Saturday, November 17, 2012

40th #SatSunTails

Welcome to the #SatSunTails microfiction competition.

Be warned – the prompts aren’t easy, but that’s so you can write to the best of your ability.

If you haven’t had a go before at this writing challenge, then please don’t hesitate to try this weekend.

Rules!

  • Post stories in the comments
  • Stories must be 150 words (margin of 5 words either side) AND based on the picture and written prompts.
  • If you title your entry this is not counted in your word count.
  • Only one entry allowed (so make it count)
  • End each entry with word count and name/twitter handle (if you forget these REPLY TO YOUR OWN COMMENT with them before judging closes)
  • Monday 11am GMT is the expected closing time for entries BUT the competition will be open until I put a ‘competition closed’ comment so you may be able to slip something in (because I’m extra kind like that). Got that?

If you do not comply with these rules your story will be disqualified from judging. Good spelling and grammar will also help to make a better impression on judges – the odd typo, however, will be overlooked so please don’t worry about that.

For tips, read through the critiques from last week’s entries.

Winners!

There will be ONE OVERALL WINNER and THREE RUNNERS UP. After that there will be THREE CRITIQUES of three stories that didn’t make it.

It would also be nice to those participating if you could promote your fellow competitors and those who win.

Today’s Prompt!

The following may be used as a sentence in your story OR provide a basis for it:-

“time’s miscreant”

And here is your picture prompt:

& good luck!

10 comments:

  1. It was 1982 when the world went to shit. I remember it like it were yesterday. I’d just turned 17 and found a letter on my bed directing me to a time machine. We’d just thrown out our black and white television set which I saw as the beginning of the end.
    I went through the portal, curious as I am, into another time, but when I came back, only an hour for me, everything had changed. Number one, I was late for dinner, and would most likely be grounded and number two, I was now what would later be known as a time miscreant, going to and fro screwing with both the past and the future.
    My name’s GEA and if you think time traveling is fun and games, you’ve never seen the other side. Here’s your warning; time may not be short, but it is a vindictive bitch.

    @fetterslopez
    150 words

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I love it. Sounds like a great introduction to a novel.

      Delete
  2. He stood before the council somewhat vexed by their rebuke.

    “I wanted to help them, they are such small unintelligent creatures, unbelievably stupid. How can they survive without us?”

    “The human race are on their own. It is not your place to interfere. You know the rules; three strikes and you are out. We have no other option but to terminate you.”

    “Oh I don’t think so.”

    They may have wrenched his time band from his wrist but he had fashioned another time jumping device from the battered TV set.

    It just required fine tuning.

    The Celts were first bemused by his appearance, but they looked great in blue.

    He sorted out his skin tone when he reached the Tudors only to be denounced for witchcraft.

    All his intergalatic jokes and Queen Victoria remained steadfastly unamused.

    This was his final chance to find a time when he would be accepted.

    @reravelling
    150 words

    ReplyDelete
  3. War Torn
    By Lisa McCourt Hollar

    Fay shuffled through the debris, looking for something that might feed her brother. Food had been scarce since the war ended. A cracked television sat on the ground among the rubble, a reminder of happier times.

    “I just want to go to sleep,” Billy said, sitting down in a pile of ash. Fay rushed to pull him up, not sure that the dust wasn’t once human.

    “Billy, no, we have to keep moving.”

    Those that stopped and slept in the open were often dead the next day. Zombies hadn’t stumbled out of their graves, as Romero had suggested. Instead Cannibals were the concern.

    “What’s this?” Fay bent to pick up the object she’d kicked with her foot. It was a book… not the electronic kind that was now worthless without electricity, but an honest to God book.

    A tear spilled over as she read the title: Times Miscreant. The author was… had been, their father.

    Word Count: 155
    @jezri1

    ReplyDelete
  4. Broken

    She shuffled down the alleyway, her battered Chuck Taylors kicking up dust from the cracked pavement below. Her jeans were so ripped and frayed she’d taken to wearing leggings under them to keep the grit and the grime of the city off her skin.

    She supposed she ought to get rid of them but they went so perfectly with her faded black tee proclaiming “BITE ME” to the world at large. She didn’t wear her clothes for fashion but rather to make a statement.

    Maybe if she dressed oddly enough and acted strangely enough, it would shock her parents out of their lethargy. Maybe an electric-blue Mohawk, 17 piercings and full-sleeve tattoos were what it would take to get them to remember they had a daughter…a daughter that needed them desperately.

    Kicking the carcass of a busted old TV, she sighed with the realization she felt every bit as broken and useless as it was.

    155 words @klingorengi

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. p.s. i realize I didn't actually use the prompt phrase but was rather going for the sentiment that, over time, she has been forced to become more miscreant in her quest for attention.

      Delete
    2. I didn't actually use the prompt phrase either - we are such rebels!

      Delete
  5. Still
    He took a picture of her legs, stepping back a little to get the old tv in too. 'Time's Miscreant' was the name of this weeks piece. His internet followers loved the photos as much as the videos.
    He stopped for a moment and made her turn around, admiring the tattered jeans that fitted perfectly over her shapely legs. "This will be the last one." he said, bending over the camera.
    While she changed behind the screen in the corner of the studio, he went and got his special box with the needle inside.
    She didn't struggle as he plunged the needle in her neck. He liked it when they were so vulnerable. The only thing he liked more was when they woke up on the table and realised what was happening.
    The day was the anniversary of his website. 'She will be my masterpiece' he thought, smiling as he carried the limp body.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Word Count - 154
      @oswelela

      Delete
  6. Competition is closed - have unfortunately had a lot to deal with this week and will get to judging this as soon as possible and write a second explanation post about my absence and apologies.

    ReplyDelete

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