Here we go, guys!
The winner of the previous contest (Jade-Eyes) spoke.
And here I am to let you all know the rules for the next challenge:

Topic challenge fiction.

An Alternate Universe short story (a.k.a. AU fic)

The fiction can be set during the Renaissance (European or American), Ancient Greek times, or either of the World Wars. Or at present day, but it can't be romance. Or even in the future (if you feel like writing some Star Trek fantasy style fiction!).
Our favourite Lads (one or more, it is up to you!) must be in it, but they don’t have to be specifically what they are at present time (renowned celebrities, it is).

Maximum number of words: 2204 (eh! Our Kat doesn’t like nice numbers!)

Deadline: January, 31rst.

Voting Poll will be up between February 1st and February 7th.

The winner will be prized with a banner and have the right to choose February Contest’s topic.

So! Enough with my babbling, and let’s get the contest started!

Good Job to everyone!

EWAC Moderating Team.

sounds c-o-o-l! A lil question: shall we post our stories in here, in the sghories section or in a new thread?
And, can we write more than one if we feel like to?

thanks! :)

Question:
IF we write about ... for example, the second word war, we can't have romance? neither in it? Or just not romance in the present time?

sorry... i hope you understand me lol

luvly
Andie!

Mena: you can enter only one shorty for this contest.
You can post your creations here, in this same thread in the Short Stories Forum. :yes:

White Andie: the winner of the previous month's challenge clearly indicated that no romance must be included in the shorties that will be written for this specific contest.

If you have any other question I'll be very glad to answer!

:love:

A voice whispered to the wind
By WhiteANdie

Words: 1627
Disclaimer: This is about Second World War. I do own the characters, but i do not own their lives. Dominic Monaghan is in the story, back in 1940, he is not a famous person, he is just a boy ok?
This is a sad story and possibly it's PG15 because of some violence in it.

Copyrighted By WhiteMagnolia/WhiteAndie


September 3, 1939.

I’m afraid. The war is up, and everyone is so worried, i am worried. My father, he told us today, has to go to the army, at the same that my oldest brother, Kevin. I’m afraid I won’t be able to see them again. I’m so afraid of sleeping and waking up the next day just to find out that I’m alone and that everyone is on the way. I’m so afraid.

At the night an alarm was heard, my dad told us that it was a german air raid, and that we had to look for a shelter to protect us from the bombs. Luckily, it was a false alarm, but then I think about that where my father is going to be, there won’t be false alarms and I start shaking, I don’t want him to go, I don’t want this war, I just want that God just erase Hittler from the world so everything could be back to the normal.

Love,
Ingrid Shipway

September 20, 1939

My mom has been crying all day since the morning, because the army took away my two younger siblings: Lizzie and Joann. They’ve been taken to some shelters in the province. My dad and Kevin aren’t home, right now my mom, Kate, Jonathan and me are the only who are left in the house. Everything is so empty, I still have Dominic with me, and Angela, and my faith, if I lose anything of that things, I’d be lost.

Love
Ingrid

August 26, 1939

The newspaper said today that a bomb fell in the South, at night. I don’t remember it, my mom said that it was like *boom* and then a big red light could be seen by Joanna’s window. I miss them so much. My dad wrote us a letter telling us that he misses us, that everything is fine, and that the things are getting better and better. I don’t believe him. I saw mommy crying at night, and Jonathan is so quite, Kate is in silence alike the girl I used to know. Dominic is still with me, he is my love, and if I lose him the war would be able to took me with it. If I lose him, it’d be my war too.

Love,
Ingrid

September 8, 1939

Yesterday’s night was awful. The air raid alarm sounded at 3 am. My mom took us to the bomb shelter than my dad built us before he had to go. He built it since the last war, and we’re one of the only family who has it. I guess that my dad wasn’t that crazy after all.

How can I explain the bombs? The bombs sounds like a big earthquake and a wind blowing, a hot wind blowing, then after it everything is chaos: families are lost, women crying, children (who were left behind) looking for their parents. It’s awful. I’ve not sleep since yesterday attack, but everytime I try to close my eyes I imagine the fire, and the children, and the people trapped in their homes, and I wake up with a scream.

