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Morrigan

Writing Challenge Winners

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Morrigan    6,274

Welcome to the Writing Challenge Winners thread! Here is where I will post the winning graphic for each contest so that we have a collection of all the winners for everyone to see! 

 

 

Writing Challenge 1: Less is More by @Robmin

 

Spoiler

A lean man, hair grizzled with age sat rocking the chair on his porch gently back and forth. Eyes that were misty with age gazed over the garden, with the white picket fence. However he wasn't seeing the garden with its neat flower beds and the rose bushes trimmed into shape. The topiaries lining the path were invisible to his gaze. As often happened he was looking back through his memories, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. He'd lived a long life, a good life, and few people would imagine the adventures he'd had as a younger man. Of course that was all in the past now - but one could reminisce. 

 

"Grandpa! Grandpa!"

 

A young boy with short tousled blond hair came running up excitedly.

 

"Grandpa, will you tell me a story?"

 

"Sit on my lap, just there my boy and I will tell the story of the Seven Kingdoms, and Arthur who managed to rob them all of their greatest treasures"

 

"You're Arthur"

 

"That is my name yes, are you comfortable?"

 

As the boy nodded a smile showed again. Yes, he was Arthur, he still was Arthur even though age had left him unable to still partake in the adventures of his youth. Now all that was left to him was memories, and a grandson to fill the head of with what he thought was stories. As the boy had nodded he started.

 

"Many years ago...when you were not even born yet, there were Seven very wealthy Kingdoms...."

 

 

Writing Challenge 2: Trapped - No entries 

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Morrigan    6,274

Thank you @Jason for winning Writing Challenge 3!

Quote

The narrow gaze of the tall warrior as he looked at what she referred to made him grimace down to his soul. The death of another one of his brothers saddened him but his role as protector of 21st century Earth made it a necessary act. "I needed not your opinion to know that I committed an horrific act by surface world standards" he spoke, looking at her sternly knowing that she did not know neither of them were truly human at all, instead being born of an ancient evil buried deep within the Earth itself. This officer of the law which he became so close to would not understand that he was saving her, nor should she understand that    manually  removing the head, tearing it from the neck was a necessity to prevent regeneration. The claw marks across the headless body did not heal, having not recovered yet after the head was removed, leaving a gruesome sight before them and a mystery as Griffin's left hand firmly gripped the human head by the bloody hair. Throat flesh and veins hung free below the neck line, running blood to the floor next to him. 

 

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Morrigan    6,274

Thank you @Corinthian for submitting! You are the winner.

 

Quote

There are some words that should only be written from a distance. Only once you're sure they can no longer bite.

 

On the rain-slick streets, the sodium glare of streetlight tints the world in the shifting amber monochrome of a daguerréotype. The hissing of drizzle upon asphalt and the crunch of your footfalls interlace to form a rhythm with which you beat time, an anchor that keeps you tethered to this halfway-between. You might be forgiven for thinking this a fever-dream, something borrowed from the recesses of your subconscious, printed thin and overlaid; you are waiting for the words you expect to hear. For the devilry you grow more certain of with every beat of your heart.

 

Yesterday, the voices in the courtyard twisted as they rose through the night air… when they reached your window they were a language you’d never heard before, a demonic double-tongue that made you cringe. You lay awake, listening, trying to find some meaning in it, an understanding you feel certain is there. Everything will begin to make sense, if only you can grasp it. From across the room the water-pipes, striped in shade, resemble luminescent mushrooms.

 

You wrap the sheet about your face and hold your breath for as long as you dare. Tonight, they’ll come tonight, they’ll come tonight… they’ll come tonight. Keep repeating it, this incantation, sewing the words into the chill night air like a prayer… and perhaps you will be lucky. Perhaps it won’t come true.

 

 

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Josie    595

Writing Challenge 7: Not a word

@Freya is the winner of !

Quote

Liam kept his head bowed at the callous statement, staring sightlessly down at the wooden floor. Behind his back his bound hands trembled, and he dug his nails harshly into his palms. 
 
