The Chosen - WW 24-hour contest - Summer 2013 - all audiences

Heya folks,


We've heard back from Writer's Weekly as the results are in: I didn't win a damn thing!

Duh!!

But hey, that means I can ask you guys to give my story a read and tell me if you think I should've won something, even if it's just a door prize (which is an e-book of your choice). So, here it comes, I've left the prompt in, so you can see what the starting point was on this one.

Enjoy the read and make sure to let me know what you think ;o)

Thank you!!!



Prompt:

Holding the sleeping infant on her shoulder, she gazed peacefully at her surroundings. Tourists wandered in and out of stores, an old man was setting up his easel by the lakeshore, and a

child's balloon escaped into the breeze. A moment later, she looked up as shouts startled her and the baby. Everybody was running in her direction...

~~~~~

The chosen.

Holding the sleeping infant in a loving embrace, she let her eyes drift. Feeling peaceful and emotionally fulfilled, she took in her surroundings. The sun warmed her face and she instinctively adjusted the hat to better protect the small head and face, keeping her baby safe from the sun. Tourists wandered in and out of stores down by the lake, eager to find the perfect souvenir to take home with them and thankful for the momentary escape from the heat. Others strolled along the lakeshore, happy to be near the water as it brought some relief. On the far side of the lake, an old man was setting up his easel, his slender limbs moving in slow motion but with experience. He had probably performed these actions a thousand times before.

Her eyes continued to float as she took in the scenery; a group of children playing near a fountain, their cheerful voices carried on the warm winds blowing across the land; the seemingly endless line of people at the ice cream cart enjoying a clown’s entertainment while they shuffled forward a few inches at a time, their minds on the ice cold treat that awaited them. A young family walked by, the children running ahead, dragging colorful balloons in their wake. She smiled and watched as one of the balloons came detached, causing an immediate reaction in the entire family. The younger boy, his balloon now drifting up lazily, cried out in anguish at the loss of his toy; his brother, a few years older, stopped and turned, his face turning to sadness in a blink; the mother moved forward to comfort her child while the father attempted to recover the balloon. He only missed it by an inch, but the wind lifted it beyond his reach and he turned to his child, an apology ready on his lips.

The baby in her arms stirred and she looked away from the family, giving all of her attention to the child. A moment later, she looked up as shouts startled her and the baby. Everybody was running in her direction. She tightened her arms instinctively, comforting and protecting as her baby cried in alarm, but she could not tend to it now. First, she needed to understand why everyone was running and why they were all running in her direction. She saw nothing that might have caused a panic in all those people, yet they ran as if their lives depended on it. Her eyes found the young family as they joined the others in their inexplicable race; the youngest boy -still sad about the loss of his balloon- now cradled in his father’s arms for safety; his brother pacing their mother with some difficulty, holding on to her hand for dear life. She could not see fear or anguish on their faces. What she saw puzzled her and she turned away from the advancing crowd, looking behind her for answers she did not have.

The mountain slope behind her house was empty, as it had been when she stepped out a few moments earlier. She saw nothing that might explain the sudden rush of the villagers and tourists alike. Even the old man had abandoned his easel and was making his way to the mountain, an eagerness in his halting steps she could not clarify. She could hear their voices, excited and vibrant, rolling up along the path ahead of them. The mountain trembled softly beneath her bare feet as dozens more began the gentle climb some 200 feet away. They would be upon her in moments and still she knew not what had caused the stampede in the quiet and peaceful lakeshore village. She whirled around, still trying to hush the child in her arms, as the fastest men reached the edge of her property. They slowed but did not stop and quickly pushed the ornate gate out of the way, continuing their rush forward as others followed in their wake.

Her fear gripped her tightly as they approached gingerly, arms outstretched, an expression of amazement and happiness on their faces. She took a step back, turning sideways to protect the child, but they were all around her now, filling the garden with their excitement. Their voices blended together, making it impossible for her to understand what they were saying; their hands touched her, gently, reverently. The murmur overwhelmed her with its rhythm and the words became clear.

‘The one.

You are the one.’

She turned slowly, feeling their hands on her body, realizing with a sudden shock her child was no longer in her arms. Her breath stalled in her throat and her eyes scanned the crowd, urgently and desperately. She did not see her baby boy. She did not hear his cries. A tug on her arm made her look down and she saw the young boy who had lost his balloon moments before their irrational rush. He was no longer sad, instead his little face beamed with expectation.

“Can you bring back my balloon?” he asked, hopeful.

“I don’t know.” she answered, her mind racing.

Suddenly, the world went dark and the murmurs ceased, causing her ears to ring with the memory of them. The hands fell away from her and everyone stood in silent shock.

“Cut!” a voice rang out from the darkness, “Who turned off the lights in here?”

“Goddamn it!”

 The end.

This is not the OK coral - Writer's Weekly spring 2013 submission - all audiences

Hey guys and gals.

