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Shadowy Singing

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There's still over a week left to your original deadline and aren't writers known for being procrastinators? Though I suppose if I'm the only one who had this on her list it wouldn't be much of a contest. The bonus quotes idea amused me. ^^
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Shadowy Singing

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Zabby42
There's still over a week left to your original deadline and aren't writers known for being procrastinators? Though I suppose if I'm the only one who had this on her list it wouldn't be much of a contest. The bonus quotes idea amused me. ^^



If you want to participate, I'll keep it open. I closed it due to no feedback. *shrug*
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Shadowy Singing

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Last day.

Any entries?
Catherine_de_Silver
Last day.

Any entries?

I am going to finish my winning entry tonight. I thought I had tomorrow as well......
I lost my father at a very young age. Which is why I seem to write about my mom so much. My mother is a wonderful woman. Very caring and always trying to help. She has her, shall we say, indelicacies; just like the rest of us. For starters, her bed-side manor could use a pep-talk. She was told, as a young child, that laughter is the best medicine. She really took it to heart.
I can remember hours of conversations that were made more difficult by this reverent holding. There was the time she told me about accidentally breaking my favorite model plane. She had been trying to help clean my room and it was hanging precariously by a single tack from the ceiling. She decided it had been ignored by me enough and was going to dust it. When she showed me the pieces she said, "Good news Jan, I finished your plane crash model!".

Over the years she has gotten better. About a year ago my significant other let me know that we would be seeing other people, but not each other. It was particularly hard to read that status update. I could have let myself become an emotional parade but I was determined to keep busy instead of wallowing. I had been emptying a box of tissues when my mom came into my room and said, "Why did the frog cross the road?"
I just stared at her for what felt like five minutes, before muttering, "Why."
"Because it was stapled to the chicken," she declared with a sense of victory.

The first time I can remember being aware that she was trying to use tell me something in her round about way, it was a moment that is usually plastered with staunch seriousness. We had lost my father about a week after my sixth birthday. I was trying to ask her where he was. Worried she was next to leave me I had focused on where he went in case I needed to go find him. She was trying to explain it in terms that I could grasp without shedding more tears. Mom had been trying to tell me that he was in a place that was safe and better for him now. That he was with the people he loved. I thought she was talking about a long haired Puerta Rican. She said,
"What do you call a Republican Homosexual?"
I just whimpered at her slightly.
"Dad."
That was my explanation. I would understand later that this was both the reason he left and the answer to where he went; and of course, how he became the butt of so many jokes.
Maybe he left because of the puppet shows. Sometimes I imagine he had one too many off-color commentaries while hosing down his shirt front with the annual flu. Or maybe the idea of a woman was forever tainted by the scriptures of Carlin or Murphy. Or maybe he really did like taking it in the end. What ever the real reason my father left our family of fun, he missed out.
Once upon a time there was a little boy named Cyprian and all he could say was "ni!" No matter how hard he tired to say something else, "ni" was all that would come out. Eventually, he decided that he had become a burden to those around him. He could not communicate as he wished so he decided he would go on an adventure to see if he could learn a new form of communication. He packed up all of his belongings, including his favorite dagger and his water-duck, and headed out to start his journey.

He met many interesting characters on his journey. The first was a turtle who only spoke in quotes of Shakespeare. The turtle was accompanied by a horse who kept neighing laughter at the turtles speech. The boy gave the horse a questioning look, wondering what to make of the duo. "Ni?" he asked. The turtle just kept on reciting an act from Hamlet and the horse stopped chortling long enough to say "I don't understand him either, it's all Shakespeare to me!" Then he abruptly broke into a renewed fit of laughter at his own joke and the boy hurried on his way.

After walking for quite some time, most of it spent wondering about the strange turtle and his laughing horse, the boy came to a lake. He decided that he had walked long enough for one day and he was tired, so he would pause his wanderings for the evening and set up camp by the lake. About an hour after he had set up his tent and crawled inside for a nap he was awakened by urgent voices.

