A twisted creative writing contest! Wanna play?

Chris OConnor · Sun Sep 06, 2009 1:39 am

Creative Writing Contest

The contest is rather simple. You're given two sentences from which to choose as the beginning of your 250 - 750 word creative writing piece.

Those two sentences are

Option 1: "Considering the vile odor of Ruffledips I don’t see why anyone would want one."

Option 2: "Gwen rearranged the pots so as to create the impression that…"

[hr]

No matter which of the two above starter sentences you select you must also use all of the below phrases within your creative writing piece.

- "He was perplexed, to say the least."

- "How many have to die before this insanity stops?"

- "Please don’t put your lips on it!"

- "They trudged deeper and deeper into the..."

- "For your sake I hope it fits."

This contest is starting on September 6th and will run through the end of the month. In the last contest we gave away 12 free books as awards to the participants. Who knows what we'll give away this time. :hmm:

Post your creative writing piece right here in this thread please!

And good luck! :clap:

WildCityWoman · Tue Sep 08, 2009 10:57 am

Chris, that looks like fun - might just try it.

Iluvbookz13 · Tue Sep 08, 2009 11:48 am

Lol this oughta be good

Ill definately take a crack at it

President Camacho · Tue Sep 08, 2009 10:37 pm

I spent 2 hours and my story was horrible. I'll do everyone the favor of not posting it. Good luck everyone!

angellaura · Wed Sep 09, 2009 2:20 pm

Hey there, this is my short story. Hope it satisfies.

Laura

Small Time Killer?

Gwen rearranged the pots so as to create the impression that she lived here, not her Grandmother. So she had told a few lies? Who doesn’t? This was her home now and she had start preparing for her double life. Rachael would have the pots symmetrically placed on the fireplace; Gwen would have them arranged in size order. She stepped back and reviewed her masterpiece, hands on her hips, head on one side. No one would know. It was already three o’clock and she still had the linen to change, curtains to put up and some of her signature plants to dot around the house in subtle positions. The phone rang. She could hear it, but couldn’t see it. She lifted piles of old Goodlife magazines that her Grandmother would read over and over. It was sitting under the table, face up, staring her in the face. She threw herself onto the floor in a panic and breathlessly answered the phone.

“Now tell me, Rach, did Daniel give you his home number because he sure as hell didn’t give it to me. “ Gwen collapsed on the floor breathing deeply. “I just can’t understand it; he spent the whole time chatting me up and buying me margaritas and then just left without a word. Maybe I was too much, I mean, you know how I can be sometimes? You are there?” She lay on her back and closed her eyes.

“I didn’t get his number.”

“You didn’t? Just to double check, you were at Juan Giovanni’s VIP party last night were you not? You do remember that he was absolutely fabulous in that pink satin?”

“Yes Ricky, I was there. Look you can’t call me here anymore, I’ve told you. If someone were to hear-“

“Rachael, of course I remember. You’re the only one I can talk to. Apart from Daniel, I hope!”

“You can’t call me Rachael anymore!” He was perplexed, to say the least. She never raised her voice, but her new situation meant a lot to her and she had to succeed.

“Have I done something wrong? I mean you’ve been a bit stressed lately, and I know better than anyone that that is not like you at all. Maybe you need some yoga, I started yoga, it does absolute wonders darling.”

“I have to go, I’m entertaining.” They said their goodbyes and ended the conversation. Gwen sat for a while in a silent stupor. She had no idea why she was so concerned about the impending meeting with her new online friend. She would get changed into something more suitable for meeting a new friend. Her new ego, Gwen, was twenty three, not twenty four; had been divorced for two years, not been a spinster for five; and had moved from her London studio flat to a country cottage in Devon, not from a house with her parents.

The doorbell rang. She opened it and smiled what she assumed would be a classic Gwen smile and greeted the stranger in her doorway.

“Gwen, it’s fabulous to meet you at last.” The young man at the door, she hoped, was Andrew. “You look amazing. And before I forget, here is that new dress I’ve been working on.” She took it and admired it; Andrew showed her the intricate detail on the back. “Naomi Campbell has worn this dress. Count yourself lucky. For your sake I hope it fits.” She slipped it on, it was a little snug. They went into the sitting room where Andrew suggested a glass of wine. Gwen had to jump to her feet just as he was about to take a sip from a dusty glass.

