Hello everybody.
in the past we had some Prose contests, and I would like to continue the tradition.
Rules:
* max. 3000 words (you can be much shorter if you wish).
* original story
* max three contribution per participant.
* Send to me by mail (Ponderable_Dickens@yahoo.com) or by PM.
* Contact me on any question
* Send in contributions until 31st of August 23:59 (RHP-time)
* you are free to retract constributions until end date.
I will create a voting thread after submission day. (I won't read the entries beforehand and will try to make small alterations if the RHP censor won't allow the posting, please mind your language beforehand).
- Joined
- 04 May 26
- Moves
- 1363
@Ghost-of-a-Duke saidYou have me mistaken with someone else.
I won one year defeating 4 AI submissions.
You entered once yourself and i gave you 1 point. (3rd choice).
Well done defeating Ai, but why would anyone submit Ai stories?
I see no point in that.
The Grunge in the Attic,
and other Household Monsters
Our home was inhabited by three children, two Progenitors, one ghost, and 137 monsters. The ghost was named Sieghelm and he was our friend. He sometimes found lost ball bearings which had rolled into inaccessible places.
Most of the monsters could be held at bay by blankets and/or exposing them to light. One monster, however, was particularly dreaded: the Grunge in the Attic. There were two reasons for this. First, there was no light in the attic; you had to go up there with a flashlight (which, if you live in Britain, is a torch). A flashlight was just sufficient to dispel Garage Fairies if waved about frantically, but the Grunge in the Attic was not phased by this at all. Fortunately it was seldom necessary to go up to the attic alone. As the Grunge’s lair was in a far back corner, there was just about time to scramble over to the camping box, get out the Coleman white-gas lantern, pump it up, and ignite it, before the fiend noticed our presence. All this, of course, while my sister, Groynedegaard, was holding the blanket over the both of us to fend him off in case we should rouse him before I got the lantern lit. Once, in our frantic haste, we ignited the blanket and nearly set the house on fire, as I shall presently not explain. And second, the Grunge in the Attic had eaten two of our older siblings. My sister and I had proof of this, although the Progenitrix vehemently denied it. But my sister and I had discovered all that remained of them: two plaid sweaters of such a hideous design that no one would be caught dead wearing them. Moreover, the sweaters were too large for us but too small for the Progenitors. We also later discovered family photo albums with pictures of strange people wearing the hideous sweaters in our house. Ergo, two elder but now devowered siblings.
More fearsome even than the Grunge in the Attic, however, was the Toilet Monster, a.k.a. The Beast From 10,000 Fathoms. The Toilet Monster was impervious to light and blankets, and it had terrifying, long, spindly, crab-like arms with pincers. A blanket, of course, only protects you against attacks from above, not below, and you cannot sh&t through a blanket. I know, I tried. God, how I tried. One day the Progenitrix discovered my cache of turds carefully sealed in Ziploc bags and promptly sent me off to a child psychiatrist in mortal fear that I had developed some scatological neurosis. The shrink asked me a lot of damned stupid questions like whether I didn’t really prefer playing with my sister’s Barbie dolls to football, but he never did ask why I shat in little plastic bags. So he never found out. Jeez, what a dipstick.
Although the Progenitrix more than once commanded our father to "get rid of that Grunge in the attic" once and for all, he never saw fit to do so. We strongly suspected that he and the Grunge were in cahoots. The last straw was the progenitorial announcement that we might be getting a new sibling. As it was unclear which one of us was due to be replaced, we were forced to take matters into our own hands. Having been deeply impressed by a Japanese documentary film, Destroy All Monsters, we resolved to mount a similar campaign of our own and, for this purpose, summoned two super heroes to assist us: Contingent Remainderman a.k.a myself, and his sidekick the Phantom Runt a.k.a my brother, Hubie. On the whole the operation was a success, collateral damage was moderate, and the sudden disappearance of old Mr. Puttfarkin’s parakeet was never pinned on us.
On the Beach - almost like paradise.
Joanna opened here eyes and saw the sun coming up, painting the horizon red. The Sand felt still quite warm and nice.
She turned her head and saw Peter lying on his side the back turned in her direction.
She stood up and went into the small hut, in which their baggage had been brough the previous day. She found the gas stove and the necessary tools to make a nice coffee.
With two mugs in hand with tasty coffee smell, she went to awake Peter.
“Isn’t this just like Paradise?” she asked when he gave him his mug.
