Dust

My grandmother told me I was going to die. I will live a life of wickedness, and then never have an eternal life. I will turn to dust. Where am I? I am floating above the earth. I see my little brother, I take his hand, I feel his heart. This moment is frozen; time doesn't exist. I wish that there was something I could do to, but I am paralyzed.

I wish that love was enough to bring peace, and life was enough to bring happiness, but gloom hangs above us. My grandmother tells me the devil is bigger than us. Then what hope is there? Where should I go to die? I look for a tree, but I am in a desolate parking lot walking for hours, there is no salvation. I pray, but God says its too late.

My little brother stands alone, at the end of the parking lot. I run as lightning grazes my body. The thunder deafens me, but I keep going. I feel as though I am not getting any closer, he will always be too far. I will never reach him. Suddenly I hear his laugh; he now appears before me. I hold out my hand and then he takes it. We walk.

Contest Entry #3: Salem

Salem

Novel type: History and Fiction

Plot Description:

After his beloved sister is killed in a Witch hunt, David vows to hunt down the Witch Hunters themselves. He lives in Salem; a town of gossip, murder, and public burnings at the steak. This story follows several different characters and their tribulations in the Witch burning town of Salem, Massachusetts.

Introduction/ Teaser:

The blood was spattered carelessly about the room. Some of it was on the chairs, and others covered the bedding. The house was empty; only a faint dripping of water could be heard from the kitchen leak. The water fell into a single bucket, which was for daily chores. It was sometimes used to clean the floors, or clear the mud from the front step. It would be morning soon, and the pigs have not been fed for some time. Suddenly a voice could be heard coming up the cobblestone path, "Addie!", it called. It was a man of about twenty-four, holding his hat down as it flew off his head. He hurried into the quaint home, searching the rooms with his eyes. His head whipped from side to side, afraid to stare at anything too long; "Addie", he called out again. After not hearing anything, he quickly ran up the stairs. He headed for the small bedroom, then his heart pierced, as no one was in it. Then his eyes darted with intensity as they followed the drops of blood that sprinkled the furniture. He covered his mouth with his hand, and his heart filled with an inexpressible sadness. His sister was gone.

Contest Entry #2: The Best Friend Chronicles

The Best Friend Chronicles

Novel Type: Memoir/Coming of Age

Plot Description:

A true life events of the many different best friends I've had. All friends in The Best Friend Chronicles have been real best friends and real situations. It depicts the tears and laughs, of a young girl trying to fit in and find herself in the process.

"I've had many best friends over the years, but never a friend that was the "best". "

Teaser/ Introduction:

Probably my first traumatizing experience with a best friend happened in the first grade. I looked on in horror while she ate an entire bag of my favourite popcorn. She shook the rest of the bags contents into her mouth, getting every single crumb into her esophagus. Which I had the strong urge to punch. Although upsetting, the shock didn't come until she threw the Ziploc bag at me, saying "bring me some more tomorrow". There was definitely something wrong with the friendship.My mom happened to be in the area, and seeing a portion of the events approached the girl. What happened afterward I only recall as a blur of embarrassment. All I could think about was the wrath my best friend would descend upon me after she left.

Throughout my life I have experienced the company of many different best friends. They've come in all sorts of cultures, shapes and sizes. Unfortunately these abundance of close friendships have always been a curse over me. My freedom felt lost, my life felt like a swirl of anxiety and paranoia. I never understood the act of friendship, or why it was so cherished. My greatest wish was always to escape it. My life has definitely not being boring, or conventional, because these are my best friend chronicles.

Contest Entry #1: Amazing Man

Amazing Man

Novel Type: Science Fiction/Thriller

Plot Description:

It's Russia 2030, and the European AIDS epidemic has become rabid due to increased immigration, prostitution and drug use. After the new Chancellor Roman Andre is elected the Russian government has decided to demand mandatory AIDS testing, resulting in a mass extermination. Adelina a young preteen and her grandmother Dora are poor immigrants from Spain. They speak English and Russian fluently but are easily pointed out as foreigners. They moved to Russia so Adelina could pursue her Ballet talent. After the mandatory AIDS testing both Adelina and Dora huddled with a group of others to an open field, where the AIDS positive immigrants are gunned down. With quick thinking, Adelina and Dora manage to escape the massacre, running into the forest. The two walk the wilderness for days, until they stumble upon a circus tent. Inside there are is an exciting show by different talented circus performers. One of the acrobatic performers, a young immigrant man from Kenya agrees to help them. He accompanies them on their escape, while leading an army of immigrants and ex soldiers against the Chancellors wrath. The journey is thrilling and their encounters are compelling and thought provoking. In a city of evil and cruelty, only one man can lead the crusade. An unlikely hero comes to save society, and stop an extermination. He is just one man, an amazing man.

