Quarantine story contest

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ZarockNight
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Quarantine story contest

Postby ZarockNight » Sun Mar 22, 2020 3:56 pm

*Tacked to the board a new flier lists a new contest*

COME ONE, COME ALL

In these dangerous time, we must find and face the darkness in us all..

So i am holding a writing contest, a short story.

Rules:

Must take place in a single location. (small location, IE, a bedroom, house, secluded section of a park or larger building.)

1 character minimum, max of 5 main.

Portray Hope in some way.

At least 5 paragraphs no more than 15.

Post the story below.

As always stories must conform to Rules of DG.

Winner will be announced on Sunday March 29th
You have until Saturday at midnight EST
you have one week, after i post the winner i will post the next story contest. and again every week a new one will be posted.

Any questions please ask.
Last edited by ZarockNight on Mon Mar 30, 2020 1:57 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Pallas
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Re: Quarantine story contest

Postby Pallas » Sat Mar 28, 2020 2:07 am

The rogue had joined the exodus from towns and headed out into more open spaces. He decided on the western mountains. The harsh conditions might discourage too many others from heading that way. And among howling winds, snowstorms and freezing temperatures the food supplies he had with him should stay fresh for quite some time. Once up in the mountains he dug out a small dwelling-place. He’d brought cloaks to line the floor, flint and tinder to light candles and to melt snow and ice as a source of water, as much food as he could carry, and traps which he set around his chosen area. There might not be many creatures to catch, but any success would eke out his supplies.

He set a routine for himself. On waking he would fill a pot with ice and set a small fire beneath it allowing the ice to melt but ensuring the water produced would not boil away. Then he would check his traps. If there was no snowstorm, no wind strong enough to blow out a fire, he would cook a hot meal. He would stay outside for a while before returning to his temporary home for some sleep. The turns began to pass, one after another, each the same as the last. Before sleeping he would write a few words in his journal – not because there was anything of note to record, but as a way of marking the passage of time. And, the grim thought sometimes came to mind, the journal would be a way to leave his last thoughts and make his farewells should things not go well.

He’d been apart from all others in the lands for a quarter-cycle or so when his routine was disrupted. Making his way out into a howling wind he was startled by the sight of a young girl standing just outside his shelter. She looked about eight. Taken aback, he asked who she was, how she was there, whether she was alone and did she have a place of safety. The serious expression on her face did not change. She merely nodded in reply to the last two questions.

‘Stay a moment,’ he said before going back into his shelter. He came back out with a bowl of hot soup and a waterskin of freshly-melted snow. He handed them to the youngster and she accepted them with a slight smile. There was a sudden heavy flurry of snow. When it cleared to a slight extent a split-marc later, he was alone again. The was no sign of the girl, and no visible footprints in the surrounding snow.

She was there again on each of the following turns. She did not speak, simply gave a small smile as the rogue offered food and a refill of the waterskin. His gift of a doll made from animal-skin and stuffed with tinder was accepted with a wider smile, but still with no words. Every turn the rogue tried to follow the little girl but whether she left during a snow-squall or when the air was clear he was never able to find a trail to follow.

There came a dawn when he woke to the sound of a blizzard howling outside his shelter. He felt sick and dizzy, his skin felt as though it was burning. Cursing the illness which had finally caught up with him he forced himself to his feet, staggering as he carried the last of his supply of soup and water outside. She was there as usual, though this time a frown came to her face as she watched the rogue struggle to stand, holding at bay by sheer willpower the shaking in his arms so that the precious foodstuffs would not spill into the snow. He could barely see the girl. As soon as she took the proffered supplies he turned away, pausing only to warn her to stay away because he now was suffering from the illness. Another wave of dizziness overcame him and he dropped to the snow-covered ground and was forced to crawl back into his shelter.

It may have been later the same turn. Or it might nave been one or more turns later when he next woke. He didn’t have strength to move. Even though unmoving on the floor of his hollow in the snow waves of dizziness swept over him. He felt a raging thirst. He’d never felt his temperature to be so high. He heard voices though wasn’t sure if they were real or just the fancies of a fevered mind.
Two adventurers entered. ‘Thought there was someone here in trouble,’ said one. ‘Though how you arranged the display of lights above your shelter I don’t know. And just in time, I reckon. One more turn and we’d be burying you right now.’

‘Lights?’ the rogue mumbled quietly. ‘I have no lights.’ A sudden thought came to his mind and he struggled to sit up. ‘The girl! There’s a young girl around here somewhere … you have to find her.’

‘No, we’ve search all around this area. There’s nobody else. We have a stretcher with us. We’ll get you somewhere we can treat you better than in here.’ The two loaded the rogue onto their makeshift stretcher and carried him outside. The snowstorms had ceased and the ‘rifter was visible as a pale orb in the sky. The rogue could see streamers of light pulsing just above the place of shelter where he had for a while lived, and ultimately almost died. He shook his head, wondering at the sight. His mind, numbed from its usual quick thought and rapid grasp of events, could come up with no explanation.

Then a voice came, rolling through the air. ‘Those who offer aid to one in distress will always find help in their own time of need.’
Image

The joke is on the bloke who never spoke a word at all
But whose dreams lay unrevealed 'til they were rotten ...

Lindisfarne 'The Things I Should Have Said'

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ZarockNight
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Re: Quarantine story contest

Postby ZarockNight » Mon Mar 30, 2020 1:58 am

By default winner is Pallas. Thank you for trying.

New theme is posted .


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