I decided to make, yet another story contest thread. This one will have always judges, a new one every three days, chosen by me of course. Thoses judges will choose one topic and rate each story 1 through 10 and give constructive critism. I am todays judge 1, and I will make the first willing person judge 2, and for the topic:
End of the World (Some way the world ended, may it be aliens, warfare or zombies, it's your story, survivers are permitted) Minimum of three paragraphs. The deadline is May 12th. You may begin posting! Can be first or third person.
I think you should wait, and then either give this thread up for the official contest, or keep the "Tri-daily" here. Because a new thread for each topic might become confusing.
I was awake, but I thought I had walked into a dream. I was lying on the ground, covered with dirt and sweat. I tried to stand up, but my legs weren't strong enough to hold me. I fell back with a startled grunt, my chest heaving, my lungs feeding greedily on the stale oxygen in the room. I rested there for a while, on the ground, collecting my breath, when I noticed the sign above the door. It read E.R. So I was in a hospital, but why, I did not know. It was then that I noticed the syringe attatched to my arm, and the red fluid inside. I pulled out the needle, and my arm went numb with pain. It fell to the floor, sending a wave of agony up the appendage and through to my spine. My second attempt at getting up was more successful. I staggered over to the door and stumbled with the doorknob, cursing my lame arm. I finaly opened the door and got over to the attendants desk, but the attendant wasn't there. I checked all the other rooms in the hospital, but they were all vacant. I gave a sigh of discontent, wondering where everyone could have gone. I walked over to the main entrance, and nearly fell over again with surprise. All that lay before me was a wasteland. Cars overturned, whole buildings colapsed, destruction as far as the eye could see. I walked along the empty streets, my gaze falling over all of the deserted homes, the destroyed buildings, all the while wondering how this could have happened. After the first month of traveling, I came to the conclusion that I might be the only one left. I knew I was alone in the world, the last of my kind. I fell down on my knees, the weight of the sadness that had welled up inside of me too much to bear any longer. I had decided to end this miserable existance once and for all. I carved on makeshift gallows a poem, my final words before I departed from this world.
Here I hang, overcome, By sadness grief and sorrow. And here I'll hang, 'til Kingdom Come, Wishing for a better 'morrow.
Written by Pois0nArr0w
Dude! i freaking loved'yo story! It's a great story, you should make it famous ^ ^
Lo and behold! Mr Nice-Things-Guy is here. Prudent as ever. *ahem*
Posion Arrow's:
I was awake, but I thought I had walked into a dream. I was lying on the ground, covered with dirt and sweat. I tried to stand up, but my legs weren't strong enough to hold me. I fell back with a startled grunt, my chest heaving, my lungs feeding greedily on the stale oxygen in the room. I rested there for a while, on the ground, collecting my breath, when I noticed the sign above the door. It read E.R. So I was in a hospital, but why, I did not know. It was then that I noticed the syringe attatched to my arm, and the red fluid inside. I pulled out the needle, and my arm went numb with pain. It fell to the floor, sending a wave of agony up the appendage and through to my spine. My second attempt at getting up was more successful. I staggered over to the door and stumbled with the doorknob, cursing my lame arm. I finaly opened the door and got over to the attendants desk, but the attendant wasn't there. I checked all the other rooms in the hospital, but they were all vacant. I gave a sigh of discontent, wondering where everyone could have gone. I walked over to the main entrance, and nearly fell over again with surprise. All that lay before me was a wasteland. Cars overturned, whole buildings colapsed, destruction as far as the eye could see. I walked along the empty streets, my gaze falling over all of the deserted homes, the destroyed buildings, all the while wondering how this could have happened. After the first month of traveling, I came to the conclusion that I might be the only one left. I knew I was alone in the world, the last of my kind. I fell down on my knees, the weight of the sadness that had welled up inside of me too much to bear any longer. I had decided to end this miserable existance once and for all. I carved on makeshift gallows a poem, my final words before I departed from this world. Here I hang, overcome, By sadness grief and sorrow. And here I'll hang, 'til Kingdom Come, Wishing for a better 'morrow.
