Thread: NEW--Postcard Fiction Contest!

Postcard Fiction Contest!



TOPIC: Legendary Great Blue Hole of Belize. What you do with it is up to you. Get creative.

GENRE: Anything goes (within site limitations, naturally).

WORD COUNT: Entries must not exceed 350 words.

Entries must be posted by Wednesday, November 19, 2008. Voters will be given 7 days to cast their votes (This also gives entrants 7 days to campaign for their entries!).

I realize this is not a lot of actual writing time. Push yourself. Push your limits.


Winner will be determined by popular vote. Voting will take place AFTER the contest officially closes. Votes received prior to that will not be considered (and will likely be removed so the voter may cast their vote at the appropriate time).


ANYONE, including entrants, may vote. One vote per member.


Critiques are not mandatory (although, I'm sure a few words would be appreciated if you're so inclined).


TO ENTER: Write your story and post it in this thread or the thread provided in the Writers' Workshop. Entries posted in other sections will be disqualified.

TO CAST YOUR VOTE: In the thread provided, post the title/name of author of the piece you feel is the best. Readers will determine their own criteria on which to base their votes.


That's it. Simple and straight forward. So write, enter and spread the word that you've got an entry just waiting for the votes to pour in!

Good luck, Writers!

Umm . . . . according to my standing stones, 21st November is not a Wednesday.

Damn it. I originally had it set for Friday; missed editing the date. Thanks for picking that up, Ox.

Umm, again. When you say "To cast your vote: In the thread provided, etc", do I take that to mean there will be a separate thread just for voting?

No, Ox. The thread provided is this one. Got your idea for an entry yet?

Better than that. It's in final draft as we speak

My entry will be..... oh you'll just have to wait and see

My first real go at a challenge like this. I only took up the challenge because the place looked stunningly beautiful. No promises on the quality of the piece, , but I tried.

John Salaman was not an explorer, nor was he a scuba diving enthusiast. To be frank he was in the middle of the Great Blue Hole of Belize because of a drunken bet with his friend Alex. But regardless of how he’d lost the bet or what the bet had been, he’d since almost forgotten the bet since waking up with the headache; he was diving into the Great Blue Hole.
The waters were strangely cold for such a beautiful day. The waters also seemed to consume the light of his torch with their all-encompassing darkness. Through the full wet suit John felt himself break into a sweat. His mind was racing for reasons he knew weren’t logical but it raced none the less.
Why was the water so dark? Water’s not supposed to be this dark is it?! I’ll kill you for this Alex! You’ve sent me to the devil’s toilet bowl!
He had to stop himself laughing to his own thoughts. That would use up oxygen and that was bad. He still had to get a picture of the most beautiful thing he could find under the water’s surface.
What little light there was worked to bring the ghastly teeth of the stalactites and stalagmites to life, giving their shadows an amazing appearance to John’s inexperienced eyes. He was interrupted in his awed gazing when something thick and heavy hit him in the back of the head. He turned his head and tapped repeatedly on the panic button attached to his suit.

The captain looked anxiously down at the tourist who was sprawled on his deck, obviously unconscious. The ugly purple line running across the back of his neck was evidently the cause. When the man finally roused he scared the captain so much that he almost fell over board.
John smiled as he looked at the view screen attached to the mini camera he’d taken down with him. The captain looked and saw the hammer head shark in the process of swimming away. The man chuckled,
“Sure is beautiful. I wish it didn’t hit so hard though.”

Words = 350

Not sure where this quirky piece came from but the instructions said to be creative. Any critique is welcome and appreciated. Word count = 340. Maria


Captain Armstrong resisted the urge to peek over the shoulder of his navigation officer to assure himself that the current heading was correct. Ensign Kostner, gangly and baby-faced, was the ship's newest member and, unfortunately, somewhat clumsy. For the umpteenth time, Kostner pondered what academy transgression had merited this assignment - patrol duty on a ship past its decommissioning. With his science specialty he belonged on a research vessel.

"Kostner!" Armstrong bellowed.

In his rush to obey, Kostner tripped and slammed into a bank of dusty instrumentation. Lights flickered feebly on the old panels. Then lights on all the stations flashed. Auto pilot was triggered and course headings were changed. The ship accelerated.

"Kostner, what did you do!?" yelled Armstrong.

"The Origin program is alive! And online!" The engineer exclaimed. "It's found something!"

To a person, the crew was flabbergasted. Eons ago a great migration had scattered humanity into the stars leaving behind a home planet ravaged and in flames. The origin point's location had long been lost. Perhaps for sentimental reasons, all starships carried the Origin program which continuously monitored for possible data matches. However, the program returned false results repeatedly and was deactivated.

"Turn that useless thing off!" ordered Armstrong.

"The main computer has assumed full control. Long range scans show that our course is set for a system with a yellow sun, eight planets and three dwarf planets." Kostner said excitedly. "Just like the legends say."

Several hours later the ship orbited the third planet from the sun.

"It's so wet," observed the desert-bred Captain. This was one landing party he would not lead. The polar ice caps made him shiver.

Kostner diligently monitored the Origin program's activity while it ran a routine named Great Blue Hole. The enormous main display flickered then showed a deep blue oceanic sink hole with a caption that read: "Earth. We are home again."

Captain Armstrong muttered, "Drat it all! Kostner's going to be an admiral by tomorrow."

The depth alarm shrieked as the keel’s bottom brushed the coral head. The Captain glanced at the instrument’s screen and swung the sloop’s wheel hard starboard and back again, weaving through the sunken outcrops. He held his breath, waiting for the sound of splintering oak to rise through the cabin’s hatch; the rupture that would announce his slow death on barren rocks in the middle of an unforgiving sea.

The alarm’s electronic whine ceased almost as quickly as it had began. The water darkened in front of the bowsprit; first a milky blue, then deepening into a rich indigo, and finally, a bottomless ink well that announced his deliverance. He had sailed the sloop through the cut, into the edge of the deep abyss - a single hole in the sea as if giants had waded through, playing a round of watery golf.

Alone, he motored inside the barren perimeter, his vessel, a tiny splinter in the center of a spiteful eye. Finding a shallow sand spit, he set two anchors in the Bimini style, one from the bow and the other cleated to the stern - uncharted waters begged for caution.

The Captain celebrated his triumph that evening with a fifth of Dewar, leaving more than half for the next morning. He slept dreamless until midnight, when he woke from the sound of the depth alarm and cursed his carelessness. The anchors must have dragged along the sand, their flukes harmlessly skimming through the crabs and startled shrimp. The alarm screamed in his ears and he rushed to turn the noise down only to see the bright image on the screen, the electronic echo of a massive shape rising from the depths.

At sunrise, as he lay wet and exhausted on the desolate reef, he weighed his decision for the hundredth time; whether to stay and face whatever came from the water or risk escaping in the darkness. He’d made the right decision; to die from thirst and heat on dry land rather than be taken by what lived in the eye.

Postcard Fiction Contest

Rules

1. Any member who fishes for a hobby shall be automatically handicapped by having Supa-Glue poured in their keyboard.




Which is my way of saying that's a pretty good story, Adrian. I might even vote for it when the time comes.

Guv, just a quick note.

I’ve sent the postcard in this envelope so Old Bill couldn’t read it. Only, I headed for the Caribbean after my trouble with that girl at the Leadenhall comprehensive?

I sneaked into Belize on a dodgy passport, and after I was sure I’d covered my tracks I had a shufti at the local scene.

“Terry, old son,” I said to myself, “This could be it.”

Guv, they’ve got this thing out in the middle of a reef. It’s a hole in the water. Properly managed it’ll be a gold mine – people’ll come from everywhere to see a hole.

And you and I can earn a few quid.

Here’s how it’ll work:

- I’ve checked the stores, and the bars, and discovered the money-spinners.

- I’ve arranged, we get the punters here, we get a back-scratcher, from the places where they spend their dosh.

Arthur, you’ll have to hire one of those old Dakota war-birds that Dodgy Don bartered from the RAF.

- You sling a couple of extra fuel tanks under the wings.

- You print some flyers:

“Eighth Wonder of The World - Cheap Caribbean Holiday - Fly Now, Pay Later. Phone Arthur, 0400 847 315”

- And you do a letterbox drop. Just local. Woughton-On-The-Green, Beanhill, Tinkers Bridge, you know.

And, when the punters enquire, here’s your spiel: “Yes, it is the eighth wonder. Only, it’s this bloody great ‘ole in the water, innit? You’ve never seen an ‘ole in the water, ‘ave you?”

That’s all.

Guv, they’ll be tripping over themselves to jump on your plane.

So, you fly them to Ladyville, and I hire a boat to take them out to see the hole.

But while Jesus-Ernesto steers I’m saying quietly, to the men, “When we get back to Ladyville, there’s these Mayan lap dancers wearing only G-strings, and they’re gorgeous”, and to the women, “Ladyville has the best shopping in the western hemisphere. It’s all copies of Paris fashions at budget prices!”

What do you think they’ll want to do? A hole’s just a hole.

Guv, this’s the biggest thing since sliced bread.

Cheers
Terry

Whew...and I thought that 500 words was tight! 350 pinches even more...but here's my effort with one word to spare.

Double Undercross

Good exercise, Val, I liked the prompt though I had to look it up.

Are we required to title the entry?

Okay PG 13 warning beforehand, a little racy but not outrageous. Yes this was the first story that came to my mind and the rules say anything goes so enjoy.

It’s tradition among the men of Brownwood Preparatory upon losing your virginity to collect your girlfriend’s underwear as a trophy. Such was the situation James found himself in.
He and his friend Charlie snuck into the girls’ dormitory while they had their Etiquette lesson. It was easy to locate James’ girlfriend, Pamela’s, underwear drawer. James could not imagine a prettier sight.
Panties, glorious panties! But which to take?
He ruffled through the undergarments and picked out a beautiful cotton white one.
“Why is there a dark blue stain on this one?” asked James.
“Wow, your girlfriend wears stained panties,” sniggered Charlie.
“Its not funny, how did this happen?” Pamela was a beautiful girl, smelled heavenly and was meticulous about her appearance.
“That stain looks like the Legendary Great Blue Hole of Belize,” Charlie noted.
“The what?”
“It’s this giant blue hole in the middle of the ocean, looks exactly like the stain on these panties.”
“Really?”
“Look it up on the computer, you’ll see.”
James used Pamela’s laptop and found a photo of the Legendary Great Blue Hole of Belize. Charlie was right; the indigo hole in the center of azure tropical waters matched the spot emblazoned on the panties he held.
“Okay, how did this happen?”
“Maybe she had her period in them.”
“Even if that is how it happened, why is the stain blue? That would give the term ‘blue blooded’ new meaning.”
“Maybe it’s shit?”
“I sniffed these, it’s not shit. It smells like blueberries.”
Suddenly, Pamela walked into the room. “What are you doing here?”
“Why do you have stained panties that look like the Legendary Blue Hole of Belize?” inquired James.
“Those are Olga’s.”
“That fat cow?” James exclaimed throwing the panties away as if they were poisoned. “But why is the stain blue?”
“She hides snacks in them to eat in class. She probably had blueberries in there.”
James was disgusted. “Okay then, can I have a pair of your panties so I can leave?”
“I would give you the ones I am wearing now, but I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not wearing any.”
Words=350