writing 4 results

Short Story Contest Submission: ShindaHotaru – Time Will Tell


Time will tell

It was supposed to be a quiet evening, husband out with the boys and the house empty and silent for once. You wanted to relax for once, just for once, even though you wouldn't have minded your husband's company. But the kids wanted to watch a movie you can't even recall the name of and he suggested to take them out, probably the only way to get your oldest son out of the house.

Things have gotten out of order the past weeks, or months or so, you can't remember when family life has stopped being only about weekend trips, movie nights and playing hide and seek in the garden. Someday your oldest son stopped coming downstairs for a play of hanafuda, the next he took his lunch upstairs into his bedroom. Logically, a fifteen-year-old boy needs privacy, some time on his own. But you can't find an excuse nor explanation why your son wouldn't want to eat with you anymore. What, upstairs in his room, was more interesting than familiar company?

You shake your head, nuzzle your back more into the sofa cushion and sigh your thoughts away. This is your evening, no need to have your family problems on your mind while they are out of the house. So you lie there on the champagne couch, your gaze wandering through the living-room, a mixture of crème and brown-colored furniture, the little nostalgic lamp on, sitting in her beauty on the table on the other side of the sofa.

Now that you are home alone, you have no clue what to do with the time given. Your husband and kids only left half an hour ago and they won't be back in the next three hours. Maybe even in four hours, when your husband comes up with the idea to treat them all with some fast food. He spoils the kids too much, you figure, he would grant them a wish when you didn't even allow them to make one. Or perhaps he has a better idea of raising kids than you have, and after all you're just too strict in most of the cases. And maybe that was why your oldest likes to stay up in his room instead of jamming on the guitar with you.

Maybe not? Well, you could use the time to find out, now that your son is far away, physically, and mentally even farther away. You get up, climb the marble staircase and walk over to your son's bedroom door, determined to enter and look for any evidence. Somewhere in the depths of your mind, your husband's voice echoes, that having trust in your children was essential, but you have no trouble to ignore your inner voice and walk into your son's bedroom.


Short Story Contest Submission: Tensh_iie – I’ll Try Not To Destroy You


I’ll try not to destroy you“

Warm rays of sun wavered through the window, bathing the room in golden lightening. Birds were tweeting on the outside, talking and singing almost as if they wanted to greet the new day that was rising from the ground. Another warm and sunny day in Los Angeles. Another day full of chances, dreams and opportunities. Another chance to make things right.

Standing on the back porch of his house, a young man took in a deep breath, letting the fresh air rush through his body and fill his lungs with oxygen, as he stood there and greeted the new day himself. He did that every morning, no matter how the weather was outside. No matter if the sun was shining, or rain came crashing down from the sky. It didn't matter. Every morning at six-thirty A.M. he stood in the same spot, in the same position – taking in the first deep breath of the day. It was a ritual, something that meant a lot in Jon's world – the world he lived in.

Looking up from the ground, he watched a pair of blackbirds jumping over the green grass of the back yard. They were probably searching for some worms or seeds, which they could fill their growling stomachs with. Or maybe they were on the hunt for little branches they could use to build a nest somewhere. Who knew – Jon most certainly did not and yet he enjoyed watching them.

Smiling gently he finished the cup of coffee he was holding, another ritual that he fullfilled every morning, and turned around to step back inside the house, closing the sliding door behind himself. Every morning started the same; a routine that never got old.


Short Story Contest Submission: Jeremie Guy – The French Quarter

The response to the Short Story Contest wasn't mind-boggling, but I'm happy that six great authors submitted their stories to the contest. Quality is more important than quantity anyways! =D In the next two weeks, I will post their stories here, so you have time to read them. Then there will be a voting for the best story, so check back and vote for your favourite story! The winner will get an Amazon giftcard! To the authors: Thanks for your participation and good luck! EDIT: VOTE NOW! Here's the first submission:  

The French Quarter by Jeremie Guy

The fake sound of an airplane taking off awakened him from his daydream. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, realizing that he’d grown sleepy since he’d sat down. “Don’t go to sleep, bud, I need someone to keep me company,” said Hugh. William wrinkled his face and just wanted to nod off, but Hugh tapped his shoulder. “You need to just forget about Evanka. She’s no good for you.” Hugh stopped talking and William wondered if his best friend realized that talking about her was still a touchy subject. He knew that he was taking the trip down to the French Quarter in New Orleans because he needed some time away from his wife Evanka. He wasn’t sure if he would ever go back. After he discovered that she was having multiple, drunken affairs he had to leave to resist the temptation of assaulting her. Just because I cheated doesn’t mean I don’t love you, William remembered her saying. We’ve been married for ten years and you better not be getting ready to throw that away. Thinking of another man inside his wife made him shudder and a chill crept up his spine. Tears burned his eyes and he blinked to keep them inside. ...

Short Story Writing Contest – NEW DEADLINE MARCH 25!

EDIT: DEADLINE EXTENDED TO MARCH 25th! Prize: - Blog Post about the author - Amazon Gift card ...