"Be careful, a lot of things in that room don't react well to bullets!" He heard a male voice whispering.
"Yeah, figures. Do we have anything to drink?" he heard a woman say.
"There's not enough time!" the male replied.
"That's okay, I don't need a hangover to act drunk anyway. I will simply pretend to be intoxicated and hope that can get me though my nervousness."
"Yeamm, iterm alwerms wormed frm oo berfemm."
"What?"
"Sorry, I've got peanut butter in my teeth."
"Oh, sure, you have time to eat but I don't have time for a drink!"
"Come on, lets go!"
"Are you going to take Ike a different pair of pants?"
"No, she said she's happy with his pants"
"Hold on, you're lining is sticking out of your top."
"Ah, thanks, did it go down my shirt?"
"Were else would it go?"
"Good point, anyhow, grab the books, that way all I have is a giant stack of papers. I don't think anyone will bother me if they think I will try and delegate some work if they do. "
"Okay, but what if there is a watcher? I am going to feel such the fool if we are caught!"
"If there is a watcher, then just pretend you are on your way to the Halloween Ball, here, take his mask, too. Just say you brought the books to drop off with Ike, but you haven't run into him yet."
"Okay, this better work! I still feel like we are flying blind, though"
"Don't worry, it will work. Lets go, we're late!"
"What time is it?"
"6:15 and I'm going by the clock in the closet, so you know its right!"
"Oh! That's what those are!"
"What?"
"Pool tables! See? Mini pool tables! Isn't that clever!"
"What are you taking about? Come on! Let's go!"

Abruptly the voices were gone. The boy felt this whole scene was very odd, as there were no houses near the lake where he was staying, so the likelihood that a closet and mini pool tables were about was slim, but as he was close to falling asleep, and the voices had stopped, he shrugged and lay his head back down to sleep.

In the morning, the boy got up and made a fire. He cooked himself a quick meal; he was very hungry not having eaten the day before, and packed up his belongings to continue his journey. He had not gotten far when he came across a group of men carrying a bush.

"Ni!" He said to the men, waving as they passed by with their shrub. The men stopped. They slowly turned to face him. They all had looks of astonishment upon their faces. Only the man in the front of the procession continued on, not seeming to have noticed the others stopping.

"Something stirs me to think of her…," he was saying to the group, thinking them still with him. "The woman who left boy in hiding. It would be nice to find him some day. I wonder if we ever will."

One of the others gave a loud cough and captured the attention of the lead man, who turned around, befuddled. The he saw the boy and rushed over to see why they had stopped.

"It is he!"
"No! Is it possible?"
"It must be, he said 'ni.'"
"Boy, can you say anything else?"

Now, this was a strange question, thought the boy. What would induce someone to think he could not say anything else. Sure, it was the only word he was able to utter, but never had he heard of anyone else with a similar affliction, so the question struck him as very strange. He shook his head.

"IT IS HE! You have no idea how long we have been searching for you! There is so much to say, so much to do, so much to tell you!"

The boy stared, a questioning look upon his face.

"Of course, all in due time. Let it suffice to say that we will be able to lift this curse and you will be able to speak normally like the rest of us soon. You were put under a spell and hidden away, and, so that we might find you one day you were given only the ability to say 'ni' that we might know you when we met."

The boy stayed with the bush men for three weeks, learning all he could of his past, and gaining the ability he had gone seeking in the first place, the ability to communicate with those around him. He also came away with a new mission, and promises of new secrets to be reviled to him as he grew, but that is not the basis of this story and so it shan't be told here. This was simply a story of a boy who wished to speak, and who found he could!
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Caring Scrooge

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Just a Little Prank


The last-minute-prank plan had been plotted out, now all they needed were the supplies. The group of five kids headed toward the party being held in the school auditorium with eyes full of determination and heads full of deviousness. As it was a costume party, they were all decked out in a variety of clothing much different than they would normally wear. Francine was dressed as a fairy in oranges and reds, wire and mesh wings gracing her back. Lily was a ghost all in white and silver. Robin's werewolf-hunter outfit consisted of a long brown trench coat borrowed from her brother over black clothing with a fake dagger tucked into her belt on one side and a whiskey flask tucked in on the other which she claimed held her "silver bullet" since they were all very much under age for such a drink no one was sure if they should believe her. Nick had borrowed Lily's black skull shirt and had put on some old dark jeans, calling himself a pirate. Peter's outfit, though, was the most important. He was dressed as a construction worker, complete with tool box which he had packed with things he figured they might need for their undertaking.

As the group walked down the path, Peter poked Lily. "Hey, Lily, does your sister know about our plan?"

"No. Why are you bringing her up?"

"Oh, something stirs me to think of her."

Lily turned to see her sister rushing toward her, completely wrapped in tinfoil with a metal salad bowl on top of her head. "Oh my God. She seriously dressed like a spoon. And a bad-looking one at that," she muttered under her breath. Calling out to her sister she said, "Mary! So Mom actually let you come after all, huh? Weren't you supposed to be grounded?"

"I was grounded for failing my cooking project. But she helped me bake and decorate cupcakes to bring to the party so Mrs. Lennox said I could pass with a "C." That's why I put together this outfit to celebrate!"

