The Original Love Story Writing Contest

I love love, do you?

Hell yeah, squee	73.3%	[ 55 ]
No, I am too good for love	26.7%	[ 20 ]
Total Votes:			[ 75 ]

[Miss_Feline_Tenticle]

Critique on story SEASONS by gloria_wong_91: It is very well written, you're grammer and spelling is also very good. The actual structure of the story was good though some of the sentences didn't really go anywhere such as they were looking rather worriedly at the scattered books on the ground, to me it seemed a little like filler as if you couldn't think of where to lead with it. But other than that I like the story alot, even if you didn't like it much yourself. The topic is interesting and diverse and the characters are well rounded though they still have mystery to them. I also liked how Hayley seemed to be different with being childish yet mature at different times throughout the story. Over-all a very good effort for our first contestant.

[gloria_wong_91]

Thank you! Yea, my sentences can be a bit problematic most of the times. My ideas are usually scattered everywhere...>< And I just join them together as I do for literature.

[Ninee]

The Wallflower

Everyday she watched him from afar. Not "watched" in the same context as "stalked," but "watched" in the same context as "slightly admired." The first movement of the drill for band had them close to each other for nearly the entire song, so while the band director tried to get the saxophones to fix their diagonals, he'd talk to some nearby people who were also in his section, the trumpets, while she stared up at the clouds, daydreaming.

She couldn't speak her emotions straight out to him, that would be social suicide. She was pretty sure he didn't know she existed. While they were both brass players, she busting her lungs with the lesser-known marching baritone, she realized once in a while that they didn't have very much in common, but then eventually forgot about it when the band was called to attention in the middle of her introspection.

Beyond band, she had one other class with him: Painting. She was always interested in his newest project. He usually liked to paint strange things, like most high school artists do. But she found something in the paintings that she couldn't find in the other paintings by her classmates. She saw his feelings in them, even though he disguised them as symbols. One day, she knew he was frustrated at the teacher for whatever reason she had not been paying attention to (she's not a stalker, remember?), so he painted a man that had a goatee much like the teacher's. The man was shaking up a bottle of soda. One student vocalized that his painting was weird and pointless. But she knew the underlying cause of the painting. It was a lot better than writing poetry on LiveJournal.

Every once in a while, she thought that she had the courage to talk to him, but she never did. He'd reject her, she was sure. He was extroverted and popular, while she was the shy wallflower. It wouldn't work out, she told herself, and she could feel her heart breaking.

She loved gardening. Her mother had planted a rosebush outside their house, but her daughter couldn't get it to bloom. But the still kept watering it, tending to it, and hoping it would live.

Her gardening was the prime topic of her paintings. She loved painting the delicate petals and sprawling leaves of the plants in her garden, and once in a while mixed and matched elements of different flowers to create a species all her own. Today she worked on a moss rose with watercolors. She had grown some that summer, and they came out beautifully. She wasn't sure why the new rose bush wasn't blooming, when the moss roses had grown so nicely. Maybe she wasn't paying enough attention to them.

She felt someone looking over her shoulder. Her hand started shaking a little, nervous about being critisized, and the petal became a little too small. She turned her head and looked at her critic. He smiled. "It's good," he said simply, then went back to his painting with a new brush in tow.

So maybe he does know I exist, she thought.

She went home a little happier that night, and her evening got better when she saw her new rosebush had sprouted buds.

She met another when she was working at the local gardening store. They began dating, and the trumpeter was forgotten. She didn't re-join band the next school year; she had lost the mouthpiece to her baritone and her parents wouldn't get her a new one.

She loved her boyfriend more than she had ever loved anyone before. He was funny, smart, kind, and also had a green thumb. She was sure that he was the one for her. Next year, when they graduated, they planned to live together during college, someday to get married.

When she had time she would tend to her rosebush. Its flowers never bloomed, though. They remained as small red buds on a tangle of green. She gave up on it after a while. But it somehow kept living. She asked her mom if she was watering it, but was answered with a "No."

Prom was next weekend. She and her boyfriend were going to meet at the dance. On the way there, her car broke down. She managed to call her mom before her cell phone's battery died. Her mom picked her up and took her the rest of the way to the school, where the dance was being held. She looked at the throng of people. It was going to take forever to find her boyfriend, so she decided to ask one of her friends if they had seen him.

They all looked at each other shiftily. "I don't think you want to find him right now," one said.

But she wouldn't let up. She gave up on her friends for help and started to look for him herself. There were a lot of groups dancing together, and it was hard even to navigate from wall to wall of the gymnasium. She headed towards a particularly crowded corner of the gym, but had only taken a few steps when she felt fingers grasp her wrist and pull her back.

