Story Contest!

Chatterbox: Inkwell

Story Contest!

Story Contest!

Okay, this is just a generic short story contest! All genres are excepted!Smile

For this contest, you must write a short story about whatever you want. It must be your own work, and I am accepting entries until August 20th, when I will select a first second and third place winner (And possibly an honorable mention). Have fun!

submitted by J.B.E, age 12, Story Contest
(August 8, 2014 - 4:57 pm)

WHOOHOO ! Sounds fun ! How short does it have to be ?

submitted by Indigo K., age 10, Chatterbox Desk
(August 11, 2014 - 10:39 am)

I guess it should be around 700 words or less.

submitted by J.B.E, age 12
(August 11, 2014 - 4:33 pm)

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                                       Threads
Of Fate        

                                          By
Indigo Keli

               Behind my house was a woods. A
lovely, messy, wild, woods. Definetly not a cutesy Disney woods. It has a
hollow tree in it where I love to write. In it I write of elves, dragons and
fae. I love it there.

               So
there I was. I was thinking, tossing my pen up and down, when my pen
DIDN'T COME DOWN. Not that it was floating in the air. It got stuck up
there, somewhere, in the musty, shadowy, rotting top. I raced home, grabbed a
flashlight, and raced back. I shone it upwards into the hollow tree. There
seemed to be a ledge of some sort, which my pen was trapped on.  I pulled myself up partway, scrabbling for
the pen. I felt it, but it rolled away. I considered leaving it, but it was my
favorite, so I pulled myself all the way up. Crawling, I searched for my
pen.  I flicked my flashlight, revealing
a tunnel. I caught a glimpse of silver, the color of my pen. So I crawled into
the tunnel. I kept accidently kicking the pen farther and farther forward, so I
kept on going.  Suddenly, I noticed a
light. I pulled myself out, wondering where I’d be.

            Branches
layered to make the walls and floor of the room I was in.  Leaves covered the floor. There was a small
table of dusty-rose-colored-wood, and a couple of up-sticking branches to sit
on. There were two short girls with black hair sitting on the chairs, sorting
thick, brightly colored threads. One glanced up. She had violet eyes . She
smiled, revealing small, sharp teeth .  “
Hello, “ She said in a musical voice. “ Sit down . “Nervously, I sat down . I
really wanted to get out, pen or no pen, but if I didn’t … well, the teeth
looked a tad to sharp….

      The girl who
had spoken bent over her work. The other girl raised her head. She, too, had
violet eyes, but very small, blunt teeth. She said, “ Do you wisssh to help me
weave the Threadsss Of Fate ?” Her voice was smooth and oily.  I nodded, interested despite myself.

       “ You can
braid your own, “ she suggested, handing me a pile of thread. I shuffled
through the stack . There was ink black, pale pink, honey brown, sea foam blue,
spicy green, red-brown, violet, cobalt, and a misty blue-gray.

        Ink black… as
a writer, I strongly approved of that.  I
cut off a length. Hmmmm…  all the other
colors were pretty, but didn’t have any special meaning to me. I glanced over
to where the two girls were laboring. One was weaving a soft gray into a braid.
Another was tying green, silver, and brown together. Hmm… I took some of the
silver and cut off some of it, too. Paper and ink… or a dark sky and a moon,
for my name, Luna. What else ? I picked a dark turquoise thread for fantasy and
magic. My world could use a bit of that. Then, I quickly braided them together.
The threads swirled and whirled. Distantly, I heard someone calling, “ Luna !
Luna , wake up ! “ . I woke up to see Dawn, my older sister, leaning over me. “
You’re story got published ! What color do you want the cover to be ? “ I
grinned . “ Ink black , “ I anserwed.

 

By the way, according to Word, this story has 580 words. What do you think ? 

submitted by Indigo K., age 10, Chatterbox Desk
(August 12, 2014 - 2:56 pm)

That's fine. There doesn't really need to be a limit on words if you guys don't want one.

submitted by J.B.E, age 12
(August 12, 2014 - 6:57 pm)

Color

I remember the color. I remember the color of red. The color of black. The color of white. The color of blue.

I don't know why it to be. I flinched. The wind tried to calm me with it's soothing, whispering words. But nothing helps. Nothing makes the colors go. The white cloaked men, smiling at you with their blue, hatred filled eyes. i try to shake out those horrid memories, but you can't. Those men had killed her parents. The gunshots ringed in her ears. Red was everywere. The reach for me. Pointing the gun. Smiling their evil, blue eyes. Colors killed my parents. Destoryed my life.

