REVENGE
31 January 2008, 01:58 AM
Alright. Well, there's a short story writing contest in my area, and of course I'm interested. The problem is I have no idea what to submit, as I have so many different ideas and such. The word limit is 500 words, which makes it rather difficult, but I think I can handle it. I need you to help me decide what's the best of my work - what I should submit in this contest. Below, I'm posting three different options that I have at the moment - more may appear in time, I'm not sure yet. Please vote for your favorite of the three, or one of the other two poll choices I've posted. Your vote could make all the difference, and your opinion would mean a lot to me - thank you for reading this far.
Edit: I would ALSO like to add that if there's a favorite story you've read of mine that was never finished, don't worry. I haven't forgotten any of my stories, and on most I'm merely waiting to think of the next move. If you think I'm taking too long, and you would like a quicker response on one of my stories, please email me here. (lind-zeee@hotmail.com) (lind-zeee@hotmail.com)
List of some of my unfinished stories:
The Thirst
Taming Flesh and Blood
Wishful Thinking
Shadow Of The Valley Of Death
Once again, if you would like a quicker response on any of these or other stories, please email me and let me know. Thank you. :]
-Revenge
-------------------
Option #1
(New) Unknown Misery
-------------------
The man, dressed in black, was standing on the precipice of agony, looking down from the edge atop the castle tower, where he stared at the two lovers below him who had stolen the last of his soul. The surrounding lush gardens, deep mysterious forests, and beautifully hued sunset seemed to be misplaced for such a sad scene. Everything that he had thought he had known and the one thing that he’d thought he’d loved came crashing down around him.
Malcolm was already [b][color=red]- PLEASE REPORT ME FOR SWEARING!!! -[/color][/b][b][color=red]- PLEASE REPORT ME FOR SWEARING!!! -[/color][/b][b][color=red]- PLEASE REPORT ME FOR SWEARING!!! -[/color][/b][b][color=red]- PLEASE REPORT ME FOR SWEARING!!! -[/color][/b]ed – he had killed his father, the result of various beatings as a young boy. Elizabeth (a figure of perpetual beauty) had come to him and comforted him in his darkest hour. She had even pleaded for his release and claimed his innocence, and because of her status as King Rowdry’s daughter, he had been spared. Elizabeth had told Malcolm she loved him – thought he was a mere blacksmith. But now as he looked down upon her and her newfound lover, he realized the lies for what they were.
He had been a broken man, but nothing beyond recovery – until now. How heartless she must be – a hollow beauty with even less of a soul than I, he thought. Tears ran down his face and dripped from his chin, falling upon the couple below him who were now twirling around in a silent dance, looking like two figures from a music box. As Malcolm’s tears began falling more quickly, a light rain also fell as the sun set behind the mountains – the lovers in front of the castle began laughing and dancing with more passion as the light drops of water rolled from their skin.
In Malcolm’s eyes, Elizabeth was dancing in the fruit of his agony, enjoying the feel of his broken heart falling upon her skin, soaking into the fabric of her dress, and running down her face. He couldn’t take it any longer – not Elizabeth, not her lover, not his life. Rowdry’s castle was built upon the edge of a mountain – one side, the side the two lovers were dancing upon, was green and beautifully landscaped – the side that Malcolm was walking towards was a mere drop off. The castle had been built in such a way to prevent attacks from enemies near and far. But Malcolm was not interested in the castle – he had seen all he needed to see, felt all he needed to feel, and said all that needed to be spoken.
Thunder marked the beat of his strides as he let the rain run down his skin, soaking into his dark clothes and mixing with his tears. Malcolm turned to face the last faint rays of the sun as he reached the far edge of the castle roof. May the rain wash away your sins. His ash-colored hands spread away from each other as if preparing to fly; and then he fell backwards into the looming void of the unknown.
Foreign tears from another face and drops of rain were smeared on Elizabeth’s face as she smiled and danced – the result of her misgivings unknown to her.
-------------------
Option #2
The Price Of Freedom
Excerpt From "Sometimes"
Note: Work would have to be done on this one to shorten it.
