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

[BucketORandomness]

I DID A THING! HOORAY! I ACTUALLY WROTE ONE OF MY IDEAS!!!!!!!

*aherm*

Well, ya. I did it. Trying to convince myself I'm not all written out so I can get the poem(s)/story out sometime soon.

[Ranger of the North]

Last-ish day, guys!! Seven entries have been posted! ;D

[DeMaizu]

Harper, a Living Ship engineer, had been in many harrowing and dangerous situations (it came with the job, really), but he’d never thought one of them would be facing a hungry Ship Gremlin (a small one, mind you — Rosencrantz couldn’t have been more than a foot high) hissing at him from atop a shifting pile of sugar. It would have been cute if not for the acid that Harper knew could come flying out the little creature’s mouth, as well as those serrated, sharp teeth lining said mouth.
“Rosie,” Harper started, holding his hands up near his head.
“Rosencrantz,” the Gremlin snapped, a hiss accenting his gravelly voice.
“Rosencrantz,” Harper repeated. “I can’t make you any real food if you won’t let me into the kitchen, and sugar is not real food.”
“It is too,” Rosencrantz hissed huffily. It was amazing how childishly stubborn he got when the lack of food was taking over his brain functions. “You can digest it, it produces energy for your body, it’s real food.”
“Right, but it’s not energy that lasts very long,” Harper said, trying to maneuver around the dragon-shaped creature so he could fix something for both of them. Lunch had been less than satisfactory. “Please let me get in?”
“No.” A sniff accompanied that statement.
The young engineer opened his mouth to reply when an outraged shriek echoed through the living ship’s hull.
“WHO ATE MY LAST POPTART?!?!? DANTEEE??”
“IT WASN’T ME, GRETCHEN!”
Harper raised an eyebrow at the Gremlin after he recovered from the surprise of their navigator yelling. “Don’t suppose it was you?”
As a general rule of thumb, Rosencrantz didn’t look guilty for any reason. But Gretchen tended to have an unhealthy obsession with her toaster things — being on the recieving end of that could be . . . intense. “What proof do you have, human?” Rose sneered, the guilty look melting off his face.
Harper sighed. “Rose . . .”
“No!’ Rosencrantz snarled, the blue light behind him shining through his feathery wings. “This is my kitchen now, no one else gets in or out!” They stared at each other, neither party willing to back down. Then Gretchen came thundering down the stairs, screeching about her poptarts and thieves, and Rosencrantz decided that maybe guarding the kitchen wasn’t that important.

“So,” Harper said grumpily, a few hours later. When Gretchen had found them both in the kitchen doorway, she had decided that even if the Gremlin was the original culprit, Harper was guilty by association. “Are you happy now, you goblin?”
“Gremlin,” Rosencrantz corrected. “And no; I got caught! No self-respecting Ship Gremlin gets caught, in the act or afterwards!”
Shaking his head, the engineer just scrubbed harder at the greasy pot. “Just keep washing, Rosie. It’s your fault we’re stuck with kitchen duty for the next month, and I’m not doing it all by myself. Even if I ahve to get Auntie Beast to help me keep you in here.”
The Gremlin glared. “Stop calling me that, human, that’s not my name!” He kept spitting at the dishes though, wiping his saliva off them to get them shining. Gross, yes, but effective. And it meant what spirits they met and floating around the ship could be shooed out easier with their reflections.
“So,” Harper eventually said. “Next time you’re starving, you’ll come to me for food, right?”
Rosencrantz stopped his task to turn a baleful stare on the human. “Debatable.” With a flick of his tipped tail, he spread his wings and flapped off, ignoring the rest of the dishes that were still in the sink and the glare Harper sent after his retreating back.

Everyone remember Floki's prompts? This could count for one of them. Hrmm. *coughs*
Honestly, I'm not sure where this story might go, but here. Have this.

[VVorthless]

I guess I'll write a poem.... Does a song count? I'm more used to writing songs.....


Icy wings icy heart.
One wrong move and we'll be torn apart.
A little love a lot of light.
I'll stay alive tonight.
Ill hold you close within my arms.
Tries to trick me with it's charm.
Loving loss trusting pain it'll never be the same.
Remnants gone in the snow.
Those big wings aren't just for show.
Sitting in the cold.
This story's getting old.
Lives lost.
Such a big cost.
Roars in the light.
End up looking sight.

