**Not Eligible cause I am a girl with a pen, but here’s what I would have entered:**

“Amy, can I ask you something,” Max looked at me suddenly.
“Sure, what’s up?” Uh-oh this didn’t look good.
“If I were to, it’s just that I don’t want you to think, uh, hmmm, here’s the deal. I am just going to lay it all out on the table here. I like you, I really like you. You know that from the moment I saw you at that office picnic I knew I had to get to know you better, but I don’t want you to think I am telling you this just to try to get ahead in your dad’s company. I want you to know that I am genuinely interested in getting to know you better, and I would like to maybe take you out on a—“
I stopped him right there. I grabbed his hand, leaned over, and slowly pressed my lips to his. At first he seemed taken aback, but then he loosened up. He reached over, grabbed the swell of my back and pulled me closer. He was kissing me slowly at first, but he definitely wasn’t pulling back. I reached up and pulled off his baseball cap. I grabbed his hair and pulled him in tighter. Before I knew it, my legs were in his lap and our breathing was starting to get heavy.
“WHOOOOOO SCHOOL’S OUT!” Some drunk fool screamed as he jumped up onto our picnic table, “Be safe guys! Remember to wear a love glove!” Then he jumped off and ran away.

[Reply]

By ~Jamie on 03.03.09 4:02 pm | Permalink

**Not eligible either, but here’s mine.**

He leaned against his door and looked into my eyes—his were bleak. He ran his hand through his hair and cussed. “You’re gonna think I’m insane.”

My hands twisted in my shirt. “Just please tell me what’s going on. I don’t understand.” And trust me, no one’s more insane than I am.

Andrew banged his head against the door. “Screw it. Okay, here goes.” He blew out a gust of air and said, “In ancient times, living among our people were a man and a woman, Nayunúwi and Uilata—monsters that looked human, but with retractable steel claws.”

And my world crashed. The creatures from my dreams…they were real? No way. They couldn’t be.

Andrew must’ve sensed panic or something because he was cussing up a storm and pacing like mad. “See, this is why we don’t tell people…” he muttered. “Stupid… I mean, who in their right mind would believe something like this?”

Lucky for him, I wasn’t in my right mind. I’d just watched him attack and try to kill me in my head, and I’d been dreaming of these freaking retractable steel clawed people since I moved here.

I interrupted, “Are they like the chick on X-Men?”

He stopped and stared. “Like Lady Deathstrike? Yeah. Like her.” He bit his lip, maybe wondering if I’d buy into this. “Anyway, they’re called U-que-da-lí-gi-s-di, which means Flesh Eater. They killed a lot of our people.”

Was he kidding? Of course not.
Every fiber in my psycho body knew. Freakin’ Flesh Eaters were real.

[Reply]

By Sarah Jensen on 03.03.09 4:34 pm | Permalink

Probably not eligible either, because I’m a GUY with a pen, but here’s my entry for what it’s worth.

The pain was growing stronger. Holly took a deep breath. “Please do this for me. If you don’t, I won’t be able to make my third wish by midnight, and things will go back to the way they were. And that means my mama will die. Mamas aren’t supposed to die, Grace.”

Grace stared down at Holly for some time before replying. “Are you certain this is what you want?”

Holly opened her eyes and nodded as the pain continued to tighten in her stomach. When the pain had subsided, Holly added, “And I need to ask you for one more favor before you go. You don’t have to do it, of course, because it’s not a wish that I’ve been granted, but I would appreciate it very much.”

“What is it, dear?” Grace answered.

The golden box felt heavy in Holly’s hand as she raised her arm and offered it to Grace. “Would you mind wrapping this for Mama and placing it under our Christmas tree? I’m so sorry to have to ask you to do this, but I don’t have the strength for it, and I want her to have it on Christmas morning.”

Grace took the golden box.

“Thank you, Grace,” Holly whispered as her eyes closed. A feeling of relief swept over her and she let herself drift away.