Colors are horrible. 

submitted by Danielle
(August 12, 2014 - 5:58 pm)


The Last Thread of Hope


Thump, thump, thump,
thump
. My feet keep
a steady rhythm as I jog along the flat, dead ground. My bones are jarred with
each step, but I keep running. My stomach roars in hunger, as I haven’t eaten
in a week. I keep running. My body aches in everyplace, as I have not stopped
running for... how long?  Four days? I
have lost all sense of time, as I can no longer see the sky. I just see
grayness and gloom. But I don’t stop running. I never will. Not until I find
her.


The air is
filled with dust and reeks of decaying flesh. Lifeless bodies are strewn
everywhere. I managed to ignore them a long time ago. There is not a tree or
even a weed in sight. There is not a mouse or even a fly. There is no sign of
life anywhere. But I know deep inside of me, she is out there. Somewhere. I
will reach her even if I have to run to the ends of the earth.


My knees
buckle underneath me. I collapse to the ground. My breathing is shallow and
rapid. My heart is too fast. My head feels like it’s on fire. I slowly push
myself up with my hands. I have to reach her. I will reach her. No matter
what happens. I feel her inside of me, whispering. I can’t make out the words,
but I know it’s her. I know it’s my twin sister and I can’t let her go. She’s
calling to me from somewhere.


When I start
running again, scenes from my life flood me. Going on picnics with family and
friends. Watching movies. Swimming in the cool pond in the woods. Playing
baseball with my brother.  Lying on the
grass with my sister on those lazy, sticky summer days. I shut my eyes wanting
to block the flood. Wanting to forget, but to no avail.


When the
World War lll started everything changed. Our house was destroyed. We spent our
days at a warehouse with other families in fear. Bombs were dropped. Battles
were fought. People were killed. Humans didn’t realize they were destroying
earth and humankind. When they did, it was too late.


One day we
heard that the government was distributing food in another city. My mother and
father were wounded, and my brother was too small to go. Mona decided to go. I
tried going with her, but she wouldn’t let me. I’ll never forgive myself. The
day Mona left, the nuclear bombs dropped, destroying the whole country. So many
other countries were already annihilated, but I didn’t expect it here.


My parents
and brother died. I didn’t feel anything inside of me. I just felt like a
hollow, cold shell. I ran for days without stopping, following the voice. Grasping
that last thread of hope.  This might
sound like the delusions of a desperate girl who has lost her whole family. It
isn’t. I know she’s alive.


Suddenly,
a wave of nausea sweeps over me. I am bent down, my hands on my knees, retching
bile. There is not enough air in my lungs. I am slipping away from
consciousness, and I fall down to the ground.


When I
regain consciousness, I am staring at myself. Long face. Thin, wispy blond hair
that floats in the wind. Sparkling green eyes the color of the sea. High
cheekbones. “Mona,” I whisper hoarsely. Mona, my sister Mona, smiles that
bright smile of hers. Her smile can make you forget every horrible thing in the
world. “You okay now?” she asks softly. I nod, even though it shoots spikes of
pain through me. The tears finally come. I’ve been holding them in forever, but
I finally release them. “It’s going to be okay,” Mona whispers, brushing hair
away from my eyes. “We have each other now. It will be okay.”


I think of
everything I saw. The still bodies. The dust and ashes. The never-ending
grayness. The deadness. Things might not be okay, but it doesn’t matter.
Nothing does, except that I found her. I’m still grasping onto that last thread
of hope.


submitted by Bookbug
(August 13, 2014 - 1:27 pm)

Attack of the llamas

 

"Haha, I win again!" I yelled. I had once again beaten my brother, Bobby, at our favorite video game, Attack of the llamas.

"How do you keep doing that, Riley?" Bobby whined. "You always win on two-player mode!"

I laugh again. "You're still learning how to play, but I'm a master. Play again?" I asked, holding up his controller.

"Nah. I'm going to bed," Bobby replies, dissapearing up the staircase. I decide to take a break myself, and I lay down on the couch, and eventually fall asleep.

When I wake up, it's dark outside. I must've shifted in my sleep, because when I opened my eyes, I was not on the couch anymore. I reached for the remote, but there was something between me and it: Glass? I reached again, and the same clear forcefeild stopped me. I turn around and my jaw drops.

What I see is a pixelated country side, littered with cloud platforms, and an unfitting abyss in the middle of it all: The overworld of Attack of the llamas. I was inside the game. At first I tried banging on the glass and yelling, but that didn't work. So, I decided to try to find an exit in the overworld.

