Winter Short Story Contest (2012) Winners Announced!

by **Conserative Morality** » Fri Dec 14, 2012 11:43 am

Our seasonal contest is back again for its one year anniversary! Open to all who can write fast enough to reach the deadline!

Rules:
Writing Deadline February 15th (Subject to change)
7500 word limit
No fanfic, public domain characters are fine
Stay within the site's rules
Must be a new/original story (IE one not posted on another site before this)
Praise the Black Goat of the Woods with a thousand young!

More info will come as we figure out more.

Judges:

~~Brittanic Realms~~
Miss Defied
Costa Alegria
Venaleria

Scoring rubric is as follows:

Congratulations to the winner of the Winter Short Story contest, Johz, with a combined score of 88.6!

And also to Esternial, the runner-up, with a score of 77.6

1. Johz: 88.6/100
2. Esternial: 77.6/100
3. Nazi Flower Power: 74.3/100
4. The Empire of Pretantia: 67.3/100
5. Forsher: 62/100
6. Aethyopea: 60.6/100
7. Kingsmouth 57.3/100

by **Conserative Morality** » Fri Dec 14, 2012 11:43 am

Reserved for judgements.

Forsher

62/100

Nazi Flower Power

74.3/100

Esternial

77.6/100

The Empire of Pretantia

67.3/100

Kingsmouth

57.3/100

Johz

88.6/100

Aethyopea

60.6/100

Eskatonia

by **Costa Alegria** » Sat Dec 15, 2012 3:24 am

Interesting. I want to enter and judge at the same time (now having a qualification automatically gives me the hubris and the confidence to assume that I know everything about creative writing when the opposite is the case) so I'll probably put my hand up for one or the either once I've decided and more information is available.

by **Forsher** » Sat Dec 15, 2012 5:36 am

I'm the first. I even made it a Christmas Story. Has notes so you get some regional stuff. (The edit... made a minor typo in the notes section, the annoying one where an I'll isn't capitalised correctly.)

Notes.

College is the popular perception of the NZ name for secondary school. In truth I find it leans high school but when it comes to names, it is a fifty-fifty split in my experience. While the Auckland region is real, all specific locations are fictional.

Deciles are a funding tool. Decile One is an extremely low socio-economic area while Decile Ten is the highest. You can assume that both Tulip Valley College and Floyd High School are in the suburbs as schools nearer the CBD tend towards decile ten, due in part to the Grammar Zone (I'll get to that).

Rotary and Lions are international community groups. But then "conscientious objectors" were meant to be international too. Award winning is more along the lines of "enviro-schools" which is for primary schools being environmentally conscious so that's a little naughty. Schools are like prisions, with staff, management, inmates, high spiky fences, uniforms and blocks with names like D Block. Really, that's the honest truth. However, each block tends to be a separate building or group of them or group of pre-fabs. Also, no metal detectors.

A typical NZ uniform in NZ colleges for boys is knee lenghth socks. Basically as many people wear them like that as wear trousers. So, in other words, the fashionably different. Girls tend towards tartan skirts of varying lengths. A canteen is like the sort you'd get at a building site. In Auckland at any rate, Asians tend to be as prevalent as Pasifika peoples. So, saying equal likelihood is also naughty as it excludes Maori.

At my school, if you stuff up Year Ten's exams you are screwed for life in some situations. Unless you are in advanced, year nine doesn't really matter that much. I've based aspects of Tulip Valley College's specific practices on my school. Mr Kao (my stock name for teachers, never come up with a new one) and his seating plan are general experiences. Reports are a legitimate disciplinary measure. Basically, just a card for teachers to fill in, remarking on whetehr behaviour is good. Common for junior students (year nine and ten) not so much for seniors (eleven, twelve and thirteen). And the quantity implied is a slight exaggeration.

Sarah and Jessica are common first names in my cohort. Turned that up to eleven (well, fifteen in one case) for here. Most classrooms are capable of taking no more than thirty students. One tech room I had could fit 28 in a class of 31. Never was a problem because enough people could be relied upon not to turn up. Including the teacher. The following year he resigned, before he was pushed as we reckon.

Samoans and Tongans are known for a degree of hostility. Not sure if it applies how I made it apply but artistic licence is my right as an artist (pronounced the prick's way). Nearby schools can have quite different demographics. Floyd High School would be closer to the heart of the area as, unlike within Auckland City itself, the desirable properties are on the outskirts.

School Zones are the areas from which schools draw students. Schools, to my knowledge, have arbitrary control over said zones. They are used to fix population problems, just usually before school starts in February (or early January as the case may be). WINZ really does make it quite easy to acquire money for uniforms and materials.

This is not a serious work. I wrote it for a laugh. I consider it a fun story. This is why the bit about Bianca's family moving to Australia is included. Basically Kiw Emigration to Aussie is NZ's equivalent of abortion threads. It is the topic.

by **Nazi Flower Power** » Sat Dec 15, 2012 9:15 am

I'm in.

by **North Wiedna** » Sat Dec 15, 2012 12:19 pm

Conserative Morality wrote:Rules:
Writing Deadline February 15th (Subject to change)

glad to see i have two months to write something :)

Forsher wrote:I'm the first. I even made it a Christmas Story. Has notes so you get some regional stuff.

Tulip Valley College was one of the larger high schools in the wider Auckland Region. As a decile six state school its academic success rate compared favourable with national averages. A dedicated senior management team provided excellent support for passionate students and staff in an award winning environment. A hard-working squad of caretakers maintained the grounds and the school’s many buildings, including the hall which was popular with a wide variety of community groups, from Rotary to Lions. Well, that was the utopian review presented in the definitely unbiased Tulip College Parent’s Guide. As year nine student Lala Smith would tell anyone, quite loudly and with all, the self-assurance of youth, it was an oppressive, hateful dictatorship, especially those parts of the school associated with one Mr Kao.

Lala Smith was just one of many brown haired, uniform flouting, stereotypical, fourteen year old teenage girls. She’d spend her lunches talking with many friends wearing equally short skirts, complaining about teenage girl things. Occasionally, they’d stop to giggle at some suave male peer: complete with shorts, Jansport bag and ankle-high knee-length socks. Mobiles were usually in pockets, just not so much when no teacher was definitely out of sight. In fact, the only thing that wasn’t normal about Lala was her knowing her timetable. So, in other words, Lala was a total nerd. However, this was simply to know when she could see Him. He was, as all her friends knew and eavesdroppers wished they knew, Alfred Bold.

