Weekly Writing Contest

*Picture was commissioned from Viki-Vaki of Deviantart. https://www.deviantart.com/viki-vaki WEEKLY WRITING CONTEST! First Place wins 6 Tokens. Second Place wins 4 Token. Third Place Wins 2 Token Rules: Write a microfiction or flashfiction story (Between 100 and 1000 words) that is inspired by the above picture. The story can be any genre, fiction or non-fiction. Generally the more imaginative the better, but a well written and edited story is most important. When completed post it on Minds. MAKE SURE you Tag me in, so I will see it. Also you should use the tag #WeeklyWritingContest it will help others find your work, including me. You may add a picture if you like. Every genre is welcome. The winner and runner ups will be picked by me on Wednesday around noon (Eastern standard time). You'll get your tokens, and I'll remind your story with a congratulations. If you would like to help out, feel free to remind this message, along with any entries you like. Donations If you wish to donate tokens, send them to me with a message, or comment here, that they are for the contest. I will use them to increase the prizes, for this and future contests, and do some more boosts. This would be really helpful right now, as Minds is being pretty stingy with tokens, and I've been rather busy in the real world. So I'm almost out of Tokens to hand out as prizes and to help promote this contest. Any amount would really help. Good Luck!

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More from Daniel and Angel

The first place story for the #WeeklyWritingContest is Densities, by @Rushofwaves. At first I wasn't sure where to place this story. It's a great story, but the 3rd and 2nd place stories are more traditional and show off more writing elements. But as I thought about it, Rushofwaves story grew on me for two reasons. First the dungeons we build in our minds can be more confining than anything we face in reality. And second, too many people nowadays allow themselves to be trapped with no chance of escape, because their 'betters' tell them what to believe and how to act. For that reason, Densities deserves 1st place.

#WeeklyWritingContest Every thought I stored away was another brick in the wall that I was building around me. Sheltering in place without an embrace and I blocked my access to the door. Just in case I wandered away in a dream. My breath became dank on the walls and my skin. I was safe now from all the fears I had learned and was comforted as my flesh pruned. I could not hear the light screaming nor feel the wind howl. Storms came and passed, my paradise stripped down to it last...glimmer.. My elements alone my resonance in decline. This material mind faced solid and my bones encased in desities far beyond what I was, at first blind.  Finally trapped within the horizon I did finally awake, and for the first time in awhile I smile as I bake. An escape from the weight always comes sooner than late. If only I knew to question the ways I was taught. I was a slave building my own prison, and a joke for the kings that fought. So now I see through as they laugh, even thier enjoyment is fake, and like me, will rot. By @rushofwaves For danielandangel Weekly Writing Contest @danielandangel https://www.minds.com/newsfeed/1269721456736997396