"That's, um... Great. I guess you'll actually pass Home Ec.," Lily replied, looking doubtfully at the costume. "Well, head on in. It's not like you want to hang out with me all night, right?"
Mary stuck out her tongue and sped off again.

"Sisters. Yeesh. Okay, well, Robin is going to be our watcher at the party so we know if any teachers are on to us or if anyone is wondering why we aren't there. Robin, you ready?"

"Yep."

Nick glanced at the flask. "Be careful, a lot of things in that room don't react well to bullets."

"Yeah," Francine added. "Teachers mostly. Don't get caught with that and ruin everything."

"Don't worry about it," Robin replied, taking a swig of her flask and winking before heading inside.

The rest of the group snuck around the side of the auditorium to the back entrance where the stage was. The entrance would lead directly into the prop room, but, unfortunately, it was padlocked.

"Peter, did you bring anything that can help with this?" Lily asked.

Peter handed her the toolbox. "There should be a hacksaw inside."

"What all did you pack in here?" Lily asked as she rummaged through the box, which was mostly full of Jolly Ranchers, Mike and Ikes, Fruit Roll-Ups, and picnic foods and not very full of tools. "What the-" Gingerly, Lily extracted the saw from the remains of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"Are you serious?" she asked.

"I thought we might get hungry," Peter explained.

"Great idea!" enthused Nick. "Do we have anything to drink?"

"There's a huge party in there with tons of snacks and punch and stuff, don't you think you can wait? Ugh. Anyhow, I'll get started on this."

Lily began slowly hacking away at the lock. The noise of metal on metal echoed throughout the corridor.

"We're making too much noise," Francine said, sounding worried.

"Yeah, can't you go any faster?" Nick added.

"Sorry, I've got peanut butter in my teeth," Lily replied, holding up the gummy blade.

"Wait, Lily-" Francine said, looking at the lock. Lily pulled back a moment. Francine jiggled the lock a bit and it popped open. "It wasn't closed properly."

"I see. Well, you guys get in find the circuit breaker and get the light with the red filter. I'll stand watch here for right now."

Peter, Nick, and Francine piled into the prop room.

"Uh. I can't see anything," Nick complained. "It's like I'm blind."

"Here," Francine said. There was a click and the prop room was lit. The room was stocked with a treasure trove of theater paraphernalia - old furniture, wigs, masks, a silver disco ball, the dagger from Romeo and Juliet.

"Who the heck would wear a tutu made of feathers?" Nick asked.

"Oh, that's from Swan Lake," Francine replied.

"It's horrendous. Really. Well, I never did much care for Shakespeare."

"Swan Lake is a ballet. It isn't Shakespeare."

"It's all Shakespeare to me. Oh, hey, check out these striped pants! They suit my costume way better than the ones I've got on."

Francine did what any decent person would do. She hit him.

"What is going on in there?" Lily asked from the doorway.

"Um... She says she's happy with his pants," Peter replied.

"I see. Well did you guys find the breaker and stuff? We still have a sign to make so we can't be fooling around like this. There's not enough time!"

"Found the lights!" Francine called back.

"Not so loud! They'll hear you in the main room!"

"No way they will. They've got the Halloween music blasting out there," said Peter.

"Fine, just get that light out here, Peter. They can cover the breaker. You guys kill the lights at 9:20 exactly, okay?"

"Got it!" Francine called out. Then Lily heard a loud "splat."

"Uh, what was that?"

"Nick accidentally burst a paint balloon."

"Oh, great. Did it go down my shirt?"

"No, but it's all over his face and hair. I'll get him cleaned up before it reaches it, you two go."

Peter came out carrying the light. He and Lily set it down near the side of the auditorium before heading over to the office. Fortunately, as Lily's mother worked in the office, for this room they had a key. Unfortunately, the art supplies Lily had thought would be there weren't. As Lily hunted around for something they could use to make a sign, Peter looked around the room.

On the counter were charts full of names and check marks. At first, Peter thought they were attendance sheets, but on closer inspection the names on the lists were all teachers. Did teachers have to take attendance for each other? If so, did they get fined for not being counted? The charts had spaces for $1-$5 to be filled in once a week. Weird.

Lily, giving up on art supplies, turned on a computer to try printing a banner instead. As she was working on that, Peter took a look at a rack he'd noticed in the office entrance.

"What's with the coat stand?" he asked. "Do people actually use this? I usually keep my coat on my chair."

"That's something Principal Stout got when he won the weekly drawing. It's silly. It holds hats too and no one in the office even wears a hat, including the principal."

"Weekly drawing?"

