Writing Competition- Anarchy

-ANARCHY

There is an anarchist school, far from here. They call it 'This Is Life'. TIL, for short, is an experiment.

You go to whatever lesson you want, whenever you want.

You eat whatever you want, whenever you want.

You punch whoever you you want, whenever you want.

Fortunately, thanks to the general sense of goodwill, this rarely happens.

TIL would, without a government to support it, collapse.

Is this ironic?

You make the decision.

Another cool person. Yay anarchy.

Interesting to write about, though. This one I literally had about three minutes, which is why it's so short. Apologies.

Writing Competition- What happened at the Hot Dog Stand

Funny subject, eh? =) Goes to show that the compleader was a cool person.

-What happened at the Hot Dog Stand

There was a loud explosion.

Later, it would be blamed on the faulty gas stove hidden deep in the entrails of the hot dog stand, but, at that particular moment in time, the various specimens of homo sapiens ran around like headless chickens, screaming, unsure of what had happened. Nobody quite dared get closer to the flaming stand to rescue the hot dog man. Had they done so, they might have found something quite literally out of this world.

“Argle Boogle Shlarp Shlarp,” muttered one slimy looking alien-lifeform as it packed the unconscious salesman into his suitcase. It was shielded by the sheet of flame, and so did not induce wide-spread panic amongst the population. It had intended to cause minimum damage, and, being a creature of highly advanced mental capacities, had succeeded.

In fact, the only victim was the hotdog vendor, who was never seen again.

I did this one rather quickly, so don't gripe. It had to have aliens, of course XD

I think I have a diseased imagination...

Extract from the Diaries Of Lucifia Bellebub Mephistopheles, 9^th March to the 20^th March

Lucifia Mephistopheles was born to a certain Mrs Rosalina Mephistopheles on an unspecified date, sometime in the 1960s. She was described as a 'small, dowdy child' by her then neighbours, the Merricks (see page 34) devout Christians who were said to have moved on soon after commenting for health reasons. Lucifia was eleven years old when these entries were written.

9^th March

Neri, the maid, left us. Said the devil himself haunted the streets of this city, and that hell roared in our cellar.

Asked Mama what Neri meant. She told me that I wouldn't understand.

"But Mama!"

"Shut your insolent mouth, child!"

She slapped me. I have a fiery mark on my cheek, and salty drops of liquid stain my clothes where Mama cried on me and asked for my forgiveness.

I gave it to her. She locked it up in a golden locket. She smiled at me. Her teeth glinted.

13^th March

Quentin, my playmate, didn't come today. When I went round to his, his Papa opened the door and told me to leave. He strode off to get me a biscuit. Bribery... A secondary sin...

I watched and waited. A dark figure was silhouetted against the white of the walls. The golden light of morning burst like an egg into the room, through the door. It cut out the shape of a boy and a man, two shadows... The man leaned forwards and made a cutting motion towards the boy, who keeled over.

A fiery light shone for a second on the white backdrop of the shadow puppet theatre. The man disappeared with the sudden light.

I clapped.

I have seen many other such shadow shows, and they never cease to enthral me.

I have never seen the actors.

I did not see Quentin again.

16^th March

My head feels like a melon about to split, about to disgorge its juicy gore. I have two small lumps on either side of my head. Mama tells me that they are perfectly normal. I demand to know why she hasn't got any.

She gives me two beautiful white rabbits.

I know I am being bought off.

Secondary sin, repeated...

I trip down the small steps to the pit. The smell is the first thing which assaults my nostrils. I toss the wriggling creatures into its bottomless depths.

As I watch prisoners crunch the small animals alive (their brains ooze pleasingly out of their ears), I flick off some little bits of intestine that have strayed from their true course, the course that leads to bubbling pools of acid in the deepest, darkest recesses of the warped entrails of the damned. I lie back. The sounds of gulping and swallowing, of pain and torture are music to my ears.

The head of the rabbit is still twitching as it is swallowed.

18^th March

I am bored. So bored. I have watched an age burn in the fireplace. Have visited a playmate. She bored me, so I asked Mama for a puppet show. She said that I need never be apathetic again.

Mama suggested I 'meddle with earthly matters'. She said it would be 'good practise'. I told her 'practise' sounds like work to me, and I would never do work.

Well, I wouldn't.

She laughed. It sounded like the tinkling of bells and I laughed with her. Then she showed me what she meant.

It looked like fun.

I have settled for starting a small war.

I think it will be entertaining.

