Horror Story Contest January 2019

[Main Nation Ministry]

Horror Story Contest
January 2019

Welcome to all who reads this to a little horror story contest that I cooked up for fun. Even though, most people in NationStates focus on many types of genres, I tend to follow mine on horror, along with several others on the site. This contest is different from a typical horror story contest, as each month there will be a different theme to base your horror story on. The reward? To earn the pride and satisfaction of winning this month. There is no real major prizes, it's just a contest for fun. Posted below will be the rules, but here is our theme for this month.

THEME: Rural Life

Our first theme shall have your story set in the farmlands. Away from true civilization, your story can be based around the stalking scarecrows, creatures that lurk in the fields, or a little secret that might be in every barn. The rural area or middle of nowhere setting is common in horror stories, especially in Stephen King's 1922 as an example. Your story can focus on either the supernatural or go out realistic on your choice. The only thing required is the setting, which I believe will help give you inspiration for their horror story among the corn.

Rules

The rules are as follows.
1. The story must be written in English. The story is to be in your neatest grammar possible.
2. The story must follow these guidelines. The story must follow the theme provided, have the word count of 500 minimum to 3,000 words maximum, and be only one story per nation. You are allowed to link music for the reader to listen to while reading your story, though this is optional.
3. Story are to be submitted on the OOC, where they will be judged by other participants in the contest thread. The story will be judged by plot, scare factor, twist or ending, creativity, and overall quality.
4. Deadline for submitting stories will be January 27th, 12PM PST.

Code: Select all

Contest Judging Sheet
Plot: (Rate 1 to 10)
Scare Factor: (Rate 1 to 10)
Twist or Ending: (Rate 1 to 10)
Creativity: (Rate 1 to 10)
Overall Quality: (Rate 1 to 10)
Total Score: 0/100 (Multiply Score out of 50 to 100)

The contest starts now! Have fun and make sure to take your time.

[Sacara]

Yep. Yep. Yep.

I'll definitely be doing this.

[Infected Mushroom]

I'll try to write something up for this.

We'll see. I have a couple of morbid ideas...

[Costa Fierro]

May as well put my creative writing diploma to good use and drum up a few cliches. Haven't written anything for a horror genre so it'd be something interesting.

[Unidox]

I would like to try this

[Britaen]

I will write my horror story soon. Tag for place

[Costa Fierro]

It was the kind of freedom she could never experience anywhere else. The freedom to go anywhere she wanted. The freedom to do whatever she wanted. That's what she loved about this place, a remote slice of the Otago coastline. She loved it here. She loved the open fields, the thin strip of native bush, the kanuka trees wrought into grotesque shapes by the bitter southerly winds blowing up from the Antarctic. In the summer it was warm, and the water was always inviting. She would sometimes swim, having badgered her grandmother into watching her from the safety of the massive strip of grey-brown sand that, as far as she could remember, was simply called "the beach".

It was not a swimming day today. That was made evident with the wind blowing from the beach, as she attempted to pull the gate back and lock it. A final tug. It clattered shut. She stepped carefully over the cattle grid and began walking down the dirt track that cut through the bush to the beach. A small canvas back hanging around her danced in the wind as she walked, it danced out of time with the brown hair she had to keep brushing back from her face. Once she made it to the beach, she took her shoes off and walked in the loose sand above the high tide line, picking up seashells and small pieces of driftwood. She was doing an art project at school. It was a long weekend, and so she had an extra day to spend making it.

She hadn't noticed that it had got darker a lot earlier than usual. She was too busy engrossed in picking the right looking shells and the best bits of driftwood. She'd considered perhaps using a dead crab. Nah. It'd smell too bad. The spits of rain and a rumble of thunder alerted her to the change in weather. She looked up to reveal an angry sky above her. A sheet of rain progressing rapidly up the beach prompted her to get back to the house. She put her shoes in the bag along with her beach flotsam and raced back to the gate.

By then any attempt at evading the weather was futile, and she was now being soaked by rain as she stepped back across the cattle grid. She hopped back onto her bike and pedaled up the road back to the house.

She entered through the "back door", a ranch slider that opened out onto the lawn that her grandfather kept fastidiously manicured. The house was surrounded by a shroud of hedges, privacy being paramount, according to her grandparents. She dumped the canvas bag next to the door and went to the bathroom to warm herself up.