This was the first time I participated in this writing contest and I had loads of fun doing it. The wait for the results is now over and I promised myself I would post the story on my blog as soon as the 'votes' were in. I didn't win anything, but hey, I had fun and that's what's most important about these things. Having fun doing them. I've already registered for the summer edition, so you'll be seeing more of these coming up as time goes by.
Contest date for summer is July 13th, I'll have to keep that weekend 'free' and to myself. Good thing is that I'm in a different time zone, so I get the email with the topic at 7 pm. That means I have all evening to focus on the topic and I don't have to worry about getting the shopping done, cooking dinner and whatever else needs to be done during the day, that could keep me from getting started on the contest.

Anyways, enough of my rambling already.
Here's the topic:

She sat in her favorite spot on the porch of the weathered beach house, the salty air sticking to her skin, the oncoming storm blowing sand across her bare feet. The crisp envelope bent beneath her fingers as she laid it on her lap, and reached for the pen in her dress pocket...

Enjoy the read!!

This is not the O.K. Corral.

There he was, sitting at the edge of the field, looking out at the wasteland beyond the barrier. It still amazed him to see how abruptly nature could change. How suddenly fertile lands turned to barren, dry and useless stretches of dirt. To him, it didn’t look like dirt, even though he knew it was. It looked much more like sand and he knew it would feel the same should he take off his boots and test it. He didn’t take off his boots though, and he didn’t set a foot beyond the barrier.

They knew he came out here at times. He didn’t mind, he had other places to go if he wanted to be alone. Now, he just needed a moment to himself. A moment to prepare.

One last time, he checked the envelope in his pocket. One last time, he pulled it out and checked the contents. One last time, he double-checked himself. There was no room for error today, failure was not an option. He had worked too hard, too long to fail. If he failed now, he would be letting himself down in the first place.

Six months today.

It was almost like a birthday, but he didn’t feel like celebrating.

Not yet.

The cake would come later. It wouldn’t be a tasty one though. It would taste of tension, stress and fear. It would taste of blood, or bile, or both. It would taste of sweat, the salty taste of sweat, almost as salty as tears. Or the ocean. He missed the ocean. Hadn’t seen it in … How long had it been? He couldn’t even remember. It had probably been several years since he had last seen the ocean.

He made a promise to himself then and there. Once he was done here, he would get in his car and drive until he reached the ocean. He didn’t care which way he went and he didn’t care which ocean he reached, all he cared about was getting there, hearing it, feeling it, tasting it. If he closed his eyes, he could easily picture it, picture him, her. He shook his head. No time for that now. He lowered his eyes to the papers in his hands, reading the words he had written on them.

Everything was there.

Everything he needed.

Everything they needed.

With a satisfied grunt, he returned them to the envelope, closed it and reached for the pen in his pocket, scribbling his signature across the seal. A smile played on his face when he thought of hot wax and a ring, but then his mind came back to his own century and he slipped the envelope into the small backpack, dropping the pen in with it. He slung it onto his back and turned away from the wannabe beach.

The horse waited where he had left it and he whistled softly. It raised its head, ears pricked, but continued to grind down the bite of grass it had taken, before setting in motion.

“Good boy.”

He heaved himself into the saddle and pulled gently on the reins.

“Are you ready?”

The horse’s ears went straight forward.

“Let’s go home.”

The big horse leapt forward, almost throwing him off, but he leaned closer and tightened his legs, holding on with more conviction.

It only took minutes to reach the house and he sat up, digging his heels down before they reached the gate.

“Easy now.”

He guided the horse to the stable and jumped down, leaving it to the youngsters to take care of it.

He went to the house, entering through the kitchen door.

“Hey, Luis,” he greeted, “where’s your brother?”

“What’s it to you? You’re dealing with me, hombre.”

“Not today, Luis.” he replied, “Where is he?”

Luis glared at him, but his icy blue gaze remained unyielding.

“Upstairs.”

Without wasting another word on Luis, he crossed the kitchen and took the stairs, hearing them whine in complaint at his swift ascension.

“Jorge.” he called at the top.

“What do you want?”

“I need to talk to you.” he said, entering the large study.

“No, you don’t. Unless you’re ready to kill for me, you’re dealing with my brother, little man.”

“I have my reasons.”

“But you won’t tell me what they are.”

“I’ll tell you now if you want.”

“Sure, little man,” Jorge replied sarcastically, “tell me why you come to me asking for work, but then refuse to do the work I give you.”

“It’s really simple.” he said, nonchalantly reaching into his pocket.

Suddenly, the quiet day exploded into chaos when dozens of men in combat gear poured into the house, smashing through doors and windows to gain quick and easy access. Jorge’s eyes went wide in shock at the violent intrusion into his home, but when he looked back at his ‘little man’, they went wider still. The shiny, silver badge clasped in his left hand stalled his breath; the small, powerful gun aimed at his head, nearly stalled his heart.

“I’m a Federal Agent, that’s why.”

“What?”

“You’re under arrest. Put your hands on your head and turn around.”

Men in combat gear approached and he shrugged the backpack off.

“Everything you need is in here, six months worth of it.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“If anyone asks, you don’t know where I went.”

“Where are you going?”

“To the beach. I need a vacation.”

He walked away, his job finally done.

Now, the beach awaited.

Everything else could go to hell for a while.

Did you enjoy that?

Please let me know in the comments.

Thank you!