--------------------------------

"What is it you want?"

The man stepped forwards, calmly. Carefully. Deliberately.

"You know what it is I want, Rosalina darling... "

"Know?" The woman laughed. The sound of ironic merriment slowly degenerated into a high, thin, screaming sound, piercing and painful.

"I know nothing! I FEEL nothing!" Rosalina collapsed.

He took her in his arms.

“I want my daughter back...” he hissed in pale swirl of her ear. Her dark hair flowed over his claw-like hand in one fluid movement. The sunset light caught its auburn glow. And fire spread its way through the dark, cursed room...

------------------------------

20^th March

Mama was found dead in her bed. I don't know what killed her. There was a red silk cloth thrown over her body.

I was feeding her corpse to the prisoners when Father came.

“You are a true heir indeed.”

This was for the 'Big Bad Write' competition (describe a supervillain). I think they were looking for something a bit more Green Goblin, but I thought having the Devil's heir was scary enough.

School Assignment- Fruit

07/06/07

Blueberry

The wafer-thin needle pierced the delicate, glassily tinted skin with a soft

'Splut'.

The forest of metallic structures swayed in the harsh harsh wind. Anticipation, and maybe elation, filled the man on the mission. Slowly, deliberately, curling coils ascended the needle's steep gradient. Double helix; providing a fix for a generation. A generation in need of sensation, after the dulling taste of white bread and paste. A generation in a world where grease floods the taste buds...

Globalisation corrupts.

Back to the man. His glowing, artificial, slightly russet tan is an unnatural shade in the silvery metal shimmer around him. Clear swirling liquid releases his taut tension. He could have failed. He could have been jailed. The penalty for living in 1984 is ever so pre-eminently sore.

The sample cascaded down the complex machinery. Groaning, it burst into life.

Blueberry upon blueberry, churned out to the masses. The tangy, sharp daggers of violet hue stabbing, ripping, and tearing too, at sensitive American mouths. Turgid eyes stared in shock at its

intense violet and magenta colour. Undulating waves of blue blended into the patchy, podgy mishmash so well known to those who gaze upon the Moon's rugged

And patchy

Podgy mishmash

Of silver

colour.

“Blueberry.”

We had to write a poem describing a fruit. Needless to say, I did not want to stick to the template and created this strange and slightly psychedelic piece of flowing weirdness. The 'penalty' bit is referring (perhaps incorrectly) to Orwell's '1984', something I haven't read yet, but want to.

Writing Competition- The Sun

He stretched out a tentative finger and slowly caressed the golden, glowing ball.

---

“My god, Parker! What's happening?”

“I don't know, but it's definitely not an eclipse!”

“Oh god. Oh god, god...”

Parker grimaced at his worshipping colleague. “A curiously apt exclamation, Richards. Come see this...” The two astronomers huddled round the blurred printout.

“It looks like...”

“A hand. I know.”

All around the world, the astronomers, crouched condescendingly in their mushroom-shaped domes, were having the same conversation. Meanwhile, a worryingly real drama unfolded amongst the populace.

---

Jubilation painted itself on his youthful face as he grabbed its fiery incandescence.

---

“Cor blimey! My cabbages! They're wilting!”

“A, lalalalala, mon dieu! My strawberries!”

“Mamma mia! Look at my grapes!”

“?Que pasa? O, my melons, NOOOOOOO!”

The world was about to suffer a major food dilemma.

---

Squeals of child-like pleasure echoed as the warm ball jittered in the chubby hands.

The Earth was in for it now.

Up the ball flew, down again. Up, down. Up, down. Still emitting its comforting radiance, it partook unwillingly of the child's innocent game.

---

Major international crisis. Along trundled the eternal human query...

“What now?”

I actually quite like this, but it's very unpolished and doesn't flow. It's a bit juddering, and I hope to clear it up sometime...

Your Friends Are With You

Remember that notebook from four years ago I dug up recently? This is another ramble from there.

When you think
That the world will end
That your life is worthless
That everyone's against you
Just remember...

It gets sunny after it rains
There's an end to those maths lessons
And your friends are with you to the end...

The Silver Wolf

Something I wrote when I was, like, seven... I recently discovered an old notebook of mine...

The moon shone down
On an unsuspecting forest,
Filled with chatters and squeaks.
There was noise all around
Nobody sensed what was to come.

For there came an hour
When through the forest
Stalked the Silver Wolf
Product of a diseased imagination...