” Just like paradise” he agreed, “if we had seen the sunrise.”
“I did”
“You did, and didn’t wake me to share the moment?”
“I let you sleep and made Coffee for us.”
“Thank you, but it would have been more romantic to share the sunrise”
“Would it? And making a coffee for you to have directly after waking up isn’t?”
“Don’t mix up things, I would have made the coffee myself for that matter.”
“Are you looking to destroy our first morning on this wonderful Island?”
“Me? I was just sharing my feelings, isn’t that what a woman expects from a lover?”
“It would be much better if those feelings would be positive.”
Silence ensued. Peter was getting up, setting his half-full cup in the sand and running into the sea. Joanna sat there is silence with her cup watching him go and thinking not very positive thoughts about him.
In the shade of the palm trees the couple sat having lunch from some rice and fish. Peter eating quite fast in silence.
“How do you find the meal?” Joanna asked.
“It’s good. You could have inferred from the fact that I eat well.”
“It would have been so nice if you would have said so.”
“I will tell you if there is something I don’t like, in all other cases you can assume that it is fine with me.”
“oh is that so?”
“What is it again now? Do you intend to make the whole vacation miserable?”
“I? your behaviour can’t be read as an attempt to create a happy atmosphere.”
“Because I tell you, that we do mostly fine?”
“No because you only talk to tell me what is wrong.”
“So I should not tell you what is wrong?”
Joanna set down her plate and went into the palm grove, leaving Peter behind who shook his head in disbelief.
Night fell fast in the evening. Peter went into the hut to find a lighter and the candles. Due to the darkness it was difficult to find anything in the hut.
“Where did you put the candles?” he shouted.
“They are in the lower cupboard on the upper drawer.”
“Ouch!”
“What is it?”
“I hit something with my toe.”
“We should have brought out the candles when it was still light.”
“Yes we should, but you also didn’t think about it then.”
“I thought you were so keen to have the vacation on an island without electricity.”
“Yes. It should be romantic. But I can’t see anything in this chaos.”
“Oh chaos. Did you organise our things?”
“No, as you well know. I thought it well if one person did it. Ouch. What was that?”
“Maybe I should come and find the candles?”
“I can do that very well, thank you.”
Silence fell, marked only by the noises Peter made until he found the candles and the lighter.
Joanna woke up from the light rain that began falling before sunrise. She looked for Peter but couldn’t find him anywhere near her. So, she went into the hut and lighted another candle. A minute later Peter came jogging into the hut.
“Such lousy weather!”
“Yes it is a good thing we have the hut. We could go back to sleep here. “
“I have left my blanket somewhere out, when I looked for the hut.”
“Do you want to search for it?”
“It is wet now anyways. I don’t know. Do we have a spare here?”
“Yes up in the cupboard. Take the candle and give me some light.”
Peter lifted the candle up. Joanna opened the doors and brought out the rucksack and put it on the floor. Then she reached again into the top shelf. When she paused.
“There is a funny smell, don’t you think.”
“I smell nothing but the candle burning.”
Joanna looked up and saw that the flame of their candle touched the straw of the roof.
“Put down the candle!”
“What? You said I should lift it up.”
“It burns!”
“Hopefully. Otherwise, there was no light.”
“The roof!”
“Can’t you just tell me what you want like a sane person?”
Then he looked up to his right hand and saw that the roof had already a quite dark stain. He immediately put down the candle. Due to the fast movement, the candle was extinguished. But a small orange spot could clearly be seen, where the flame had hit the roof. Peter beat at the spot and cried out in pain.
When the sun rose from the sea peter and Joanna sat before the hut watching. Peter had a dressing around his hand, and the left arm around Joanna’s shoulders. After the near catastrophe in the night not many words had been spoken. After the sun was up and Joanna stood up to prepare coffee peter broke the silence
“I shouldn’t have brought you here. It is too dangerous.”
“You didn’t ‘bring’ me here we decided both to come and thought it would be paradise. But I do think we learned something about us.”
@Ponderable saidThanks for all your efforts, Pondy, over many years. The tenor of the times has changed, the quality of posting in the forums has changed, not for the better, several very articulate posters have left the site, and this is reflected in the lack of interest in what used to be a very popular thread. Maybe in five years the prose contest could be refloated.
Dear all,
the Prose contest has now died.
We do have two submissions, there will be no voting and no winner (though I think the other submission is better than mine).
I will now post the two entries.
For now though, it’s goodbye, and thanks for all the fish!