Contest Entries

Daily Flash-
http://www.writing.com/main/forums/message_id/2411693/edited/true/thread/1
"Is this really necessary?" A tall, slim man stood at the window, his long fingers steepled together.

Outside, the grounds of Willow Estate rolled into the descending fog that enveloped everything in sight. It was a stark contrast to the warm atmosphere inside the tall imposing castle. A fire roared cheerfully in the background as the man turned to face a woman who sat stiffly on a red velvet chair.

She nodded regally. "I believe so. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important." An expression of deep conflict slid over his features, and he turned again to stare into the fire.

"She's just a girl."

"Mr. Sinclaire. She may be a girl, but she will be a dead girl if your don't go through with this." She spoke brusquely, without a thought for his emotions. "Sir. Glentsworth has made his position on this very clear."

"I told you not to call me that." He muttered, waving a set of five aristocratic fingers. A little pucker appeared between his eyebrows, a tiny frown on his mouth. "My name is Charles, dammit!" His voice rose to a shout, and in a fit of anger, he shoved a glass vase off of the table next to him. The crash silenced everything.

"Charles..?" The woman ventured.

"Leave me." His voice was emotionless, and she watched his finely clad form for a moment, before pushing through the door. "Lucy?" He calls, and she turns. He doesn't. "Tell Maybell to come, will you?" A grim expression slides onto her face, and she nods once.

A moment later, he is still standing before the fire when a blonde teenage girl walks in. "You wanted to see me, father?"

He nods reluctantly and turns to face her. "Darling... Sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the greater good."


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Daily Flash-
http://www.writing.com/main/forums/action/view/message_id/2422444/thread/1

In the humid evening of August fourth, I ruined my life. I can see you shaking your head in exasperation and disbelief, but that doesn't change anything. The occasional web of lightning lit up the sky like day, until it faded back to stormy gray. I donned a heavy rain coat and slunk into the wet streets.

When I told you that I was seeing an old friend tonight, you must have believed it enough to risk a night out with your whore. You really thought I'd remain oblivious? You should have known. But in any case, I found you out that night, when I slouched into the small diner. The lights were low and the atmosphere one of pleasant familiarity. To the tune of low voices, I headed to the bar and bumped into the smartly dressed frame of a man perhaps five inches taller than myself.

"My bad. Excu--" I stopped when I saw the man's face. "Ethan?" I asked in disbelief. You wore an expression of sickening guilt on your face.

"Jasmine!" You cried, biting your lip. I would have asked what you were doing here, but the answer slid smoothly onto your arm with a seductive smile.

"Who's this, Ethan?" She asked after a kiss, hanging onto you like a parasite. You stuttered as you looked between us.

"How long?" I asked in a low voice. You opened your mouth to begin some asinine excuse, and I simply walked away, breaking into a sprint across the soaked road.

"No! Jasmine! Wait!"

"Stay away from me!" I screamed back. You ran after me, but I was faster and you slipped on a puddle, landing squarely on your ass in the middle of the street.

My last glimpse of you was lost in a flash of yellow porshe.

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Writer's Cramp-
http://www.writing.com/main/forums/action/view/message_id/2422843/thread/1
The woods were quiet this time of day and year, with dusk fast approaching and spring right around the corner. But prospects of a warm spring prospects looked bleak. For two weeks, a snow storm had been bombarding the old woods with all it's frosty might. Even the tree dwellers had pulled back into their warm dens high in the pines to wait out it's fury.
A soft pinprick of light through the swirling white was Oron's saving grace. Even his frozen solid feet managed to move a little faster at the sight. Might it be a trading post? Or perhaps an inn that could find him a room for the night? At this point, anything was a blessing upon him. It seemed an eternity before the shapeless gray blob became something discernible as a building. A tightly grouped ring of trees hugged the building between them and served as the connection between walls. The roof sagged dangerously underneath a heap of snow, but the blue-eyed, brown-haired boy pushed his way inside anyway.
He found a mildly dingy, but gloriously warm bar inside. It seemed that even in a blizzard, nothing could keep the tree dwellers from their ale, because the simple room was still a bubble of life. They were smaller than him, all by half a foot at the least, and each completely unique from the rest. And still, every single one of them turned their lamplike eyes towards him as he crossed across the small room, past the fire blazing in the stone hearth, and onto the barstool. The barmaid, a girl who looked to be about thirty wandered towards him with a curiously stern expression. "Mah mah. Look what thah cat dragged in." she commented in her strange, forest affected drawl and surveyed him with an evaluating look. "What'll you be having?"
"Have you got anything I can buy for a ram?" Oron asked, settling himself more securely on the rickety stool. He could feel the eyes on him, even if the raucous conversation had resumed to a quiet murmur.
"Sure, sweetheaht." She pulled a small pad from the pocket of her apron. "We got soup, jerky, some sortah wheat bread."
Oron thought it over for a short moment. "Can I get some of it all?"
She looked back at him suspiciously. "You got thah money to pay fah it?" He nodded and pulled out a few flat brown coins that he passed across the bar for her to scoop up. When she disappeared into the kitchen, he risked a glance around him. He counted five sets of luminous eyes locked on him and three that glanced away from his own gaze. "Heah." The dull thunk of wood on wood drew his eyes back to the red haired dweller of a barmaid. A steaming bowl of broth and vegetables sat in front of him, strips of meat to one side and the bread to the other.
"Thanks." he muttered, and dug into the meal immediately after tucking the jerky into his bag.
She leaned on one elbow, looking at him with a curious expression. "Wicked weathah we'ah havin, huh?" He nodded into his broth, but she either didn't get the hint, or was ignoring it. "So whaht's a peachie like you dohin out heah?"
"Going to see the queen." he mumbled quickly.
A soft gasp escaped her lips. "Yah're not serious? What doyah' want so badly?"
"I'm going for retribution." The brunette spooned more soup into his mouth, hoping to avoid more conversation.
"That's a lost cause if I ever heard one." Oron gave a start and turned to stare at the dweller who sat a seat away. His black hair cascaded down to be caught in a leather wrap at his shoulder, partially hiding his green eyes.
"What do you mean?" he protested. "You haven't even heard what I'm trying to get!"
The stranger shrugged. "Don't matter. I never heard of no one who got anything from that icy weasel of a woman."
Oron shook his head stubbornly. "I'm sure she'll see that I've got a decent claim."
"Eh, I think he's got'a poihnt, boy. Queen Marahpohsa ain't no'un's sahving grace." The green eyed dweller woman poked the table with the rhythm of her words.
"She has got a way with that body though." A grin spread over the other man's face. "She's a dangerous 'un, that snake."
"No. I'm sure I can reason with her." Oron replied stoutly, pushing away his bowl. He couldn't let anyone tell him otherwise. Because then their deaths... would be pointless. "Do you have any rooms you can post me in?"
"Ye'ah. Let me go an see which'uns ahre open." She scuttled away again.
Oron looked over at the stranger with his eyes narrowed. "You're not from around here, are you? You haven't got the accent."
"Nah. I'm from up north. You ever been up there?" Oron shook his head. "Beautiful place. You should visit sometime."
A set of soft clicks signaled the barmaid's return. "Room threah's open. Ten reeds foah the night." He exchanged the gray coins for a slim key and stood to go. "Jus' through tha' door ovah theah." She pointed a clawlike red nail across the room.
"Thank you." he said softly, and turned to go. The last of the strangers words found their way to his ear just as the slipped through the door. "Just don't fall over when the lady smiles."