She turned and smiled, expecting to see her boyfriend. But it wasn't him. She recognized the face, and her smile turned into a stare of shock. Memories flooded back, and she felt her face burn up a little.

The trumpeter's expression was full of concern. "Don't go over there," he said.

"Why doesn't anyone want me to find my boyfriend?" she cried, reverting back into the state of panic she'd been in before the confrontation. She snapped her hand out of the trumpeter's grasp and headed into the secluded corner.

A couple was locked at the lip there. At first she felt mild disgust at them and turned away, but then she looked again at them. She remembered that corsage. The small buds of the baby's breath in the arrangement looked in this light identical to caraway blossoms. She pulled him away from her and looked at him with shock on her face. No words were exchanged between them, but they both knew their relationship was over. She ran away to the bathroom, crying.

After spending a few minutes trying to get a hold of herself in a bathroom stall, she looked at herself in the mirror. How could he have loved a hideous beast like me, she thought. He doesn't know I exist anymore. She left the bathroom, but immediately collided with someone. She looked up. The trumpeter was there.

Their eyes met, and she knew that he acknowledged her existance.

It was too much for her. She began weeping again, only this time into a shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and comforted her.

He rested his chin between her neck and shoulder and whispered, "It's okay, I'm here. I always will be."

And she knew that her roses would be in full bloom tomorrow.

((I don't know if I entered this correctly or not...but I sent a trade with 100 gold, and I can't find any rule against posting my story right now, so....

If I'm doing this wrong, please tell me so I can fix it! >.< wink )

[Miss_Feline_Tenticle]

That was really good, I enjoyed reading it alot! thankies for entering, I will add you to the first page, please keep posted for up and coming announcements.

[Miss_Feline_Tenticle]

c'mon people enter, it will be fun

[[ .days. ]]

Miss_Feline_Tenticle

Maybe I should edit that part as people might really have a good story in another competition that might work for this one, well you can enter it though only if it isn't affecting the other competition in any way. Anyone can enter though 3nodding Mayhar pm me if you want to talk lol also the prize is the total of the amount that is entered by the contestants so if only one enters then $100:00 but if three enters then $300:00 so yeah if I like a story then that will be the winner, I am judging it by how moving it is 3nodding

What's this mean?

I have a really good one, but it's too long. And if this post doesn't mean what I think it means, I wouldn't be able to enter it anyway. sweatdrop But I may try to write something. *nod*

[Miss_Feline_Tenticle]

oh don't worry about that, please enter,it will be really good and let your friends know

[[ .days. ]]

Is it okay if it's been entered in another contest? That's why I want an explanation of that post. sweatdrop I'm a little confused about it...

[Miss_Feline_Tenticle]

Yeah thats fine, I am going to drop that rule but you can enter a story thats been entered

[[ .days. ]]

Okay. I'll do it tomorrow. *nod*

[Miss_Feline_Tenticle]

great, I will be expecting it lol

[[ .days. ]]

You said I could enter it, even though it's over 10k words? It's actually around 15.8k words. (Yes, I found time to post if the answer is yes.)

[Miss_Feline_Tenticle]

Yeah that amount of words is fine coz at the moment I do not have enough entrants so I have plenty of time to read

[[ .days. ]]

Okay. Here goes. I'm not sure how "happy" it is, or if it's the type of happy you're looking for, but I've been told it's humorous and should make you laugh at least once--if that counts as "happy". So, enjoy. My fee has been sent. I just need it confirmed by you.

Below are the first two chapters, along with the lines from the song that inspired it and became its title. At the very bottom is a link to the entire thing on my FictionPress. Disregard the word count on there. It includes all my author's notes, etc. in it. The story isn't really 19,380 words long. sweatdrop

Lastly, if anyone reads and likes this, could you please review on my FictionPress? I'm a bit of a desperate review whore...You don't need an account with the site to leave a review, but it is a great writing site. *nod*

And now, enjoy.

Desperately Wanting

Chapter One: Twice

Damn, she could sure get herself into trouble. Not only was she being stupid by walking alone in that part of town, but she was also doing it at night. I was sort of surprised she wasn’t blonde, as human culture seems to find blondes incredibly dim-witted people with no sense of what’s sane or of what’s going on around them.

So as I followed her inconspicuously down the street, muttering quietly to myself about her stupidity, I counted all of the alleyways in which danger could be lurking. In which someone could be waiting to pull her in and rape her, claiming her first-born child as theirs for the side of darkness. In which someone could be waiting to kill her so neither side could have the child.

I had no idea of where she was going. The streets in that part of town were so similar to a labyrinth that I wouldn’t be able to tell my way back to my apartment. She was headed in the general direction of downtown, to the nightlife bars and clubs that remained open for all hours. She was twenty-three, just out of college, and destined to have my child. Literally. I didn’t like the fate, especially since my destined was stupid enough to go walking alone in the worst part of town and she had no idea of who I was. Hell, she didn’t even know I was following her. And I liked it that way. Wait until she needs to know before I reveal myself to her.

