Writing Effects of the Mind Preliminaries [PG-VSL]

[JJ]

[Color=DarkBlue]In the mind, we all have untapped potential that only through certain outside forces can we begin to tap into them. Why not let yours out?

What I want to see here, is a group of awesome writers doing what they're known for, their writing. In the similar effect of the the Art Studio, this will be a "battle". The contestants participating will set the rules, and the topic. Once everything is agreed on, the thread'll be set up, and the deadline for the piece, and they'll post.

From there, it will be up to the public to decide who wins. Polls will be set up, and for every vote that's cast, it'd be nice if you gave an overall critique for the writers, because it's the only way to grow.

And now, if your still interested in parcipating, this what you'll need to post here...

A piece of entrance is required. It shouldn't be anymore than 500 words, but no less than 200. It doesn't matter on what topic you write, but the story must have a beginning, middle, and end. A rating in the title would also be nice, just to warn everyone ahead of time. The title also doesn't count in the 500 limit.

So, in sum, I hope everyone likes the idea, and I look forward to seeing the entrant topics.

[B]The Deadline for the Prelims is Monday, July 4th[/B]

Good Luck![/color]

[Color=DarkSlateGrey]PS: Lady A, if this needs a rating as a whole, make it M-VLS. I wasn't sure, so I figure I'll just add a note here.[/color]

[Sakura]

[b]OOC: [/b]Umm....This was hard since I'm not used to writing 500 word stories. I'm pretty tired since its 11 something at night and I had school today, and I have school tomorrow.
[center][color=Navy][u][b]A Shattered Lifestyle
[M for Abuse (Sexual and Physical though not detailed)][/b][/u]
[/color]
[/center]
[color=Navy]A female sat at the edge of a fountain, her hand trailed through the water lazily, drifting back and forth. She looked down at the koi that swam around the basin sighing. The sky was a clear blue, with only a few wispy cirrus clouds to be seen. Sakura was eighteen years old, without both parents?[/color]

[color=Navy]Sakura?s mother had left when she was only a small girl at the age of four. She had tried to take Sakura along, but He filed for custody, and with a large web of lies and a corrupt lawyer, He had won custody and she had been denied visitation rights.[/color]

[color=Navy]He, her father, was abusive, the reason her mother had left in the first place. As she grew up, He abused her. He was a drunkard without a job, the house was dirty and run down, and she grew without a good influence in her life. Sakura never called Him father, He didn?t deserve the title in her books, and He had done nothing to prove that He did.[/color]

[color=Navy]At first He only beat her physically, in His drunken state He was still smart enough to only leave marks in places that would be covered in clothes or in places that didn?t leave marks, like the temple. Sakura dreaded the end of every school day, when she had to return home and face Him, to take the beating because there was nothing she could do about it, not while He hung a threat to kill her over her head.[/color]

[color=Navy]When Sakura was in year 7, she started to mature and He took advantage of that, taking the abuse to the next level, sexual abuse. At her young age, all He did was touch her where He shouldn?t have, but it left a scar, everything He did to her left a deep mark in her mind.[/color]

[color=Navy]As Sakura matured more, it got worse. From year 9 onwards, the abuse gradually got worse. She was only saved when her group of friends at school discovered her secret of why she always wore clothes that covered herself by tackling her painfully and agitating a wound she had been given. Before she could say anything they had checked her and ran to tell the nurse and principal.[/color]

[color=Navy]The school called the police, the nurse called the ambulance. He was killed because He tried to take her hostage with a knife as a weapon, shot 5 times. Sakura was 17.[/color]

[color=Navy]She lived on her own and fixed up the house to its previous state, before He had trashed it. Sakura threw out all the furniture and bought new things. When she was complete, she was happy, it was over, He was gone, and she was free.[/color]

[Raiyuu]

[font=Trebuchet MS]Nobody enjoys spending rush hour in a tube station. Nobody, that is, except a man who delights in the casual observation of others. This man - nondescript in a grey shirt and navy business suit, with a black briefcase, he could be any form of office worker or civil servant - isn't even waiting for a train, at least not in the normal sense. He sits, relaxed, in one of Kensington Gardens' uncomfortable perforated-steel bucket chairs, and allows his eye to rove the crowds that exit each train.