Dangerously, silently
Scythe like claws bit the ground
Gleaming fangs hung dangerously
From a curled and sneering jaw

With great silver strides
The wolf covered ground
While all creatures around
Fell still
Sending a silent prayer
To those who would fall to the jaws
The claws
Of the giant Silver Wolf.

-Crazed

I'm insane

Asylum's bane

Gone down the twisty lane

Of crack cocaine

Don'know where to go

Don'know who's my foe

'D kiss any ol' Joe

How'd I sink so low?

See my enemies everywhere

In the cupboard on the stair

Out the door, under my chair

Crawling all over my dusty lair

Think I'm going paranoid

Never know who to avoid

There's darkness closing in on me

And you all around, you just can't see

Can't see where it's taking me, me, me...

You say I'm selfish

Put all on my dish

And ran.

Ran.

Ran.

But you were wrong.

You found my body in the barren gutter

Surrounded by a ton of clutter

My frozen mind,

Forever still

Unless, until

You found the pill

It was by my side,

You took it and died.

I would've told you

Should've, could've.

Didn't.

So now you're lying here, beside me

Your face is colder then ice could be

And I'm wishing I'd never listened

To those who told me I was crazy

Because the voices in my head

They all disagree.

Wow 0.0

I wrote something so abysmally cliche? I think this one needs explanation (which is usually a bad sign -.-') the girl has run away; there are two pills that fall out of her pocket when she collapses. One is the one which will revive her (I THINK she was meant to be asthmatic, but...) and the other is the cyanide pill she was planning to kill herself with. The man, which is also asthmatic (is asthma even hereditary?) takes the wrong pill by accident; he believes they're both asthma pills and thinks it's perfect; one for him and one for her....

Love Comes and Goes

-Love Comes and Goes... version TWO!!!

The first shattered nose

Blood blooms like rose

After a clumsy attempt

To seduce and to tempt

The first whispered poems

And the first valentine

The first soft kiss

And the first near miss

The first ring

First by-gone spring

First and last baby

The first crushed maybe

The first money trouble

The first rough stubble

And the first sleeping out

With an innocent pout

First betrayal

Bad portrayal

Loves comes and goes

Like a fading rose.

School Assignment- The Sea is A...

The sea is a creeping spider

Slipping smoothly over wind-scoured shores

Each leg rises, falls and moors

Eight eyes sweep the flying sand

As she comes in closer to our vicious hand

And in a flash flood, she bites

Blanketing the land for forty nights

Sparking the rise of a new kind of brainwashing

Hurrah for our Lord, our Master, our King

Loving not the solid but the ethereal mystique

Taking care of the dream, not the sullied and meek

The sea is abandoned...

We take all we can,

and close the lid.

And the sea

Tattered, abused

Is strong in its fragility.

I quite like this one, even though it's a bit mediocre and abruptly ended, like the previous.

Writing competition- Family

-Only humans can do conscious good...

...Only humans can do conscious evil.

I watch you play

You seem like a happy family

But I know deep inside

Any of you would kill the others

Simply to survive.

Haven't you ever seen

The weaker chick

Thrown from a height of five hundred feet?

Or watched the tiny otter starve to death?

These things are commonplace.

Only the human

The weak, puny human

Whose world dominance is undisputed

Regards the family as a haven.

Be it emotional, physical, grammatical,

The family upholds.

Mostly.

Because haven't you seen

The weaker child

Thrown against the wall

Or watched the drunken parent hit their son?

Seems a little unpolished/ abrupt, doesn't it? I'll see what I can do.

The World from the P.O.V of the Shadows

I am

Notoriety

The one whose name you fail to grasp

The one you know only by her darkness

I am.

For I am

As much as you are.

I exist

And when the last oblivion consumes the light

The darkness shall still be left

Dancing, loving, laughing

Hand in hand

With me.

The one you avoided.

The one you shunned.

There was fear and derision

There was sorrow as well

But it never extinguished the fire.

Fire which gave no warmth.

Fire which was feared.

Fire which was derided...

...By no one any longer.

For the light had gone,

and with it went all evil.

Yeah, well, if you think about it, the evil people probably think the good people are evil. Which makes sense, from a philosophical point of view.

-To Queen...

...One of the greatest rock bands.

Who dares to live forever?

Who dares to brave an eternity?

Who dares bridge the ages

Cross the boundaries of life

Do what no man has done before?

Will it be you?

Will you see everything you love

Everything

you hold dear to your heart

Crumble, erased?