After Holly closed her eyes, Grace stared down at her. A tear dropped from Grace’s eye and landed on the golden box in her hands. “Very well, Holly Starr,” she said. “Your final wish is granted.”

A moment later, Grace left Holly’s room for the last time.

[Reply]

By Michael on 03.03.09 5:10 pm | Permalink

I’ve been told I can place a second entry because I publicized your site on Twitter. So here’s another section from the same novel, a bit earlier…

Just before calling her brother Cole to the table, she prepared a plate for her mother, giving her a little more than her share of the roast. She placed the plate and a glass of cold milk on a wooden tray, along with silverware and a napkin, and carried it upstairs to her mother’s bedroom.

“Anyone hungry in here?” she asked as she opened the door.

“I think I could eat a horse,” her mother answered.

“Well, that’s what I like to hear. And what an unusual coincidence it is, Mama. It just so happens that the chef has prepared a beautiful, and very special, gift horse roast for you this evening,” Holly teased as she gave her mother a big smile.

“Really? A gift horse roast?” Her mother smiled back. “What a clever daughter I have.”

“Yes.” Holly nodded. “And it’s so very tender, too, because this gift horse was so very old and so very lazy, and he didn’t do anything but lie around all day.”

“Kind of like me, huh?”

“Exactly like you, Mama. Except this particular gift horse wasn’t nearly as sweet, or nearly as nice as you. And he wasn’t nearly as pretty.”

“You always make me smile. You’re such a joy to me, Holly, but I don’t feel very pretty these days,” she said as Holly placed the tray on her lap. “You do all the things around here that I should be doing—the cooking, the cleaning, the laundry, taking care of Cole.” Her mother shook her head. “I don’t know what I would do without you. I feel like such a burden on everyone.”

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By Michael on 03.03.09 5:24 pm | Permalink

I’d love to win a set of Jennifer Armintrout books, so I decided to enter. Plus it sounded like fun.

“Should we establish rules?” Kandi propped his head on his elbow.

“Like what?”

“Where am I allowed to touch?”

A grin spread across her face. “Nowhere fun.”

“Damn.” He cast her chest a disappointed glance. “You start feeling lightheaded or unsure, stop me. All right?”

“I think I’ll be fine, but I promise.”

“Good.” Kandi reached across her, his brown irises focused on her face, and wrapped his hand around her wrist. His weight settled against her side, a warm pressure along the line of her torso. “You mind if I handle this a little different than I do it with Fain?”

“Depends on what you mean.”

“I don’t use lips on Fain until after I bite him, just for–uh, drawing out blood. Makes him uncomfortable if it looks like I’m coming onto him.”

Lorin grinned, and it turned into laughter. “Understandable.”

“The bite won’t hurt at all if I use lips first. Kind of like sucking, right? I told Fain that, but he still said no.”

“Is it going to leave a bruise?”

“Might make a small one. Can I?”

The appeal of no pain won over the thought of letting Kandi suck on her neck. “I suppose.”

“Appreciated.” His thumb rubbed small circles on the pulse points in her wrist.

She liked his smile, how it lifted in one corner and dimpled his cheek. She wondered if he did it to hide his teeth.

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By Alicia on 03.03.09 5:28 pm | Permalink

I posted about the contest on Twitter, so I’d like to enter again. Thanks!

http://www.twitter.com/Lithren

The door cracked open, a shaft of dim light spilling across the trodden tan carpet. Haifen shuffled into the room. “Listen, I know it’s been a long night, but you can’t–”

Fain stared at the floor. “I don’t want to talk.” He pressed his palm to his chest. The span of his hand covered half of the scars. He traced along them, counting. Six in all. A few of them crossed paths.

The door creaked as Haifen shut it, protesting its age. “Listen, yeah?” His voice softened. “No one died.”

“I’ve never heard someone scream like that.” The sound of Lorin sobbing scraped at his throat. He swallowed. He needed to stop dwelling on her.

For several long seconds, Haifen remained silent. His feet whispered across the carpet as he moved farther into the room. “You screamed like that once.”

Fain forced himself to look at Haifen. His lips gave an awkward twitch. “Not the same thing.” He dropped his gaze to the carpet again. “Not even close. Nothing tried to feed from me.” He took a deep breath, fighting to calm his thoughts. “And Haif? I knew I’d survive.”

“But I didn’t know.” Each word Haifen mumbled grew huskier. “Ellard told me he ordered a punishment, but I never expected–” He fell silent, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Fain tried to smile at his brother. “I didn’t die.”

Haifen nodded and cleared his throat. “And no one died tonight. Don’t grieve for what hasn’t happened.”

[Reply]

By Alicia on 03.03.09 5:30 pm | Permalink

–Side note: this is from my WIP, a MG fantasy. Robert, Belle, and Esperanza are middle school students who have been trying to find a way to save their teacher, Ms. Wendt.

“Look what we found,” Esperanza said. They ducked into a corner under the stairs, and Esperanza held a thin narrow book out to Belle.

“What’s this?” Belle asked.

“Read it, dummy,” Robert said.

Belle opened it. It was a journal. The writing was scratchy, nearly illegible. Esperanza grabbed the book from Belle’s hand and flipped through the pages. Although she showed her the middle of the book, it was the last page written on; everything else was blank lines.

“So?” Belle said after scanning the first few lines.

“Keep reading,” Esperanza said.

“And hurry up—the bell’s going to ring soon.”

…and, now I have procured a witch, I fear that my initiate grows too interested in the chimera process. I have sealed the door to the witch. I am certain she cannot escape nor my initiate get her himself—the only passage he could cross would be through my chamber, and I have locked the door that connects us.

Belle held the book away from her. “Mr. Mallory’s the initiate. He told me he worked under the alchemist who captured Ms. Wendt.”


“Look,” Robert said, thrusting his finger at the end of the passage.

“At what?” Belle asked. Then she saw it, and she understood.

…I have locked the door…

“And we unlocked it,” Belle whispered. “Saturday. When we were leaving Mr. Mallory’s room, after Malta. We went through the green door, and we didn’t lock it back.”

[Reply]

By beth on 03.03.09 6:25 pm | Permalink

Thanks for telling me about this, Michael.

Shelby’s visiting her grandparents for the first time.

Papaw picked up his cane and pulled himself out of his chair with difficulty. “I need to check on the pigs. That fool-headed pup of Danny’s has it in his head to aggravate ‘em to death. If the old boar gets aholt of him it’s gonna be ugly.”

Grammy let the oven door slam shut, and Shelby saw Papaw wince. “You stop right there, Thomas. Walk out that door and I may get so worked up I’ll decide I need to make a trip to the necessary house. And since you pretend not to even know how to open the oven door, your cornbread will burn and then where will you be?”

Papaw reluctantly lowered himself back into his chair. “There’s no need for you to get worked up at all, woman. The boy was simply calling a spade a spade.”

“Why, she’s just a child, not a woman at all. I won’t have him calling her such.”

Shelby wished she could escape to her bedroom. The conversation was becoming extremely embarrassing for her, but she could see Papaw wasn’t ready to give up.

“All girl children are women sooner or later. It’s just a matter of time as to when they get there. To us she’s a child ‘cause we’re older than daylight. But to another young person, on the verge of growing up, she’s a woman. And, with my vast knowledge of women, you can be comforted in knowing she’ll always remain a child, too.”

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By Sissy on 03.03.09 8:28 pm | Permalink

[This is from my wip, a high fantasy]

Dindi wedged her knees into the airshaft just as Brena and her slave entered the storeroom below. Not daring the rest of the noisy climb, she froze half way up. She hoped they wouldn’t wonder why no light came through the hole. Fortunately, they seemed concerned with other matters.

“You can’t seriously think to keep me by your side day and night, all the time,” the slave, Rthan, said.

“Why not?” Brena opened the cage and released six pixies, who fluttered up to the ceiling and entered the airshaft. Seeing Dindi, they exclaimed in delight. “Hello! Hello!”

