square.

    And all was One.
    Last edited: Jul 15, 2020
  10. ~Zen~

    ~Zen~ Wizard in the Castle Administrator

    Thanksgiving on Tortola

    I was awakened by the crowing of chickens at dawn, again. I would love to wring their little necks and serve them for dinner, but stuffed duck is on the menu for today. Perhaps another time... Now I had to get up out of my tent and greet the dawn on the beach at Brewer's Bay, Tortola.

    After coffee and joints, we set off up the hill for the cow pastures, and hopefully a bunch of fresh mushrooms. We wanted massive quantities of 'shrooms to stuff a duck with. We already had a bag of choice Tortola grass to add (if we didn't smoke it all first). Wild rice and other herbs would make it quite wonderful indeed. The plan was to stuff it, wrap it in tinfoil, then bake it in an open fire at the Campground where we were staying at Brewer's Bay.

    I remembered to bring along the tape player, and was listening to some choice classical symphony (Chopin's Piano Concertos) as we marched upwards to the sun, the cows, and the mushrooms awaiting us. It had rained last night, as usual for Tortola in the Fall, and we were certain that some big old 'shrooms were growing at the speed of light just up the hill. The four of us took a rest stop at the ridge above Brewer's Bay and got more righteously stoned before splitting up to search for 'shrooms. Tortola is covered with cow pastures, and in the old days we were free to roam everywhere on the island and pick enough for our own use with no hassles. If you came across an islander, they were likely to be ancient and weathered, riding or leading a donkey across the golden hillsides, while the cloud shadows shifted along their flanks. Usually they'd be toothless, and just happy to see you; perhaps they were trippin' out on their own thing - the 151 proof Rum from Callwood's Distillery in Cane Garden Bay.

    Most everyone spent the day totally tripping out on the beauty of Tortola. Some became water nymphs, splashing around in the water for hours in a psychedelic glow. Others gathered round the beach bar, talking and laughing. Meanwhile, I did the fun work. Got the duck stuffed, the fire going and buried the duck in the coals along with sweet potatoes, breadfruit and corn on the cob. We had to stand guard while cooking in order to keep the wild marauding chickens away from all the food.

    Just before sunset we set up several picnic tables and benches on the beach, and laid out the spread of food. Several salads, fresh bread, all kinds of vegetables and baked potatoes - with a stuffed duck as the centerpiece. The hordes descended, and by the time sunset was fading into an afterglow, we had eaten everything. It certainly was a high old Thanksgiving on Tortola that year.
    Last edited: Jul 14, 2020
  11. GypsyHolly83

    GypsyHolly83 Members

    The Station Wagon

    Ditching class was easy - especially when you had a reputation for being a rule follower and the 'class' I was skipping was study hall.

    I had checked in, made my way to the back of the oversized cafeteria and casually slipped out a side door into the hallway in the back of the school by the gym. The rest was easy.

    After a fast-paced walk past the small fitness room where music echoed off the walls I was eagerly trekking through the parking lot toward the old beater my parents had gotten me for my sixteenth birthday - a 1989 Ford Bronco. It did the job.

    With the school in my rearview as I exited through the back gates I felt the familiar buzz on my phone in my pocket.

    Out yet? A simple text read from my best friend Kate.

    I pulled the car over to reply - it was the instinctive rule-follower in me. A smile formed on my face as I envisioned decorating my house for the small slumber party I was throwing, seeing that parents were out of town for the night.

    My thumbs responded eagerly as I pictured us in our Pink Lady glory, talking about boys and drinking a bit without the worry of getting caught.

    When I glanced back up in preparation to venture down the wooded back road my breath caught in my throat and I physically jumped.

    Beside my old Bronco a station wagon with tinted windows sat in an eerie dormant state. My gut reaction kicked in and I got a familiar chill - the kind you get when watching Dateline or some scary movie. How hadn't I seen the car pull up?

    I stared, squinting at the tinted windows and more or less praying for X-ray vision. I didn't recognize the station wagon. Was this a classmate playing some weird joke on me?

    The silence in the cab of the car made me deathly aware of my heart rate as it began to race with a series of rapid-fire lub-dubs. For what felt like decades we just sat there in the creepiest stalemate of my life before it finally crept forward unusually slow before easing around a bend.

    My foot, heavy and numb, finally pressed on the gas. I didn't stop or slow down, but my head was on a swivel, until I arrived at home to see Kate's car in the driveway. She greeted me with her typical cheery laughter, though picked up on my body language right away.

    It wasn't until we were settled with cups of coffee in between our hands with the TV playing mindlessly in the background that I explained about the creepy station wagon.

    A reporter's voice soon drew me away from our conversation and I felt my stomach drop when a photograph of the mysterious car came across the screen, complete with real-as-day warnings.

    Kate's whispered voice confirmed the story we had heard about in the news. "The Harvest Killer."
    Last edited: Jul 14, 2020

    WOLF ANGEL Senior Member - A Fool on the Hill Lifetime Supporter

    Way of the Wolf:
    Once more the night arrives.
    My thirst demands replenishment.
    I have an uncontrollable compulsion for refreshment and reinvigoration.

    The Sun goes down and is replaced by Luna illumination.
    The terrain satellite, stark against the night sky, commands my attention.
    I feel an urge that I cannot ignore.

    I leave my lair of residence and make my way out into the open air.
    I am drawn to a site within a nearby wood.
    I settle into an area of foliage that allows both camouflage and accessibility.
    It is one which enables me to swiftly leave and strike at my desired target.

    As a hunter, I adapt to the surroundings, and prepare.
    I wait in the shadows, quietly, patiently, with a clinical mind-set.
    I remain still in physical movement, but sensitively and acutely alert.
    I am studious though relaxed, confident of a successful execution of task.

    I am cold and focused.

    To my right, there is a stir nearby, but I do not move.
    The rustle of bush, leaf or grass is often that of natural element.
    This breeze of evening and/or early morning often disturbs those who are overly eager.
    Through the years however, I have learned to bide my time.
    Whilst this, is not the moment, I know I will not have long to wait.

    As clouds arrive to mask the light from above, I know opportunity will soon present itself.
    Darkness sees many, experience fear, as their vision becomes impaired.
    The passing of time, however, sees my eyes become accustomed to this shadow world.
    Whereas many take the view of this opaqueness as a netherworld with fear, I embrace it.
    There is a solace of serenity in the sound of silence.
    A clarity of clinical calculation as I ready myself for the deed that I must do.

    In due time, the moment arrives.

    Breaking free from its veil, like a laser, the shine of moonbeam lights up the scene.
    It becomes a spotlight that identifies an individual entity, - my target is chosen.
    There is no hiding place from what is to follow.

    The degree of fear soon becomes terror, as the victim realises what is to come.
    Agitation soon becomes hysteria, the target recognizes, escape is a hope forlorn.
    Logical thought is overtaken by a basic instinct, passed down to me from my forbearers.

    With neither empathy nor sympathy, only driven impulse I engage in interaction.
    I am dispassionate, I strike, and dispatch with deadly force.
    After a frenzied activity of action, there is a stillness and an aura of quiet reflection.

    There is no joy in achievement, only a calmness upon completion of the task accomplished.
    The satisfaction felt is not one of pleasure, only of fulfilment of task.
    It is requirement that I am fated to forever continue.
    I must complete in order to recharge and re-energise – such is the way of the Wolf.
  13. ~Zen~

    ~Zen~ Wizard in the Castle Administrator

    Congratulations to GypsyHolly83, you've won this round of the Writer's Contest.
    MeAgain and GypsyHolly83 like this.
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