Good job. It was an excellent description of the painful process of action. The plot ended on a poignant note. With a nice little dangling carrot in the form of a poem. Overall a fine story.
Pixie's:
This is the end of the world as I know it.... I don't feel fine. You always see in the movies that the scientists and the governments find the meteorites and just send up some cowboys or nukes and we're all ok. ok I won't feel that for a while. No one saw it till it hit the atmoshere and started to heat up; no one was looking. The worst thing was the placement: off shore in a shallow sea that had toxic mineral deposits beneath. Anyone who didn't die in the impact choked slowly on the fumes.The whole world consumed in clouds of dust, blackening the sky. The land aflame and the seas boiled dry. But I'm here... I'm lucky... if you can call it that. I was chosen from 17 applicants to go on a one-man space probe. I remember talking to the senior astronauts and they said that how beautiful it was to look at the Earth how magnificent it was. But now it is my torture watching it burn seeing civilisation torn apart. True it does have strange beauty about it the swirling oranges and reds of the flames like a child playing in the leaves at fall seem so gentle and playful from this distance I can only imagine what it is like to be down there. It may sound selfish but the main wory I have is myself. This probe is basic and needs a team at BNSC to get it safeky to home... to get ne safely to home. So that it is I'm stuck I can't get out of this orbit and even if I could there is nothing there on earth to go to. I have options wait for the oxygen to run out or open a hatch and.... well speed up my demise. The world is over I don't feel fine at all.
The plot and ârising actionâ grinded well together. Description was flowery, injecting sufficient emotion. Also, it ended on an abrupt cliffhanger, leaving open the possibility of predicting what happened. The last sentence was almost a replica of the opening sentence, rounding things up with a flourish. Man, do I love these.
Cen's:
You look out the window, staring at the white flakes of... Something unknown to you. It is frightening, is it not? Looking at it as it cover the ground, faster than snow would do. It does not disappear. The days following it, the light disappeared fully. It made it harder to breathe, the white flakes. There could not come much air in. After a day or two, you hear the creaking of the house. It gave up. You know you are trapped, you cannot come up now. The door is too heavy. You shared the light so it would not take all the air, but now, now you wish you would be able to see light again. You have been able to hear a few lines from the radio. Catastrophe, it said. Most of earth covered. And by then you knew you were lost. Now you are just waiting to die. And when it come, you will still struggle, because... You do not want to die.
[i]The story ended with a rather...almost amusing note. I laughed there...albeit hollowly. And that was actually a pretty good flowing second-person story.[/i]
Cen's (again!):
He could never have stopped in time, he was told. He could not have done anything to avoid it. It was not his fault. But he knew it was his fault. If he hadn't been driving so fast... It was below the speeding limit, but...But he shouldn't have been driving so fast. He should have been cautious. But still he hit her. She was not killed. It might have been better if he had killed her in the accident, but instead he just damaged her. Now she was sitting in the wheel chair, looking emptily out the window. He wondered if she would ever recover. The doctors said it might be a possibility; that she might be able to think again. He shook his head as his own mental formulation. But he knew it was how it was. Her brain was damaged, and sending wrong signals, making her face twitch over and over again. And that empty gaze... She looked like she wasn't even seeing anything... He knew that that accident had altered his world. And that that accident had ruined her's.
[i]Nice little 'end-of-the-world' look, small scale. It was packaged well, sweet, short and succint. Lot's of self reprieval and blame there. A jumble of emotions and reflections that went down well...[/i]
At this juncture I'm stumped. Am I allowed to choose 'my' winner? If so, it's......Pixie! Yes, your story was the best that I've read from the entries thus far. Your plot was the most fleshed out, wth a decent mix of thoughts thrown in. A balance.
