r/WritingPrompts • u/SurvivorType Co-Lead Mod | /r/SurvivorTyper • Aug 17 '13
Contest! [CONTEST!] Flash Prompt tonight in the chat room!
Hi!
Tonight at 6pm CST (Midnight GMT) there will be a Flash Prompt announced in the chat room. You will have 1 hour and precisely 250 words to complete the challenge. You can post your stories here in this thread once the actual prompt is announced!
The winner will receive a $25 amazon gift card!
Everyone that submits a story will get to vote on the winner, you have to post if you want to vote! Please note that you cannot vote for yourself. It's best to wait until all the stories are posted before voting. Voting is denoted by commenting on the story of choice "My Vote!" The voting period expires 2 hours after the prompt is announced, at which time we will identify our winner.
You will find a link to the chat room in the side bar. It's also here for your convenience.
Hope to see you there!
EDIT #1: The Prompt: "Sometimes introducing a light only emphasises the shadows."
EDIT #2: Submissions are now CLOSED.
EDIT #3: Voting is now CLOSED. /u/LeChuck999 is our WINNER!
Thanks to everyone who participated tonight. It was great fun. We'll do it again soon!
Honorable mention and one month of reddit gold to: /u/0gl1tch0, /u/phlegmatichumour, and /u/IAMA_dragon-AMA.
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u/andresvk Aug 17 '13
He really hated stormy nights. If he could do one thing to the universe, that would probably be the end of all rain. Still, he enjoyed cold, and his favorite days were the ones when the sky above him was dull and grey. He just wished it remained above him, and didn’t fall on his head. In that occasion, they didn’t fall directly on it, for he was the owner and occupier of a house.
There was something really nice about it. That man in particular was quite minimalistic, and his basement in particular was quite empty. He didn’t really like that room, but he was still forced to visit it by his wife. She was a really sweet girl, and the man who was afraid of rain and the woman who was afraid of noises coming from the basement made a really sweet couple. Every other night, she heard something, and he set out to see what it was.
And that is love for you.
He never really understood her fear. If a murderer snuck in, he’d rather be killed in his sleep already. Knowing it beforehand wouldn’t change anything, as he wouldn’t be able to fight back anyways. Certainly neither would his wife.
Finally, he opened the door and came down the stairs to the room. Damn dark room, if one might add, until he turned on the lights. Sometimes doing so only emphasizes the shadows, and the man died as soon as he learned what cast them.
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Aug 18 '13
You asked for feedback in chat, right? I think yours has trouble standing as a complete work. To some extent whose doesn't when you have one hour to write 250 words, but yours especially started like a longer story and then the last paragraphed rushed the ending too much.
"And that is love for you" is kind of weird, it breaks the tone of your story to all of a sudden address your readers personally like that. It doesn't need to be there at all.
And the beginning should include more building up of an actual feeling of fear. I assume it's raining at the time? I couldn't actually tell that. And if it is, you spent way too much time talking about pleasant things: what the man likes, what he wishes, what was nice. Make it scary instead!
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u/andresvk Aug 18 '13
Yes I did. Dragon provided me with some saying the same thing: My style doesn't really fit the tension of the story. I normally try to play the long game with the buildup, and this kind of rushed me. I guess I should try to practice some more the next one! thank you very much!
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u/CrazyBohemian Aug 17 '13 edited Aug 18 '13
When she woke, the noonday sun was already beginning to work its way through the cracks in her tinted windows. Pinprick holes had somehow sprouted from the array of cracks, letting the too-bright sunlight sneak its way in to her otherwise calm apartment. Earl had promised to fix them, but Earl—she studied his still form—never failed to be the lazy man she married.
She turned, the light followed, clouding her happy dreams with a persistent nagging. It divided her images with every second spent; now there was just a boy, laughing as she fell though offering her his hand, and then …Her hand rubbed her forehand, attempting to rub her foggy memories away. Best not to remember. The sheets slid to the floor as she stood; the light selectively flicked across her body.