Everything is dark, we don’t have electricity, so it’s more scare to get into this nightmare without even a light showing you that you’re still in your home and not in sort of hell. Thank God Dominic is still with me. Angela is gone, she went away to the province with some relative that she has. She is lucky, I can’t move, I don’t have anywhere to go but here. I’ve been living here for all my life, and all my family has been here since they remember. I don’t have any other place to call home, and that Nazis are destroying it, are destroying my home, with a war I don’t even know.

Love,
Ingrid

September 18, 1939

I’ve never been near death before since today. Dominic’s mom is dead: a bomb fell in Marble Arch Station, she was one of the 17 people that were killed there. She didn’t even lived there! She used to work there. Why?

Now, Dom has to go to war. Now, this is his war, he lost his mom because of some strangers war, and that made it his war too. He’ll be gone, like my dad, and like Kevin, so this is my war too. I’m into the war even if I’m not a soldier, or even if I’m not a nurse, or Hittler, or Sir Churchill, this is now my war, and I hate it so much!

My dad wrote again today, he told us to not give up, to be strong, to have faith in God in ourselves. This time he didn’t tell us that everything seems to be better. I guess he stopped believing. We haven’t receive any letter from Kevin. I don’t want to think the worst. Jonathan keeps in silence, Kate cries at night, and my mom don’t talk. This war is killing us

Love
Ingrid

October 15, 1939

What do you do when the things you only can see is destruction, sadness and chaos? What would you do if everything that you thought was real is now lost in the past, in some past that even if you had problems, it’s even better than your present? What would you do if all the things you believe in once, are lost?

My brother Kevin is dead, half city is lost under the destroyed memories of its past. I don’t have any notice from Dom, and my younger, and only left brother, is gone to the war too. He is only 16! He is so young! The food is limited, and Kate has to work as a nurse. She is more quite than before, she once told me that she has seen things that only in hell could be able to exist.

Kate, we’re in hell right now.

Love,
Ingrid

November 16, 1939

If we were in hell, or at least I imagine I was in, now we’re officially in hell. The German thought to o hard in thinking a name for their new bomb: Satan. We’ve not hit here yet, but a few neighborhoods from here one fell in … like a massive earthquake and a hot wave coming to us. Then, silence… we only heard the flames, the sirens and the crying people walking to us from the burning place…

Where is the hope I used to have? Where is the faith that I used to have in my childish dreams? Where are they? Well, I don’t know, I have to find them before I turn to a silent zombie.

Love,
Ingrid

December 31, 1939

I’m a nurse, my mom is a nurse and now we’re a nurse family. When I got to my duty time I never imagine what I was going to see. The worst nightmare became reality in my eyes: burnt people, crying voice asking, begging me for heal, for hope, for faith. I saw the death in front of my eyes and I couldn’t do anything. I’ve never been so afraid. I need Dominic, I need my dad, I need Kevin, I need Angela, I need peace. I need peace.

Love
Ingrid

March 19, 1940

My neighborhood is destroyed. Even so, the german couldn’t destroyed this small place where I keep my thoughts. I decided that even if the evil takes all in me, my tears, my hopes, my families, my love, my faith, it won’t keep away my voice.
I’ve seen my home in ruins, I’ve seen all I once had lost in the past. I’ve seen my family tearing apart and I’ve seen my dad’s tears in his letters. I’ve through death people, I’ve through crying children. Even so, my spirit is still calling, and it won’t stop until this is over: a war that became into mine when it came into my life; a war that even if I tried to denied, it took me completely and torn apart my life. My war.

Love,
Ingrid Shipway

April 20, 1941

Through the darkness I may see a light. Through the tears I can feel a smile. Through the pain it’ll always be a heal, and through the sadness it’ll always be hope.

I can´t stand in my two feet.. Everything I once knew is lost, I’ve lost everything that was part of my life. My dad is serious injured, and Kate isn’t even the shadow of my Kate. I’ve been in my friend’s services, and I’m almost dead with them. But my spirit keeps calling for freedom. And I still believe in something more than this war. And I still believe… what we have left in the end but faith? What we have left but faith?

