I don't care what you write. The only guide lines are that it must be appropriate for a 13 year old to read and it can not be longer than 800 words. I have no prize to offer because I don't think people should write for prizes. I will read every thing and if I love or hate it I will send you a private message telling you what I think of it. I look forward to reading your work. good luck.cat_emo
The sun was setting a bright scarlet, dark clouds blocked the rising moon and stars. A strong wind shook the canopy, sending cascades of leaves falling to the ground. Thick smoke swirled through the woods, bringing glowing embers with it. In the distance the roar of flames sounded along with a single cry "No!"
Lukeita fell to his knees as his father pulled the broad sword from the clan leader's stomach who also happened to be his brother. Tears streamed down his cheeks and dripped to the ground, his shoulder length black hair with a reddish splash in the front covered his gray eyes as he turned toward the dirt.
After a moment he heard a swift movement, the screech of metal against metal, drops of liquid splashing on the ground, footsteps, then the thud of a nearly lifeless body. Looking up he saw the back of his older brother blood gushing from the wound, a chuckle shook his body as Lukeita leaned over him. "Who would… have thought that I… was right?" he said with a smile "Remember? I said that… I would die… for you. Though… I didn't think… it would happen literally." He closed his eyes slowly sweat dripped down his pain stricken face, the heat of the fire and the smoke made it hard for them to breathe.
"Brother..." Lukeita muttered burying his head into his brother's shoulder "don't say that! ... you're not gonna die. I won't let it happen..." he cried clutching the soaked steaming shirt, his brother's.
The older one coughed, blood now welling up in his mouth he wrapped an arm around the younger brother and pulled him closer "I hope that... you...," he whispered silently "make sure… mother and the others… don't… die." his arm hung limply on Lukeita's shoulders. The tips of the older one's lips moved upward in a smile as he opened his eyes again. Not much later his pulse slowed to a stop along with his breathing; his now sightless eyes starred up, the pain that glazed them before lifted and was replaced with some sort of happiness that Lukeita didn't understand.
As the earth sapped the heat from the dead body Lukeita sat up, closing the eyelids and wiping his brother's dark brown hair out of his face, he forced a small prayer to their Goddess Xerana out of him. Wiping away the sweat and tears from his face he searched through the thick choking smoke for his father muttering "How… why?" suffocated by his sobs and smoke.
His eyes searched the empty camp until they glimpsed his father's nearly glowing figure. Feeling rage build up he walked toward his father crying "Why did you kill them?"
His father turned his gaze to Lukeita and they locked eyes. At that moment everything stopped, the wind dies, the whole world ceased to move, the flames no longer roared. He felt suspended in space, mid run. Memories flooded his vision reminding him of all the fun times he had with his dad. It seemed like a dream like he could wake up at anytime and continue his old life. His brother back to bossing our clanmates around, our mother's smile as she watched Lukeita's training, his best friend Larka boring him with her lame rock obsession while her brother Bran whispered funny comments into his ear. Even the harsh days of winter were better than this nightmare! Then his brother's last wish echoed through his head taking him away from the past and bringing him to the future. He tackled his father pounding him as hard as he could, filtering all the anger that was building up inside him.
His father shoved him away, slamming him into the ground. Then he stood and walked away from his unconscious son, exiting the camp.
Here's a short scene that came to me in a dream. I hope you enjoy it.
Gold and Silver
The pale moon hovers over the silent forest, illuminating it with its calm light. Below, all is still. The animals of the forest, lulled to sleep by the crickets' lullaby, rest until the dawn. Only one is awake.
The wolf prowls the forest, separated from his pack. His smooth pelt radiates a soft golden glow. He does not need the moon, for he is his own light. The path he takes is meandering, unsteady. He does not know his destination, only that it is not here.
The wolf stops and lifts his head. His ear shoot up, and he swivels his head. There is something else in the forest with him. Something awake. Without knowing why, he follows the sound. Faster now, he approaches.
Ahead of him, something catches his eye. A glimmer of silver. The wolf bounds forward, intent on catching it. He gives pursuit until he emerges into a glade. In the center lies a fox. She is like him. A soft glow comes of the fellow beast, but silver rather than gold. She looks at him with pleading eyes as he gently approaches.
The wolf nudges her with his snout, and the fox lets out a whimper. Startled the wolf jumps back, and finally he notices the blood. There is a trail of it, leading through the forest, all the way up to a wound in the fox's chest.
The wolf lies next to the fox, and their light blends together. He lies with her in her last moments, as she slowly bleeds out. Finally it ends. The fox's eyes close, and she is at peace.
The wolf sits up and howls until his throat is hoarse. He howls until all the creatures of the forest have been woken. He howls until all know of the death of the silver fox. He backs out of the glade, and with one last look at the fox, he sprints off into the night.