-------------------
“Ralph, we’ve got to get over there and get food for James – as it is, you know he won’t last long in the condition he’s in without all the strength he can get.” The breath coming from Benjamin’s mouth made a fog in the chill in the air. Ralph merely sighed, and shook his head. “How do you know he can’t make it? James is a strong man, Ben. Don’t underestimate him. I know we were appointed to go on a food search, but I don’t think that going in there just the two of us is a good idea. There looks like there could be dozens of them; what if this ends badly?” Ben wasn’t looking Ralph in the eye; he was staring blindly at the enemy, thinking of nothing but his starving, sick friend who was still lying in the snow back with the rest of their fellow soldiers. The rest of them could make it, he knew, they could handle not eating – but James was getting sicker by the day; he wouldn’t last much longer.
Without looking up, Ben’s expression hardened and his lips quivered slightly as he spoke. “I’m going in there with or without you. Make your choice. Come with me or stay here; either way, I’m getting James some food.” He was already down on his hands and knees, and before Ralph could answer him, Ben starting crawling through the underbrush ever closer to the camp, fallen snow turning his legs and arms numb as he went. When he finally got to the edge of the clearing, closest to the nearest (and largest) tent, he looked behind him to see Ralph quietly creeping in the cold in his wake, a smile playing on his face. “I suppose I can’t let you have all the fun, huh?” He whispered. Ben just smiled back, and motioned for him to come up level with him.
“Look” Ben said, as Ralph came closer. “We’ve got to take out those two guards outside this tent first, I’ll take right you take left, then whoever is inside – I imagine whoever it is must be important to have a fricken tent like this. There’s bound to be food in there, so grab whatever you see first and run for it. Shoot anyone who tries to stop you. I doubt they’ll follow us, as they won’t waste their time with two men. Until, of course, they find whoever important’s been shot. But we’ll be gone by then – got it? And if I go down-“ Ralph quickly interrupted. “Let’s just… not let that be a possibility, okay? Neither of us are going down; we’ll be fine. Now, let’s go.” Ben didn’t argue, but merely motioned for them to go with one quick hand gesture. They stood up, and both took aim at opposing guards and shot simultaneously – both guards went down at once, and shouts in a foreign language could be heard from inside. Ben and Ralph ran inside, their hearts pounding, and shot freely at the five men inside, until all were down on the ground.
Quickly, they grabbed at the bags and cans on the table next to the maps that were spread upon it, and ran out of the tent, breathing heavily as they tried in earnest to reach the protection of the forest with utmost haste. Ben was almost to the edge of the line of bushes and trees when a shot rang out and a long shout was heard from behind. He turned to see Ralph lying on the ground, and in the distance another German man held a gun in his hand, a look of malice on his face. Without even thinking, Benjamin raised his own gun and shot the man down, and then looked down at his feet to see his friend Ralph rolling in the snow. He was turning it a dark crimson shade of color, his hands clutching his chest and his screams echoing around the area.
Ben ripped Ralph’s coat off, and then the other fabrics between his hands and his chest to reveal a gaping bleeding hole right over his heart. Before Ben could even speak, Ralph’s movements ceased, and his face relaxed; his eyes were hollow and his mouth was agape. Shouts and commands from across the clearing met Ben’s ears, and he knew that soon he would be outnumbered. Knowing not what else to do, he grabbed the food lying on the ground next to his dead friend, and ran back into the forest as tears ran down his face. Ralph’s hand fell gently to the ground, the blood upon it dripping to the surrounding snow.
-------------------
Option #3
Death's Embrace
-------------------
Death crept over the vehicle that was so badly mangled – smashed and cracked like its occupants. The semi that had been the demise of the car had gone on its merry way – oblivious to whom it had hit. Blood dripped from the drivers seat onto the floor, painting a sort of sad picture; a picture to tell a story for years to come. Two bodies lie in the front, clinging to each other in an embrace that could not be broken. They clung to each other in a way that signified the love that they held for one another, a love that would never be forgotten. This picture of death, this picture of love, would force even the reporters and photographers to let loose of their soul and allow themselves to cry freely, for this was death’s embrace, and though both were gone in body and in mind, they would become immortal.
