If you love writing stories then this contest is for you! Write a one paragraph story about the image above and leave your entry in the comment section below. Be creative and think outside of the box!
Here is last weeks image and winners! Congratulations to the winners and I hope to read more of your stories this week!!
Parents and other local folks would tell us stories of a monster living in the gloomy house at the end of the street hence we should avoid it. But as kids, those warnings were like hints that poked at our curiosity. So when night came, we entered the property through the backyard and snuck by the window. As we peeked inside, we saw a single candle bathe the room in its frail light. And from the dark corner of the room, a figure on his knees rose. Seeing his pale face, my friends freaked out and exclaimed "Monster!" as they run away. My eyes rested on the figure once more, one last look before I would run myself, but I saw something different. I could see his grief, his need to finish his existence. He wanted to die, to be able to finally rest, but he can't. He was trapped in a cage of his own nightmares, left to suffer for all eternity.
2nd place // @maverickinvictus “How a man breaks”
All it takes is just one bad day to make a grown man break. The rain was pouring as I stepped out the office with a box of all my stuff from the past 5 years. I was kicked out of the curb so to speak, fired for saying what was on my mind too many times. Then Jenny apparently was sleeping with Greg from IT and they made it apparent as I picked up my stuff. This was the worse day of my life. As all aspects crumbled down. I fixed the hoodie I was wearing when the paper box's bottom fell out and I started to laugh. I laughed so hard that I blacked out and next thing I knew I was in a police cell with some grunt shouting at me while showing me a video. The video was of a man laughing as he gleefully killed people that I know. Apparently knew. I saw Jenny as her throat was slashed with the talon like fingertips of the hooded man. The hooded man was me and I started to laugh as the darkness spread and everything went black...
A cold dark cellar. Cut off from the outside world. Ash sat cross-legged on the cement floor of the unfinished basement. A dirty mattress and wrinkled clothes crammed into a corner kept him company. He smoked the substance, holding it in his lungs as long as he could. This wasn’t your hippy-dippy shit, this was pure white magic. Toke after toke, the smoke permeated every pore and synapse. The initial buzz was gone, what was left was a yearning that had to be satisfied. At the price of his friends, his family, his job; all worthy sacrifices. Ash fidgeted with his phone and saw his face reflected back on the screen. Dark bags under his eyes, hair tussled and dirty, a mouth sprinkled with sores. The outsiders, the ground people don’t understand. The world is bleak and stupid, full of pointless games and assholes. Ash hit the pipe again and set it aside. Lives varnished with possessions and fake relationships and bullshit. He sprang up off the floor, stretching out his limbs. The phone hit the cement, the screen cracked. Ash tilted his head up and screamed, not out of pain, but acceptance. A dark cracked dweller in his cold dark cellar.
Hey everyone! Here’s the next story image for week #7!!! WOW! I can’t believe that we’ve come this far! I apologize for making this post a day late. I’m running on minimal sleep right now because I’ve been busy helping @kommienezuspadt with set design/assisting for a couple of photo shoots this weekend. I’ll be releasing some behind the scenes images soon.
Prizes:
A portion of the prize pool is a contribution courtesy of @artwatch. Thanks so much for helping to sponsor this writing contest! Please give @artwatch a follow!
Contest Rules:
