Past Contest Winners

July 2008

Challenge:

In July, your challenge was to write a beach scene using purple prose.

Winning Entry:

Iseult Murphy sent this winning entry:

First Swim

By Iseult Murphy

The waves crashed in increasing crescendo against the golden silken smooth beach. The sand was as velvety as the chocolate thighs of the vestal virgins that rolled the most expensive Cuban cigars. The green blue aquamarine water scintillated in a coruscation of light due to the mixture of currents and phytoplankton that mingled in the saline H2O.

Terry pushed aside the glittering grains of silica and gazed longingly down the damp ocean kissed shore towards the wetness of the water. A long row of crows stood as black sentinels between him and his goal. Their hungry beaks glistened above their funeral plumage. Their round black button eyes twinkled like black pearls spread across the alabaster bosom of a debutante. Even from such a distance, Terry could hear the slap of their barbed tongues salivating within their narrow mouths.

The warm sand was a mindless womb. It had sheltered Terry, protecting him and cradling him, but now it was time to leave. Beside him his family churned the beach into a cratered pock marked surface reminiscent of a barren lunar valley. Terry struggled to break free of the birth canal he had made and rushed headlong, helter skelter, surrounded by a thong of his squealing free wheeling brothers, sisters, cousins and extended family down towards the welcoming whispering ocean with the line of death bringing, stomach rumbled corvids.

The birds squawked in delight and beat the hot air with their ragged wings. Feathers flew and beaks snapped like thunder claps left and right. Terry closed his eyes and ran so fast it hurt. Slipping and sliding, his relations on either side preoccupied by the crows, he shot between the scaly legs of one of the birds and with a triumphant splash, surged into the frothy coolness of the waves. He spread his tiny flippers and pushed forth through the water, his first trial as a sea turtle complete.

Iseult Murphy writes fantasy, horror and science fiction short stories and novels. She lives on the east coast of Ireland with three dogs, two cats and a bogeyman at the top of the stairs. Find out more about her at www.iseultmurphy.com.

June 2008

Challenge:

In June, your challenge was to write a “Book Signing” scene

Winning Entry:

Thursday Bram sent this winning entry:

"The Book Signing"

"That's my granddaughter, you know."

He says it again. And again. He's invited along all his friends, his business partner, the old men from the synagogue.

He tells them, "That's my granddaughter, you know."

I sign each of their books, personalizing with the block letters, the crossed 'z's that I copied from him. His writing had fascinated me: slow, deliberate, European in style. It was the product of eight years of cheder and a thousand years of doing business.

He gets so tired these days — I ask him to come sit next to me, to help me greet readers.

"You can sign a few books, too," I tease him.

He jokes with the next lady in line: "I used to tell her, 'I'll trade you in for two boys.' But, you know, I think it was a better deal, keeping her."

She grins; even young women seem to melt for that thick European accent. So thick, despite fifty years in the States.

I sign her book and thank her. She tells me that I have a real charmer of a grandfather. I wave the next person in line up, joking with my grandfather. He tells each person how proud he is, how lucky.

All this, and he will never read my book.

Thursday Bram spends most of her time writing about small business topics. Her first love, however, is the art of the short story. More information about Thursday is available at her website, www.ThursdayBram.com

May 2008

Challenge:

In May, your challenge was to write a scene with WaBoPs – Wandering Body Parts.

Winning Entry:

Jeffrey Morckel sent this winning entry:

Twin Peaks- by Jeffrey Morckel

His eyes rolled across the sand, searching for their quarry. The beach was awash with bikinis, and he had to find just what he was looking for. His corneas hit the brakes. There it was. Without question, one of the most attractive things he had ever seen in his life. Two marvelous twin peaks towered towards the sky. He hustled over with his camera, and began snapping away.

“Um, excuse me?” asked the woman.

“Oh, just photographing next month’s cover shot!”

The woman’s face radiated.

“Oh, well in that case, snap away,” she giggled. “Oh, and you’re welcome to feel it, too.”

His brain set off a round of fireworks, and he did just that. It was nice and firm. Luscious, bounteous curves led to two peaks, bursting at the seams. It was exquisite and beautiful, and absolutely perfect. He finished shutterbugging, thanked the woman, and strutted away.

The hairs on the back of his neck sent up a distress flare, and he turned around to see his wife.

“I saw that.” Her voice dripped with malice.

He grinned.

“Told you I could find something better than yours. I just bagged next month’s cover shot.”

The look of anger deflated.

“But why not mine?” she pouted.

“Sweetie, let’s face it. You made a great turtle, but that two-tiered castle is going to look brilliant on the front of the next Sand Sculptures Illustrated.”

Jeffrey Morckel is a recent college graduate, and would much appreciate it if somebody would hire him. He lives in Ohio with his family, including 4 cats.

April 2008

Challenge:

In April, your challenge was to write a scene using the letters A through M to begin each sentence.

Winning Entry:

J. Theodor Broyhill sent this winning entry:

Justice
By J. Theodor Broyhill
 
Arrogantly, Todd glanced at the prosecution as the verdict of not guilty was read by the judge. Bailiffs rushed to his side, fearing an outburst. Curses filled his ears hurled at him from the victim’s family.

Disbelief was etched on nearly every face in the gallery. Everett, Todd’s father, was one of the few who could believe. Fortunately, Everett was wealthy and had bought the best team of lawyers his money could buy.

Ginger didn’t deserve to die and certainly not in the manner in which Todd did it. Holding her head under water, watching her eyes as she struggled to survive was monstrous. Indescribable fear must have pulsed through Ginger – electric shock waves of terror. Justice hadn’t been served.

Key in hand, Everett and Todd walked to Everett’s car. Lunging out of the shadows, Ginger’s father pulled a gun.

“Murderer”, he shouted, pulling the trigger and claiming justice for Ginger.

J. Theodor Broyhill lives in Yadkinville, NC with her husband, Fireball, and her pound rescue, Mason. She is currently working on her first science fiction short story.

March 2008

Challenge:

In March, your challenge was to write a casting call for a new reality TV show.

Winning Entry:

Lisa Dovichi sent this winning entry:

Top Mime

By LJ Dovichi

Do you like to wear white greasepaint on your face?

Do people always ask you, “Why so quiet? Cat got your tongue?”

Do you often find yourself trapped in an invisible box or falling down nonexistent stairs?

If you answered ‘yes’ to the previous questions, then we’re looking for you!

KFOOL TV is now touring cities around the world, soliciting contestants for our new reality series, “Top Mime,” brought to you by the creative geniuses behind “Clown Makeovers” and “Bozo: My Life Under the Big Top.”

We’re looking for best looks and performances. Creativity is a must, but speaking is a bust, and will be cause for automatic rejection. Come prepared. This Mime-Off isn’t going to be a ‘Walk the Dog in the Park’ and you’re not going to be ‘Leaning on a Wall’ -- you’ll be in the midst of the most extreme sham ‘Tug-of-War’ of your life.

If your ‘Walking Against Wind’ blows the competition away, you’ll join twelve other lucky finalists at ‘Mimequarters.’ For twelve weeks contestants will be required to leave their comfy haunts and bank accounts behind and move into the living arrangements provided. The network will supply a luxurious two-bedroom shanty, complete with bunk beds and running water, for a small fee.

How will you pay the rent without access to your funds? By doing what you do best -- performing.

Each contestant will receive a ratty top hat and a black and white striped leotard. You’ll be assigned to random street corners at a variety of interesting locations and expected to earn your keep. If you don’t make rent, we’ll wave a heartfelt silent goodbye, and wish you the best of luck in finding travel arrangements home.

The winner of “Top Mime” will receive the complete audio library of Marcel Marceau, a five hour radio special courtesy of KFOOL, and access to the secret handshake that says you were the “Top Mime.”

Do you have what it takes to copy the best and mimic the rest?

Lisa Dovichi lives in Novato, CA with her husband, son, and Killer the Beta fish. She is a freelance author, artist, and budding novelist. Please visit her website at: www.lisadovichi.com

February 2008

Challenge:

In February, your challenge was to write a story from Cupid's point of view.

Winning Entry:

Dorothy Raney sent this winning entry:

I Shot An Arrow...

It worked! I can hardly believe it. And here I was on the verge of quitting. After all, it's no fun for a 2143 year old man to spend his time running around dressed in little more than a wide sash and a quiver of arrows.

But, I keep at it. After all, it's my job and, besides, what else can I do? There's not much of a market out there for disgruntled elderly cupids. But, everything's changed now that I finally accomplished my goal.

You see, there's this couple. Sophie and Wilbur. They both worked in the same place. It was obvious that they were more than a little interested in each other, but that's where it ended. Somehow, despite all my best efforts they hadn't managed to progress beyond coffee break chatter, "accidental" water cooler meetings and a few work related e-mails.

Two years ago, I took aim and fired. My arrows missed. Unprecedented! Last year, I tried again. Another failure. I checked my equipment. My arrows were too dull to pierce paper let alone the human heart.