“Please don’t put your lips on it!” Andrew stopped immediately and looked from Gwen to the glass. He put it down and looked Gwen over inquisitively.

“You aren’t Gwen. This isn’t you. This isn’t the person I got to know over the last year.”

“It was on the internet, how could you have known anything about me?”

“...I know what you have done. I know about the others.” Gwen fell short of breath. Her eyes glistened and she bit her lip. “How many have to die before this insanity stops?” She fell into a fit of crying and shaking in a heap on the kitchen floor. Andrew slowly knelt on the floor next to her and placed a forgiving hand onto her shoulder. That night they discussed everything that had happened to Gwen. They trudged deeper and deeper into the psyche of Rachael and why she had done all that she had. From now on, she refused to go by anything other than Rachael.

Chris OConnor · Wed Sep 09, 2009 11:10 pm

Please post your story Mr. President! Give it a shot. :up:

angellaura · Thu Sep 10, 2009 5:00 am

Mr. President, I think you should just conform to the masses and post that darn story! Even if it IS awful, we could all do with a giggle.

:laugh:

Laura

Suzanne · Fri Sep 11, 2009 2:19 pm

The Chamber

“Considering the vile odor of Ruffledips, I don’t see why anyone would want one”. To InSinge: “LOL, too true, Ruff’s opinions stink, he’s always shooting his mouth off about meaningful knowledge. Maybe he’ll just go and shoot his head off.” To Maw: “LOL, maybe someone will do it for him”. Maw and InSinge exit.

To Ruffledips: “Maw has begun to rely on InSinge too much, she no longer listens to reason. InSinge is just a smarmy SOB, you have to know that. He is like a troll, just like the one in Neal Gaiman’s story. He is attracting people who dummy down the discussions. I’ve seen his crazy behavior and a lot of it is worthy of ridicule. Ruff, you’re the main guy here”. To Deep: “It’s too close quarters in here to do anything extreme at this point. I’ll have to talk to him, just like I would a friend or family member. He may have suffered a head trauma of some sort. Deep, you like crazy ideas, isn’t that your signature? You enjoy when they trudge deeper and deeper into the topic at hand”. To Ruffledips: “Yup, that’s why they call me Deep, empirical facts man, that’s what it’s all about. Hey, how did you come up with your user name Ruffledips”? To Deep: “I ruffle dips”. *dancing banana* Deep and Ruffledips exit.

To Maw: “He was perplexed to say the least. The poem of the moment was simple, no thinking necessary. Ataloss just won’t get it. He’s not even trying. To LunaC: “I see it too, and I want to cry out please, please don’t put your lips on it, but his mouth forms the words anyway! He talks about meaning, and wants evidence and proof. I asked him what some of his favorite quotes were and he said something stupid like, hello, I’m looking for quality books, good people and great conversations. I often wonder what is going on at home”. To Maw: “Yeah, I know what you mean, he feels entitled, must be some selfish genes in that house, you would think they all came from monkeys or something”. Maw and LunaC exit.

The break was over, the teachers left the tables and went back to their classrooms. Luna Crazian and Mawd Lipsinski went back to room BT1 to finish the days English lessons, not relishing the empty stares of a hundred eyes from kids just like Ataloss. The curriculum developed by Principal Ruff encouraged critical thinking by the students which exhausted many faculty members. The head of the English department, Insinjay Diptac complained often. He found himself asking, “What fiction book should we read next?" Insinjay Diptac knew most faculty members felt the same, and frequently felt frustrated at not knowing the goals of the Bookton Teller school system. It was his opinion that the insanity had to stop.

To Maw: “I’ve had enough. This is what happens when good thinking goes bad. Ruff is twisted, and he wants us to play. Jane Austen books, shit, I don’t get it”. To InSinge: “LOL yeah, that Pride and Produce book he assigned, laughable, I used the one with the zombies. It had pictures in it.” To Maw: “Yeah, I miss books with pictures. . . but how many have to die before this insanity stops? How many teaching careers need to end before Ruff realizes we just cant’ teach this stuff. He’s encouraging kids to think, they want “Catcher in the Rye”, and “Heart of Darkness”! He’s gone too far! I have enough ammunition to fill his whole office chamber. It will blow heads off, Ruffs and the kid Ataloss. I have bags of ammo, two bags of James Patterson alone, and can you imagine the destruction a stack of Nicholas Sparks books will have on his mind? To InSinge: “Oh, I have Grafton’s whole alphabet, and more if you need it. Good luck getting it all in his chamber, for your sake, I hope it fits.”