She was tired. So, so tired.
The window begged to be replaced. She traced the cracks with the pads of her fingers, before long she was creating new holes with her ragged fingernails.
She realized: she hadn’t seen the sun in so long. Not since the marriage.
Her fingers cracked and strained before the window flung open, shattering to pieces on the matted carpet floor. They rained upon her legs, her feet, the bed.
Earl.
His form was as she had left it the day. The day she fought back, refused to give in to the beatings, the repulsive names. He had slammed her into the window, uncaring.
She laughed.
“Did you sleep well, honey?”
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u/mo-reeseCEO1 Aug 17 '13
It started with a cat. Goodman Kerry saw it in his fields and knew it for a portent. Pastor Williams advised prayer and clean living and Goodman Kerry was dead within a week. It was a remarkable thing but in Indian country not unheard of. The savages made their devilry just on the west side of the creek, so the congregation got together and shot a few of their menfolk as they made oblations to their wicked spirits. The message was well received and the camp left for their wintering.
After Pastor Williams and Goodwife Lake died, the village sent for a witch hunter. He was an old man, whose apotropaic scowl was shaded by a broad brimmed capotain, who boomed pious for a week about the devils we keep in our hearts and allow in our midst. They took him for daft until he found the Squire's daughter naked in the moonlight.
They were set for a lynching when the constable came round and escorted the witch hunter to the main road with a few pounds sterling. The constable questioned the squire on it, allowing that by law property from deceased with no kin went back to the squire for parceling. The latter merely smiled and quipped:
“Sometimes the light only casts shadows where there were none before.”
The constable considered the matter closed until he saw the damned cat. No one much heard about it as he was hit by a chimney stone and struck dead instantly.
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Aug 18 '13
My Vote!
You kept a really good and consistent tone through almost all of it...probably because of your syntax? And somehow you actually found the wordspace to give things some really vivid description. Great work!
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u/rawrosaurus2 Aug 17 '13
I lay down on my bed, forearm pressed against my brow. I opened my eyes and waved my hand in front of them, but couldn’t tell if they were open or not. I thought it best to close them so I could try to sleep. Just as I started to drift off, footsteps fell.
The guards were coming, hopefully with food this time instead of flails and whips. “Oi!” one of them called. He thumped on the door in his sarcastic show of respect for my grand palace of solitude. “Back away from the door. I’m comin’ in.”
He joggled the doorknob for a few moments, realized how futile it was, then threw his entire weight against the door. When it finally budged, he flew into the room and some metal clanged onto the floor.
The shaft of torchlight from beyond the doorway blinded me and I reached up to protect my eyes. “Here. Eat up, and don’t try anything stupid.” He thrust a tray of gruel at me with the spoon that had fallen. When I could finally see, I was only reminded of my situation. A bed and a crate were all I had, but their shadows danced upon the wall, offering some kind of mild entertainment until the guards left.
After eating as slowly as I could, he snatched the tray back and stormed out the door. He turned around, mockingly wished me “nighty night”, and slammed the door shut, leaving me in complete darkness once again.
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u/IAMA_dragon-AMA Aug 17 '13 edited Aug 17 '13
The brave warrior paused to observe his opponents: vague outlines innocently masking hellish terrors lying beneath. Suddenly, movement! Almost in his blind spot, he caught a figure dancing by, jeering at him, taunting him. The man started, and he began to draw his weapon to counter the beast’s inevitable strike. However, a mysterious force hindered his movement, and he stared ahead, helpless, as the entire horde of demons and foul creatures of the night began to shift, writhing in what was sure to be a war dance, inciting new energy and fury within the denizens of the dark! Suddenly terror-struck, the fighter drew back, adopting a defensive position. Where on Earth is the rest of the team? They should know better not to abandon one of their own against such an intimidating and numerous foe. He stole another glance at the army, filled with unknown beings of ferocious fangs, vile venom, clacking claws. They hadn’t seemed to move-- No, they had simply closed ranks. Desperate, he took one last glance at where his allies had left him, but not a trace of their exit was visible.