Love,
Ingrid Shipway

That was the last of the Ingrid’s letters that I’ve found. I slowly put it back to the beautiful wooden box that I found in my courtyard; The little box that kept the tears and hopes of a girl who is lost in the past; the little box that kept me awake all the night reading the memories of a time lost in the history books. Who is this girl who put her soul in her letters for nobody? I may never find her. What happened to her soul screaming for someone to hear her crying? Her soul had to wait for 63 years to be hear for someone, and that someone was me. I cried a little for her, and then closing the little wooden box I let Ingrid’s soul rest in her peace she needed so. Ingrid: now you can have the peace you looked after so much, you’ve been heard my beautiful girl, your soul is now free to fly away.

The end.

The Finishing Race
by Elijahisawesome

Words: 1427

This story takes place in Greece around 500 BC and involves Orlando and his family. Orlando is not famous in this story. He does however have great skills. The rating of this story is PG.




Orlando was just finishing up his last laps for the day when his mother called out to him.

“Orlando, come inside at once! Your father wants to speak with you.”

Orlando could tell by the sound of his mother’s voice that he was in trouble with his dad. It wasn’t anything new to Orlando though for, at least once a week his father would beat him so badly that he couldn’t see for a few hours. Why his father beat him, Orlando didn’t know. It had something to do with a curse and Olympic games.

He ran to the house and slowly opened the door waiting for something to swing at him. The house was silent, eerily silent. The door creaked as he opened it and as he walked in, he saw a pool of blood on the dirt floor. He saw that the blood went around the corner and walked closer to investigate. There on the floor lay his father with a metal pole sticking out of his chest. Orlando flinched at the sight and had to turn away momentarily. After regaining his composure, Orlando called out to his mother.

“Help! Mother come quickly! Father is dead!” Orlando shouted at the top of his lungs.

He paused standing perfectly still for a minute…there was no response.

“Mother! I am not joking.”

“Of course you aren’t dear. Said a voice from an adjacent room.

A woman slowly emerged from the shadows covered in blood. She walked to where Orlando was standing and looked down.

“Mother?” Orlando looked questioningly at his mother. “Talk to me. What happened here and why are you covered in blood?”

“Your father is dead.”

“Yes, I can see that…answer the question mother!”

“He tried to strangle me! He was drunk once again and I guess I must have done something to anger him. He came at me with a hot poker and said that if I didn’t do exactly as he said he would kill you. I tried to release his grasp on me but to no avail. He pushed me down on the ground and took the belt he around his waist and put it around my neck pulling it tighter and tighter. As a last try, I rolled over on to my stomach and I must have distracted him for he dropped the hot poker. I grabbed it and as I did he fell on me and the poker impaled him. I was so scared when I saw him gasp for air that I called to you and said that your father wanted you. I didn’t know what else to do!”

By now, Orlando’s mother had collapsed to the floor and was crying terribly. He sat down beside her and put his arm around her.

“Mother, I had no idea he was like that to you.”

“He threatened me every day in one form or another. If the food wasn’t right he would scream at me and tell me that he was going to poison me. Everything was like that. Everything revolved around what he could do to make me angry and hurt, not to mention what he did to you!”

“He may not have deserved to die, but he sure deserved to be put away for a long time.” Orlando said to comfort his mother.

“I killed him! Do you know what that means? Now we have no one to race in the Olympics this year. Your father competed every time they were held, and now the games will have to be forgotten.”

“No! They don’t have to be forgotten! I have been practicing and running every day for the last year mother. I know I can do it! Please let me participate in them and win!”

“Honey, you know what happens if you should lose. We will lose our status as prominent Greeks and you know what that would do to your sister. She lives for fame and glory!” said his mom.

“I won’t lose mom! I will win it for us mom! You know, when I do something for you it always succeeds!” Orlando replied with confidence

The next two weeks were spent training and preparing for the upcoming Olympic games. Orlando was as prepared as anyone on the athlete’s list and he had something going for him that they didn’t know about: His mother’s love. That love had kept their family together all those long years under the fear of their father and husband. But that fear was now behind them forever!

The day of the games arrived and Orlando was entered into two contests, the Javelin throwing and bow shooting competitions. The javelin throwing competition was a sure win for Orlando had been practicing since he was only a young boy. The bow shooting competition would be close because only a year ago his father had taught him to shoot.

“My son, you go out there and win us two games! You have it inside you to win! Now use the power you employed against your father to beat the other players! I will be cheering for you even though I can’t be there to watch you.” In those days, women were not allowed to compete or even watch the games.

Orlando watched as his mother left the arena and a feeling of despair crept into his heart. Would he disappoint her or could he live up to the hopes she had for him?