Alfred Bold was anything but bold. With short brown hair, Asian friends, Polynesian friends, a mobile, an iPod, canteen money, a video game addiction and whole host of teenage boy stuff going on, bold was not a word that could be applied to his life. In fact, he also failed assessments in order to be popular, just like everyone else. Needless to say, he did not know his timetable. Naturally, Tulip Valley College put him in mainstream; so he saw more of his Polynesian mates than his Asian acquaintances, despite demographics suggesting an equal likelihood of Asians. Where Lala was almost totally normal, Alfred was, like, totally normal. As such he was far more likely to say “bro” than “like.” One fine Monday morning, that was exactly what his maths teacher caught him doing.

“Bro, can I borrow your calculator?” Mr Bold was also typical in this regard.

“Sorry, dude, I don’t have one.” Jim Hanthrop was incredibly out of touch: he wore his bag with a single strap as a stylistic choice rather than a temporary measure, had spiky hair and made his voice deeper than it really was. Unsurprisingly, his family was from a low socio-economic area and his psychological development had been affected as a result. To the normal person, being broke had given him a chip on his shoulder.

“Look, you lot need to have calculators now if you want to do well in next year’s exams, so you don’t stuff your life up in year eleven.” Mr Kao was, to Jim, clearly one of those men who did nothing but play rugby back in their school-days. This was obvious as Mr Kao was Tongan, not Fijian. To Alfred, whose parents were as old-fashioned as Jim’s, he had played league because, well, that’s what Tongans play. As it happened, both were wrong, and also slightly racist (but that’s irrelevant); Mr Kao had played cricket and even been in advanced classes… his dad was Indian.

“Exactly. Don’t need calculators this year!” That was from Alfred. Jim didn’t, to be accurate, have a spare calculator. As a poor family’s child he appreciated his education because, due to blatant racism, his family wasn’t Polynesian and, therefore, lacked welfare fraud as an acceptable lifestyle choice. Alfred, whose dad was rich since his mum married him, was already set for life. In a couple of years he’d discover that “trust fund kids” happened to other countries. This was why dialling 911 never got an answer.

“Just bring it next time or you’re going on report.” As a junior Alfred knew heaps of people on report. It was a done thing. However, it was a pain in the arse: how was one meant to chat to girls if one was stuck getting one’s report updated? The answer was to chat to the girls on report but they were violent psychopaths, not bros. That said even in the first week of school there were only so many fish in the sea. It was ridiculous. The result of this was affective threat and a hasty huddling with Jim, who had fetched the calculator from his bag. Since he was broke, Work and Income had paid for it, being on welfare was fine only fraud was unacceptable socially. Getting money for school was easy. In fact, even Mr Rich Arse Alfred’s Dad made use of it. Since he was rich, welfare fraud was an acceptable choice for him as well.

Across the room, as ordained by Mr Kao’s random seating plan, Lala nudged her nutty friend Sarah in the ribs, having caught sight of Him. This annoyed Jessica, on Lala’s right, as she wanted the gossip (that is first hand: she’d get it from Sarah’s best friend Suzie later). A few seats away the other twelve Jessica’s and thirteen Sarah’s sat and laughed about how ridiculously common their names were. Behind them, Asia Sarah made a note about the stupidity of the class’ size. With the exception of Jim, Alfred and Mr Kao, all the room’s males had no seats or desks; due to forty people being in a room designed for thirty at the most.

“Look at Alfred, isn’t he hot?” Lala pronounced “hot” as though it was some really long syllable. She found nothing odd about this. Jessica, on the other hand, thought that Lala was too much like girls in a movie written by a middle-aged man with no-ide of how teenage girls actually speak. The other Jessica’s felt as if Lala was written by an author who does know what he’s on about, as much as any bloke can, but was just too familiar with convention and how those conventions are applied in real life to actually capture the female teenager that Lala clearly represented, accurately. Sarah just thought Lala thought Alfred was hot.

“Not really.” Sarah disagreed with Lala as she knew Mr Kao’s first name and wasn’t into Tongans, being Samoan. Alfred Bold, on the other hand, was just some prick sitting next to Jim. (Sarah had been going out with Jim since forever. That is, since they met while their families visited the local welfare offices. Massive building it was too, huge employer Work and Income.)

“Fine, I’ll try and sit next to him.” Privately, Lala added, “Once the school figures out that this class is ridiculously huge.” Like most teenagers, Lala had a limited vocabulary and was prone to repetition.

“You’ll have to wait for a few people to be away for that.” Sarah took a more realistic view of things than Lala did. However, the school fixed the population problem by simply reducing the ridiculously huge zone, the following week. Most of the ridiculously common Sarah’s and Jessica’s found themselves out-of-zone. A few weeks later they were each identified as being the only white girl at the decile one Floyd High School, during the various transits of Tulip Valley College pupils to McCann Park for their athletics day. Naturally, the demographics of tFloyd High School were ridiculously heavily biased towards welfare recipients, but people can’t help being born brown. Or racist, for that matter, which was why the label was ridiculously off. Although an element of the infamous inter-college rivalry was at play.

Mr Kao’s maths class was next held on Wednesday. By this time, of course, the timetable problem was fixed (thankfully, the previous year it had taken until September). Naturally, some students now had an excuse not to know their timetables. To Lala’s delight in the reasonably sized class of 25, neither Sarah nor Jessica could be found (she now sat next to Bianca, who was a total slut, strangely that wasn’t a joke) but Alfred was. Lafway through the lesson, she put up her hand and flagged Mr Kao down.

“What’s the problem, Lala?” With a name like Lala there was no way that Mr Kao was ever going to forget it, Bianca, in contrast, was already a Nobody. It turned out to be a good thing the following week when she vanished with rumours of pregnancy in her wake. In reality, her family decided that she’d be better off being a slut in Australia because it suited her parents to move. Of course, she was pregnant but that didn’t matter.

“Can I sit next to Alfred?”

“Why?”

“I want to. I think I can help him with maths.”

“No”

“Why not?”

“Because, frankly, you’d both get worse next to each other.” Mr Kao turned away and for the next month that was maths for Lala.

In September, Mr Kao changed his mind. By this time Lala was in love with Jim, had a slight crush on Mr Kao because she’d read it in some girly magazine called Psychology Today or something like that and had hated Alfred ever since he started going out with George. It wasn’t that George was a boy, more that she had a bloody stupid name for a girl. Years later George would realise this as Lala discovered, when she opened a letter and the cars was signed, “Merry Christmas all, love Georgia (from school).”