Here he sees a woman struggle from the carriage with a pushchair, and seeing her slightly frightened expression, he imagines that she is fleeing an abusive spouse, or perhaps abducting a child she is supposed to be babysitting. A half-smile tugs at his face. More likely, he surmises, she is purely worried the doors will close before she can properly exit the train.

There he sees a young child - ten years, maybe a little older? - heading purposefully for the staircase that leads outside, and imagines that he is running away from home, having heard tales of how London's streets are gold-paved. He wonders briefly what it says about his own subconscious, that he imagines so many people to be running. Of course, the child's mother catches up soon enough, and his fantasy is dispelled.

From the next train to arrive comes a man similarly dressed to the observer. He casually unbuttons his suit jacket as he alights; looks around for an unoccupied seat, and though there are many, chooses to sit with company, placing his briefcase between the seats.

The man imagines this second man is an agent of some shadowy, clandestine organisation, working behind the world's scenes to bring down governments. His choice of seat is not random; there is a secret document taped to the seat's underside, or some message written in code on the opposite wall of the tunnel, which can only be deciphered from this precise position.

Abruptly, he tires of observation. Picking up the briefcase from its position side-by-side with the other, he walks towards the stairs, heading up into the heavy air of London.

The second man picks up the briefcase left behind by the first man, opens it; smiles and nods to himself.

As the observer heads for home, carrying his colleague's briefcase, he thinks to himself how much more interesting real life can be than imagination.
[/font]

[Goodbye, Face]

Edited for length.

[size=1]So I was driving across Route 66 to California. I was coming across this mountainside when I started having these visions from my past. I remembered way back to the time I murdered that little kid? I was driving, it was dark. I didn?t see him, I swear! This was different, I was approaching the boy, and I saw his face, bleached from my headlights? I could see him. What he did next was like something out of a scary movie? He stared right at me. He then gave the hood of my truck a powerful slam. My truck did entire flips over him and landed right back on its four wheels. I exited my truck and walked toward him. He turned around and let out a shriek that would pierce anyone?s eardrums, but fortunately, it was just a dream.

I woke up, somehow pulled over. There was a man at my window. He wasn?t a cop, looked like a bit of a country hick, but who am I to judge who a redneck is? I?m the one with a pickup truck.

?Hey, you alright? I was going to ask you for a ride, but I?m not too sure about that anymore,? the stranger said.

?Yeah, where am I??

?You?re in Wyoming, Route 66, you almost crashed into this tree here. When I came over here to see you, you were mumbling all this crazy junk.?

?Well, I don?t think you need to worry, where you going? Wait, you don?t have a car?

?I?m trying to get to California, I?ve been walking for a day and a half, and I?m very tired.?

?First time I?ve heard about anyone doing something like that,? I said.

?Well, I guess we both have reasons not to trust each other, I guess we?re friends then, I?m Stan.?

?I?m John, hop in. So where you staying in Cali??

?Haven?t decided yet.?

?Ok, I guess I?ll take you to my hotel.?

He began to doze off for a while. After about three minutes of snoring, he started yelling, saying that he didn?t want to die yet. So I pulled the car over, I tried to wake him up, and he said that he was dreaming about being ran over.
I was trying to cross the street from the store, I remember getting hit, then I remember waking up at home.?

?I have a similar memory, except I was the one behind the wheel??

He grabbed me by my shirt and dragged me out of my truck. He shoved me into a noise barrier.

?It was you!? he began to yell, ?it was you, I remember your face, I remember your truck, it was you!?

He began to circle around me, he picked me up again, this time by my neck. I was losing air fast. I felt everything swirling around me. It was all turning black?

I remember clearly now what happened that night. Everything happens for a reason. You never know how two people are connected in this world. The boy I left for dead grew up to be my executioner. You could be another victim, you could be another urban legend? Just trust me.[/size]

[Guest Sean]

As the tree?s start shedding there coats, and letting their leaves fly off, the sky lets go of all it?s tightly wound up energy and attack each other, bright lights shining in the sky, and thunderous roars which would shake the house below. And life goes on, a mere 20 miles from the storm, life is trundling past as the shutters are closed after another hard days living. Small children are pushed into their homes, and footballs roll down the roads of the small town. Life, in such a small place was simple and predictable, until the doors are closed and the sun down, that?s when the real horrors begin.