In the midst of my silent fuming, I heard her scream, jolting my mind back to the deserted street from which she had just disappeared. I bolted from my car and ran across the street to where she had been taken, yelling, “Miranda!” in hopes of getting a response from her so I knew which alley she was in. There was another scream, but not as a response to my question. I headed toward the alley from which it had come.

She was kicking and screaming for all she was worth (which was quite a lot in prophetic terms). But the man on top of her wouldn’t budge as he proceeded in ripping her clothes off.

I ran into the alley and pulled him off of her, pulling a knife from my side and holding it to his neck. “You leave you her alone,” I growled. Then I shoved him out of the alley and he ran. Which I hadn’t expected him to do the first time I pushed him out.

Turning back to Miranda, I pulled my jacket off and handed it to her. She took it and wrapped it around herself, sobbing.

“Are you all right?” I asked, kneeling in front of her. I hoped the prophecy didn’t choose that time to act up, and luckily, it didn’t.

She nodded, pulling my jacket even tighter around herself. Sniffling, she wiped her eyes. “T-Thank you,” she stuttered.

Well, I couldn’t have her getting raped, now could I? “You’re welcome,” I replied quietly. “Do you want me to drive you home?”

She looked up at me, her eyes untrusting. But in a few moments, they changed and she nodded. Damn prophecy. It made both of us do things we normally wouldn’t do. Like she normally wouldn’t accept a car ride home from some guy who just saved her from being raped. And I normally wouldn’t move halfway across the country so I could live in the same city as her. But the prophecy is relentless sometimes.

After she gave me directions telling me where her house was, I found myself parked in front of it. It wasn’t much of a house. Just a town house she shared with a college buddy. She opened the door and ran to the front door, saying nothing and taking my coat with her.

---

That Friday, no more than three days later, she decided to take a walk downtown again. Different streets, this time, but the same neighborhood, nonetheless. Again, I was following her with my car, headlights off, barely moving. And again, she screams as she is pushed into an alleyway.

I was almost too late that time. The rapist was just about ready to do the deed with her. But again, I came to Miranda’s rescue and pulled him off of her by knifepoint. It wasn’t the same man as the other night’s had been, but I knew he was sent by the same organization. They would keep sending men out until one of them managed to get Miranda pregnant.

The new rapist didn’t run like the last one had. I almost had to stab him to make him go away. But he swore he’d be back to finish the deed. As long as he wasn’t castrated by his superior for not finishing it the first time.

Miranda looked at me again with more bitterness in her eyes. In the dim light from the streetlights, she looked beautiful. Her wavy brown hair was ruffled from the rapist’s assault, her eyes were furious and scared. Her breathing was fast from the attack.

“What are you doing? Following me?” But her words were poison. And she was once again pulling my jacket tighter around her body. How nice that she would continue wearing it after she stole it.

“Aren’t you glad I am?” I shot back. “Come on, let me give you a ride.”

“I don’t think so,” she spat. “You could be just like them.”

“If I’ve been following you, don’t you think I would’ve done it already?” Even though we’re destined to make a child together. “Come on.”

She seemed to believe my answer, but it could’ve just been the prophecy again. She took the hand I offered her and I pulled her to her feet and led her to my car.

I wasn’t taking her home this time. Not to her home, at least. She didn’t even notice until I pulled up in front of the building. Then her anger broke loose.

Chapter Two: On Your Mark

“This isn’t my house,” she said. Her voice was still calm-ish. Only a slight bit confused.

“I know,” I said, pulling my key from the ignition. “It’s mine.”

“What?” she exclaimed. “Take me home!”

“I can’t do that.” I couldn’t. She was only going to get into more trouble if I let her run loose around the city. “You’re staying with me for tonight.”

“You’re going to rape me, too?” She unbuckled and reached for the door handle, but I hit the door-lock button, keeping her inside. Finding her own door-lock button, she pushed it, unlocking the doors. From there, we went into a door locking battle for a few seconds until she turned to me. “Let me out!”

“Where are you going to go?” I asked her. “You’re half naked and on the wrong side of town. Are you going to walk home like that?”

“Shut up,” she said, folding her arms across her chest.

“And if you are choosing to walk home, I’d like my jacket back.” It was too cold to be running around without it.

Miranda stared out the window with enough intensity to break it.

I sighed. “I’m not going to rape you,” I informed her. Not unless this damn prophecy takes over my mind. “If you really want to know what’s going on, I’ll tell you in the morning. Right now, I’m too tired to even think about raping you, so can you make up your mind before I fall asleep?”