I didn't know what to do. It's not like there's an arrow sharpener on every corner. I thought and thought. Finally, I came up with the solution. Today when I took aim, Wilbur and Sophie never had a chance.

If you can't use what you've got, then you've got to use what you can find. And, I did. You know that little cursor thing on computers? Well, I took aim with that. The result? From then their e-mails sizzled and left sparks in their hearts. Now, I'm looking forward to their Valentine's Day wedding.

Dorothy Raney has been a part-time, sometime successful short story writer for over 20 years. She receives the necessary support and encouragement from the Cartaret Writers genre group.

January 2008

Challenge:

In January, your challenge was to write 7 ridiculous writing resolutions.

Winning Entry:

December 2007

Challenge:

In December, we asked you to write a diary entry from the view point of an elf.

Winning Entry:

Judy Crowder sent this winning entry:

Dear Diary,

Here's a copy of my letter to Santa, dated 12/12:

Yo, Big Guy,

Remember my warning before you dashed off to the scratch-and-dent Barbie sale? December is never a good time to leave the workshop!

Don't count on Blitzen Christmas Eve. Some stable elf left his stall door unlatched and Blitz was true to his name. He found Dexter's alcohol stash, then partied with Vixen and Cupid. After that, he did the Merry Christmas Mambo with Dancer. He's grounded, in his stall with a hot water bottle and two aspirins.

Things haven't been peachy in the toyshop, either. Drippy and Flashy took a long lunch hour, leaving that rookie elf, Bumbly, in charge of the assembly line. The Muppet toys all came out anatomically correct, the talking Britney dolls need to have their mouths washed out with Clorox and the Little Policeman Taser Guns really work.

As of this morning all the Etch-a-Sketch subcontractors are on strike until they get keys to the "Execuclaus" rest room. Mrs. C. wasn't here to charm them back to work. She's at Victoria's Secret Midnight Madness Sale.

In Closing, don't leave the Naughty Or Nice List to me ever again! After recording the Republicans, I had barely enough room to list the incorrigibles, like the alter boy who picks his nose and the little girl who makes crank calls from the principal's desk phone.

I'm taking three Tylenol PM and hitting the hay. Don't wake me until January!

Regards,

McTool Management,

Elf in Charge

Judy Crowder grew up in California, has a B A in journalism and was a preschool teacher. She writes book reviews for Children's Lit.com--no pay, but she keeps the books and donates them to schools. She loves reading, doll and teddy bear making, antique cars and writing. Judy belongs to a serious writing group in Morehead City, NC. Married to Larry, a Marine ecologist, Judy has three grown children and two Scotties.

November 2007

Challenge:

In November, your challenge was to write a wacky excuse letter.

Winning Entry:

Janet Hartman sent this winning entry.

Dear Mr. Jones,

I know this was the tenth Friday I've missed this year, but it wasn't my fault.

I stood waiting for the subway when someone pushed me from behind and I fell onto the tracks. Fortunately, I missed the third rail, but had to scrunch down between the tracks to avoid the approaching train. I felt a tug when it passed over me, but luckily I was not injured. No one noticed the incident and the train left the station with me still on the ground. I climbed the steps to the now empty platform and started walking home to change clothes.

I assumed the sudden chill I felt was due to shock and stopped for coffee to warm up and settle my nerves. When I sat down, I realized the seat of my pants was missing, totally exposing my you-know-what. To avoid embarrassment, I waited for the morning rush to clear the coffee shop before getting up. Just my luck, when I walked out the door two policemen stopped for coffee and tried to arrest me for lewd behavior. They detained me quite a while before giving me the benefit of the doubt.

After they escorted me to my door and left, I rushed to change clothes. My foot caught in my torn pants, causing me to fall backwards and hit my head. When I regained consciousness, it was after noon. Unfortunately, I found no other clean pants and had to miss work.

Apologetically,

John

Freelance writer Janet Hartman writes articles for boating magazines based on her experiences living and traveling aboard a sailboat on the East Coast. Now back on land, she also writes flash fiction and had an essay accepted for a Carolina music anthology.

October 2007

Challenge:

In October, we asked you to write a humorous obituary, personal ad or Letter to the Editor and it had to be for, about or from a fictional horror character or super hero.

Winning Entry:

Sharon Cousins sent this winning entry:

Dear Editor,

I must protest the deplorable proliferation of false morality that is causing more and more young women to adopt the unhealthy and constricting habit of wearing turtleneck pullovers and high collared blouses. Surely you will agree with me that such fashions constrict the circulation so necessary to proper growth and development as well as to the high energy levels that should be a part of their natural state. Young women must have their necks free and unfettered to reach optimal levels of health and fitness.