?Momma, where?s paw tonight??

The mother scowled at the little girl who only looked 8 years old, but the little girl knew that look she got, but thought none-the-better and sat down. Her mother stood up, bringing out a whip from behind the chair.
The little girls eyes widened, and her mother closed in on her, the girl tried pushing back, but the soft cushions stopped her from going any further, her mother was too close, she couldn?t jump over the chair, she was trapped.

The whip was brought down hard upon the girls bare skin, she screamed loudly as the lashing continued, her mother was shouting abuse, how the girl was good-for-nothing, and would turn out to be a cheap whore, the little cried, and struggled, but no-one came to help her. The pain, slowly ending as the adverts came to an end on the television, the brutality stopping as the mothers television programme started again. In another 15 minutes, the pain would resume.

The little girl got locked in her mothers room, where she was threatened that if she tried to leave or tell anyone what happened she would be dead. The little girl heard the door close, and she flinched, she knew that her father and her mother would start arguing, then he would come and hurt her, in different ways.

And as the little girl wept in her mothers bedroom to the sounds of her parents arguments, more brutality was beginning, as men attacked their wives with anything from metal poles, to sexual harassment. Pain was felt through the city, but nobody would ever guess that the pain goes on during the day.

[JJ]

[Font=Arial]?Wait, so your saying our anscestors didn?t run the show here?? The llama said to the squirrel.

?Yeah, apparently, you were a pack mule, and I was a rabid disease carrier.? The squirrel replied, taking a sip of his tea.

?You?ve got to be kidding.? The llama said, his jaw seeming to drop.

?Would I joke of something that weird?? The squirrel replied, looking into the llama?s eyes, ?Besides, My great, great, great grandfather Foamy was one of the leaders of the rebellion against the human pigs.?

?Was he a war hero?? The llama asked, fascinated.

?No, he fought with his words. By forcing the White House under, he took control, and from there it became a man against squirrel free for all. In South America?? The squirrel began to say, but was interrupted.

?In South America, we took over. After we heard about what happened in North America, we decided we should have our day as well. We first attacked them in the fields, giving those who weren?t there no indication that anything was wrong. We then went on to attack the innocent, and enslave the children and women. From there, we destroyed the crumbling government, and took complete control.? An older llama a table away said, smiling.

?How did you know that?? The squirrel asked, looking inquisitive.

?I found one of those outdated Camcorders, and they had everything on tape.? He said, sipping his cup. ?I work in the Records area of the S/L Library.?

?Oh wow. That it is cool.? The llama said, ?Would you like to join us??

?Mr. H Mamabad.? He said, trotting over.

?Wow, Mr. Mamabad, I?m honered.? The llama said, sticking his hoof out. ?I?m K Isllamabad. Maybe we?re related somehow.?

?I doubt it.? The squirrel said finishing his tea, ?I?m Greg.?

?Nice to meet you two.? H.M. said, smiling.

?So, do you know if the rumors about the human uprising are true?? K.I said, finishing his drink.

?They are, and you two should prepare for combat.? H.M said, looking grim. ?They?re pulling out the nuclear weapons this time.?

Greg gasped, ?But I thought we??

?So did the government.? H.M. said, still looking grim.

?What are we supposed to do?? K.I. asked, looking worried.

?Just, stay alert boys.? H.M. said, getting up from the table.

K.I. waved goodbye, and watched as the older llama slinked off into the shadows.

?Some people are so pessimistic.? Greg said, waving to the waiter.

?You know it.? K.I. said, his head darting around.

?Chill out, that guy was obviously joking around.? Greg said, standing up.

That was the last thing Greg or K.I ever heard. The blast obliterated the entire town.

At the pearly white gates?.

?See, this is what you get for not listening to the crazy guy.? K.I. said to Greg.

Greg just ignored him. ?I?m never eating at an outdoor café again.?[/font]

Due to the holiday, and whatnot, the deadline is being moved to [B]Monday July 11[/B]. So, if anyone else was planning on signing up, you?ve got another week!