[sparrow;]

xxx43 days had passed so far. Over 1,000 hours spent in this wilderness, surrounded by snow and ice that stretched for an eternity in ever direction. A howling wind attacked me on all sides, unrelenting and unwavering. I knew, deep down, that I had no hope of finding the creature I had once seen in this wasteland. But I kept searching. For my sister.
xxxI stopped after a while, I don't know how long. The spot I chose to put up my tent wasn't special in any way - there was no shelter, no wildlife. Still, it was where my snowmobile had ended up after another day of driving nowhere. It was where I was.
xxxWhen I crawled inside the small one-man tent I didn't bother to take off my woolen gear - my tiny electric heater wouldn't do much to keep away the cold and if I didn't want to freeze to death I needed to keep as warm as possible. I rubbed my gloved hands together as I sat, shaking and alone, wanting more than anything to give up.
xxxBeing so isolated was the worst of it. Nobody had wanted to join me on this wild goose chase, so all I had for company were the memories of the time I'd come out here with my sister. The snowball fights, the hot chocolate, the fun of being together in such a wonderful place. The memories didn't match up with where I was now, even though I was no more than a few kilometers from the spot we'd sat together and laughed. Laughed, and gasped, and screamed, and cried.
xxxNo. Don't think about it, I told myself firmly, just go to sleep. So I did - the same way I'd fallen asleep the last 42 days. So tired that I could almost ignore the cold.

~*~

xxxWhen I awoke the next morning, I heard footsteps outside. There were a couple of seconds where I though it was my mother, walking into my bedroom to wake me up, before I remembered where I was.
xxxThose weren't human footsteps...
xxxWith a gasp of shock and fear, I sat up and grabbed my pack. My numb fingers wasted precious seconds undoing the zips of the bag and tent door before I grabbed my gun and ran outside.
xxxThere it was - three meters tall, with feathers the same colour as the snow around it. Its icy cold eyes gazed at me, emotionless, as I raised the gun with shaking hands, aimed, and pulled the trigger.
xxxThe creature screeched - but in fear, not pain. I'd missed, and within seconds it had shot into the sky. My frozen fingers dropped the weapon. Too late. The monster that had killed my sister was gone. And I doubted it would ever come back.

This was kinda rushed, but I wanted to make myself do something as I hadn't written in ages. It's a bit... terrible.

[Woogwoo Wren]

Snow
Is soft and white.
A comfort.
Peaceful.

Here
I can be safe.
I don't fear.
Happy.

Cold
Under my wings.
Lifting me.
Flying.

People,
Coming closer every day.
I will stand.
Fighting.

No.
They will not pass.
My home.
Defend.

Ice
From my fierce jaws,
The invaders.
Dying.

Always
They will come.
Humans.
Destroying.

Once
They stole my eggs.
Neven again.
Victory.

Snow.
Is soft and white.
Red blood.
Falling.

Welp. That was kinda bad. XD I might do a story or another poem tomorrow.

[Ranger of the North]

Eleven entries!! Yay, I'm so excited!! Go you guys! Woooohoooo! eeee i'm so excited :.D

[~Liren~]

Long ago, there used to be a beautiful woman who had the power of ice. Her name was Tuyen. She was cold-hearted, but she loved children. Every wintery day, the woman could be seen laughing with nearby village children. Tuyen would put snowflakes in their hair and help make snowmen. However, whenever an adult came near, she'd disappear without a trace.

One day, a little girl named Xuan came to the palace where the woman lived. Tuyen took one look at her and shut the door. Xuan was the first child she turned away from. It was understandable, Xuan's name meant "spring". The girl didn't give up on Tuyen though. Everyday, she'd go and greet the woman; only to be rejected harshly.

Xuan slowly melted Tuyen's heart. She began liking the girl more and more. Then, the day came when Xuan was able to hug Tuyen without being pushed away. Unfortunately, Tuyen fell ill from not using her magic properly. She forbad Xuan from coming to palace ever again. Xuan had other ideas in mind...

People in the village were preparing to rescue the lord's daughter from the ice witch. "The witch has cast a spell on my daughter! She must be executed!" shouted the lord. Everyone roared in agreement. They set off in the terrible snowstorm, their only goal was to kill the witch.

Tuyen coughed, still battling the illness. Her powers were going out of control. A snowstorm was brewing outside, and she could feel the presence of human in the area. They must be here to kill me... Tuyen thought wearily. She was fine with that, if it meant that no one would be killed due to her. One of the men kicked down the door, yelling "SEIZE THE WITCH!". Tuyen made no move to get away. Someone threw a lance at Tuyen. The woman closed her eyes, preparing for impact. Only, it never came. Xuan had stepped in front of her at last second. Her trembling lips made no sound as she crumbled in many small yellow flowers.