Orlando walked up to the javelin line and the judge told him how the competition would proceed.

“Competitors get three throws, and the eight best throwers are given three more. Competitors will be placed according to their best throw. Good luck and may the best man win!”

The spectators cheered as each man lined up and chanted as the javelin was launched into the air. When at last it was Orlando’s turn, someone in the crowd shouted,

“That is Gaius’s son! Cheer for him and shout!”

The whole crowd erupted into a loud cheer and hoorah’s rang out in the arena! “Do it Orlando” and “make your father proud” could be heard among the cheering. Still, Orlando remained focused and resolute.

He walked up to the throwing line, took his javelin and prepared to thrust it in the air. Thoughts entered his mind of his mother and sister and his father. With his father in mind, he launched the javelin into the air and as it flew through the air the crowd was hushed. The javelin began its descent and all eyes were upon it.

The judge watched the javelin land and announced Orlando’s position.

“No one has ever thrown a javelin this far before! It beat the old record by half a cubit. This competition is over! Orlando has won by a long shot.” Reported the judge.

The bow competition was next on the games list. Orlando was first in the competition line-up this time.

“The man who gets closest to the red dot in the center will be the winner. If by some mere chance a man hits the tiny red dot he will automatically win!”

“I can hit that tiny point, I just know I can.”

He remembered how his father had beaten him if he couldn’t hit the target directly. He imagined himself back there with the knowledge that his father would hit him if he missed. Focusing on the little red dot, Orlando pulled back on the bow, aimed, and let the arrow fly. It had landed directly in the red dot, not only was it in the red dot but was directly and the center and was oscillating back and forth.

The judge walked up to the target and shouted,

“The competition is over! Orlando has single-handedly won this competition and beaten us all.”

At this the crowd leaped out of their seats, some even jumped into the arena and chanted,

“Or- lan- do!!!! Or-lan-do!!!!”

They chanted his name over and over even while the wreath was being placed over his neck and as he left the arena.


His mother was waiting for him just outside and she knew he had won by the adulation of the crowd. He had fulfilled his father’s dream of him competing in the Olympic games, but more than that he had won the game for them! Her son was hers and no one could ever take that away from her! She and Orlando turned and headed home knowing that they would never have to fear for their lives. Orlando had assured them total security by his winning!

The end.

Good luck to everyone!

luvs

Sarah

ok here is mine, sorry it goes on a bit but its within the limit!!

Anne's Fate

Words: 2045

Really this has been inspired by my favourite time, and none of the lads I use are real. Anne is made up, but she could have lived....

It was a dark place, the cell. It had one little window and one door which was constantly being watched. How could one little room cause so much fear?
Anne wept, oh she wept a little more, she feared the place that kept her captive, she feared the noises she heard, the men’s screams from below who were being tortured. In truth the whole place was full of fear, so much so that even the name would turn the blood cold. It was the tower, The Tower of London.
Anne sat on her bed that was made out of straw and smoothed her fingers over the leather of her bible. She whispered a prayer then stood and walked to the little window and glanced down below. A scaffold was being built, and each time the hammer whipped down, Anne’s heart grimaced. She looked to the hill that stood but a mile away from the tower where most criminals, heretics and traitors were executed. Anne saw the smoulder of smoke from the top of that hill, where the day before heretics had burned because of their faith- the same as Anne’s own. But the flame of heresy was not to be her fate, she glanced back to the courtyard, the scaffold was to be her fate.