Notes.

College is the popular perception of the NZ name for secondary school. In truth I find it leans high school but when it comes to names, it is a fifty-fifty split in my experience. While the Auckland region is real, all specific locations are fictional.

Deciles are a funding tool. Decile One is an extremely low socio-economic area while Decile Ten is the highest. You can assume that both Tulip Valley College and Floyd High School are in the suburbs as schools nearer the CBD tend towards decile ten, due in part to the Grammar Zone (i'll get to that).

Rotary and Lions are international community groups. But then "conscientious objectors" were meant to be international too. Award winning is more along the lines of "enviro-schools" which is for primary schools being environmentally conscious so that's a little naughty. Schools are like prisions, with staff, management, inmates, high spiky fences, uniforms and blocks with names like D Block. Really, that's the honest truth. However, each block tends to be a separate building or group of them or group of pre-fabs. Also, no metal detectors.

A typical NZ uniform in NZ colleges for boys is knee lenghth socks. Basically as many people wear them like that as wear trousers. So, in other words, the fashionably different. Girls tend towards tartan skirts of varying lengths. A canteen is like the sort you'd get at a building site. In Auckland at any rate, Asians tend to be as prevalent as Pasifika peoples. So, saying equal likelihood is also naughty as it excludes Maori.

At my school, if you stuff up Year Ten's exams you are screwed for life in some situations. Unless you are in advanced, year nine doesn't really matter that much. I've based aspects of Tulip Valley College's specific practices on my school. Mr Kao (my stock name for teachers, never come up with a new one) and his seating plan are general experiences. Reports are a legitimate disciplinary measure. Basically, just a card for teachers to fill in, remarking on whetehr behaviour is good. Common for junior students (year nine and ten) not so much for seniors (eleven, twelve and thirteen). And the quantity implied is a slight exaggeration.

Sarah and Jessica are common first names in my cohort. Turned that up to eleven (well, fifteen in one case) for here. Most classrooms are capable of taking no more than thirty students. One tech room I had could fit 28 in a class of 31. Never was a problem because enough people could be relied upon not to turn up. Including the teacher. The following year he resigned, before he was pushed as we reckon.

Samoans and Tongans are known for a degree of hostility. Not sure if it applies how I made it apply but artistic licence is my right as an artist (pronounced the prick's way). Nearby schools can have quite different demographics. Floyd High School would be closer to the heart of the area as, unlike within Auckland City itself, the desirable properties are on the outskirts.

School Zones are the areas from which schools draw students. Schools, to my knowledge, have arbitrary control over said zones. They are used to fix population problems, just usually before school starts in February (or early January as the case may be). WINZ really does make it quite easy to acquire money for uniforms and materials.

This is not a serious work. I wrote it for a laugh. I consider it a fun story. This is why the bit about Bianca's family moving to Australia is included. Basically Kiw Emigration to Aussie is NZ's equivalent of abortion threads. It is the topic.

Nazi Flower Power wrote:I'm in.

‭
SNOW

"Why do you want to retire to Seehof?" Lindsey asked her father. "It's the middle of nowhere."

"I want to see snow again,‭" ‬her father answered wistfully.

‭ "What?" said Lindsey. "When have you ever seen snow? It doesn't snow in Nürnberg."

"It used to snow during the war,‭" ‬said her father.

‭ "Yeah, because the Confederates were bombing us with asteroids and the dust clouds blocked out the sun," said Lindsey. "Why do you want something to remind you of a war that almost wiped out all life on this planet?"

"I don't miss the war,‭" ‬said her father.‭ "‬I just miss the snow.‭ ‬And the Germans.‭"

"What Germans‭?" ‬said Lindsey.

‭ "The Germans who came to bring us food," said her father. "During the war, we always had food shortages. For weeks at a time, we had nothing to eat but synthetic tofu, and not enough of that. We couldn't grow crops outside because of the Confederate Winter, and the lamps in our greenhouses kept going out because the bulbs broke or the wires shook loose. Even when nothing was broken, the power would go out because we had always relied on solar power and all of a sudden there was no sunlight. We couldn't build new power plants because we were all trapped underground in meteor shelters. When we weren't getting bombed, the dust storms usually made it impossible to go outside. And when we were getting bombed, even when we broke up the asteroids before they hit the atmosphere, the recoil from our own guns was enough to shake the entire city. It was pointless to try to build anything in those conditions, and nobody could think straight anyway because none of us had had any sleep. The noise from the guns kept us all awake. I've told you all this before, but you can't really understand what it was like to actually be there.

‭ "And our guns were nothing compared to the ones the Confederates were using to fire the asteroids. It takes a tremendous amount to force to move asteroids, and that means there is a tremendous amount of recoil. Sometimes the recoil was strong enough to blast debris and radiation all the way out of the solar system, into Free German space. The Germans didn't care about what was happening to us, but when their ships got caught in the recoil from the Confederate guns, they would demand reparations and the Confederates had to stop the bombing until they made peace."

"So what‭?” ‬said Lindsey.‭ “‬It's not like the dumb krauts ever got off their asses to help us.‭”

“I just told you,‭ ‬they brought us food,‭” ‬her father said angrily.‭ Lindsey had never heard him get upset like that when she made snide comments about foreigners. “‬Nobody ever talks about the food ships because the Confederates don't want anyone to remember how much suffering they caused and how careless they were with their bombing," her father explained.‭ "‬If they talk about the food ships,‭ ‬then they'd have to think about why we needed the Germans to bring us food in the first place.‭ ‬And the Germans won't talk about it because they're still embarrassed about Hitler,‭ ‬and they don't want to be associated with us; but things were so bad here, we didn't care why they were bringing us food, just as long as they brought it.‭”

Lindsey scoffed.‭ She didn't share her father's fondness for Germans, and she wasn't going to let his rambling about "food ships" deter her from her xenophobic attitude. “Free ‬Germans are shit‭!” ‬she said.‭ “‬They've got no self-respect for their history‭! And then they get this cocky attitude like they're better than us...”

Her father shook his head. ‭“‬You didn't see them," he said.‭ "‬Living in a backwater like this,‭ ‬we sometimes forget what it's like to meet really modern and civilized people.‭ ‬We're the ones who have no self-respect,‭ ‬letting our planet go all to hell.‭ It's pathetic! ‬If the Germans had ever come into the war on our side,‭ ‬they wouldn't have just beaten the Confederates.‭ ‬They could have wiped them out of the sky in a week.