Tuyen, shaking, scoops up some of the flowers. They turn into crystals, instantly shattering into cold power. She lets out an agonizing scream, crying at the loss of someone beloved. "YOU ALL HAVE TAKEN THE LIFE OF AN INNOCENT SOUL! YOU MUST DIE!" Tuyen screeches, transforming into a dragon. The dragon blew sharp ice crystals at the men, killing them instantly. She curls up around the soft snow that used to be Xuan and let her sorrows go.

It is said that you could find the dragon, now a stone figure, protecting faded yellow flowers in a small puddle of ice-water.

(WHAT DID I JUST TYPE)

[Ranger of the North]

Twelve! Thanks, man!

[Piefan]

The cave is sealed, but even if it were possible for any human to enter it, they wouldn't survive the trip. The air is thick with smoke, forming an unbreathable grey fog. There is no moss, no fungi. The only living being here is a dragon in the centre of it all, asleep, plumes of smoke drifting from its nostrils with every breath.

In the interest of accuracy, I will tell you this: it has murky yellow scales that fades into dull green at its extremities. Some of them have been torn off, and underneath them is soft skin - jarring holes in the armour. Its claws have long been shredded to nubs; its teeth are rotten and many are missing.

Normal creatures like you and me, and even the dragon, would never know any of this. It is pitch black here, after all. I can describe it to you only because I happen to have seen it in the light.

You could say its existence is miserable, and you wouldn't be wrong. Its lungs are weak, shrivelled; you can hear it in its shallow breaths. Its movements, shifting slightly in its sleep, are slow and limp. It is dying, and it is spending its final days in slumber when it should be going out in a blaze of glory.

Still, it is happy, in a sense. In its dreams it rips through the skies, a free creature, unbound by walls or chains or expectations. Its golden scales gleam in the light; its leathery wings flap hard and fast against the wind.

(Do not ask me how I know this.)

Maybe on some level it knows it is all a lie. Sometimes time passes too quickly, or darts back and forth, or pauses completely so the dragon can enjoy a single experience for hours and hours. Other times, things are just illogical; an enemy spontaneously decides to help it, or it forgets to eat for too long without suffering for it.

But why would it care? Save for these occasional lapses in logic, there is little to remind it of that fact. The woman that approaches it one day, bright-eyed and light-footed, seems as genuine as anything it remembers.

She becomes its Rider; their minds are bonded. They travel from land to land together, aimless travellers, reveling in their freedom. Their only loyalties are to each other, and neither demand anything from the other. They remain together because they want to. She is the first to treat it like it matters, and it is the first to treat her like she is more than a tool. The stories say that even her death will not do more than weaken their minds' link; she will not speak to him like she does now, but she

Somehow even in its dreamland life is not perfect. A king sees the pair soaring above his kingdom and thinks, They should not be here. He sends warriors after them, flinging spears and arrows at the dragon and its rider.

Even a dragon cannot survive the collective onslaught of thousands of arrows unscathed. Wounded, close to death, it and its Rider retreat into a cave carved into a mountain.

But they are nomads by nature, and to stay in such a small place for so long eats at them, until at last they come to a decision. The woman will leave, and plead her case to the king. Even if she has to beg, they will receive permission to leave without being struck down.

She fails.

He does not know it - he believes she will return, eventually, and he falls asleep. But the truth of the matter is that she failed him, and she failed herself. She was not strong or smart or wily enough, and he paid the price. He was sealed tight into the cave, while she walked free.

She deserved what happened to her in the end. Stabbed by a bandit she thought was her friend, over and over again.

In real life, now, the dragon stirs. It stands, and the hard, sharp scales of its head scrape against the ceiling with a high, horrible sound. Emilia.

He knows.

Of course, says Ris, in a tone approaching affection. It is entirely undeserved. Oh, hush with your self-deprecation. Of course you deserve my love, I'm sure what happened isn't your fault. It's been so long since I heard your voice. I'm so glad I woke up when I did, or I might have missed your whole explanation.

I wasn't speaking to you, actually.

Who, then?

I… imagine someone else here, sometimes. You're the only one I can technically communicate with, given I'm dead, so it's not like I have a lot of options.

I heard all of it, anyway. I think I'm still strong enough to destroy any seal they came up with. Which wall is it?

The one near your tail, but you can't-

Ris swings his tail, and stone flies from the wall behind him. Some shrapnel cuts into the space between scales, drawing blood, but he ignores it. Again he swings, and again, until at last there is light. He unfurls vibrant green wings and roars his glee to the ruins beyond.

I was going to ask you to stop narrating, but if you're going to make me sound this majestic all the time…

Not always. But I guess I should stop, shouldn't I? I'm not alone anymore.

Of course. You have me. Forever.

Ok so this kinda stopped making sense at the end. Still, I finished it, I guess.