Anne’s fate had been decided by Mary Tudor, only hours before but the seeds of these terrible fearful times had been sown many years before in the reign of Henry VIII.
In was in this Queen Mary’s catholic court of 1556 that Lady Anne Boyd of Northumberland a distant cousin of the late Duke of Northumberland who had been executed a few years before, arrived searching for her match. Instead she found trouble in the eyes of Lord Elijah Wood and Earl Viggo Mortensen, allies of Robert Dudley and Princess Elizabeth the protestant heir to Mary’s throne.
Anne had been made one of Mary’s ladies in waiting, much to the discontent of her brother William and his friends. “How you can wait upon that monster is unbelievable” he once said.
“I have to, Billy. It has been ordered!” hissed Anne,
“And you never presumed to protest to this or refuse this order?” Billy replied
“I could never refuse and order, especially that of the queen.” Anne said.
“You will reveal yourself a protestant and then reveal us all, and then what shall happen?” Billy asked
“We won’t be found out, we go to mass, we pretend as usual. William I will not refuse to do this, if I do they will be suspicious. The queen would see it as a snub and my head belongs to the axe.”
“It already does,” Earl Viggo said emerging from behind Billy- he had overheard, “You have just said enough.”
Anne flushed and panicked “Don’t worry,” Lord Elijah said from behind her “all our heads belong to the axe, each one of us pretends, and hides it.”
“It seems such a sin to hide your own faith.” Anne pondered.
“It is,” Billy said bluntly.
“Bill, I think that your sister should be a lady in waiting, she could be very useful to us.” Viggo said.
“Lady Anne,” Viggo started stepping in close to her, “We need you to do us a favour,”
Anne struggled to keep her eyes from the mans face, she should look away, look at the floor in innocence but she found that she must look at this man, with his blue eyes and slightly golden hair and the wispiness of his beard. Anne had been infatuated by his presence but not in love, she knew not what love was nor could she wander about like a lovelorn girl. In these dark times she must keep her head.
“If you need a favour, you do not need to enter my own favour, my lord.” Anne replied. Viggo smirked and stepped back, Elijah gave a giggle “She has a sharp mind and humour Billy.”
“What is your favour my lords?” Anne asked,
“Spy on the queen, we must know everything she plans, everything she does, who her allies are and her enemies.” Elijah said
“Surely her enemies are you?” Anne smirked.
Viggo laughed, “Yes but we are the well hidden ones, we plot and plan for the ones who can be upfront about it.” He nodded to across the court. Anne followed his direction and saw a young lady with violent red hair of her father’s that flowed down her back, she had oval brown eyes that of her mother’s. She smiled and laughed to the crowd of courtiers that surrounded her, that included Robert Dudley, Earl of Essex- her favourite.
“I wish to see a day when she might be queen!” Anne sighed. She was the Princess Elizabeth daughter of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn.
“She has her head to protect from the block before she is,” Billy said.
“How old are you lass?” Viggo said.
“19 my lord.” Anne replied.
“Are you willing to do my favour?” Viggo asked
“What shall I get in return?” Anne asked.
“HA! In return! I think working for the Princesses cause would be enough but I guess a title or a good marriage I can arrange.” Viggo laughed.
“You offer me one thing a title comes with the arranged marriage, I wish for one thing more.” Anne replied.
“What is that?” Elijah asked, Anne stared into his blue eyes and calmly said “Safe return to Northumberland when all this is finished, I care not for the court.”
“Granted, my little country girl.” Viggo chuckled, “Perhaps a little country girl would let my have her favour and passage up her skirts.”
“Aye,” Elijah agreed laughing, Billy joining with him.
“You have much more chance, my lord” Anne said her voice full of silk, “with the Princess herself than me.”
“Careful that is the future monarch you speak against.” Billy warned
“Yes future and I like to live in the present, especially if I wish to keep my head on my neck” Anne replied.
“Again Lady Anne shows her knowledge and wit. I swear Will, if she was a man her mind would be brilliant for plotting.” Elijah said.
“A few years earlier she would have aimed for King Henry!” Viggo smiled.
“Ah you show your true age Earl Mortensen.” Anne smiled, “Another excellent reason why you should not enter any young girl’s skirts.” Viggo grimaced as a young girl had outwitted him.
Elijah smirked “Off with you, don’t you have duties to attend to?”
“Yes my lord” Anne bobbed and disappeared down the passage.
“Lady Anne!” Viggo called “Remember our agreement?” Anne felt her heart lurch in fear she turned to face him “Yes my lord.”
“Good I shall see you again soon, Go.”

Anne curtsied low to Queen Mary I as she attended to her in the bedchamber, “Who are you?” the queen asked.
“Anne Boyd, your majesty.” Anne replied dutifully.
“How long have you been in my service?” She asked.
“3 weeks your majesty.”
“I never really liked the name Anne but it shall do. You have been here three weeks and have never ruffled any feathers or your skirts for that matter. For a lady in waiting that is quite an achievement. Tell me what gives you such restraint?” The queen asked.
Anne swallowed and thought; she stared at the aged queen. For a lady of middle age, the queen looked older than her years. Her face was pale, her eyes dark but her hair still red. She had a few tough years, now securely in her reign she was being bettered by her younger sister Elizabeth- the daughter of the woman who had replaced her mother. She was married to Phillip of Spain but hardly saw him and how would that produce and heir, now in her middle years and most of the court was against her. Anne saw a sad character but would have to answer carefully “The bible, your majesty. I like to read it rather than act in sin.”
“The bible, perhaps the other ladies in waiting should take advice from you, little Anne. You shall read the bible to me today.” The queen smiled.
Anne read the bible to her on than day and the day after that. Each day for weeks, that progressed into months she read the bible to her. At the end of each day she reported back to her brother, Viggo and Elijah.
Suspicions were rife that Mary was planning something with Spain to ally with France- England’s arch enemy, to do so upfront would cause uproar, but the Queen could do it secretly and get away with it. Messages were being sent to Spanish and French ambassadors. The Queen was going to get away with it unless it could be discovered. As usual Anne was reading the bible to Mary one day when a knock at the door and a young boy entered holding a basket of oranges. “A gift from your friends and home country, your majesty.” The young boy said.
Mary smiled, “Anne could you get those for me please?”
“Certainly, your majesty.” As Anne took the basket back to the Queen she noticed two letters tucked in the sides. Each had a seal, one from Spain and one from France, Anne had to contain her gasp. She calmly placed the basket on the queen’s table and returned to her seat by the window. She saw her brother from it with Viggo and Elijah “Your majesty may I take my leave for a moment to give tidings of today to my brother.”
“You may, but do hurry back.” The queen said.
“Thank you your majesty.” Anne curtsied and rushed out. She ran down the stairs and in to the courtyard where the three men waited. “Billy!” Anne gasped “the queen has received two letters secretly in a basket of oranges, one from Spain and one from France.” Anne said.
“This is it!” Viggo exclaimed “This is what we have needed. This is the evidence of the nobles of the land want.”
“The nobles?” Anne asked.
“The nobles who will unite against Mary, and to place Elizabeth on the throne.” Elijah replied.
“Thank you Annie! You have given us much hope.” Billy cheered.
“You are most welcome, now I must return she is expecting me.” Anne smiling she returned back to the quarters of Mary. She entered and curtsied “How is your brother?” the queen asked.
“Very well your majesty,” Anne replied lifting her head, she gazed into the wise old queens eyes “You may sit now Lady Anne.”
“Yes your majesty.” Anne replied and returned to her seat.


Anne now stood in her room, her body and soul beaten down by interrogation. The bishops had said something about a maid overhearing them when Viggo had asked her to spy on the queen and Anne and the men had been watched ever since. The guards came to her in her bedchamber and dragged her out screaming. Charged with treason, but how she asked herself how could this have gone wrong? She wiped a frustrated tear away from her eye. She looked to the hill where she had watched young Elijah burn for a trumped up charge of heresy and her brother beheaded for treason. Her death warrant had been signed by the Queen her hair cut short and her dressed in an underdress. Now she walked to the scaffold with Earl Viggo beside her. Anne glanced to Viggo who seemed sad but young looking as if he had a weight taken off his shoulders, Anne felt herself shaking and tears roll down her face. Viggo turned to Anne took her hands and kissed each one. He then wiped her tears away “Do not fear seeing God and your brothers again.” He said. Anne nodded and watched him walk to the scaffold and his life end. Anne now stepped up to the scaffold now realising she was cold rubbed her arms. Now she placed her head on the block and closed her eyes. She then saw her home, Northumberland, the rolling plains and sharp hills, the home she grew up in and Billy, Viggo and Elijah waiting by the moat waving. Anne smiled as the axe swung down, this was her fate.

Ignorance

Words: 374

The girl’s black hair flowed with the wind, lost strands following the light breeze. Her pale eyelids, which once held crystal blue eyes, were sewn shut. Tears of blood from her caked eyelashes mixed with drops from the crown of thorns placed on her pixy-like head. Her decapitated head was placed on a five foot high pedestal, reaching the height she had been graced with in life. In the fountain that was what made the town square infamous, stood the crude monument.

A young man came to look at her daily, his eyes beholding the words of the plaque at the foot of her pedestal:

A warning to all
or her kind and
to those who help
these creatures:
We will find you.

The young man wiped the traitor tears from his sapphire eyes, and looked upon her face. A face of agony and passion, of calm peace and disgust. So many things at the same time, the type of thing that was indescribable with one word. The man’s sub conscious would tell him not to put himself through the pain every day, every hour. The man knew her pain, up to a certain extent. He knew who she was. It was their ignorance that had taken the two out of their balance, that took her out of this world and forever into her own.

The man cursed them inwardly every time he passed one of them, or thought of her. He thought of her every second of his life, even in his dreams. She haunted him, and he welcomed it. Damn their ignorance. Damn their persecutions. They didn’t understand anything! Did they think they could stop witch-craft by beheading the suspected? They weren’t vampires. They weren’t werewolves. They weren’t demons. They were every-day people who recognized magik. They were human beings with a special gift that was to be shared, not to be kept secret on pain of death. When would the world understand?

Never. They’d never understand. The world would never accept something that scared them. They’d never accept something that was strange and foreign. To them, it was like a needle being jammed into your stomach, neck, arm. Anything they didn’t recognize was evil to them. And it would never change.

--------

A huge cyber hug and *good* luck to EVERYONE!!! Lol. :yay:

A Waking Dream

A short story by Hannah Erikon (Radiohead)

Rating: PG15- for adult concepts

Length: 1620

Dedication: This is dedicated to Tom, who gave me the inspiration for this story, in the form of this quote:

"A man could spend his life searching for the perfect blossom and never find it, and it would not be a wasted life."

I'm pretty sure that's from "The Last Samurai" but I'm not sure, I havn't seen it.

Disclaimer: This is a war story, set in the future. You should be able to get this from the story, but basically these people's country has been invaded, they are all prisoners in their own land. So it's kind of a mix of the futuristic option and the war option. There's no battle or conflict in it though. It's based around Orlando, and he's not famous or anything. Hope you like it!

*
His soft cheek pressed against the harsh concrete floor as he slept. All that surrounded him was dark and forbidding, yet all he could see in his mind's eye was grace and beauty. A woman and her child sat amongst a sea of golden flowers, sunlight playing upon the pair, its happiness shining in their unfaltering smiles. The woman leant over, placing a soft kiss on the forhead of her daughter, before lifting her to her feet. once standing, the girl set off at a run, her youthful curiosity urging her to explore her surroundings. For a second, she dissappeared beneath the long grass. A moment later, she was back, holding in her hand a collection of the yellow flowers that she had torn from the earth. Beaming, she ran towards him, and handed him the bouquet. He smiled at her, drawing the flowers closer to his face to smell them. As he looked closer, er realised that amongst thhe yellow petals lay a blue orchid, rare and beautiful in the sea of clones. Smiling even wider, he looked up to thank his daugter. He was taken aback, however, by the fact that she was no longer smiling. Her joyful expression wwas replaced by a look of bitter resentment and hatred as she raised her hand to slap her father.

"Get up!" she yelled. "Wake up!"
*
Orlando's eyes snapped open, shocked by the sudden change of scenery. The dazzling sunlight of his dreams was replaced by painful darkness. He was trapped in the same black room that had swallowed him for three years. His prison, his cage, his punishment for his race. His punishment for the jealousy of others. Every part of his mutilated body ached with the pain his surroundings inflicted upon him. His stomach groaned in hunger, hunger he knew would not be satisfied. His shaved skull itched, and he could feel the hundreds of insects that crawled upon it, biting him, and sucking his blood. His once-handsome face was sunken and gaunt, the deep brown eyes that had once shone with happiness now showed nothing but bitter defiance, and anger thhat such a promising future had been stolen from him. He wrenched his arms up, and placed them beneath his chest, in order to force himself up from the cold concrete floor. Looking down, he stared momentarily at his arms. Long ago they had been brown and muscular, tinted by many hours hard work in the sun. Now they were pale and deathly thin, with the appearance of nothing more than pallid skin stretched over his bones.

He was half way to his feet when a sudden stinging pain snapped across his back.

"Hurry up!" yelled the guard that had invaded his cell, waking him from his only means of escape.

Snarling at the guard, Orlando summoned all of his strength and lifted himself from the floor as quickly as he could manage. He knew that the faster he cooperated, the fewer times he would have to endure the familiar bite of the guard's whip on his back.