“Shhhh!” Dindi nearly dislodged herself trying to signal the winged blabbermouths to shut up.

“Oh, don’t worry Dindi,” said a Purple pixie. “Those two can’t see me.”

“Me either,” laughed a Red, landing on Dindi’s thigh, which was beginning to cramp.

“Will you come dance tonight?” asked a Yellow pixie.

“Yes, come tonight and dance by moonlight!” said the Blue pixie.

“What?” Rthan, below, sounded shocked. Brena stiffened.

Dindi smacked her hand over her face. Doomed by pixies. I might have known.

Brena jabbed a finger at Rthan. “Did you just ask me to dance with you?”

He looked as suspicious as she incredulous. “You asked me to dance with you!”

“I certainly did not.”

“In the moonlight.” He grinned slyly, stepping close enough to trap her between himself and the wall. “You really do plan to stay by me day and night, hmm?”

[Reply]

By Tara Maya on 03.03.09 8:39 pm | Permalink

[a scene from my sequel to THE CAIN LETTERS, CHIMERA FALLS, an urban fantasy thriller]

Alexandra wanted to cry…. “Do not do this. Please.”

The Minion stared her down with reddish, bloodshot eyes. “Kill me.” He licked his pasty lips, tasting the salty rain. “”Kill me.” He smiled. “Do it.” He pressed the knife just a bit more into Alaster’s neck; he twitched, fear injecting more into his stare, a stare bleeding into Alexandra’s soul. “Do it! Save him, Miss Glade. Save him! Kill your trusted guardian of faith! Do it! Do it!”

The Minion was mocking her.

“Felix!” she cried.

Rayment roared. “Dear God, Alex, don’t be manipulated!”

“Ray, please! Please!” she cried.

She shook as she gripped her gun even tighter. “Cardinal…” she whispered.

She stood just a few feet in the water, aiming the gun. The Minion and Alaster stood in the water about fifteen feet from her. Time locked itself with death in a shielded room. The whole world felt like the shielded room. It was just her. Facing the two of them. On the brink of death.

“Cardinal, please…” she said, her voice shaking. “Felix!”

The Minion roared. “Your Cardinal is not here! Gone!” He smiled again, chuckling silent. “Gone, gone, gone. Here’s something for you, this you will like—

“Abide with me…. Fast falls the eventide….”

It was a shot in her heart. Anger welled up…. Somehow, it wasn’t even the Minion’s voice…. To her, she actually heard her mother.

“Kill me.” he said, smiling. “Lord, with me abide….”

[Reply]

By Pierre Roustan on 03.04.09 7:21 am | Permalink

Oooh, how fun! This dialogue is from the second chapter of my current WIP Illusions. I had fun looking through it for a mostly dialogue section.

“Dead again, Ms. Wilhelm.” Mr. Sundberg said loudly in her ear.

“Yes, sir.” Kate closed her eyes and tried not to breathe in the pungent sweat streaming from Mr. Sundberg’s body.

“Ms. Wilhelm, stay in your seat. Everyone else may leave,” he said. The customary noise of students collecting their belongings followed his announcement. Kate could tell several of the students wanted to remain behind. Not out of sympathy for her, but from some twisted desire to see her in emotional tatters.

The last student shut the door with an echoing boom as the reinforced door thudded close, sending an explosion of sound into the silence of the now empty room.

“Ms. Wilhelm,” Mr. Sundberg said, turning his back, “do you know why I kept you behind?”

Because you’re a narcissistic Neanderthal and a piss-poor teacher.

“I kept you because an irresponsible child like yourself needs discipline. If you aren’t willing to put the work into learning this, you may just end up dead.” His voice sounded pleased at the prospect of her dying. Mr. Sundberg wished death upon Kate at least twice a month. It had stopped bothering her some time ago, mostly.

Mr. Sundberg turned back to face Kate, and started at the sudden change in her appearance.

“What’s wrong, Mr. Sundberg?” Kate asked innocently.

His eyes bulged and his breath wheezed.

“I don’t think that shade of purple is natural. Should I call a nurse?”

