Awesome Competitions! Write a Story; Win Some Pets!!

[DeMaizu]

*inhales*

*exhales*

I will try. Prepare for Rosencrantzpossibly.

[Ranger of the North]

Woop woop woooooo! Very happy much excite! Yay! Hooray! *happy dancing*

[avior.]

*inhales*

gonna do this

[Ranger of the North]

*inhales*

gonna do this

yAs

[Ranger of the North]

bump

[NyxxofStars]

The Artist
It seemed to glow with an ethereal light as if the gods had taken a small piece of lightning and stored it behind the beast's eyes. And yet the same current burst through the wings and tail, ever moving. Upon closer inspection, there was only the form of the draconian prince and the stone on which he stands that was stable. The light itself flickered and twisted around him and I could almost smell the burnt ozone rising from the page like a thunderstorm in April. Like a storm I let the painting wash over my senses and felt the rippling muscles of the young dragon as he flares out his wings like sunbeams, oh but his wings. They are not weak appendages of flesh and skin, but wide iron-feathers. I retracted that inner statement immediately, for iron is too clumsy a metal for such a carefully crafted beast. Almost apologetically, I reached up to stroke the magnificent creature but retracted my fingers hastily as a woman passed by, her critical eyes watching me hard behind thin glasses and a pointed face. Her glasses catch the light as she stalks by, as if a beacon of warning to stay away. This woman was steel indeed. Her rigid back would not bend to the will of any artist. I returned to my masterpiece only to find that while my eyes slipped away, the light had gone. Not the enchantment of the piece, but the actual light tones that had captured a spring storm and cast long shadows had actually disappeared. The painting was no longer filled with warm crackling ozone but shadows and vellum. Moving closer, if I squinted very hard I could just make out the figure of high-arched wings and a fierce head. But the draconian prince in the dark was far different from the light. His proud crowning ridges that once crowned his head seemed now to be stakes driven through his skull. Gleaming scales the color of morning fog in misty mountains were polluted with smog. The feathered wings seemed hard and unyielding tarnished steel, burnt beyond recognition. The pleasant tingle of ozone that had just moments ago filled me with such nostalgia and wonder was blown away and replaced with a sense that this painting had been burnt, blackened with ash and tar. I could have gagged at the noxious fumes I now imagined within the painting. Without the benevolent prince and his lightning the dragon before me seemed a dictator, and I, just a bystander to witness the changing of rule, mourned the loss of such beauty. The guard passed by again with cold eyes that widened in surprise at my bowed head. "Darling, are you alright?" She asked softly, so soft that I had to look up in surprise. Her cold eyes no longer held any ice, and the steel had melted away to a beautiful copper fire. After the stark cold and acrid ash of the desolate painting, her eyes found my soul, tainted by foul darkness, and enveloped it. I believe that she kept my soul, even after her eyes left mine to look at the art in front of me. "Oh, this old thing went out again." She huffed and reached into her brown leather satchel to pull out a small matchbox before reaching for the painting. I quickly snatched her hand, conflicted. Although the painting had lost it's light, that is not to say that it was without value. To allow her to burn it... Instead of doing anything rash, I turned her towards me and stalled, "So I am not permitted to touch the painting when it is filled with lightning, but you may touch it with fire? That seems very...-" I could not go on. Her fire-eyes were alight with delight and humors as if we two shared the last bit of fun in this gallery. I let her hand go and took a step back, coughing to hide the blush that stained my cheeks. I could not deny this incandescent passion anything she wished. If her flame was to burn anything, I only prayed that it would singe me as well. I knew then that I was utterly lost. "Very double-sided? It may seem that way. I do hate this thing when it's dark. It looks almost sinister!" She gave a laugh that sent sparks under my skin. This heat would consume me whole, but I would die blazing gloriously. I was lost my own reflections and too caught up in the way a strand of hair drifted out of place around the curve of her ear, but I gave a small shake to break my own trance and watch her take the painting off of the wall to show a small, hollowed out compartment. I will admit that I let out a very embarrassing noise of surprise at this discovery. There was only a plain glass box with a candle within the alcove, and the woman quickly lit a match and set the candle alight before closing the box and lifting the painting back onto the wall. This stranger had returned the light to the prince, and I quickly realized that it had not been ozone, but the smell of the wax melting, that I had experienced when the painting had been hanging. And when the light had gone out, I smelled the smoking wick of the candle. The painting had captured the lightning through capturing fire in a bottle, and I turned to my companion who was watching my face closely, a quiet smile capturing her face as she looked at my aweful epiphany. "This is... a work of genius." I managed to say, fidgeting with my skirt. She smiled dryly and replied, "Thank you, always nice to meet a fan." I regarded her incredulously. "You...you're-" I checked the name on the painting, which only added to my confusion as I finished with one brow raised, "-Turnip Dunham?" Her cheeks were tinged with pink hues, but she answered evenly, "Yes. My real name is Tulip, but female artists..." She huffed, rolling her eyes. "We get almost no credit for anything. But I suppose thst doesn't really matter." I could see that she faked a smile for my benefit, but her true smile had blown away and been replaced with a hard, unyielding line. Ice once again covered her eyes, although I could still feel the outraged fire beneath them. I felt a wave of loss throughout me and spoke quietly, "Well I think that's utter trash. Your art was one of the most captivating things I've ever seen." Her eyes melted as quickly as they'd hardened and I felt my knees weak. The fire within the painting had been captivating, but it had been her that I was drawn to like a moth to a flame. "Thank you." Her voice lowered to match my quiet tone, and we spent a moment standing there quietly, neither sure where to go from there. Then the corners of her lips rose and she asked me, very politely, if I would like to see her workshop and give an opinion on some of her newest creations. The prince watched us, light blazing, as we left arm in arm from the gallery.

[HardcoreAarmau]

Doo doo doo

[Ranger of the North]

Two or three days left, and four entries have been posted so far! Yay!

[fg05281]

Standing upon the snow
watching, never moving
I can't move...
I can't scream how much I try.
I try so hard to go to them, but i have been immobilized.

Terror
The only emotion now as I watch
I can only watch
I don't want to watch
I want to kill

Finally
the spell is broken
I spread wide my wings
Cry out in anger
In fear
In terror

Laying broken on the floor
I see the scarlet running
through the ice
through the snow
through the hole in my heart

They will pay...
They will pay.
I will make them pay
They cannot escape
Not from a mother's fury
Not from me.

My eyes go blank
with the fury of a thousand suns
which is the only fury I will ever know
now that they have taken it
my only will to live
my only will to breath
my only reason to want to live or breath

They will not take me
Not now
Not ever
I will kill them
And they will pay
For my fury.

[TheSongOfTheStars]

The night explodes into a hurricane of stars.
L
I
g
h
t
e
n
I
n
g

blazes
fills the air
numbs, shocks, nullifies

Wings
Wings
Wings

Brining
L
I
g
h
t
e
n
I
n
g
Bringing
F
e
a
r
Bringing
back
the
L
I
g
h
t