I am also exceedingly concerned about the advice given to young women in this very publication regarding the dangers of walking outdoors in the late evening. Are you not aware that the nighttime air is fresher and less polluted than that in the daytime? And what could possibly be more felicitous to the health and well being of these lovely young creatures than healthy exercise in abundant fresh air?

To any young women reading this missive, shake free the chains of a repressive and unfeeling society! Choose clothing that leaves your necks free and unfettered if you wish to achieve your fullest potential for a very long and productive life. Furthermore, your body's need for abundant fresh, clean air will be best fulfilled if you go for long walks in the evening, after the sun has gone down.

Sincerely,

Count D.

Matriculated on the road and mellowed by decades in the mountains of northern Idaho, Sharon Cousins lives in a small house on a big hill with a fabulous view.

September 2007

Challenge:

In September, your challenge was to write a press release from a publicist explaining their client's odd behavior.

Winning Entry:

Marie Angell sent this winning entry:

For Immediate Release

September 30, 2007

Cathwright, Noted Author, Denies All Charges

Los Angeles, CA: Reginald P. Cathwright, noted author and ghostwriter of celebrity tell-alls such as Robert Downey, Jr.'s High Life, Britney Spears' Breezy, and Paris Hilton's Chihuahua's Ruff Enuf: Don't Tinker with Tinkerbell, was arrested last night at 11:53 p.m. at the Beverly Wilshire hotel.

Mr. Cathwright would like to clarify the details of the incident, which he believes will result in his complete exoneration.

Police were initially called because hotel employees reported that Mr. Cathwright was entertaining a sheep in his room.

This is false, defamatory and inaccurate.

It was a pig.

The authorities have accused Mr. Cathwright of committing unnatural acts with this pig.

Mr. Cathwright acquired the Vietnamese potbellied pig, Rosie, yesterday morning for the sole purpose of innocent companionship. He brought her to the Beverly Wilshire as a special treat before settling into their home in Brentwood.

Mr. Cathwright says he had just finished bathing Rosie and was giving her a platonic goodnight kiss, "just as you would your child, your mother or a favored aunt," when the police burst into the room. Startled by the noise, Mr. Cathwright grabbed for Rosie, inadvertently inserting a body part into one of Rosie's orifices.

Therefore, Mr. Cathwright decries the police for their Gestapo tactics and dirty-minded ways and intends to challenge all charges.

###

Marie Angell writes from her native Texas, where she lives with her family. She is also in a blues/rock band, The Snake Charmers.

August 2007

Challenge:

In August, your challenge was to submit a poorly written beach scene.

Winning Entry:

David Lignell sent this winning entry:

Putnam

Twin snot flows streamed down from Putnam's nose like the tumultuous tributaries of the great Niagara cascading into the Canadian and American Falls. Darting his tongue to lick at the rivulets, the youth grabbed his Scooby Doo beach pail and scampered up the sand dune like a drunken tiger beetle, sans the large pointed mandibles, antennae that arise from the top of the head, long spindly legs which hold the body well off the ground, or the narrow thorax and broad, almost oblong hardened forewings.

Seagulls flew about to avoid Putnam's approach, but gathered again like so many relatives flapping around a wedding reception for extra helpings of food and gossip. Putnam stopped, set down his pail, and used both hands to pull his loose swim trunks up over crest of his buns. He sat then and pushed the sand forward with the soles of his feet, which caused a small avalanche down the dune. The grains of sand sparkled like shards of broken mirrors reflecting the shimmering siege of the summer sun. He glanced down at the lakeshore. Seagulls fought and squawked over Fritos left on a beach blanket. A few people walked along the shoreline.

Then he saw a cluster of fat and folds slothing up the dune and muttering expletives between puffs on an unfiltered Camel.

"Putnam," her voice hissed like a flat tire, "Get down here."

"Okay, Mom."

When she turned, he reached into his pail and made a mud bomb. He had a target now.

David Lignell lives with his wife Colleen and their three children in Lawrence, Kansas. He is a member of Pam Casto's Flash-Fiction Workshop listserv, where he's met many talented writers.

June 2007

Challenge:

In June, we asked you to write a letter and pitch your book to the editor whose wallet you found.

JoAnne Mathis sent this winning entry:

Winning Entry:

Dear Madam Editor:

Holy Kismet, Batman! Oh, pardon me, but it seems like an appropriate exclamation. I found your wallet early this morning while out walking my dog. Normally, we don't walk that far from home, but it was a nice, crisp morning with the full moon still hanging in the sky, so we just kept going, winding up in Old Town's cabaret district.