---

She wandered into the kitchen and opened one of the jars containing cookies. A yellow square caught her eye. She walked over to the wall phone located next to the kitchen door. It was a handwritten note. She could barely make out what it said, her grandmother had retained impeccable but nearly indecipherable cursive. It wasn't a very long note. "Gone shopping. Be back later, love Nan."

As she entered the garage to place her wet clothes inside the dryer, she noticed that the car was gone, and the garage door was open. That seemed highly unusual, but her grandfather could be forgetful sometimes. It was then she noticed Sam.

Sam was the black and grey tabby cat that was dearly loved by her grandparents and extended family. He was sweet, cuddly, and often slept on her bed whenever she stayed overnight. Sam was dangling by his back legs from the motor chain that opened the garage, and she could see that something was dripping from his body. She knew from the possums her grandfather occasionally returned with and skinned in the garage that it was blood. She screamed and ran back inside.

Sprinting down the hallway, she sped into the kitchen and yanked the hand piece of the phone off the wall, but she paused. She didn't know who to call first. Her fingers darted over the buttons and the phone began to ring. Her mother answered with a prerecorded answerphone message. She hung up and then picked up the phone again, this time pressed the same key again.
"Hello, what is your emergency?"
"Someone killed my grandparents' cat," she screamed. "It's hanging from the garage roof!"
"Do you know how it got there?"
"What? No!" the girl screamed again. "Please send someone, I'm really scared." The woman asked for the girl's name and address. The girl complied. She felt a sense of relief. Someone was coming.

The front of the property facing the main road was one of the few places where the privacy hedge did not cover, and the girl stood eagerly at the window of the living room watching and waiting. When the police car pulled into the gravel road next to the property she sped out the door and waved the police car down. It pulled into the driveway and stopped at the gate. The girl sprinted down the driveway and opened the gate for the police officer. She got inside the car and rode with him up to the garage. When it stopped, she got out and began pointing towards the cat dangling in front of them.
"Something's happened to my grandparents' cat!" she said, pointing. The police officer looked at it, confused. She couldn't understand why he wasn't doing anything about it. Then it hit her.
"You can see, it, right?" she asked. "You can see him hanging there?"
"Oh...uh...yeah," the officer replied, caught off guard. "Sure." The officer paused for a second and then walked further, stopping at the garage threshold. The blood dripping from the cat made an audible plop on the police officer's hat. The girl stood there, bewildered. He looked around the garage and then walked back to his car. He got inside and pulled the radio mouthpiece close to his mouth. She couldn't make out what he was saying. He got out and walked back over to her.
"So uh, Amber," he said. "Do you know where your grandparents are?"
"Yes," she said. "They're in town, shopping. Can you get them for me?"
"Sure," the officer said. "Listen, someone's going to come here later and have a talk with you. In the meantime, here's my card. Call it if something else happens." She nodded. The police officer said goodbye, then left the property.

---

It was dark outside, and no one had come. Amber was getting worried. She had watched the traffic pass along the road in front of the house. Every time a car drove past, she hoped it'd be her grandparents. She became scared. The image of the Sam swinging from the garage door chain still hadn't left her head, it kept flashing back. The TV was showing something, she didn't know what. There were no lights on inside the house, just the glow of the television. She tried to summon up the courage to go out and bury Sam.

Amber walked into the kitchen and rummaged around on the drawers. She found herself a large enough knife and went into the garage. She flicked on the light, and saw Sam hanging there, the body swaying in the slight breeze that was blowing through the open garage door. She climbed up some boxes and cut him down. Placing him inside another box, she walked outside into the night around the side of the house. It had stopped raining. The grass was cold and damp against her feet. She reached the garden shed. Wrenching the door open, she fumbled around inside and grabbed the handle of something that felt like a digging implement. It was a spade. Good enough. She walked over to a lemon tree not far from the house and placed the spade there. She grabbed Sam's box, placed it on the grass and started digging. It took her a little while before decided she had a deep enough hole. She placed Sam's box in the hole. Scraping the dirt back over him, she said goodbye, she went inside, closing the garage door.

---

Amber awoke to the sound of an engine being revved intensely. The television was still going, it was some sort of adult cartoon. Headlights were shining through the window and then the sound of a vehicle speeding down the gravel road filled her ears. She got up off the couch and went over to the window. She saw a four wheel drive vehicle speeding down the road. It roared past the house and continued on. A little time later she heard the clatter of it going over the cattle grid near the back of her grandparents' property. She knew the land on the beach didn't belong to them, and sometimes men from the council would drive down the road. They never drove as fast or in the middle of the night.