“Did you get that new nightlight for Tommy?” the woman asked her husband, reading the paper in bed.
“Yes, dear, I know how he’s afraid of the dark.” He set the paper aside and looked at his wife, “and don’t worry,” the man removed his spectacles, and reached towards the lamp, “I got him the one that projects different shapes moving across the room.”
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u/SLTFATF Aug 18 '13
This one has my vote. Great ending.
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Aug 18 '13
my vote is sadly already given, but I agree about the ending. twist endings are so hard (or, if you're me, impossible) to do in flash.I feel so bad for his clueless father.
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u/SurvivorType Aug 17 '13
I get 254 words.
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u/IAMA_dragon-AMA Aug 17 '13
What program are you using to count? Google Docs says 250 exactly.
Edit: Proof
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u/SLTFATF Aug 17 '13 edited Aug 17 '13
“In the same way, let your light shine before others…” Matthew 5:16a
The candle flickered silently beside the Bible, melting away the hours. Rubbing his forehead, he let his eyes settle on the sanguine tank in the corner of his room. It seemed so harmless…But yet the only source of his dangerous pleasure. Looking back down at the ancient text, he grinned at its message. He would not forget the iniquities of his judge. He was ready.
“Martha,” Logan called, “When will the evening meal be served?” The answer came swiftly through the PA system in his office.
“Just about half an hour, sir. Would you like the 1928 Olivier tonight?”
“The 1928 is an excellent choice. Thank you, Martha.” He sighed, leaning back in his leather chair. It had been another long day at work, deciding the future of men and women. He always hated condemning them to lifetimes of solitude and hardship. In fact, Logan owned the lowest number of convictions among his association, but that couldn’t be helped. He only doled out punishment for crimes he considered serious. Putting on some Verdi, he settled down to finish The Great Gatsby.
He struck the match, admiring the dancing flame. “Oh, I will let my light shine, Mr. Auer. You’ll see,” He dropped the stick in the puddle next to the mansion and calmly strode away, giggling to himself. The blaze roared up, illuminating the shadows of his face, the shadows of his heart, the shadows of his mind.
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u/SurvivorType Aug 17 '13
I get 294 words.
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u/SLTFATF Aug 17 '13
I get 250 in Microsoft Word...Does the year (1928) count as 3 words or...? O.o
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u/SearScare Aug 17 '13
The accident happened because they were in harbour.
A submarine preparing for a war patrol, with live ammunition, a waiting crew, and secret coordinates of their destination—every safety had been checked thrice.
But the hatches had been left open.
Lt. Cdr Mukesh Terhani ambled on his rounds, already counting down the minutes. If rumours were to be believed, the sub would sail out around four am. He suspected Western Naval Command of making the signal to inform the CO at the very moment.
Terhani went back to his quarters, stumbling past a man he didn’t recognize.
‘Sorry sir, sorry sir,’ the man apologized.
Terhani checked his stripes: a sub lieutenant. Barely twenty-two years old. A pronounced nose hung over a small mouth, and nestled under black eyes and hair.
‘Who are you?’
‘Sub-Lieutenant Kedarnath sir,’ the man saluted crisply, ‘reporting to INS Vir.’
‘This isn’t Vir.’ Terhani resolved to hit the sailor on deck. Just because it was midnight, didn’t mean he could admit anyone wearing golden strives onboard.
‘No sir,’ Kedarnath said, saluting again, ‘Yes sir, I got the wrong sub.’
‘Go right, past the crane,’ Terhani waved him off, ‘hurry and I won’t report you.’
Kedarnath fell over himself in gratitude and ran for the nearest hatch.
One hour later, the submarine exploded, killing eighteen men. An investigation in acute darkness, with flashing lights and wailing sirens concluded that a fire had started due to accidental reasons.
And through the hatches, spread to the torpedo deck.
MS Word tells me it's 250 exact, could someone check?
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u/[deleted] Aug 17 '13