A shaky breath.
 
Then he raised his head slowly, tears streaming down his cheeks. Silently he met the cold stare head on, chin raised high. Chapped lips thinned, his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed heavily.
 
Liam's stare never wavered.

 

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Morrigan    6,274

Writing Challenge 9: Keyword Challenge

Winner is @Hardy

Quote

She was smoking pot out of a glass pipe beneath the glow of the back door's neon sign. He could smell it as soon as he'd taken the first step off the sticky, mottled back entry. It was like a calling to the senses. A familiar voice in that caustic and cloudy sigh. It could have been anyone smoking but he never would have believed it. The static crawl through his skin was unequivocal proof of her being there. That feeling he'd coined as his private companion in those long academic hours. Those entire days spent memorizing the languid contours of her adolescence. The crawl of his attention to the details of her.  Details like the way the color clung to her hair for weeks after it had already washed out. The tiny black cross tattooed behind her left ear. The way she chewed on her inner lip. The study of her, his secret science - and then the infrequent but ineffaceable static shock when she'd catch him. When their eyes locked and his pulse buzzed so loudly in his ears it felt like a pressure.

 

She turned as he approached, smoke curling out of her mouth like an upended waterfall. She was alone and so he instinctively knew that she had come to talk. Whatever she had come to say was for him. He could pretend for a few minutes that the foreign hickey riding an inch above her collar wasn't there. That it was nothing more than a meaningless bruise. The greasy garbage bag clutched in a fist had been long forgotten at this point. It had only been secondary. The rancid dumpster, rusted-out metal and grime of a decade's worth of take-out, could wait because he had already approached her. He was the first one to speak; a simple 'Hey.' She'd looked at him from below dark lashes and dark powder like he'd gone searching for someone to whom he could unload baggage. How funny that she could do that with so little effort - play things always into her hand like she'd been born to jive. A jukebox baby. But maybe not so much today.

 

She'd given him some half nod and told him she'd been at the hospital yesterday. Anyone in her world knew what that meant, so the tight 'Shit, I'm sorry. Is it bad?' tumbled from his lips like a prayer for salvation. She'd looked away and then told him her uncle had passed. She took another toke while stupid 'Shit, shit, I'm so sorry, M. I'm so sorry,' filled the space of silence. He felt like an asshole between someone's eyes - useless. He asked her how she was doing and felt like kicking himself as soon as he'd said it. How was she supposed to be doing, fucking moron. A quick apology and then another lapse into unsaid words. Unsaid things and their unsaid fears. It took a while for him to think of something to say, and when he did he asked, 'So what now?' and she'd responded by leaning into him and closing the gap between their lips. Something both chaste and penitent. It had stolen all the words he'd wanted to tell her, the things he'd wanted to ask her. Things like: did she have other family? Where were they? Did they live close or far away? She had stolen these things from him and had left him standing there with nothing more than the effervescent aftertaste of her debt lingering on his lips. In a lifetime of memories of her it was his favorite and his last.

 

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Morrigan    6,274

Writing Challenge 12: Mini-Story

Winner is @LOVE ME AND DESPAIR

 

Quote

Endless dark, bottomless and thick; my eyes adjusting didn't help at all as I continued to tumble. Arms extending until fingers clawed at the sides in search of purchase. Seeking something to make me stop falling toward what waited me below: death. I knew eventually there'd be a bottom. That my body would slam against it, shattering and cracking bone until I couldn't move as I bled out. If I was blessed I'd die as soon as I hit. I didn't want to be blessed though; I just didn't want to die. She'd pushed me. I can still feel her arms gripping me tighter and tighter until my body could barely move. The hug was unexpected, but all I could feel was sympathy as her vulnerable state fooled me into feeling bad for the end of her marriage to my father. Why did I give her another chance to talk? Why did I meet her alone? I knew better than to trust my Stepmother.

 

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