She swapped her dressing gown for a jumper and a pair of sneakers before she raced off up the gravel road on her bike. Unsure if she could cross it, she leant her bike up against the fence. Carefully picking her way across the cattle grid, she ran down the remaining road towards the beach.

Amber peered around the edge of the bushes next to the road and looked up the beach. She saw the four-wheel-drive that had torn up the road beforehand. It was parked on the sand a considerable distance up the beach. She couldn't see much but could make out the men, as they had torches. The four-wheel-drive readjusted on the beach and illuminated the men, who were now silhouetted against the front of the vehicle. She could see now that they were digging, and even she knew men digging on a beach in the middle of the night meant something bad happened. She turned and left.

Tearing inside the house, Amber raced to the phone in the kitchen. She remembered the card the officer gave her, and she stuffed both hands in her pajama pockets. No card. She ran into the guest bedroom and searched through her clothes. No card. She growled in frustration then ran back to the phone, and pressed one number three times.
"Hello, what is your emergency?"
"There's some strange men digging a hole on the beach!" Amber said frantically. "Can you send someone?" The woman on the other end asked for the name and addressed, and Amber provided them. Hanging up the phone, she then went into the living room, and watched the road intently.

She was excited as the police car entered the road. Amber sprinted down the driveway just as it began to pull off the gravel road. The police officer wound his window down.
"What are you doing up so late?" he asked. "Are your parents inside?"
"I'm staying at my Nan and Pop's place," she said. "They haven't come back." The police office nodded. He motioned for her to get inside the car, and they drove up the gravel road to the cattle grid.

"No...no!" Amber screamed as the headlights of the police car revealed a closed and locked gate. The car came to a stop on the gravel. She flung the door open and ran up to the gate, pushing and beating her hands against.
"No! No!" she screamed again. "This was open! I came through here...they came through here." She turned to the police officer. "You've gotta believe me, they came through here."
"Who is they?" the police officer asked.
"These guys in this four-wheel-drive," Amber replied. "They came screaming up here. No one comes up here at night. No one." The police officer walked forwards and have the fence a good shove. It rattled and clinked, but did not open.
"Looks like no one came through here," the police officer said. They removed a torch from their utility belt and flicked it on. A beam of light began to scan the gate for any signs of forced entry.
"Looks pretty closed to me." He turned to Amber. "Where are your parents?"
"I told you I'm staying with my Nan and Pop," she replied indignantly. "They live in the house down the road."
"Where are they?" the police officer asked, putting the torch back in the utility belt.
"I...I don't know," Amber said. "They went shopping and haven't come back. I called the police in the afternoon and they said they'd send someone. And they didn't."
"Do you want to come back to the station with me?" the officer asked. Amber shook her head. The police officer returned to the patrol car, and spoke on the radio. They got back out and walked over to her. They handed over a card.
"Listen, someone's going to come here later and have a talk with you. In the meantime, here's my card. Call it if something else happens." She nodded. They both got back inside the police car, and Amber was dropped off, confused.

---

The morning revealed a fine day, like yesterday. Amber was already awake, making herself some muesli in the kitchen. The clock on the wall above the phone showed it was half past seven in the morning. Amber had barely slept, her mind kept going over what she saw the men doing, and kept asking questions about why they were digging on the beach. They were burying something, and she had seen enough of what her grandfather did with pig's guts to know that whatever was being put in the sand wasn't pirate treasure. She still kept thinking about this as she munched on her museli.

Amber pulled last night's jumper over her pajamas and threw on the same pair of sneakers, before setting off on her bike to the beach once again. She didn't care what she would find, she just wanted answers.

She rounded the last bushes at the edge of the dirt road and began walking towards a large flock of seagulls that were gathering around a small mound of sand up the beach. Amber ran up the beach towards the seagulls, scattering them when she got close. To her horror, she saw a human hand sticking up out of the sand, as if whoever was underneath was reaching out. Amber began to dig frantically, her hands scratching away at the sand. They stopped when they revealed a face, that of her grandmother. Her eyes were closed, the skin around them a dark purple. She screamed and fell back, unsure, horrified. Amber stood up and ran back to her bike. This time, she was sure she was going to be proven right.