The lovers had died, not alone as the driver had been so fearful of, but together, arms wound around one another, their eyes closed in the somber way of sleep. Flashing lights penetrated the intimate darkness, the silence disturbed. Yet this did not loosen the embrace; once in death, silence and screaming are one and the same. What a way to die, this way, with the one you love – if only we could all die in such ways. The flashing lights became brighter as the passenger door was wrenched open, illuminating the pale faces within. The police and ambulance crew gaped at the scene that lay before them, unable to put it into words beautiful enough to describe it. No one moved nor breathed as they took in the sight in front of them, and the silence returned once again. Even the traffic seemed to make no audible noises, as time seemed to come to a stand still.
The click of a camera broke the silence, and those who were standing around the car all snapped their heads back at the man who had taken the photo, as if coming out of a trance. Those who had come from the ambulance hesitantly walked forward to the dead couple, and, even more hesitantly, pulled them as carefully as possible out of the car almost as if they were merely one whole person, and lay them on the ground. The couple was still embraced, and as they had been laid upon the delicate grass, the man’s head had dropped forward onto the woman’s, their cold lips softly pressed against one another’s. The breath of the witnesses once again caught in their throat as they stood to take in the horrible beauty that lay on the grass before them; this time, no one took a picture.
A photo of this moment would do it no real justice, and not even the man who was there for press coverage could force himself to capture it within his camera, which he now dropped from his hands onto the ground. The camera rolled down the slight slope and stopped to rest beside the bodies of the victims – but no one who was there to witness them lying there would ever call them victims, nor the crash a tragedy. There was no possible way that they could bring themselves to call such a beautiful thing such a horrible name. Tragedy. The newspapers would be covered with the headline in mere hours, and while the people of the world shed tears, these witnesses would only shake their heads. Tragedy, They would think. How ever could someone use such a word for that? The man’s lips, which were still pressed lovingly, yet unconsciously, upon the woman’s, were curled into a slight smile. What a beautiful thing death could be, while looking like this. What horribly beautiful thing…
Gerard was smiling as his soul was embraced by death.
-------------------
Edit: I would ALSO like to add that if there's a favorite story you've read of mine that was never finished, don't worry. I haven't forgotten any of my stories, and on most I'm merely waiting to think of the next move. If you think I'm taking too long, and you would like a quicker response on one of my stories, please email me here. (lind-zeee@hotmail.com) (lind-zeee@hotmail.com)
List of some of my unfinished stories:
The Thirst
Taming Flesh and Blood
Wishful Thinking
Shadow Of The Valley Of Death
Once again, if you would like a quicker response on any of these or other stories, please email me and let me know. Thank you. :]
-Revenge
-------------------
Option #1
(New) Unknown Misery
-------------------
The man, dressed in black, was standing on the precipice of agony, looking down from the edge atop the castle tower, where he stared at the two lovers below him who had stolen the last of his soul. The surrounding lush gardens, deep mysterious forests, and beautifully hued sunset seemed to be misplaced for such a sad scene. Everything that he had thought he had known and the one thing that he’d thought he’d loved came crashing down around him.
Malcolm was already [b][color=red]- PLEASE REPORT ME FOR SWEARING!!! -[/color][/b][b][color=red]- PLEASE REPORT ME FOR SWEARING!!! -[/color][/b][b][color=red]- PLEASE REPORT ME FOR SWEARING!!! -[/color][/b][b][color=red]- PLEASE REPORT ME FOR SWEARING!!! -[/color][/b]ed – he had killed his father, the result of various beatings as a young boy. Elizabeth (a figure of perpetual beauty) had come to him and comforted him in his darkest hour. She had even pleaded for his release and claimed his innocence, and because of her status as King Rowdry’s daughter, he had been spared. Elizabeth had told Malcolm she loved him – thought he was a mere blacksmith. But now as he looked down upon her and her newfound lover, he realized the lies for what they were.