“Get. Out. Now.”

Kate quickly collected her books and left, smiling.

[Reply]

By judall on 03.04.09 5:21 pm | Permalink

Hey – the “Because you’re a narcissistic Neatherthal and a piss-poor teacher” is Kate’s thought. I didn’t know how to italicize in blogger.

Thanks.

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By judall on 03.04.09 5:23 pm | Permalink

i saw her sitting there alone, should i approach her and strike up a conversation or just walk by. i was told she was untouchable, one to stay away from one who if you became involved with will rip your heart out and throw it to the dogs. i heard she was the elusive kind, involved in deep thoughts and an air of mystery always hovered over her, and again i ask myself side with caution and move on, or take a deep dark plunge

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By mindy on 03.04.09 8:51 pm | Permalink

Man, these are all great! This is going to be tough! Good luck all, and thanks for playing!

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By Sarah Jensen on 03.05.09 1:08 am | Permalink

“How are you doing today, Lauren?” Smith looked serious.

“Not great, detective.” Lauren motioned for him to come in. “I don‘t want to beat around the bush. Do you think we will find Lisa?”

Smith sighed. This part of his job never got any easier. “I think you need to prepare yourself for the worst. It looks like Lisa is pretty heavily involved in the local vampire culture. Are you familiar with it?”

Lauren shook her head. “Just what I read in her journal. I thought she just liked to dress funny and pretend. I never knew it went as far as drinking blood. What is wrong with these people?”

“Most of them are harmless. They fixate on vampire mythology and live as if vampires are real. Some drink blood and call themselves vampires. Others offer their blood willingly.

“Typically, these ‘vampires’ don’t go after anyone who isn’t willing, and they keep to themselves. But–” Smith stopped as he noticed Lauren beginning to look faint. “Lauren, maybe you should have a seat.”
Lauren nodded and moved to the couch.

“There have been a couple missing girls in the past few months. They all had ties to the local ‘vampires’. And there has been no trace of them. I’m hoping for the best, but your sister’s disappearance fits the pattern.”

Smith could see tears in Lauren’s eyes. Even though she asked for the truth, he knew she had been hoping he could give her some shred of hope.

[Reply]

By Jennifer Roland on 03.05.09 4:48 pm | Permalink

This is from my WIP young-adult novel about an 18-year-old girl, Anne, who is sent to live with her grandmother in Paris in October 2005. She begins to learn about her famous ancestor’s past, but then stumbles onto her own mother’s mysterious past. In this scene, Anne is beginning to learn the truth about her mother, who she thought died ten years prior.

———

Anne froze. “But Dad told me she died.”

“She did die.” Grand-mère grasped the wine glass’s stem as if ready to snap it in two. “But she died here.”

“So, she really worked at a bakery in Paris? She lived here? With you?”

“She did, for a brief time,” Grand-mère admitted with a nod.

“Then why did my dad lie?” Anne asked. She didn’t feel calm, but neither her hands nor her voice shook.

“That’s something to ask your father. I’m sure he had his reasons for saying what he did.” Grand-mère reached across the table, took Anne’s bowl coated with a bit of onion and broth, and left the room before another question escaped Anne’s lips.

Grand-mère returned quickly, brushing her hands off against one another, and she looked at Anne as if it were any other day, any other moment, any other conversation. “Be careful when you go out,” Grand-mère said. “Two boys were killed last night in a nearby suburb—”

“I watched the news this morning.”

“Since those boys died last night, there’s been some burning of cars—as if that would effect any change. But you should be careful. When people get angry, they don’t always do the smartest things.”

“Why wasn’t I told that my mom moved to Paris?”

“Darling, it’s in the past. What do you say in America? ‘Let sleeping dogs lie.’”

Grand-mère left the room again, leaving Anne alone, staring at the vase of daisies, wondering what else she didn’t know.

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By Liz S on 03.07.09 5:37 pm | Permalink

I love the name of your blog

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By kathy55439 on 03.08.09 8:39 am | Permalink