‭ “The Germans threatened to come into the war on our side if the Confederates didn't pay for the ships they damaged, and they sent the food ships to prove they were serious. Their ships were as long as cities, and they tore apart the clouds so that the sun would shine for hours after they passed. That was the only time we ever saw the sun. Our own spacefleet had already been destroyed, and our ships were all grounded except when the Germans broke the blockade. When their ships passed overhead, it was like an eclipse. Everything went dark in their shadow, and you couldn't hear anything except the roar of their engines. Their escorts flew in with colors flying, like they were on parade. I think they did it on purpose to lift our spirits and to prove to the Confederates that they weren't afraid. When they were past, the sun was so bright and it came so suddenly that we all had to cover our eyes; and when we looked up again their holographic streamers would be stretched across the sky like long chains of black, red, and gold lighting from one horizon to the other. It was like they controlled the sky itself. To this day, it's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen in my life. It was terrifying, to know that other people wielded that kind of power, but it was still beautiful.

‭ "They never landed close to the city because there wasn't enough flat ground for their ships. They would land in the desert and then send soldiers in trucks to deliver the food, or sometimes the bigger transports had to stay in orbit while smaller ships brought the food to the ground; but either way they knew how to make an entrance.”

‭ "So why don't you retire to Germany?" Lindsey said. She felt like rolling her eyes as she said it, but she didn't because she knew it would only offend her father.

‭ "I can't afford to retire to Germany," her father explained.

‭ "I still don't get why you want to retire to Seehof," said Lindsey.

‭ "I told you," said her father. "I want to see snow again."

‭ "When there was a break in the bombing and the dust storms died down enough for us to go outside, I used to love to play in the snow. Sometimes we would go sledding on scraps of metal or plastic or folded up shipping boxes. Or we would build snow forts and have snowball fights. That was the most fun I ever had when I was a kid. It was pretty much the only fun I ever had during the war.

‭ "And the days when we got to play in the snow were usually the same days when the Germans came to drop off their food. It was easier for them to come when the weather was calm, when there were no dust storms. There was a German soldier who used to bring us hot chocolate at the hill where we went sledding. Her name was Lenora Schneider, and she had two big beautiful white dogs -- familiars, like those psychic pigeons and telepathic drones everyone's blowing their money on these days. We didn't have telepathic relays back then, but the Germans did. The dogs moved with her, like they were part of her own body, much more graceful than those stupid drones. She could see with their eyes and smell what they smelled, and when you looked in the dogs' eyes, you could see that there was human intelligence behind them. You could just tell by the way they looked at you that they understood everything they saw. She could recognize us by our smells, without even looking at us, no matter how bundled up we were. She didn't look like anyone I'd ever met before, and I had never heard of a woman being a soldier or anyone controlling dogs. Our military was all men and machines, so she always seemed more like a cartoon character or an imaginary friend than a real soldier. She was short and gentle with wavy blue hair and a pretty delicate face, not intimidating at all, but she had the most pompous Prussian accent! She liked us, and she said she always asked her commanding officer to send her to Nürnberg whenever they brought in a food shipment so that she could see us. She would just laugh at us if we threw snowballs at her. She sometimes threw them back, but it was always fun. She never got mad or anything.
‭
"And when we went home, there was real food -- rice and beans and noodles and sauerkraut and tea and lemonade and more hot chocolate.

"After the war it took a while for the dust to settle and the weather to get hot again, and I thought of her every time it snowed. Sometimes I half expected to see her again. I went sledding a few times, but it wasn't the same after the war. It wasn't as special anymore when we hadn't been cooped up in the meteor shelters. And Lenora wasn't there to tease us for talking like Bavarian peasants. I thought about her for a long time, long after the snow stopped for good, even when things got better and I could buy my own hot chocolate any time I wanted. I still miss her sometimes, even now. I tried to find out what happened to her after the war, but the Confederate censors always disconnected my calls. Eventually, I moved on, but lately, I've been thinking a lot about the war and the days when we played in the snow and Lenora brought us hot chocolate. That's why I want to see snow again.

"This hot weather just reminds me of the things I screwed up after the war, all the times I fought with your mother, and all the things I never managed to do. Even if it seems stupid, I'd rather be reminded of something I enjoyed."

jesus you guys work fast

by **Manahakatouki** » Sat Dec 15, 2012 3:40 pm

Now, I know I said I'd make one last time, I swear I will make one this time...

by **Nazi Flower Power** » Sat Dec 15, 2012 10:02 pm

North Wiedna wrote:
Conserative Morality wrote:Rules:
Writing Deadline February 15th (Subject to change)

glad to see i have two months to write something
Forsher wrote:I'm the first. I even made it a Christmas Story. Has notes so you get some regional stuff.

Tulip Valley College was one of the larger high schools in the wider Auckland Region. As a decile six state school its academic success rate compared favourable with national averages. A dedicated senior management team provided excellent support for passionate students and staff in an award winning environment. A hard-working squad of caretakers maintained the grounds and the school’s many buildings, including the hall which was popular with a wide variety of community groups, from Rotary to Lions. Well, that was the utopian review presented in the definitely unbiased Tulip College Parent’s Guide. As year nine student Lala Smith would tell anyone, quite loudly and with all, the self-assurance of youth, it was an oppressive, hateful dictatorship, especially those parts of the school associated with one Mr Kao.

Lala Smith was just one of many brown haired, uniform flouting, stereotypical, fourteen year old teenage girls. She’d spend her lunches talking with many friends wearing equally short skirts, complaining about teenage girl things. Occasionally, they’d stop to giggle at some suave male peer: complete with shorts, Jansport bag and ankle-high knee-length socks. Mobiles were usually in pockets, just not so much when no teacher was definitely out of sight. In fact, the only thing that wasn’t normal about Lala was her knowing her timetable. So, in other words, Lala was a total nerd. However, this was simply to know when she could see Him. He was, as all her friends knew and eavesdroppers wished they knew, Alfred Bold.