Teaser/ Introduction:

Russia 2030

A cold wind sweeps the fields and wakes me up. It's early and my eyes water as I yawn, I feel my skin crawl. All of us stand around giving each other looks, not knowing what to expect, although I see fear in many of elders eyes. It's as if they know something we don't. I stand closer to my grandmother; I take her hand in mine, and grip it tight. The army trucks that brought us here begin to pull away, and only two of the men with guns stay. We are in the middle of nowhere, where are they going? Where are we going? I dare not to ask grandmother, her face looks pained as she sees the trucks leave down the rugged path from which they came. Her grip becomes tighter, her furrow deeper.

Yesterday they tested us for the AIDS virus. I remember many of the faces here from the clinic; men women and children. Everyone in Moscow was to be tested, the Chancellor had sent out disclaimers to everyones home. My grandmother had the same pained look as she read out the hovering words which appeared at our bed: " Every single person in Moscow, by Chancellors orders must be tested for AIDS. The testing will be held for one month at the hospital nearest to you. You're date is March 20, 2030. If you choose not to attend, serious consequences will be administered".

It begins to snow; the white flakes fall slowly and quietly. We are all silent. Then the men with guns begin to herd us toward the open field. I am scared. All of a sudden my grandmother takes my hand, she pulls my arm and we run. All I can hear are the gun shots and the screams.

June 2010 Novel Contest!

June 2010 Novel Contest !

Hello Blogworms!

As you may know I love to write. At some point in the future I would like to publish a novel, but unfortunately all of the books I've started have never been finished. They are ideas, plot descriptions then really kick ass intros, but never a full fledged novel. I believe it's due to procrastination, self doubt and a little bit of a perfectionist personality. Although I can't really complain because one of the reasons I write short stories is because of this problem, thus further deciding to publish them in this blog. I called it Blindfold after one of my favourite songs by Metric, and because I think it represents the power of writing. A blindfold forces creativity of the mind and passion of the soul. Words function the same way; when reading them or writing them. It's mind imagination as opposed to visual imagination.

I have decided to create this Novel Contest to give you an idea of the different types of books I have thought up, and the different types of plot ideas to go with them. Here's the deal:

• I will give you a plot synopsis
• A brief introduction (probably almost all of what I've written so far)
• Under the story leave a comment and state: That it's your favourite, and WHY you like it.

What you need to do is vote for the best novel idea and intro! The winning novel will be further written, and at some point published (we hope right?)! The contest starts this Wednesday (June 9th, 2010) and ends at midnight on June 14th, 2010. That gives you a week of reading. All of the stories will be posted in a couple of days, so don't start voting UNTIL ALL FOUR novel ideas are posted.

Alright Blogworms, READ ON!

Proud Dogs

I feel as though God has given me three talents in life; patience, creativity, and the ability to argue. I felt this third talent rise within me as I eagerly awaited for Darlene to finish talking;

"Oh my poor Chelsea! She has done nothing to deserve such abuse!", she says with a strong maternal passion.
"So she has done nothing to provoke him then?", I interject and give her a determined stare.
"Oh heavens no!" she cries, looking somewhat offended.

Darlene's daughter was being swirled about in a terror I like to call Emmit. The boyfriend had once again cheated on poor Chelsea Brackish. My sympathy for her situation exited my heart around the fifth time he did this, and the eighth time she hurled herself back into his arms. Much like a drug addict Chelsea needed her daily doses of Emmit to get on with her day. A phone call was just enough to keep her withdrawal symptoms at bay, although between contact she acts like a miserable wreck. There's a huge high when he comes around and then turmoil when they fight and break up. Disaster is a word not harsh enough to describe her situation. I haven't yet found the right one, but I have a feeling I have to get creative. Many friends have tried to help her countless times, but its no use kicking a dead dog. She needs help. It's quite sad actually. Although sadness has turned to feeling sorry, then turned to animosity, then to not giving a shit. Ah whatever, I'll do what I can.

"Chelsea needs some help Darlene", I say finally.

Philosophical Thoughts: Who am I?

Will I ever reach self identity? Will there ever be a moment of tranquil peace, in which I discover my inner self? If that time ever comes, will I be satisfied with what is revealed? I hope so.

I truly believe that we must not find our place in the world, but instead venture to discover our place within ourselves. If we believe we are in a state of happiness, we WILL be in a state of happiness. It is said that a man can do anything to another man, except occupy his thoughts. Our brain and our thinking are sacred and should always be kept in the best condition. Then will we reach a state of peace.

Who am I? I am me. What will I do with my life? Live it to the fullest; careless but just. Why bother with negativity, when life is free? Enjoy whats given, and give to those who need. Embrace love and love those who you embrace. Don't run away from problems stay and wash them away. As the famous writer Winston Churchill once said; "If you are going through hell, keep going." When you reach the end? Nothing in this world will be able to stop you.