"Get in line!" Shreaked the guard, whe never lowered his voice. Quickly, Orlando exited the tiny cell through the open door, and saw that his fellow prisoners were already standing at the ready by the doors of their own cells. He knew he was lucky to have slept at all the previous evening. The majority of his peers spent the long, cold, nights shivering and sobbing into their beds. Pining for lost lives and lost loves. Memories plaguing their thoughts, memories of the world that was stolen from each of them. Happiness, love, honour, pride, family- all cruelly snatched away without reason or warning when their country, their homes and their lives had been invaded.

"March!" Bellowed the guard. At once, the inmates broke into their familiar quick march, down the dank halls, out onto the concrete courtyard, to the other side of the camp, into the work bay. Long hours were spent there each day, working tirelessly without norishment, untill finally, they were marched back through the open yard and into their cells where they ravenously devoured their evening meals. Each day in the working bays was pure, agonising hell. Seconds seemed to last for hours as they were whipped and beaten, in order to make them work faster. They were treated like aliens, for that was all they were to their captors. Disgusting, worthless life forms, not worthy of the name human.

Each day was spent longing, hoping, praying for freedom, and each day brought nothing but crushing dissappointment. After a while, Orlando stopped wishing for freedom, and prayed for death, for even death would be better than this hell that had become his life.

For months, however, the man's mind had been planning, waiting for a moment of escape. Each evening, as darkness swallowed the prisoners, they were herded through the courtyard, towards their cells. That courtyard was surrounded by a steel gate, approximately two metres high and topped with barbed wire. Given the chance, the man was certain he would be able to scale the fence and make a break for freedom. The man did not know, as he lay down to sleep that evening, that his chance for freedom would come the very next day.

*
The day had passed like any other. Long, suffering and painful. His relief was greater than usual that evening, as he made his way back into line to march back to his cell. His raw back was stinging and sweating, the result of hours of torment from his guard on duty. As Orlando trudged, feet dragging, out of the working bay, he noticed that for the first time in his memory, only one guard was leading the group today, and she was armed with only a small baton, secured at the back of her belt. Glancing behind him, he could see no other guards in close proximity. Breathing quickly, Orlando quickly continued to scan the area, searching for long awaited signs of weakness.

"March!" Yelled the guard.

He continued to hyperventilate, knowing that the next few moments, the fleeting decisions he was about to make would change him forever. This may be his last chance, his only chance at freedom. He had to take it, no matter the risk. He had to run, now, and not care about the consiquences. If he died, he died. He had long since forgotten to care about what life meant to him. All that he had loved was gone, he had nothing left to give him any desire to linger in that place. He took a solemn, deep breath, and stepped out of line.

That first, crucial step went unnoticed. He noticed this as he glanced around, and sighed in almost bitter relief. Not hesitating, he turned towards the iron gate, and ran.

He felt strength within him that he had never felt before. Shining exhileration swept through his veins, pushing him, urging him, willing him to run faster. Freedom lay before him, so close. His senses clouded. He couldn't hear the shouts echoeing behind him. He could not hear his cellmates screaming, cheering him on. All he felt was wind rushing around him, and joy overcoming him. No matter what happened now, he had felt this last happiness. With a sudden thud he slammed into the gate. His fingers clawed against it and he wwrenched himself up, tearing the thick shirt from his back as he did so. With a swift movement, he flung it above him, over the barbed wire. Just a few more feet, and he would be free. He could run away from the place of death and disease he had been forced to call home for so long. With a last wrench, he heaved himself over the barbed wire and fell over the other side, crumpling into the ground.

Tears filled his eyes as he looked up, into the distance. He could see ahead of him, a sea of golden flowers, and a small girl beaming, running towards her father. Something small was clutched in her hand which she pressed into his as she reached him. Looking down, he saw the delicate blue orchid. Smiling, he looked up, into his daughter's eyes. Leaning forward, she made to whisper in his ear.

He felt nothing as the bullets hit his back, knocking the breath out of him and tearing his life away. He did not see the blood pouring from him. All he saw was his daughters face, and all he heard were her whispered words.

"Hope is a waking dream."


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good luck to everyone!! The stories posted so far are fantastic. Well done everyone :bloom:


I should also say that the last line, 'Hope is a waking dream' is a quote by Aristotle.

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