Alfred Bold was anything but bold. With short brown hair, Asian friends, Polynesian friends, a mobile, an iPod, canteen money, a video game addiction and whole host of teenage boy stuff going on, bold was not a word that could be applied to his life. In fact, he also failed assessments in order to be popular, just like everyone else. Needless to say, he did not know his timetable. Naturally, Tulip Valley College put him in mainstream; so he saw more of his Polynesian mates than his Asian acquaintances, despite demographics suggesting an equal likelihood of Asians. Where Lala was almost totally normal, Alfred was, like, totally normal. As such he was far more likely to say “bro” than “like.” One fine Monday morning, that was exactly what his maths teacher caught him doing.

“Bro, can I borrow your calculator?” Mr Bold was also typical in this regard.

“Sorry, dude, I don’t have one.” Jim Hanthrop was incredibly out of touch: he wore his bag with a single strap as a stylistic choice rather than a temporary measure, had spiky hair and made his voice deeper than it really was. Unsurprisingly, his family was from a low socio-economic area and his psychological development had been affected as a result. To the normal person, being broke had given him a chip on his shoulder.

“Look, you lot need to have calculators now if you want to do well in next year’s exams, so you don’t stuff your life up in year eleven.” Mr Kao was, to Jim, clearly one of those men who did nothing but play rugby back in their school-days. This was obvious as Mr Kao was Tongan, not Fijian. To Alfred, whose parents were as old-fashioned as Jim’s, he had played league because, well, that’s what Tongans play. As it happened, both were wrong, and also slightly racist (but that’s irrelevant); Mr Kao had played cricket and even been in advanced classes… his dad was Indian.

“Exactly. Don’t need calculators this year!” That was from Alfred. Jim didn’t, to be accurate, have a spare calculator. As a poor family’s child he appreciated his education because, due to blatant racism, his family wasn’t Polynesian and, therefore, lacked welfare fraud as an acceptable lifestyle choice. Alfred, whose dad was rich since his mum married him, was already set for life. In a couple of years he’d discover that “trust fund kids” happened to other countries. This was why dialling 911 never got an answer.

“Just bring it next time or you’re going on report.” As a junior Alfred knew heaps of people on report. It was a done thing. However, it was a pain in the arse: how was one meant to chat to girls if one was stuck getting one’s report updated? The answer was to chat to the girls on report but they were violent psychopaths, not bros. That said even in the first week of school there were only so many fish in the sea. It was ridiculous. The result of this was affective threat and a hasty huddling with Jim, who had fetched the calculator from his bag. Since he was broke, Work and Income had paid for it, being on welfare was fine only fraud was unacceptable socially. Getting money for school was easy. In fact, even Mr Rich Arse Alfred’s Dad made use of it. Since he was rich, welfare fraud was an acceptable choice for him as well.

Across the room, as ordained by Mr Kao’s random seating plan, Lala nudged her nutty friend Sarah in the ribs, having caught sight of Him. This annoyed Jessica, on Lala’s right, as she wanted the gossip (that is first hand: she’d get it from Sarah’s best friend Suzie later). A few seats away the other twelve Jessica’s and thirteen Sarah’s sat and laughed about how ridiculously common their names were. Behind them, Asia Sarah made a note about the stupidity of the class’ size. With the exception of Jim, Alfred and Mr Kao, all the room’s males had no seats or desks; due to forty people being in a room designed for thirty at the most.

“Look at Alfred, isn’t he hot?” Lala pronounced “hot” as though it was some really long syllable. She found nothing odd about this. Jessica, on the other hand, thought that Lala was too much like girls in a movie written by a middle-aged man with no-ide of how teenage girls actually speak. The other Jessica’s felt as if Lala was written by an author who does know what he’s on about, as much as any bloke can, but was just too familiar with convention and how those conventions are applied in real life to actually capture the female teenager that Lala clearly represented, accurately. Sarah just thought Lala thought Alfred was hot.

“Not really.” Sarah disagreed with Lala as she knew Mr Kao’s first name and wasn’t into Tongans, being Samoan. Alfred Bold, on the other hand, was just some prick sitting next to Jim. (Sarah had been going out with Jim since forever. That is, since they met while their families visited the local welfare offices. Massive building it was too, huge employer Work and Income.)

“Fine, I’ll try and sit next to him.” Privately, Lala added, “Once the school figures out that this class is ridiculously huge.” Like most teenagers, Lala had a limited vocabulary and was prone to repetition.

“You’ll have to wait for a few people to be away for that.” Sarah took a more realistic view of things than Lala did. However, the school fixed the population problem by simply reducing the ridiculously huge zone, the following week. Most of the ridiculously common Sarah’s and Jessica’s found themselves out-of-zone. A few weeks later they were each identified as being the only white girl at the decile one Floyd High School, during the various transits of Tulip Valley College pupils to McCann Park for their athletics day. Naturally, the demographics of tFloyd High School were ridiculously heavily biased towards welfare recipients, but people can’t help being born brown. Or racist, for that matter, which was why the label was ridiculously off. Although an element of the infamous inter-college rivalry was at play.

Mr Kao’s maths class was next held on Wednesday. By this time, of course, the timetable problem was fixed (thankfully, the previous year it had taken until September). Naturally, some students now had an excuse not to know their timetables. To Lala’s delight in the reasonably sized class of 25, neither Sarah nor Jessica could be found (she now sat next to Bianca, who was a total slut, strangely that wasn’t a joke) but Alfred was. Lafway through the lesson, she put up her hand and flagged Mr Kao down.

“What’s the problem, Lala?” With a name like Lala there was no way that Mr Kao was ever going to forget it, Bianca, in contrast, was already a Nobody. It turned out to be a good thing the following week when she vanished with rumours of pregnancy in her wake. In reality, her family decided that she’d be better off being a slut in Australia because it suited her parents to move. Of course, she was pregnant but that didn’t matter.

“Can I sit next to Alfred?”

“Why?”

“I want to. I think I can help him with maths.”

“No”

“Why not?”

“Because, frankly, you’d both get worse next to each other.” Mr Kao turned away and for the next month that was maths for Lala.

In September, Mr Kao changed his mind. By this time Lala was in love with Jim, had a slight crush on Mr Kao because she’d read it in some girly magazine called Psychology Today or something like that and had hated Alfred ever since he started going out with George. It wasn’t that George was a boy, more that she had a bloody stupid name for a girl. Years later George would realise this as Lala discovered, when she opened a letter and the cars was signed, “Merry Christmas all, love Georgia (from school).”

Notes.

College is the popular perception of the NZ name for secondary school. In truth I find it leans high school but when it comes to names, it is a fifty-fifty split in my experience. While the Auckland region is real, all specific locations are fictional.