He had been a broken man, but nothing beyond recovery – until now. How heartless she must be – a hollow beauty with even less of a soul than I, he thought. Tears ran down his face and dripped from his chin, falling upon the couple below him who were now twirling around in a silent dance, looking like two figures from a music box. As Malcolm’s tears began falling more quickly, a light rain also fell as the sun set behind the mountains – the lovers in front of the castle began laughing and dancing with more passion as the light drops of water rolled from their skin.
In Malcolm’s eyes, Elizabeth was dancing in the fruit of his agony, enjoying the feel of his broken heart falling upon her skin, soaking into the fabric of her dress, and running down her face. He couldn’t take it any longer – not Elizabeth, not her lover, not his life. Rowdry’s castle was built upon the edge of a mountain – one side, the side the two lovers were dancing upon, was green and beautifully landscaped – the side that Malcolm was walking towards was a mere drop off. The castle had been built in such a way to prevent attacks from enemies near and far. But Malcolm was not interested in the castle – he had seen all he needed to see, felt all he needed to feel, and said all that needed to be spoken.
Thunder marked the beat of his strides as he let the rain run down his skin, soaking into his dark clothes and mixing with his tears. Malcolm turned to face the last faint rays of the sun as he reached the far edge of the castle roof. May the rain wash away your sins. His ash-colored hands spread away from each other as if preparing to fly; and then he fell backwards into the looming void of the unknown.
Foreign tears from another face and drops of rain were smeared on Elizabeth’s face as she smiled and danced – the result of her misgivings unknown to her.
-------------------
Option #2
The Price Of Freedom
Excerpt From "Sometimes"
Note: Work would have to be done on this one to shorten it.
-------------------
“Ralph, we’ve got to get over there and get food for James – as it is, you know he won’t last long in the condition he’s in without all the strength he can get.” The breath coming from Benjamin’s mouth made a fog in the chill in the air. Ralph merely sighed, and shook his head. “How do you know he can’t make it? James is a strong man, Ben. Don’t underestimate him. I know we were appointed to go on a food search, but I don’t think that going in there just the two of us is a good idea. There looks like there could be dozens of them; what if this ends badly?” Ben wasn’t looking Ralph in the eye; he was staring blindly at the enemy, thinking of nothing but his starving, sick friend who was still lying in the snow back with the rest of their fellow soldiers. The rest of them could make it, he knew, they could handle not eating – but James was getting sicker by the day; he wouldn’t last much longer.
Without looking up, Ben’s expression hardened and his lips quivered slightly as he spoke. “I’m going in there with or without you. Make your choice. Come with me or stay here; either way, I’m getting James some food.” He was already down on his hands and knees, and before Ralph could answer him, Ben starting crawling through the underbrush ever closer to the camp, fallen snow turning his legs and arms numb as he went. When he finally got to the edge of the clearing, closest to the nearest (and largest) tent, he looked behind him to see Ralph quietly creeping in the cold in his wake, a smile playing on his face. “I suppose I can’t let you have all the fun, huh?” He whispered. Ben just smiled back, and motioned for him to come up level with him.
“Look” Ben said, as Ralph came closer. “We’ve got to take out those two guards outside this tent first, I’ll take right you take left, then whoever is inside – I imagine whoever it is must be important to have a fricken tent like this. There’s bound to be food in there, so grab whatever you see first and run for it. Shoot anyone who tries to stop you. I doubt they’ll follow us, as they won’t waste their time with two men. Until, of course, they find whoever important’s been shot. But we’ll be gone by then – got it? And if I go down-“ Ralph quickly interrupted. “Let’s just… not let that be a possibility, okay? Neither of us are going down; we’ll be fine. Now, let’s go.” Ben didn’t argue, but merely motioned for them to go with one quick hand gesture. They stood up, and both took aim at opposing guards and shot simultaneously – both guards went down at once, and shouts in a foreign language could be heard from inside. Ben and Ralph ran inside, their hearts pounding, and shot freely at the five men inside, until all were down on the ground.