“For one night,” she said bluntly. Then she got out of the car and slammed the door closed behind her.

Inside my apartment, I got her an un-torn shirt and gave her a blanket to sleep on the couch with. Then I locked myself in my room, hoping not to have to see her until morning.

---

The next morning, she banged on the door at seven until I woke up. It was barely light out when I opened my eyes, but I didn’t dare keep her waiting. No, the prophecy wouldn’t let me. So I dragged myself out of bed and dressed, all the while half-listening to her shouts and fists beating on the door.

When I opened the door, she nearly punched me in the face, but I caught her fist and said, “You wake me at this ghastly hour, you can let me get something to eat.” She just stared at me for a few seconds, but pulled her fist from my hand and let me go into the tiny kitchen to get breakfast.

When I had situated myself on the sofa with a bowl of cereal, I said, “What do you want to know?” I could’ve just told her everything. Get it over with without hearing her poison-filled voice anymore. But I was feeling lazy and decided I’d only tell what she wanted to know. No more. No less.

“Who are you?” First question. Too hard. Too early.

I swallowed a bite of Frosted Flakes. “My name is Fletcher Bolin.” And you and I are destined to have a child together. No. Too creepy. And you and I need to sleep together. No. Too…blunt. And you and I—.

“Hello?” Miranda’s voice drew me from my thoughts, and I mentally hit myself. I didn’t need to tell her that. Now at that moment, at least. She could wait. “Fletcher? What kind of name is that?”

“What kind of name is Miranda?”

“How do you know my name?” She narrowed her eyes at me in such a way that I felt like cowering.

Chewing slowly, I considered my words. “Yes,” I said. “I have been following you.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.

“I have been following you for years. Ever since I was able to locate you in this country.” I shifted uncomfortable on the sofa as she continued staring at me. It was more a glare, actually. “I have no idea how to say this to you, so I’ll just be blunt. Your first-born child is destined to either save or destroy the largest kingdom in Kyoonyt, therefore killing or saving about a hundred-thousand people and destroying or saving nearly half of Kyoonyt—but which one he does will be determined by which side (good or evil) gets to you first and impregnates you.” The words were out all in a rush, and I wasn’t even sure if they had come out right.

“What?” Miranda exclaimed. She gave a nervous laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I shook my head, staring into the bowl in my hands.

“I didn’t even understand half of that,” she went on, her voice high-pitched with anger and confusion. “How do I fit into this? And what does my first-born child have to do with anything?” At that point, I was glad she was from Kyoonyt. It saved me a lot of explaining.

“I told you,” I said, not looking up. “Your first-born child will either save or destroy Kyoonyt, depending on which side gets you pregnant first.”

“So you are going to rape me?” She backed away.

“Yes, Miranda, with a spoon in one hand.” I stood and took the empty bowl into the kitchen. Then I went into the bathroom to wash my face and take a leak, hoping Miranda wouldn’t follow me in.

When I went back into the living room and sat on the sofa, she was pacing back and forth talking to herself, one hand on her forehead and the other on her waist. I rested the bottoms of my feet on the edge of the coffee table before continuing.

“There is one person to whom you are supposed to have the child. One you were destined to be with from the day you were born. He will be attracted to you and you to him, due to the prophecy on you both.” I wondered absently if she knew I was speaking in the third person about myself. “And eventually, the two of you will make a child.”

“Oh, boy.” Miranda looked as if she were going to faint as she sunk into one of the chairs facing the sofa. “But that means…I’m a prophecy?” The last three words were spoken slowly, as if she was trying to make herself believe them.

“Kyoonyt is depending on both of you,” I finished. “All three of you, if you count the child.”

“But I’m not even marked,” she said, her hand still on her forehead, rubbing the bridge of her nose as if she had a headache.

“It’s probably beneath your hair,” I told her. My mark look like a rather large, symmetrical tattoo on my lower back. Which was a nice way to keep its true purpose hidden. Unless one knew the right history and the prophecy that bound Miranda and I together. That was something that had never happened to me before, and I hoped it never would.

She felt the back of her head, then stood up again and resumed pacing. “Do you know who he is? The other half of the prophecy?”

If I told her, she would freak out. And she would probably run out of the apartment without listening to anything I had to say. So I replied, “No. But I’ve been searching for a while. I’m getting close.”

“Wow. And you’re sure it’s me?”

If my libido is correct. “Come here.” I stood and walked around her when she approached.

“What are you doing?” she asked uneasily as I lifted her hair.

“Looking for your mark.” That came out wrong. “Checking to see if it’s you, since this is the first time I’ve met you.”

The rest can be found here.

[Miss_Feline_Tenticle]

Great I got the trade so I will enter your name on front page