Deciles are a funding tool. Decile One is an extremely low socio-economic area while Decile Ten is the highest. You can assume that both Tulip Valley College and Floyd High School are in the suburbs as schools nearer the CBD tend towards decile ten, due in part to the Grammar Zone (i'll get to that).

Rotary and Lions are international community groups. But then "conscientious objectors" were meant to be international too. Award winning is more along the lines of "enviro-schools" which is for primary schools being environmentally conscious so that's a little naughty. Schools are like prisions, with staff, management, inmates, high spiky fences, uniforms and blocks with names like D Block. Really, that's the honest truth. However, each block tends to be a separate building or group of them or group of pre-fabs. Also, no metal detectors.

A typical NZ uniform in NZ colleges for boys is knee lenghth socks. Basically as many people wear them like that as wear trousers. So, in other words, the fashionably different. Girls tend towards tartan skirts of varying lengths. A canteen is like the sort you'd get at a building site. In Auckland at any rate, Asians tend to be as prevalent as Pasifika peoples. So, saying equal likelihood is also naughty as it excludes Maori.

At my school, if you stuff up Year Ten's exams you are screwed for life in some situations. Unless you are in advanced, year nine doesn't really matter that much. I've based aspects of Tulip Valley College's specific practices on my school. Mr Kao (my stock name for teachers, never come up with a new one) and his seating plan are general experiences. Reports are a legitimate disciplinary measure. Basically, just a card for teachers to fill in, remarking on whetehr behaviour is good. Common for junior students (year nine and ten) not so much for seniors (eleven, twelve and thirteen). And the quantity implied is a slight exaggeration.

Sarah and Jessica are common first names in my cohort. Turned that up to eleven (well, fifteen in one case) for here. Most classrooms are capable of taking no more than thirty students. One tech room I had could fit 28 in a class of 31. Never was a problem because enough people could be relied upon not to turn up. Including the teacher. The following year he resigned, before he was pushed as we reckon.

Samoans and Tongans are known for a degree of hostility. Not sure if it applies how I made it apply but artistic licence is my right as an artist (pronounced the prick's way). Nearby schools can have quite different demographics. Floyd High School would be closer to the heart of the area as, unlike within Auckland City itself, the desirable properties are on the outskirts.

School Zones are the areas from which schools draw students. Schools, to my knowledge, have arbitrary control over said zones. They are used to fix population problems, just usually before school starts in February (or early January as the case may be). WINZ really does make it quite easy to acquire money for uniforms and materials.

This is not a serious work. I wrote it for a laugh. I consider it a fun story. This is why the bit about Bianca's family moving to Australia is included. Basically Kiw Emigration to Aussie is NZ's equivalent of abortion threads. It is the topic.

Nazi Flower Power wrote:I'm in.

‭
SNOW

"Why do you want to retire to Seehof?" Lindsey asked her father. "It's the middle of nowhere."

"I want to see snow again,‭" ‬her father answered wistfully.

‭ "What?" said Lindsey. "When have you ever seen snow? It doesn't snow in Nürnberg."

"It used to snow during the war,‭" ‬said her father.

‭ "Yeah, because the Confederates were bombing us with asteroids and the dust clouds blocked out the sun," said Lindsey. "Why do you want something to remind you of a war that almost wiped out all life on this planet?"

"I don't miss the war,‭" ‬said her father.‭ "‬I just miss the snow.‭ ‬And the Germans.‭"

"What Germans‭?" ‬said Lindsey.

‭ "The Germans who came to bring us food," said her father. "During the war, we always had food shortages. For weeks at a time, we had nothing to eat but synthetic tofu, and not enough of that. We couldn't grow crops outside because of the Confederate Winter, and the lamps in our greenhouses kept going out because the bulbs broke or the wires shook loose. Even when nothing was broken, the power would go out because we had always relied on solar power and all of a sudden there was no sunlight. We couldn't build new power plants because we were all trapped underground in meteor shelters. When we weren't getting bombed, the dust storms usually made it impossible to go outside. And when we were getting bombed, even when we broke up the asteroids before they hit the atmosphere, the recoil from our own guns was enough to shake the entire city. It was pointless to try to build anything in those conditions, and nobody could think straight anyway because none of us had had any sleep. The noise from the guns kept us all awake. I've told you all this before, but you can't really understand what it was like to actually be there.

‭ "And our guns were nothing compared to the ones the Confederates were using to fire the asteroids. It takes a tremendous amount to force to move asteroids, and that means there is a tremendous amount of recoil. Sometimes the recoil was strong enough to blast debris and radiation all the way out of the solar system, into Free German space. The Germans didn't care about what was happening to us, but when their ships got caught in the recoil from the Confederate guns, they would demand reparations and the Confederates had to stop the bombing until they made peace."

"So what‭?” ‬said Lindsey.‭ “‬It's not like the dumb krauts ever got off their asses to help us.‭”

“I just told you,‭ ‬they brought us food,‭” ‬her father said angrily.‭ Lindsey had never heard him get upset like that when she made snide comments about foreigners. “‬Nobody ever talks about the food ships because the Confederates don't want anyone to remember how much suffering they caused and how careless they were with their bombing," her father explained.‭ "‬If they talk about the food ships,‭ ‬then they'd have to think about why we needed the Germans to bring us food in the first place.‭ ‬And the Germans won't talk about it because they're still embarrassed about Hitler,‭ ‬and they don't want to be associated with us; but things were so bad here, we didn't care why they were bringing us food, just as long as they brought it.‭”

Lindsey scoffed.‭ She didn't share her father's fondness for Germans, and she wasn't going to let his rambling about "food ships" deter her from her xenophobic attitude. “Free ‬Germans are shit‭!” ‬she said.‭ “‬They've got no self-respect for their history‭! And then they get this cocky attitude like they're better than us...”

Her father shook his head. ‭“‬You didn't see them," he said.‭ "‬Living in a backwater like this,‭ ‬we sometimes forget what it's like to meet really modern and civilized people.‭ ‬We're the ones who have no self-respect,‭ ‬letting our planet go all to hell.‭ It's pathetic! ‬If the Germans had ever come into the war on our side,‭ ‬they wouldn't have just beaten the Confederates.‭ ‬They could have wiped them out of the sky in a week.

‭ “The Germans threatened to come into the war on our side if the Confederates didn't pay for the ships they damaged, and they sent the food ships to prove they were serious. Their ships were as long as cities, and they tore apart the clouds so that the sun would shine for hours after they passed. That was the only time we ever saw the sun. Our own spacefleet had already been destroyed, and our ships were all grounded except when the Germans broke the blockade. When their ships passed overhead, it was like an eclipse. Everything went dark in their shadow, and you couldn't hear anything except the roar of their engines. Their escorts flew in with colors flying, like they were on parade. I think they did it on purpose to lift our spirits and to prove to the Confederates that they weren't afraid. When they were past, the sun was so bright and it came so suddenly that we all had to cover our eyes; and when we looked up again their holographic streamers would be stretched across the sky like long chains of black, red, and gold lighting from one horizon to the other. It was like they controlled the sky itself. To this day, it's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen in my life. It was terrifying, to know that other people wielded that kind of power, but it was still beautiful.

‭ "They never landed close to the city because there wasn't enough flat ground for their ships. They would land in the desert and then send soldiers in trucks to deliver the food, or sometimes the bigger transports had to stay in orbit while smaller ships brought the food to the ground; but either way they knew how to make an entrance.”

‭ "So why don't you retire to Germany?" Lindsey said. She felt like rolling her eyes as she said it, but she didn't because she knew it would only offend her father.

‭ "I can't afford to retire to Germany," her father explained.

‭ "I still don't get why you want to retire to Seehof," said Lindsey.

‭ "I told you," said her father. "I want to see snow again."

‭ "When there was a break in the bombing and the dust storms died down enough for us to go outside, I used to love to play in the snow. Sometimes we would go sledding on scraps of metal or plastic or folded up shipping boxes. Or we would build snow forts and have snowball fights. That was the most fun I ever had when I was a kid. It was pretty much the only fun I ever had during the war.

‭ "And the days when we got to play in the snow were usually the same days when the Germans came to drop off their food. It was easier for them to come when the weather was calm, when there were no dust storms. There was a German soldier who used to bring us hot chocolate at the hill where we went sledding. Her name was Lenora Schneider, and she had two big beautiful white dogs -- familiars, like those psychic pigeons and telepathic drones everyone's blowing their money on these days. We didn't have telepathic relays back then, but the Germans did. The dogs moved with her, like they were part of her own body, much more graceful than those stupid drones. She could see with their eyes and smell what they smelled, and when you looked in the dogs' eyes, you could see that there was human intelligence behind them. You could just tell by the way they looked at you that they understood everything they saw. She could recognize us by our smells, without even looking at us, no matter how bundled up we were. She didn't look like anyone I'd ever met before, and I had never heard of a woman being a soldier or anyone controlling dogs. Our military was all men and machines, so she always seemed more like a cartoon character or an imaginary friend than a real soldier. She was short and gentle with wavy blue hair and a pretty delicate face, not intimidating at all, but she had the most pompous Prussian accent! She liked us, and she said she always asked her commanding officer to send her to Nürnberg whenever they brought in a food shipment so that she could see us. She would just laugh at us if we threw snowballs at her. She sometimes threw them back, but it was always fun. She never got mad or anything.
‭
"And when we went home, there was real food -- rice and beans and noodles and sauerkraut and tea and lemonade and more hot chocolate.

"After the war it took a while for the dust to settle and the weather to get hot again, and I thought of her every time it snowed. Sometimes I half expected to see her again. I went sledding a few times, but it wasn't the same after the war. It wasn't as special anymore when we hadn't been cooped up in the meteor shelters. And Lenora wasn't there to tease us for talking like Bavarian peasants. I thought about her for a long time, long after the snow stopped for good, even when things got better and I could buy my own hot chocolate any time I wanted. I still miss her sometimes, even now. I tried to find out what happened to her after the war, but the Confederate censors always disconnected my calls. Eventually, I moved on, but lately, I've been thinking a lot about the war and the days when we played in the snow and Lenora brought us hot chocolate. That's why I want to see snow again.

"This hot weather just reminds me of the things I screwed up after the war, all the times I fought with your mother, and all the things I never managed to do. Even if it seems stupid, I'd rather be reminded of something I enjoyed."

jesus you guys work fast

Mine was a story that I wrote a few months ago. I did a bit of editing before I posted, but it's still basically the same story that's been knocking around my hard drive for 3 or 4 months.

by **Forsher** » Sat Dec 15, 2012 10:10 pm

Nazi Flower Power wrote:
North Wiedna wrote:glad to see i have two months to write something

jesus you guys work fast

Mine was a story that I wrote a few months ago. I did a bit of editing before I posted, but it's still basically the same story that's been knocking around my hard drive for 3 or 4 months.

I was struck by inspiration on Friday night. That is to say, not Saturday night when I typed it up for here.

by **Nazi Flower Power** » Sat Dec 15, 2012 10:15 pm

Forsher wrote:
Nazi Flower Power wrote:
Mine was a story that I wrote a few months ago. I did a bit of editing before I posted, but it's still basically the same story that's been knocking around my hard drive for 3 or 4 months.

I was struck by inspiration on Friday night. That is to say, not Saturday night when I typed it up for here.

You really do work fast. :shock:

by **Forsher** » Sat Dec 15, 2012 10:21 pm

Nazi Flower Power wrote:
Forsher wrote:
I was struck by inspiration on Friday night. That is to say, not Saturday night when I typed it up for here.

You really do work fast.

Well, it isn't very long and I got bored at the end... also, it probably will get 22-30 points per judge like all the others so...

That said, it took me more than an hour to type and a few hours to write as far as I can tell.

by **Nazi Flower Power** » Sat Dec 15, 2012 11:04 pm

Forsher wrote:
Nazi Flower Power wrote:
You really do work fast.

Well, it isn't very long and I got bored at the end... also, it probably will get 22-30 points per judge like all the others so...

It's close to the same length as mine. We'll have to wait and see what happens on the scoring.

by **SaintB** » Sun Dec 16, 2012 5:19 pm

Maybe I can help as a judge.

by **Conserative Morality** » Mon Dec 17, 2012 3:10 am

SaintB wrote:Maybe I can help as a judge.

Should I put you down as a judge?

by **SaintB** » Mon Dec 17, 2012 4:12 pm

Conserative Morality wrote:
SaintB wrote:Maybe I can help as a judge.

Should I put you down as a judge?