Quickly, they grabbed at the bags and cans on the table next to the maps that were spread upon it, and ran out of the tent, breathing heavily as they tried in earnest to reach the protection of the forest with utmost haste. Ben was almost to the edge of the line of bushes and trees when a shot rang out and a long shout was heard from behind. He turned to see Ralph lying on the ground, and in the distance another German man held a gun in his hand, a look of malice on his face. Without even thinking, Benjamin raised his own gun and shot the man down, and then looked down at his feet to see his friend Ralph rolling in the snow. He was turning it a dark crimson shade of color, his hands clutching his chest and his screams echoing around the area.
Ben ripped Ralph’s coat off, and then the other fabrics between his hands and his chest to reveal a gaping bleeding hole right over his heart. Before Ben could even speak, Ralph’s movements ceased, and his face relaxed; his eyes were hollow and his mouth was agape. Shouts and commands from across the clearing met Ben’s ears, and he knew that soon he would be outnumbered. Knowing not what else to do, he grabbed the food lying on the ground next to his dead friend, and ran back into the forest as tears ran down his face. Ralph’s hand fell gently to the ground, the blood upon it dripping to the surrounding snow.
-------------------
Option #3
Death's Embrace
-------------------
Death crept over the vehicle that was so badly mangled – smashed and cracked like its occupants. The semi that had been the demise of the car had gone on its merry way – oblivious to whom it had hit. Blood dripped from the drivers seat onto the floor, painting a sort of sad picture; a picture to tell a story for years to come. Two bodies lie in the front, clinging to each other in an embrace that could not be broken. They clung to each other in a way that signified the love that they held for one another, a love that would never be forgotten. This picture of death, this picture of love, would force even the reporters and photographers to let loose of their soul and allow themselves to cry freely, for this was death’s embrace, and though both were gone in body and in mind, they would become immortal.
The lovers had died, not alone as the driver had been so fearful of, but together, arms wound around one another, their eyes closed in the somber way of sleep. Flashing lights penetrated the intimate darkness, the silence disturbed. Yet this did not loosen the embrace; once in death, silence and screaming are one and the same. What a way to die, this way, with the one you love – if only we could all die in such ways. The flashing lights became brighter as the passenger door was wrenched open, illuminating the pale faces within. The police and ambulance crew gaped at the scene that lay before them, unable to put it into words beautiful enough to describe it. No one moved nor breathed as they took in the sight in front of them, and the silence returned once again. Even the traffic seemed to make no audible noises, as time seemed to come to a stand still.
The click of a camera broke the silence, and those who were standing around the car all snapped their heads back at the man who had taken the photo, as if coming out of a trance. Those who had come from the ambulance hesitantly walked forward to the dead couple, and, even more hesitantly, pulled them as carefully as possible out of the car almost as if they were merely one whole person, and lay them on the ground. The couple was still embraced, and as they had been laid upon the delicate grass, the man’s head had dropped forward onto the woman’s, their cold lips softly pressed against one another’s. The breath of the witnesses once again caught in their throat as they stood to take in the horrible beauty that lay on the grass before them; this time, no one took a picture.
A photo of this moment would do it no real justice, and not even the man who was there for press coverage could force himself to capture it within his camera, which he now dropped from his hands onto the ground. The camera rolled down the slight slope and stopped to rest beside the bodies of the victims – but no one who was there to witness them lying there would ever call them victims, nor the crash a tragedy. There was no possible way that they could bring themselves to call such a beautiful thing such a horrible name. Tragedy. The newspapers would be covered with the headline in mere hours, and while the people of the world shed tears, these witnesses would only shake their heads. Tragedy, They would think. How ever could someone use such a word for that? The man’s lips, which were still pressed lovingly, yet unconsciously, upon the woman’s, were curled into a slight smile. What a beautiful thing death could be, while looking like this. What horribly beautiful thing…
Gerard was smiling as his soul was embraced by death.
-------------------