Your culture

Your identity

Your youth and your country

Gone, faded, lost forever.

Never to be returned.

Swallowed by the giant which fells forests,

Wears whole mountains down

And dries the rivers and the streams forevermore...

Time

It waits for nobody

And if you wish to defy it...

Then I wish you good luck

And I bid you farewell.

This was actually for a writing competition, but I cannot for the life of me remember what the topic was. Ah well. Oh yeah, see if you can find the references to TWO of Queen's/Freddy Mercury's songs. The first one's pretty obvious, kilt baddie swords. The second one needs a little more thinking.

City

-CITY

Pulsing

Crashing

Crooning

Conquering

Waves of life

And waves of matter

Entwining

Living

Loving

Laughing

Dying...

The purring beast arises

The purring beast mutters

The purring beast rolls over

And the festival

The carnage

Can begin.

A supreme example of abstractness from an over-caffeinated brain. This would be perfect in an English lesson; look at how many interpretations there are...

Writing Competition- Let's plagiarize someone's character.

-TO LEGOLAS

He sweeps back his blonde hair.

“Tolkien, I'm gonna get you for this,” he mutters. “'Tis difficult to keep this neat in battle.”

I hand him a hairbrush.

“Lothlorien thanks you!” comes the reply.

I hand him shampoo as well, commenting speculatively,

“How do you keep it that soft? Surely Sauron's fiery smoke and the general lack of plumbing around here would make that level of shinyness pretty much impossible?”

He brushes it back again and clips it up.

He's trying hard not to boast.

“Oh, you know, what with fighting monsters and looking heroic, it does get a bit mucky sometimes...”

He strokes the subject of admiration gently. “But it always looks as if it's just been washed. Elves have that gift from birth...”

“I say! I'm pretty jealous, you know.”

“Oh, you needn't be!” He immediately hands me a small deed entitling me to most existing Elvish treasure.

“Please, I hope this compensates the ill feelings I have caused?”

Not only a hero but a gentleman. How sweet.

-cough, cough- Legolas is the most annoying character in the whole book. But oh well, inspiration doesn't care who it strikes.

Love comes and Goes

When you're angry and bored with the same old trash about love popping up, you write stuff you regret XP

Love comes and Goes

It blossomed into existence
Like the first bud on a great oak tree
Natural, unfeeling
Bound to its task as Mother Nature decreed
It had to flourish, to live and grow strong
Then, like a nightingale, burst into song.

Bringing two lovers together
Hearts and minds prickling
With the strange new sensation
Of burning and tickling
And of torpid elation
As the dull conversation
Turns to their indolent nation
And its low population

"Shall we remedy that?" he asks
The question is all that the feeling needs
As the lovers fall onto the silken sheets
It leaves them both.

'First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage'Fourth come arguments, the children become chores, the next they're undergoing an arduous divorce...

Writing Competition- topic 'Perfect Friend'

An unoriginal topic, I know. And an unoriginal entry on my part. Apologies.

Shepherd of the People

She swings her raven tresses in a supremely elegant manner. I need someone like this. I need someone to guide me, look after me, protect me... I bow my head. Like a sheep, I need to be lead. She looks down her aquiline nose; her dark eyes pierce mine. She is everything I want to be, beautiful, confident, successful, and I idolise her. Being in her presence fills me with joy, with warmth; I gaze upon her perfect features, drinking them in, dizzy with elation. She is talking, and her soft, warm voice reminds me of swirling chocolate. Smoothly, richly, she comforts me, and I feel that I will succeed. Through anarchy and loss, democracy and terror, she will coerce me and compel me to become, like her, a shepherd of the people.

Writing Competition- topic 'Ivory'

Suicidal Urge

Ivory hair and moonlight shadows
A scene of crime and deathly hallows
Glistening blade and beautiful maid
Entwined together in the dying shade
As the last blood streaks across the chocolate earth
Like the ruby-red embers on a fading hearth
You hear no more but the sighing of the trees
Swaying together in the cold cold breeze

Titles/Headers

When I say 'Writing Competition' it means that I wrote it in about five minutes for a chat board on which I was given a subject and had to write about it. No profit, no loss, just friendly competition. Stuff written for school will have 'School Assignment' in the title, and anything else is what I wrote in my free time.

Introduction

Yup, the new blog, as promised! Rejoice! *brings out champagne* Or would you prefer squash? Anyway, frivolities aside...

I'll post most of what I've got.
The other blog WILL be discontinued.
Hope you enjoy!