I'm not sure yet, I'm in a bit of a transition right now and my schedule is uncertain, but I certainly would like to be one if I can manage it.

by **Norstal** » Mon Dec 17, 2012 11:03 pm

North Wiedna wrote:
Conserative Morality wrote:Rules:
Writing Deadline February 15th (Subject to change)

glad to see i have two months to write something

Well, in Whoville they say - that CM's small heart grew three sizes that day.

by **Esternial** » Fri Dec 21, 2012 8:43 pm

I'd like to write something. Might set my mind off things

I'm thinking something mildly disturbing, but still with the season in mind.

My mind is set on disturbing lately.

by **Britannic Realms** » Sat Dec 22, 2012 12:53 pm

I would be willing to be a judge.

by **Conserative Morality** » Sat Dec 22, 2012 2:54 pm

Britannic Realms wrote:I would be willing to be a judge.

Alright, we got our first judge then.

by **Costa Alegria** » Sat Dec 22, 2012 3:42 pm

I suppose I could be a judge seeing as I have absolutely no ideas to write about.

by **Esternial** » Sat Dec 22, 2012 5:46 pm

There's probably not a lot of detail in there, so I don't expect a very high score, but it was fun making it :3

by **Nazi Flower Power** » Sat Dec 22, 2012 9:24 pm

Esternial wrote:
‘twas the night of Christmas eve, and one most special if you would believe. For in his bed sat little Ben, tossing around every now and then.
“That’s nothing special at all!” you would say, but hang around and keep your impatience at bay.

The little boy’s eyes were wide open, carefully exploring every nook and crevice he could perceive through the gloom.
There was nothing that drew his attention, nothing he hadn’t seen before in his room.
Inside his mind the child was dreaming of magical things, wishing for gifts and treats that any other would desire.
He could already imagine meeting the man in his red and white attire.
Surely the greatest gift of all it would be, if he could meet the man who brought him his presents every winter.
Sadly he was also very illusive, and probably a good sprinter.
Several years in a row he had stayed up late, hoping to catch a glimpse of the figure.
Several years in a row he failed, maybe he should reconsider?

No!

This year he would be successful, for a plan was brewing inside his infant mind.
This time his intent would be well-timed.
His thoughts slowly drifting, contemplating his set of moves while his flickering eyes stared outside.
Absent-mindedly he stared, hoping to spot the old man’s ride.
Snowflakes gently tapped the windows before they vanished from sight.
Mother had turned the radiator up for the night.

Then he heard it, a subtle but gentle sound.
In a split second, the little boy’s feet were out of bed and on the ground.
Spurting as fast as he could, Ben went down the stairs.
'twas there where he stumbled on the red and white figure with here and there a few grey hairs.
“Young child, you should be asleep” The old man whispered, nearly dropping his bag of surprises.
Ben became even more excited when he spotted colourful boxes in all shapes and sizes.
Before he could reply, the white-haired figure spoke again.
“If I were to grant you a wish, would you go to sleep then?”
The boy nodded, not uttering a single word.
His eyes had begun to shimmer bright as stars as he heard.
The old man delivered his final package, smiled and returned to his sled.
“Ho-ho-ho” he whispered as little Ben returned to bed.

“I wish for my toys to be alive!” Ben uttered underneath his sheets before closing his eyes.
Then he fell asleep, hoping the sun would soon rise.

When he woke up, little Ben’s jaw fell open in awe.
You would too if you could have seen what he saw!

On the ground they all sat, toys big and small.
All of them were alive, this was truly the greatest Christmas of them all!

“Hello Ben, we are your toys!” The little plastic creations sang in harmony; their little, beady eyes staring at the child, full of life and glee.
Ben smiled back and felt a warm feeling in his tummy, his head filled with thoughts merry and sunny!
The grins on the toys’ faces were more genuine than ever, and they were also very clever :3

“Can we do something to make you happy?” One of them asked the boy. Ben thought long and hard, his infant mind churning and ticking as he looked at the toy.

“I wished mommy and daddy no longer fought…it makes me sad.”
His parents were divorced, but Ben wished they never had.

The toys nodded - at least those that could - and ran off to do good.

An hour passed and they did not return, which brought Ben great concern.
He jumped out of bed to look where they were, and found them in the kitchen making pancakes – or crêpes, if you prefer.

Ben licked his lips as he stared at the delicious treat, wasting no time to take a seat.
The toys giggled and passed him a plate, staring at their bestest friend as he ate. :3

The syrup was sweet - 'twas barely all Ben could taste - but some kind of flavour turned the entire dish to waste.
He didn’t take another bite, something about those pancakes wasn’t right.

“Isn’t mother here to make something jummy?”
The toys still smiled, was what Ben just said somehow funny?

“Daddy is coming to pick me up…I should get ready” The boy said as he stood up and walked away, but suddenly the floor seemed to give away.
Face first he hit the ground, followed by a nasty sound.
Little Ben felt a sharp pain in his feet and turned his head, his eyes fixed on a knife - coated in red.

“Now you must stay!” The toys yelled merrily, and there was much rejoice – not that Ben had much of a choice.

The boy yelled and was definitely not happy, but luckily Boo had scissors that went snipper snappy!
Now Ben smiled and smiled with tears of joy rolling across his blushing cheeks, boy what fun they would all have – fun that would last for weeks! :3

Ben and his toys played some drawing games, using the red paint that came from his veins.
Everyone painted cars and dogs and all kinds of silly drawings, not a single of them sad. Boy what fun they had!
Sadly little Ben wasn’t feeling too well, but his face lit up when he heard the bell!
“Daddy I’m here!” He wanted to tell, but it would ruin the surprise if he were to yell. :'(

So the scissors went snipper snap! :3

There's probably not a lot of detail in there, so I don't expect a very high score, but it was fun making it :3

You read the competition? Mine's not exactly bursting with detail either.

You do have a warped imagination, though.

by **The Ben Boys** » Sun Dec 23, 2012 1:04 am

I was searching for this in the writing discussion thread before NFP showed me the yellow brick road.

I must devise something in the next two months AND BLOW UR FREAKIN' MIND! 'CAUSE all caps BLOWS MY MIND!

by **Nazi Flower Power** » Sun Dec 30, 2012 5:28 pm

Bump

Don't want this thread to get lost. Happy New Year everybody.

by **The Empire of Pretantia** » Tue Jan 01, 2013 8:57 pm

Behold: 2,725 words of "No John, you are the demons."

Winter Short Story Contest (2012) Winners Announced!

Winter Short Story Contest (2012) Winners Announced!

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