Kismet, you ask? Why did I find this particular wallet, I ask? Because it was FATE, in caps, you being the publisher of mystery novels and me a mystery novel writer. Destiny deemed we meet. And so, as I return your wallet, fully intact, I am enclosing my latest manuscript, requesting that you follow our cosmic path and read it.

P.S. No one will ever have to know the wallet was covered in mud, outside a club featuring mud wrestling or about the first prize mud wrestling medallion tucked in with your coins.

For her entire life, JoAnne Mathis says writing was always one of her favorite things to do. While attending DePaul, she had to write many research papers and unlike her fellow students, she loved it! JoAnne also took a writing class, which resulted in a story told in the Southern tradition. She's been a technical writer in her job (previously), but her love is fiction. She was also a reporter for her high school paper. She is currently working on her murder mystery novel.

May 2007

Challenge:

In May, we asked you to write a help wanted ad by a busy author looking for an assistant.

Gary Weibert sent this winning entry:

Winning Entry:

HELP WANTED

Busy Author Needs Assistant!

Needed: Past experience with authors (the more temperamental, the better). Wit to turn not only a phrase but also whatever you find in my hamper to my dry cleaner's shop.

Expected: Patience with my fits and howls of frustration. Constant praise of whatever I write, however bad. And providing frequent refills of my favorite beverage. A knight's shield is recommended to brandish against flying objects hurled from writer's rage.

Pay: One tenth of royalties on all books that ever see the light of day during your tenure. As payment is thus not until dubious publication, please leave your forwarding address, as you'll understandably be quitting long before. Honorable mention in my novel will be considered in lieu of pay.

Gary Weibert is currently revising his first novel, a paranormal romance. He had a poem published in last Winter's Rosicrucian Digest Magazine. Gary resides in Las Vegas and has visited the pyramids of Egypt, the Mayans and the temples of India.

April 2007

Challenge:

April's contest was "leave a message at the beep" - you're a now-famous author who doesn't have time to talk - the challenge was to write a funny phone message.

Deena Trouten sent this winning entry:

Winning Entry:

"If this is Simon & Schuster, Little, Brown, or HarperCollins please press 1 to be redirected to my agent.

"If this is my agent, hang tight, Murray. I couldn't get a cab but I'm on my way.

"If this is Stephen King, good God man, enough is enough. I am not interested in collaborating at this time nor at any other time in the future so please, stop calling before I have to issue an Order of Protection. Can you say 'stalker?' But seriously, you're giving me a great idea for my next novel.

"If this is the courthouse regarding my Order of Protection inquiry please press 3.

"If you need to leave a message for my personal assistant please press 4 to be referred to her number at St. Vincent's Intensive Care Unit. Unfortunately she was hospitalized after attempting to mediate a knock- down-drag-out between Random House and Bantam Books outside the Algonquin, leaving me short-handed and taking my own messages.

"If this is Random House or Bantam please press 4 for a message from my attorneys.

"All others callers please press 5 for a preview of my upcoming release, 'Tales from the Literary Underbelly.'

"Thanks for calling."

"Deena lives in southern Idaho with her husband and three children. Her short fiction has appeared in The Green Tricycle, Long Story Short, and flashquake magazine. Deena is presently pursuing a degree in English at Boise State University."

March 2007

Challenge:

The March Cool Contest Challenge was a poetry contest.

Dianne Bates sent this winning entry.

Winning Entry:

The Lesson

I am done with unrequited love.
Too long it has ricocheted me
from pinched dark
into
dazzling sun,
spun me into void.

All Summer long,
heavy with obsession,
I courted you,
delivered
words encrusted with sentiment,
and paintings
executed in night hours
turbulent
with wakefulness.

My being bulged with gifts
you received as trinkets,
your mouth shapeless,
eyes hooded,
shaded from my light
by your flat, bloodless hands.

I see clearly now your sieve-heart,
know the anguish of rejection;

In brooding shadow
I lick dark wounds,
and,
virulent with baffled love,
dredge from memory
the first lesson of love:

Never yearn, child,
for someone who
does not yearn for you.

© Dianne Bates

An Australian, Dianne (Di) Bates is well-known as a children’s author, but she also writes poetry and short stories for adults. Her website is www.enterprisingwords.com

February 2007

Challenge:

In February, we asked you to write a complaint letter to a fictitious company.

Mike Waleke sent in this winning entry.

Winning Entry:

To Chronos Unlimited: