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Writing Competition...Sor
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Writing Competition...Sor
Writing Competition...Sort of
I've created a writing competition/critique workshop for the CB, but I want to make sure you guys would be interested before I plop a ton of information about it on you. Let me know!
submitted by Licensed Bookworm
(August 12, 2018 - 1:39 pm)
(August 12, 2018 - 1:39 pm)
I'M IN!! I'll totally tank though... I'm not the best writer... :|
"fomb"
Nihil agrees. At least I'm pretty sure she was trying to say 'bomb'...
(August 12, 2018 - 5:12 pm)
(August 12, 2018 - 5:34 pm)
(August 12, 2018 - 5:38 pm)
OUTCASTTOP!
(August 12, 2018 - 7:30 pm)
(August 13, 2018 - 7:57 am)
I mayyy do this...? I'd like to get back into writing, but I'm not sure if I have the time. I am interested though, and I'd like to hear more about this.
(Hazel sayd noww. She wants to hear more about it now. She's incredibly impatient.)
(August 13, 2018 - 10:17 am)
I'm not quite sure how this works, but sure, I'm in!
(August 13, 2018 - 10:42 am)
Wait...
If Rogue's in, Soren's in and I'm in...
We cannot escape from this war can we?
*shrugs* I'm gonna win.
(August 13, 2018 - 11:34 am)
Sounds zectacular! (It means awesome, fun, and snazzy all put together... or maybe just the first two? XD)
(August 13, 2018 - 12:29 pm)
I made a post with all the rules and everything! Check it out.
(August 13, 2018 - 4:30 pm)
Here's my horribly awful submission...! WAIT does it have to have a name?
~
A woman, dressed in a flowy satin robe, knelt at the foot of a tree. Her arms were crossed in reverence, and petals floated gently down from the tree's gracefully twisting branches, carressing the woman's porcelain cheeks. A breeze slithered through the open ceiling through which gentle sunshine entered. The young woman took no notice of the breeze until, while playing with the petals that fell incessantly from the tree's clutches, the wind caused a petal to land annoyingly on the woman's nose. It tickled the girl, and she opened her eyes in order to swipe the offending petal from her face. She did so, and before closing her eyes again, she glanced up at the tree's multitude of flowers. They were a rich burgundy. Now normally, this would have been a beautiful sight to the common passersby, but if the passersby knew what the burgundy petals meant they may have dropped dead with fright. Having mastered her emotions and feelings long ago, this woman merely gave a frightened shout and rushed from the room with a few petals in hand, robe billowing in her wake. She dodged other similarly dressed women as she made it to her destination, the Mother's room. Finally, she burst through the beautifully carved oaken doors, heart thrashing in her chest and breath rattling in her throat. The Mother's glasses flashed from under her hood as she stood up from her desk and stepped around it in one sweeping motion. She grasped the young woman's arms, keeping the girl from falling to the floor in fatigue.
"Sister Ambrosia! You must not exert yourself so! You could asfixiate! As a fellow Watcher of the Petals you know it is my job to keep you safe, even from your condition!" Ambrosia's eyes were clear, but her head lolled and her breath still weezed from her mouth like a damp cloud passing through a crack in a rock.
"Mother Aglaea! Look, the Tree is distressed!" She held out the burgundy petals. Aglaea's eyes widened behind the thick rims of her glasses. One of her hands went to her mouth and she gasped in her horror. Without Mother Aglaea's support on both sides, Ambrosia fell to the tiled ground under their feet. The older woman collapsed as well, and she cried out.
"Why, Ambrosia! Why did you find the burgundy petals, of all the women in this convent! WHY???" Hot tears ran down the Mother's leather-like face. Then, next to the weakened frame of Sister Ambrosia, she broke down and wept.
~~
Angelic singing surrounded the young woman, but it did nothing to improve her spirits, nor to smother her fear. Ambrosia strode down the aisle to the petaled tree, but underneath her willing face she was terrified. She gulped as the burgundy petals wafting from the tree began to swirl around her. She closed her stormy grey eyes as a last consolation against her fate. Mother Aglaea watched from a distance, with a grim look set on her slightly wrinkled face. Before long, young Sister Ambrosia was hidden from sight by whirling, burgundy petals. A tear slid down the Mother's soft cheek and she sniffed softly. The petals swirled faster and faster. Then, a dragon began to take shape in the tornado of petals. The petals latched onto Ambrosia like leeches, forming scales, horns, and wings, among other draconic features. Ambrosia crumpled, collapsing onto her hands and knees, but soon they were changed into scaly legs, as strong and sturdy as tree trunks. The petals extended to form a graceful, swanlike neck, covered in burgundy scales. A noble dragon head topped the neck, appropriately with the commanding look dragons always possess. A thick, long tail took form soon after. Then to complete the transformation, the new, draconic Ambrosia let out a deep, blood-curdling roar. Dear Mother Aglaea rushed forward, cooing and whispering to Ambrosia.
"It's okay, Ambrosia! You'll be alright!" She spread her arms out wide in a feeble attempt to calm the thrashing dragon. The dragon stopped cold in her gigantic tracks, crystalline tears running down burgundy scales. The only thing that remained of the physical Ambrosia was the grey eyes from which the tears flowed. The petals stopped falling from the tree.
~~~
I will continue later, right now I am going to write on some other threads...
(August 13, 2018 - 11:17 pm)
Nope, no name is necessary. The other thread is actually where the submissions will be posted, so I'll copy and paste that over there for you.
(August 14, 2018 - 8:10 am)
Whoa. What about that is horribly awful? I loved it! The concept was really cool, and your writing and descriptions were really good!
(August 14, 2018 - 8:55 am)
Resuming!
~~
Both the Mother and the dragon stared at the naked branches of the Tree, from which the petals had stopped falling. Grief was forgotten, replaced by a fresh, untamable fear. A soft creak filled the room. To the observer's horror, black streaks rapidly climbed up the Tree, covering every inch of cream-colored bark. Mother Aglaea dashed forward, her hands groping for the Tree's weakening trunk. Under her weathered hands the trees begain to disintigrate into soil. There was nothing Aglaea not Ambrosia could do but watch. Soon, there was nothing more of the Tree other than a pit, filled with rich black soil. Without turning to face the dragon, Aglaea bowed her head and curled her hands into fists.
"You know what you must do, Ambrosia. Go, before it is too late." Ambrosia's draconic wings flew open as she crouched, and without any futher ado, launched herself into the sky through the open ceiling. Aglaea watched the dragon for as long as she could, but soon Ambrosia disappeared into the growing clouds overhead. Suddenly, the Mother suddered and clasped her arms as though cold. The room was merely cool, not cold enough to cause discomfort. Aglaea looked at her arms. Already, tiny black splotches had appeared on her skin. She raised her weary eyes to the sky again.
"Hurry Ambrosia, before we are all dead."
~~
Wind whipped through the petals that made up Ambrosia's body and wings, and she glanced nervously at the ground forty-five thousand feet below. She faltered as her grey eyes rolled into her head and her head drooped. In alarm she shook her head violently and flapped her wings to regain altitude. She glanced at her wings. A few burgundy petals turned black in scattered dots on her wing membranes. Her eyes widened and she did her best to quicken her pace, which is surprisingly hard when one is flying. The mountains loomed darkly in front of her. A memory flickered in the back of Ambrosia's head. It was of her childhood, while she was still learning to be a Watcher of the Petals. Her teachers drilled facts about how to care for the Tree and how to read the colors of its petals, not to mention what would happen should the petals turn various colors, such as pale yellow, a sickly green, or, indeed, burgundy, just to name a few. Yellow told of great famine, the green: an outbreak of a dangerous disease. But burgundy, that is the most dreaded color. It foretells the death of the current Tree, and with it the Watchers of the Petal and eventually every living thing.
The Watchers of the Petal kept the magic of the world balanced and pure, as it is easily corrupted and very powerful. The magic was kept in nothing other than the Tree. When the Tree dies the first thing the magic does is it begins to attack the Watchers just for the sake of exploring its own boundaries, hence the black splotches. Each Watcher knew how to read the petals and to act accordingly. In the case with burgundy petals, the woman who found the petals had to be sacrificed to the magic and find the next Seed, which would grow into another Tree and hold the magic of the entire universe in its safe branches. There is only one place the Seed can be found, and it is fiercely guarded by three things.
No Watcher who has ever retrieved the seed has ever survived long enough to tell anybody what the obstacles are.
Ambrosia gulped subconciously at this thought. Shaking her head more to clear her mind as she sped on through the sky and focused on her eyes on the dark peaks ahead.
~~
More later. Thoughts? Constructive critisism...? Just critisism...? Okay...
(August 14, 2018 - 6:55 pm)
In! And I'll tell my cousin too!
(August 14, 2018 - 8:04 am)