"Yeah, everyone in the office gives a little money each week. They pool their money, hold a drawing, and then the person whose name is drawn gets to decide what's done with the money that week. The more you donate the higher a chance you have of winning, but it has to be spent on something the whole office can use. Mom ordered pizza when she won."

"Oh! That's what those are!" Peter said.

"What?"

"Pool tables!"

"What are you on about?"

"The charts on the counter!"

"Could you please focus? Anyway, come take a look at this, I can't get it to print."

Peter went to look at the industrial-sized printer. "I see the problem."

"What?"

"The printer is out of ink." The printer was one which couldn't be opened without a key. He couldn't access the ink even if he could find replacement cartridges.

Lily looked around the room, but other than the printer there really were no writing supplies at all. There wasn't even a pen. "What is with this office?" she asked. "Does everyone just steal everything?"

"Like you're one to talk. Whose idea was it again to scare the whole school using art supplies?"

"Ugh. Just make the file blank and tell it to print, like, 100 copies or so."

"Why? That way all I have is a giant stack of papers."

"Which we can use to form letters in the windows. It should still look red with the light filter. At least they left us some tape." Lily held up a roll of clear tape.

When the papers were finished printing, Peter collected it and the tape. He and Lily were about to leave the office when they heard someone coming down the hall.

"Quick! Hide in the bathroom!" Lily urged and they crowded into the small office bathroom.

"Urgh! We're not going to make it!" Lily said. "Peter, do you think you could get out the window with the supplies?"

"Yeah," Peter replied, opening the window and squeezing through.

"Be careful as you go down. Don't forget about the huge shrub at the bottom."

"Like I could forget that thing. It's a monster."

"Yeah, well, it's just that it's dark and the thing is really hard to see at ni-" she winced as she heard the rustle of Peter flailing to extract himself from said shrub.

"Ow! This stupid thing is full of thorns!"

"Well, that's why I mentioned it."

Lily began to make her own way out the window when she heard a click-click-click sound which confused her for a split second before she realized what it was.

"Peter, Water- duck!"

Peter bent down at her call, protecting the papers with his body as a huge spray of water rushed up from the sprinklers.

"Run back to where we left the light, I'll meet you there!"

Back in the prop room, Nick was messing with the paint in his hair. He was using little Styrofoam balls he had found to make it look like his brains were spilling out. Francine raised an eyebrow when she saw his head. "Um, Nick? Your lining is sticking out of your top."

"Great, isn't it? Zombie-pirates for the win!"

"Right. So how much time do we have left now?"

"Twenty minutes."

"Um... That was what you said last time. Do you even know when we're supposed to cut the power? Just - what time is it?"

"9:00"

"You didn't even look at your watch."

"I'm going by the clock in the closet."

"That's a prop!" Restraining herself from hitting him, Francine grabbed Nick's wrist and looked at his watch. "It's 9:30! We have to cut the power now!"

In the auditorium, the lights went dark. Then a deep red light illuminated some papers flapping in the wind. For a brief moment, some people thought the papers spelled out the word "BLOOD," but then the wind picked up and all that was left was the word "F OOL."

Peter and Lily managed to sneak their way into the party from the front door as Francine and Nick came in through the back. As the lights came back on, they spotted Robin weaving her way unsteadily toward them until she was suddenly stopped by Principal Stout.

"Oh, yeah, it is, did you want some?" Robin offered him the flask.

Principal Stout opened it and sniffed. "Is this lemon water?"

"Yeah, I have a sore throat so I figured it would be better than drinking punch."

He gave her the flask back. "Next time use a thermos."

"Sure thing!"

"Wait...that was just water the whole time?" Nick asked, reaching her.

"Duh, alcohol is bad for your liver. I figured I could carry holy water and hunt vampires instead."

"But- You were all tipsy just now!"

"Silly boy, I don't need a hangover to act drunk."

Which is something we should all know from this story's existence.
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Shadowy Singing

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eek

Wow, thanks for the entries. smile
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Shadowy Singing

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Thanks for all the entries. I'll get the results posted in the next week.
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Shadowy Singing

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Winners will be announced later, I caught whatever the heck is going around. Thanks for your patience.
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Caring Scrooge

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Oh no! Please take care of yourself. User Image
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Shadowy Singing

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Thanks Zabby. smile
I hope you are feeling better! heart
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Shadowy Singing

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Thank you for the well-wishes. I'm on the mend, and have all three stories on my laptop for review and judging. I will make sure the results are posted before the 25 at the latest. Thank you also for your patience. smile

Also, I might just add bonuses. Because, well, I can.

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