117 views ·
Our 2nd place story for the #WeeklyWritingContest is The Man Unkillable, by @molly_b. This well fleshed out story is a mix of horror and comedy, as an executioner must deal with a man who simply won't die. The panic from the various characters as things build up is quite well done, and as usual the dialogue is spot on. It's a must read.
@danielandangel #weeklywritingcontest The Man Unkillable Magadan, Russia. 1985. "Three months, Beloff. You've been here for three. Months." My narrowed gaze follows the KGB officer as he paces in front of me in the cramped cell. What he says is true. I don't object. "In three months, you haven't had a crumb of food or drop of water. In that time you've been hanged—“ I grit my teeth as the agent standing behind the chair I’m tied to lifts his arm and brings his metal baton down on my head. My vision is hazy after the blow, but he doesn't stop hammering my skull with each method of execution his commanding officer lists off. "—shot—“ *Slam!* "—Electrified, drowned, poisoned, strangled, set on fire—“ *Slam! Slam! Slam! Slam! Slam!* "And most recently, tied to a pole naked, soaked in liquid sewage, and left outside for a week for the elements to kill you. You were supposed to freeze to death! How am I *still* speaking to you? *Why* are you still here?" My head throbs something awful. "Masochism?” I say slowly. My tongue is conspicuously dry. It makes it hard to talk. “Maybe I still have intelligence to gather. Perhaps all the head trauma you're giving me is making me too dizzy to escape. I know I could leave whenever I want, you certainly can't hold me against my will in this miserable outhouse you call a prison cell. Tell me, is this the room you got your liquid sewage from? It wouldn't surprise me. It looks like a septic tank. Smells like one, too.” My answer earns me another swing to the noggin. I expected that. The officer gets in my face to growl at me. "You are here because you've been declared an enemy of the state. You're here because I'm supposed to be executing you, and yet you thwart me at every turn! How are you doing it, Beloff? How?" "Aw, don't make me tell you my secret just yet. You'd surely kill me for real, then I'd lose my nickname. What a shame that would be,” I say with a smirk. I'm not surprised when I'm hit again. I wonder if I should put this on my resume. *Three months’ experience as a piñata in a Russian prison camp.* "The Man Unkillable, that's what they call you, isn't it? Nonsense. Utter nonsense." It’s clear he doesn’t believe what he says. He’s just saying it in hopes I *will* die if he tries hard enough. I see the terror growing in his eyes as he paces. We both know that if he can't do something as simple as kill me, he'll take my place in front of the firing squad if and when his superiors hear about his continued failure. He’s so afraid I can practically taste it. It doesn’t taste bad. "How do I kill you? Why can't I kill you?" he mutters. "Get creative," I say with a laugh, "maybe you'll strike gold." I know he'll fail, I just want to watch him scramble. "Cut his throat, Ivan. We'll watch him bleed out in front of us." I snort and let out hearty laughter as the officer's thug presses a blade to my throat. Then, as his ugly face nears mine, I catch a whiff of his breath. My confidence melts. This is the first thing to really scare me in this prison. I'm filled with nausea and weakness. I lurch away from the man and try to vomit, willing something to come up for some relief. Nothing can. There’s nothing there. The agents notice my sudden change in demeanor. The officer makes a sound in the back of his throat. "Could it be...that the Man Unkillable finally fears for his life? And to think that all it took was a knife to the throat." I gag, even when the blade is brought near my neck again. I don’t even care about the knife, that man’s breath is horrible. “Why is he trying to vomit? Is he sic—Ivan. Ivan, look at his teeth.” Oh no. I shut my mouth quickly. Up until now, I’ve hidden my fangs. I didn’t want this officer or anyone else figuring it out. He’s quiet for a minute, studying me, then goes, “Ivan...have you had any *garlic* recently?” Ivan answers in the affirmative. The officer’s mouth twitches. “Impossible. They’re not real, are they? Unless.... That would explain everything. Of course we haven’t been able to kill you, you’re a...vampire.” Time for me to leave. I change to a bat to escape my bonds, then change back and grab Ivan, plunging my teeth into his neck. After months of being starved in prison, my first feed is downright euphoric. My pain melts away. I feel stronger. Fuller. I drop the corpse once he’s emptied. Blood runs down my chin. I don’t even feel the new holes being blasted into me as the officer empties his gun’s magazine into me. I couldn’t care less about the bullets, they’re not silver. I feel invincible. The officer runs once it’s clear I can’t be held off. I let him. The longer the chase, the better the meal. The terrified officer shouts into his radio, warning his comrades and frantically telling them to arm themselves with wooden stakes and garlic. At least until I catch him, and his orders are cut off with a gurgling shriek.
129 views ·
Our 3rd place story the #WeeklyWritingContest is Left Behind, by @charlesr_author. The POV character is an interesting choice, and is an interesting glimpse into insanity. It's quite good overall and clearly shows Charles skill as a writer.

Left Behind by Charles Robertson word count: 219 @danielandangel #weeklywritingcontest

188 views ·

More from Daniel and Angel

The first place story for the #WeeklyWritingContest is Densities, by @Rushofwaves. At first I wasn't sure where to place this story. It's a great story, but the 3rd and 2nd place stories are more traditional and show off more writing elements. But as I thought about it, Rushofwaves story grew on me for two reasons. First the dungeons we build in our minds can be more confining than anything we face in reality. And second, too many people nowadays allow themselves to be trapped with no chance of escape, because their 'betters' tell them what to believe and how to act. For that reason, Densities deserves 1st place.

#WeeklyWritingContest Every thought I stored away was another brick in the wall that I was building around me. Sheltering in place without an embrace and I blocked my access to the door. Just in case I wandered away in a dream. My breath became dank on the walls and my skin. I was safe now from all the fears I had learned and was comforted as my flesh pruned. I could not hear the light screaming nor feel the wind howl. Storms came and passed, my paradise stripped down to it last...glimmer.. My elements alone my resonance in decline. This material mind faced solid and my bones encased in desities far beyond what I was, at first blind.  Finally trapped within the horizon I did finally awake, and for the first time in awhile I smile as I bake. An escape from the weight always comes sooner than late. If only I knew to question the ways I was taught. I was a slave building my own prison, and a joke for the kings that fought. So now I see through as they laugh, even thier enjoyment is fake, and like me, will rot. By @rushofwaves For danielandangel Weekly Writing Contest @danielandangel https://www.minds.com/newsfeed/1269721456736997396