I tried to jump, and it worked too well. I went all the way up to one of the pixel clouds. And when I jumped off, just as I thought, I was immune to fall damage. I jump back up to the cloud and look for an exit from above, but what I see instead is a white llama, the standard enemy of the video game. I jumped once more, this time landing on the llamas head, and absorbing the coin it dropped instantly.

I forgot about escaping, and stomped some more llamas. I was having so much fun that I didn't see the character behind me. When I finally turned around, I realized who it was: Bobby. The character who Bobby played, anyway.

"Hi, Bobby!" I said nervously. He didn't answer, and instead walked towards me. I step back, but on to nothing. I fall into the abyss, wondering why Bobby would do such a thing, wondering if this is all just a dream, and if I would ever make it out of this world alive.

And as I fell past the surface, I realized there was no 8-bit grass to stop me.

submitted by Pete the Trollslayer, Story moon
(August 13, 2014 - 3:50 pm)

Don't forget to keep adding stories! The deadline's in 5 days.

submitted by J.B.E, age 12
(August 15, 2014 - 8:17 am)
Cherry
by Theo W.
It was dangerous, what I was doing. 
Not that what I was doing seemed dangerous. I had just finished my mission. It hadn't been a particularly hard one, but it was one with information that someone might want. Someone who wasn't part of the agency. That was where the danger part came into play.
I was confident, though. Reckless, almost. Walking down the path, head held up high, mission report tucked underneath my arm. That's when I heard the cry for help.
Normally I ignore shouts for help. After all, they're usually traps and bad for business. But today was different. I was suppose to be meeting Ivory to give her my report, and I had time to spare. Oh, and I recognized the voice.
Voice-recognition almost always means it will be a trap. I kept walking down the path. The cries were getting louder. I squeezed my eyes shut and promised myself that if it even looked like a trap I'd be out of there in an instant.
I veered off the path.
"Help!" he cried. I pushed a bush out of my face, and the scenario came into view. It really did appear to be him (though you never can be sure until they use the passcode), and he really did appear to be in trouble. If by trouble you meant his foot was caught under a log and he couldn't get it out.
"Really?" I asked. 
"Really," he whimpered. "You know I'm not a field agent, Cherry!"
"I thought you were actually in trouble," I said.
"Well I am," he replied.
"Serious trouble," I rephrased what I had said. "Plus how can I know it's not a trap?"
"It's not," he said. "It's really me, Cherry," I winced as he said it. "After all, I know you like pineapples."
The passcode had been used. I didn't really like pineapples, but it was the passcode Ivory had assigned to me so I would know who to trust.
I looked at my watch. "Sorry, pal. I've got an appointment with the keyboard." "The keyboard" was code for Ivory. I looked down at him. He looked back up at my blankly.
"Couldn't you help me up before your piano lessons?" he asked. 
"Nope," I said, and walked back on the path. I looked back, to see if he was still there. He wasn't.
I slid into the seat next to Ivory at the coffee shop. "Hey Cherry," she said. "How's it going?"
"Pretty good," I said, and she pushed a coffee over to me. "Thank you," I said.
"Do you have the report?" she asked. I nodded and handed it to her. 
"Ivory, I think we need to rethink the locker combination." Code for "password." "I left all of my pineapples in there."
She looked blankly at me for a moment. "Okay," she said. "You're going to have to get back to me about that."
I tossed five dollars on the table. "That's for the coffee. By the way, the report's empty. I know better than to give it to a fraud. After all," I said, standing up and walking away, "no one calls me 'Cherry.'"
When I looked back, she was gone.
I didn't really edit it or have time to do anything super-jazzy, so here's a last-minute thing I whipped up before I have to go. 
submitted by Theo W., age 13, Dark, Cherry Places
(August 15, 2014 - 5:24 pm)

Okay, I'm not sure enough people entered, so I'll just have a winner and an honorable mention.

Honorable mention: Cherry, by Theo W.

Winner: The Last Thread of Hope by Bookbug. Congratulations!

I liked the stories of all 5 of you that entered. Indigo K, Danielle and Pete the Trollslayer, thank you for posting Threads of Fate, Color and Attack of the Llamas

submitted by J.B.E, age 13, Story Contest
(August 21, 2014 - 8:32 am)

OH MY GOSH, OH MY GOSH!!!!! That was TOTALLY unexpected! I mean, I WON? Thanks, JBE!!

submitted by Bookbug
(August 25, 2014 - 11:18 am)