She was right, somewhat. When the seagulls had returned to their unexpected feast, Amber knew she was right. She sprinted back towards the seagulls, closely followed by the police officer. When they reached the mound however, the sight that greeted them was not what she was expecting. Instead of a hand sticking out of the sand, and her grandmother's face, a box sat next to an empty hole in the sand. In front of it lay the body of a tabby cat. It was Sam. Amber had had enough, and she fell to her knees, crying. The officer comforted her, and spoke on the radio. He asked where her parents were, she explained she was staying with her grandparents and they hadn't come back. He took her back to the driveway, gave her a card, and said that someone would be around to speak with her later.

---

A mixture of confusion, helplessness and anger coursed through Amber's head as she stomped up the driveway to her grandparents' house. She clutched onto Sam's box, her hands pushing the side in. She was thankful he hadn't started rotting yet, otherwise the smell would have been awful.

Amber didn't go inside, but walked around the side of the house to where she thought she buried Sam. She was surprised, and alarmed, to find Sam's hole still there. A small pile of dirt lay beside it, the shovel used to dig him out propped up against the lemon tree. She walked over and threw the shovel to the ground, before sitting in the grass. She continued to cry. Why wasn't anyone listening to her? Why wasn't anyone seeing what she was seeing? Was she going insane?

Amber sat there for a while, staring at Sam's box. She decided she'd bury him again, hopefully for good this time. She put the box in the hole, and began to shovel the dirt on top of the box.

She had not long finished and was heading back inside when the four-wheel-drive from last night skidded to a halt outside the gate, and three men got out. She was shocked to see that one of the men was her father. He pointed at one of the other men to get her. She turned and sprinted away from them as fast as she could, vaulting the small fence. However, the man was too fast for her and he caught up to her, tackling her to the ground in the middle of the neighbouring paddock.

Upon arrival, other man pulled out a pistol and pointed it at her. Her father was yelling at him, pleading with him to do it. The man pulled the trigger. There was no sound, just a flash. Everything went white. She could hear the men speaking. It was muffled. She slipped further into the whiteness.

---

Amber lay strapped to a hospital bed inside a nondescript room, various wires and tubes keeping her alive. Three other people were in the room with her; her parents, and a doctor. The latter was delivering some unwelcome news.
"I've spoken with the neurologist and they haven't seen anything like it," the doctor said. "She hasn't been responding to any of the antipsychotic medication we have given her, and her condition is worsening. They've said that she has to remain in a permanent coma, for her safety and yours." The news prompted the mother to throw her head onto Amber's chest, shrieking with grief. The doctor made one final suggestion.
"At this stage, it would be prudent to consider euthanasia. It's a tough decision, but it's in the best interests of your daughter." Her father stood there, almost shellshocked. He then nodded, and the doctor reached out and placed his hand on her father's shoulder.
"I'm so sorry for your loss." The doctor removed his hand.
"I'll prepare the consent forms."

[Infected Mushroom]

Are we doing the submissions by TG thing that Scarra did or do we just post?

[Main Nation Ministry]

Are we doing the submissions by TG thing that Scarra did or do we just post?

We're doing it by posting it on the thread, so we can rate each other's stories.

[Infected Mushroom]

Alright, here's mine.

I don't know if the camp factor is going to cause me to lose this contest but I couldn't help it:

CIVIL RIGHTS

Nathan was driving around in his Bentley. The sun was going down over the country road; there were pine trees on both sides. Suddenly, there was a flash of blue and red ahead.

“You have got to be kidding me…” he muttered angrily.

Sure enough, there was a roadblock and a search point. It was set up by two police officers. They motioned for him to stop.

Sighing heavily, Nathan stopped his vehicle. He lowered his windshield as the officers approached to talk. They showed him the badges.

“I’m Detective Mort Rainey,” said one of them. “This is my colleague Detective Daniel Griffith.”

“What can I do for you my friends?” Nathan asked coldly, rolling his eyes.

“Can we see license and registration please sir?”

Nathan handed his wallet to Mort. Mort surveyed the identification; it was all in order:

Nathan S. Greenwood, age 21

“So what’s the problem?” Nathan asked, more aggressively than necessarily. “Am I some kind of suspect or something? Can I just go on my way? This isn’t a police state you know.”

Mort frowned, annoyed at the rudeness. “Well sir, there’s been a few terrorist bombing incidents around here lately, I’m sure you’ve heard, down in Hampton and Williamsburg.”

“Fucking country hicks,” Nathan muttered.

“EXCUSE ME?” Daniel interjected angrily.

“Nothing.”

“We’re just conducting some basic security searches,” Mort said hurriedly. “If you comply you can be on your way no problem. This won’t take long. Can I ask you to step out of your vehicle sir?”

“What you think I’m some kind of a fucking terrorist?” Nathan asked angrily.

“Sir its just a protocol that’s all,” Mort said. “This is a random checkpoint and we’re just doing some security checks. It won’t take long. If you would please step out and open the trunk.”

“So let me get this straight,” Nathan replied edgily. “You cops have NOTHING better to do than to set up and run a search station IN THE MIDDLE OF FUCKING NOWHERE?”

“Hey this isn’t nowhere,” Daniel replied, he looked way angrier than Mort and the insult to his hometown stung deeply; he grew up in a nearby farm town. “This here is a community we’re protecting.”

“Whatever,” Nathan replied. “See? There’s no other cars here… and you set this up here. I must be the unluckiest son of a bitch to be stopped-“

“Sir I have to ask you-“ Mort began again but he was interrupted.

“And I FUCKING REFUSE.” Nathan said, sneering at the cops. “I have my fucking rights. I’m an American citizen and I want to go through this road without getting harassed by some fucking cops.”

“Do you have something to hide sir?” Mort asked.

“Not necessarily,” Nathan replied. “But you’ll never know cause I ain’t stepping out of the car nor opening this trunk. See I know my rights. Its in the Constitution, freedom from search and seizure or something. Read it up pals. You need a warrant or something for this shit-“

“So you’re refusing to comply with this security ch-“

“AYE!” Nathan replied. “It’s NO BUENO. Here let me show you.”

He pulled out his Iphone and started a wiki search. Mort rolled his eyes. Daniel looked liked he wanted to beat the civilian up.

Nathan found the page. He showed the cops. “Yeah its here, here let me read it, STRAIGHT from the Constitution-“

“Sir I don’t want to waste any more time than is-“

“Then let me be QUITE CLEAR,” Nathan retorted as he retracted his phone. “You have no right to search my car or even to stop me at all. So either you’re going to have to arrest me or you’ll let me through. You ain’t got no Probable Cause. I have my rights, you ain’t got NOTHING. And if you touch my car or the trunk, I’m calling my lawyers. This isn’t about stopping terrorists or doing your job, ITS MY FUCKING CIVIL LIBERTIES.”

Mort said nothing. He simply glared at Nathan for a few seconds. He turned to Daniel who shrugged.

“Alright Nathan,” Mort replied at length. “Tell you what, you stay right here. I need to talk to my colleague here about how to proceed.”

“DON’T drive past us,” Daniel said sternly and angrily, raising a finger. “That could get you arrested. STAY SIR.”

Nathan said nothing, he simply smiled.

As Mort and Daniel walked away out of earshot to talk amongst themselves, Nathan felt an immense sense of satisfaction. How many American civilians had successfully stood up against the cops? He was making history right here. Smiling and filled with glee and with his adrenaline pumping, Nathan looked left and right. The pine trees on either side of the road were beautiful…

…

“Fucking son of a bitch,” Mort muttered.

“Son of a bitch…” Daniel echoed.

“This isn’t like the good old days I’m telling you,” Mort said. “It’s getting harder and harder to violate people’s civil liberties.”

“Yeah back then we could oppress the people left and right.”

“Now they’ve got cameras, smart cams, lawyers, and these stuck up youngsters,” Mort continued to vent angrily. “If you throw someone out of a building they’ll call their attorneys on the way down.”

“If things continue this way,” Daniel remarked. “We’ll actually have to officially establish a police state. Trump will have to go.”

“So what do we do with this Mr. Nathan S G?”

“I guess we’ll call up the crew. You got his info down?”

“Aye.”

…

Nathan was texting on his phone. He grew more irritated at how much time was being wasted. He was quite certain Mort and Daniel were really talking about nothing and just inconveniencing him on purpose.

Two more minutes of this shit, Nathan thought to himself, and I’m running this checkpoint. Arrest me or be Damned.

Mort and Daniel strolled back to the car. Nathan was a bit uncomfortable, why were they smiling? What the hell was going on?

“Well Mr. Greenwood,” Mort said, still smiling strangely. “It looks like we here inconvenienced you for nothing.”

“THANK YOU sir,” Daniel added, also smiling. “For showing us police how we SHOULD be doing our jobs. You can be on your way now.”