117 views ·
Our 2nd place story for the #WeeklyWritingContest is The Man Unkillable, by @molly_b. This well fleshed out story is a mix of horror and comedy, as an executioner must deal with a man who simply won't die. The panic from the various characters as things build up is quite well done, and as usual the dialogue is spot on. It's a must read.
@danielandangel #weeklywritingcontest The Man Unkillable Magadan, Russia. 1985. "Three months, Beloff. You've been here for three. Months." My narrowed gaze follows the KGB officer as he paces in front of me in the cramped cell. What he says is true. I don't object. "In three months, you haven't had a crumb of food or drop of water. In that time you've been hanged—“ I grit my teeth as the agent standing behind the chair I’m tied to lifts his arm and brings his metal baton down on my head. My vision is hazy after the blow, but he doesn't stop hammering my skull with each method of execution his commanding officer lists off. "—shot—“ *Slam!* "—Electrified, drowned, poisoned, strangled, set on fire—“ *Slam! Slam! Slam! Slam! Slam!* "And most recently, tied to a pole naked, soaked in liquid sewage, and left outside for a week for the elements to kill you. You were supposed to freeze to death! How am I *still* speaking to you? *Why* are you still here?" My head throbs something awful. "Masochism?” I say slowly. My tongue is conspicuously dry. It makes it hard to talk. “Maybe I still have intelligence to gather. Perhaps all the head trauma you're giving me is making me too dizzy to escape. I know I could leave whenever I want, you certainly can't hold me against my will in this miserable outhouse you call a prison cell. Tell me, is this the room you got your liquid sewage from? It wouldn't surprise me. It looks like a septic tank. Smells like one, too.” My answer earns me another swing to the noggin. I expected that. The officer gets in my face to growl at me. "You are here because you've been declared an enemy of the state. You're here because I'm supposed to be executing you, and yet you thwart me at every turn! How are you doing it, Beloff? How?" "Aw, don't make me tell you my secret just yet. You'd surely kill me for real, then I'd lose my nickname. What a shame that would be,” I say with a smirk. I'm not surprised when I'm hit again. I wonder if I should put this on my resume. *Three months’ experience as a piñata in a Russian prison camp.* "The Man Unkillable, that's what they call you, isn't it? Nonsense. Utter nonsense." It’s clear he doesn’t believe what he says. He’s just saying it in hopes I *will* die if he tries hard enough. I see the terror growing in his eyes as he paces. We both know that if he can't do something as simple as kill me, he'll take my place in front of the firing squad if and when his superiors hear about his continued failure. He’s so afraid I can practically taste it. It doesn’t taste bad. "How do I kill you? Why can't I kill you?" he mutters. "Get creative," I say with a laugh, "maybe you'll strike gold." I know he'll fail, I just want to watch him scramble. "Cut his throat, Ivan. We'll watch him bleed out in front of us." I snort and let out hearty laughter as the officer's thug presses a blade to my throat. Then, as his ugly face nears mine, I catch a whiff of his breath. My confidence melts. This is the first thing to really scare me in this prison. I'm filled with nausea and weakness. I lurch away from the man and try to vomit, willing something to come up for some relief. Nothing can. There’s nothing there. The agents notice my sudden change in demeanor. The officer makes a sound in the back of his throat. "Could it be...that the Man Unkillable finally fears for his life? And to think that all it took was a knife to the throat." I gag, even when the blade is brought near my neck again. I don’t even care about the knife, that man’s breath is horrible. “Why is he trying to vomit? Is he sic—Ivan. Ivan, look at his teeth.” Oh no. I shut my mouth quickly. Up until now, I’ve hidden my fangs. I didn’t want this officer or anyone else figuring it out. He’s quiet for a minute, studying me, then goes, “Ivan...have you had any *garlic* recently?” Ivan answers in the affirmative. The officer’s mouth twitches. “Impossible. They’re not real, are they? Unless.... That would explain everything. Of course we haven’t been able to kill you, you’re a...vampire.” Time for me to leave. I change to a bat to escape my bonds, then change back and grab Ivan, plunging my teeth into his neck. After months of being starved in prison, my first feed is downright euphoric. My pain melts away. I feel stronger. Fuller. I drop the corpse once he’s emptied. Blood runs down my chin. I don’t even feel the new holes being blasted into me as the officer empties his gun’s magazine into me. I couldn’t care less about the bullets, they’re not silver. I feel invincible. The officer runs once it’s clear I can’t be held off. I let him. The longer the chase, the better the meal. The terrified officer shouts into his radio, warning his comrades and frantically telling them to arm themselves with wooden stakes and garlic. At least until I catch him, and his orders are cut off with a gurgling shriek.
129 views ·
Our 3rd place story the #WeeklyWritingContest is Left Behind, by @charlesr_author. The POV character is an interesting choice, and is an interesting glimpse into insanity. It's quite good overall and clearly shows Charles skill as a writer.

Left Behind by Charles Robertson word count: 219 @danielandangel #weeklywritingcontest

188 views ·