Suzanne · Mon Sep 14, 2009 5:36 am

Tag, you're it Mr. President!

Come on, give it a go! :smile:

angellaura · Mon Sep 14, 2009 7:03 am

You tell him Suzanne

uod_sa_libro · Wed Sep 16, 2009 10:41 am

oh so interesting!!! :clap:

hope i can make one story, too. so busy today.... :laugh:

"Writing is an itch only a pen can scratch."

"When once the itch of literature comes over a man, nothing can cure it but the scratching of a pen. But if you have not a pen, I suppose you must scratch any way you can."

~Samuel Lover, Handy Andy, 1842

President Camacho · Wed Sep 16, 2009 9:07 pm

Thank you everyone for your support and encouragement! I've tried to recover the document but I was unsuccessful. =(

President Camacho · Wed Sep 16, 2009 10:12 pm

Okay, this is attempt number dos. I hope you all don't get too bummed out by it. I want everyone to know that I'm a very stable person and I don't have these thoughts. The story just kind of developed into this. It's a lot darker than my first attempt.

Title: For your sake I hope it fits, didn’t fit

Considering the vile odor of Ruffledips, I don’t see why anyone would want one. I can see two, but not one. The first Ruffledip is like jumping from a moving train… but the second… the second is like drowning in a pool of supermodels in their birthday suits – warm water that doesn’t affect the size of your johnson.

I think this as I eat my third and fourth chips, alone at my table, with a look on my face that lets others know that there’s nothing going on upstairs. I love this look and I wear it extremely well. Distance. Now, thanks to Ruffledips, I’ll have plenty of that. I grin unnoticeably. My bottom lip drops slightly, a brief pause is made while I stare away into nothing, and I eat chip 5. I hate.

My mind turns to someone that committed suicide. He lived several doors down from my own. I didn’t know the guy, although he had my same job and was around my same age. He hung himself in his bathroom. Before he did, he had tied a band around his arm that said “no player”. It wasn’t something he had made – it was a band used for another purpose but one which he attached to himself before leaving this world. At the time I thought it meant he was a no player in his own life… a bench warmer in his own game… but like I said, I didn’t know the guy. I open extra wide for chip 6. It would be tragic to break such a perfect Ruffledip before it was inside my mouth.

I overhear the table in front of mine talking and unconsciously listen in. It’s about my performance on the job again. “He was perplexed to say the least.” “Look at him, he’s a space cadet.” “I’m scared for the future.” I’m not more than 5 feet away and no effort is being made to conceal what they’re saying about me. I smile a little at the audacity and reach down into the bag.

I put the empty bag of Ruffledips down and remove some of the crums and residue from my hands with a smacking scissor action of both hands up and down. My face contorts into a great big smile as though I’ve just figured out the punch line to end all punch lines. “Well,” I think as I get up off the bench, “it’s time.” I take this pistol from my waistband. I don’t know the caliber. I’ve never owned a gun before this one. I fire off several rounds into the closest table – a table, as I’ve mentioned before, not more than 5 feet from my own.

The room is clear. There’s some red and noise and still bodies and bright lights the contrast of the day to day I’m woozy I need to stand I’m rocking slowly back and forth. I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation. They trudged deeper and deeper into a result they had no idea was coming. How many have to die before this insanity stops? It stops now. I hear “No, don’t put your lips on it!” I can smell my own breath as it deflects from the barrel to my nose. Ruffledips.

Chris OConnor · Thu Sep 17, 2009 5:10 am

That was awesome, Mr. President! LOL What a twisted mind you have. No wonder I like you so much. :bow:

Suzanne · Thu Sep 17, 2009 5:33 am

Thanks Pres.!


	Quote: The first Ruffledip is like jumping from a moving train… but the second… the second is like drowning in a pool of supermodels in their birthday suits – warm water that doesn’t affect the size of your johnson.

Lovin this! Great foreshadowing!

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