Nathan was nervous. Is this a trap?

“So…” Nathan said nervously. “I can go?”

“That’s right,” Mort said. “Just be careful.”

Nathan started his car. As he drove past the two cops, he was immensely satisfied with himself.

He had achieved ultimate victory against the state. In most days in the USA, the police prevailed over civil liberties but on this day, civil liberties prevailed.

…

As the skies darkened, Nathan decided that he was too tired to drive all the way to the city as he had planned. He texted his cousin and told him that he won’t make it.

Nathan stopped by a small town. He checked in a nearby motel. It was a junk accommodation but for less than a hundred a night it’ll have to do. After registering his information at the counter and paying a basic deposit, Nathan dropped off his luggage inside his cabin. He jumped unto the bed.

“Damn,” he muttered to himself as he felt the discomfort of the bed, he almost sank right through it. “I SWEAR everything is better in the city.”

…

When Nathan woke up, he was surrounded by hay… lots and lots of hay…

“What… what the fuck,” he muttered.

He stood up and observed his surroundings. It looked like he was inside some kind of a massive barn. There were lights in the ceiling; the walls were painted imperfectly. The entire floor of the barn was covered with a few inches of hay.

Nathan panicked. He had no recollection of how he got here. What was going on?

A single door in front of Nathan opened. Five people stepped in. They were all wearing casual clothes but Nathan recognized two of them: it was Mort and Daniel!

“What… WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?” Nathan screamed out in panic.

The five people formed a line facing him, blocking him from the exit.

“Mr. Greenwood,” Mort said, a cruel smile on his face. “We meet again.”

“What… what the hell-“

“We got your information from the motel,” Daniel said as a matter-of-factly. “Then we tracked you down, drugged you, and carried you across state lines. You’ve been out for over twelve hours.”

“Where the hell am I?” Nathan cried out angrily.

“Saskatchewan,” a third person spoke up. “A farm in Saskatchewan. Here, everything can be hushed up.”

Suddenly Nathan realized what this was about. It was payback for the checkpoint dispute the other day. Nathan had no idea he had pissed off a bunch of sociopaths…

“Now you listen to me,” Nathan said, raising a finger in warning. “You’ll let me go and if you lay a SINGLE FINGER ON ME… my lawyers will hear about this. And you’ll ALL be in BIG TROUBLE. I have my-“

“Constitutional rights?” Daniel finished the sentence for him, a malevolent smile on his face.

“The Constitution don’t apply here,” a third person said. “We’re in Saskatchewan. Cop Country.”

And with that, the five men rushed forward. Nathan barely registered what was happened when he was grabbed and firmly punched in the stomach. Soon, he was bombarded with a series of punches and kicks.

As Nathan cried out in pain and fell down to the floor, he realized this was some kind of nightmare come true.

The five police officers showed no mercy. They continued to kick and beat him, even as Nathan was on the floor completely defenseless. The hay on the floor flew all over the barn as Nathan was kicked and beaten around. Nathan was in so much mind-numbing pain he couldn’t get up nor defend himself.

Mort and Daniel were particularly satisfied. Their honor had been avenged.

And just like this, Nathan S. Greenwood was kicked and beaten for hours and hours and hours. He was beaten and beaten until he died.

After he was dead, the five cops carried his body out of the barn to be disposed. They paid the Canadian farmers who owned the place an honest and fair sum for their troubles; they could be counted on to keep silence because they were also ex cops. It took several hours but finally, they managed to bury Nathan’s corpse under a large sprawling cornfield; once the crops bloomed, all traces of his existence would be erased.

THE END

[Infected Mushroom]

So... what happens if we only have 2 stories?

[Unidox]

Sorry I totally missed the deadline due to work. Hopefully I can submit a story for the next round.

[Little Tin Hat]

doesn't look like there is a february one- maybe march?

you might as well mark both these as it's the inaugural contest(and you are still deciding the appropriate story size for inclusion)- at least that way it is a contest rather than a walkover.

[Infected Mushroom]

or we could just declare a draw since there are only two entries (and it would seem a bit strange for the two only contestants to mark each other; there would seem to be a conflict of interest)

what do you think?

[Little Tin Hat]

There was obviously interest in this contest but maybe you should make the next one bimonthly or quarterly to give people more of a chance to enter. If you telegram the nations who showed interested in entering but just didn't have enough time telling them of a new contest maybe you might get a bigger haul of entries?