Against the Flow Writing Contest [AFWC] [winners announced]

[atsimg]http://files.abovetopsecret.com/images/member/697251c66824.jpg[/atsimg]

Against the Flow Writing Contest

Conspiracy is what brings us to Above Top secret and this contest is asking you to tell a story on your favourite subject. What conspiracy brought you here? What is your most driving interest?

Write a fictional story surrounding your favourite topic on ATS. The story should contain some sort of a plot devised by conspirators, be they the PTB, Big Pharma, the Elites or the neighbour you believe is a lizard.

It can be funny, sad, scary or just plain silly. Judges will be looking for the most creative idea posted.

This contest ends in January 7 of next year, so you have plenty of time.

Rules:


• Submit as a seperate thread in the Short Story forum.
  
  
• Title MUST contain [AFWC].
  
  
• All T&C's apply
  
  
• Contest runs until midnight on January 7.
  
  
• Submissions must contain a minimum of 500 words.
  
  
• One story per contestant. Member can replace story submissions at any time and as often as they like. Please U2U me for replacements.
  
  Prizes:
  
  
• 1st place - 30,000 ATS points
  
• 2nd place - 25,000 ATS points
  
• 3rd place - 20,000 ATS points
  
• Undetermined number of honourable mentions - 5,000 ATS points each
  

Note:

All successfully entered submissions will receive Writer Status.

The contest is open to all members of Abovetopsecret who have their 20 initial posts.

 

[edit on 11/1/10 by masqua]

Good deal!

I missed the last few, so really looking forward to contributing this time around.

I am "in love" with your paintings. Absolutely gorgeous.

"Sorcerer" just screams at me...I am jealous of the wall that it hangs on.

Very nice!

reply to post by Mr Mask


Thank you!!!

I hope it's inspiration for a short story, Mr Mask. The sorcerer is a therianthrope... a combination man, bear, buck, horse and owl symbolizing a shaman active in the spirit world.

Imagine yourself as the sorcerer and other beings, like the insect people below, climbing the 'rope' to come visit you.

Against the flow? Ok, I'm in. I think this one has potential. I can come up with a few ideas on how to incorporate a conspiracy into a story. I'm going to have to really think about this one. Great topic!

Thank you so much for this. I'll definitely be cooking up ideas for my potential entry. Good deal.

Teaser Story

Groaning, I got up off the couch and the empty beer can rolled off my stomach and onto the floor, clattering on the linoleum. My God, what a headache! That was some party last night, what I can remember of it. For sure, there was that bunch of nutjobs from two floors down and I remembered Big Sam and Georgie screaming and hollering over the tunes blasting out of the player.

Standing up, I reached over to turn the thing off and almost fell over with the sudden stab of pain in my head. Man... no way to start a day. I need a coffee BAD, so I started this weaving stumble into the kitchen and almost slipped on a pizza box with two slimy slices spilling out of it. The place was a disaster, like normal.

The noonday sun was blazing in the window over the sink and I had to shield my eyes for fear of being blinded. The thumping in my head was ridiculous. It sounded like an old washing machine with an uneven load in it. Grimacing, I filled the carafe with water and poured it into the reservour of the coffee maker... well, most of it anyways. The filter was only half full, so I poured enough ground coffee into it to fill it, slammed the lid shut and, grimacing with another stab of sudden pain, hit the on button.

Time for a body check. No. not me, I know I'm half here, I mean the bedroom in this craphole apartment. Slouching along through through the living room one more time, I gently nudged the pizza slices back into the box with my toes. I could get hungry again later, I thought, and scratched my sore head while making my way to the closed door.

I knocked really quietly and made some kind of grunting noise. Damned if I didn't hear some rustling in there. I knocked again, asking "hey, whose in there?"

Nothing.

"I'm coming in..."

Nothing.

Turning the knob, I shoved the door open just far enough to stick my head in. There, on the bed, was Big Sam, covered in blood. Holding him by his hair, bending his head back and looking me square in the eyes was the evilist looking thing I'd ever had a nightmare over.

"Get OUT!!!", it snarled.

"Sorry", I said and closed the door.

You know, hangovers disappear real fast sometimes. Seems like all the wobbly brains went down to my knees, because I sure as hell couldn't move fast enough.



Number of words: 430 www.wordcounttool.com...

Dang... another 70 words and I could enter it into the contest.

I guess I'm going to have to continue it... no conspiracy here yet, just a vampire drinking the life out of Big Sam. How does a vampire handle a high blood/alcohol level that Sam for sure had going last night anyways?

[edit on 17/11/09 by masqua]

... got my invitation

.... can't wait

www.abovetopsecret.com...

Teaser Story continued...

Big Sam. Oh, geez... Big Sam didn't look healthy lying spread-eagled across that bed. In fact, he looked whiter than those filthy sheets still not stained with his blood. The crazy thing is, I was actually thinking I should get them washed as I stormed through the hall and down the emergency stairwell. My heart was pumping a mile a minute and the thought of standing and waiting for an elevator was just not on. Taking the flights in two strides each, I'd just passed the 17th floor when I realized that maybe I should check in with that crowd two floors below me. It was hard to do, but I did climb the stairs back up to the landing and headed for their apartment at the far side of the building.

Their door was ajar, like always, and several beer cases spilling over with empties lined the entranceway. I did a little knock on the closet door and gave a
fairly loud "Hey!", which was immediately responded to by a dishevelled head popping around the corner of the kitchen doorway.

"It's the party dude", he said, grinning through his 2 week-old beard, "How's it hangin', sport?

"uh..."

"Holy crap, man, you look wasted!", he said, walking into the living room carrying a beer, "You OK? You look like crap. Wanna brewski?

"No. I mean, yeah."

Suddenly the idea of a beer was just the ticket. He pulled a fresh one out of a case by the couch and, after twisting the cap off, handed it to me. I watched as he snapped the cap away like a mini-frisbee into the pile of empties by the door. I took a long drink out of that bottle, about half, burped like a trooper, and immediately felt better.

"where's everybody?", I asked, knowing there's 5 guys sharing this flat. He nooded towards the bedrooms down the hall and said they've all crashed. The sleeping bag on the couch told me where this guy was sleeping.

"I'm Brad, by the way," he said, and extended his hand for the usual howareya. Taking it for the standard single pump, I said, "Paul here" and took another pull off the bottle.

"Seen Georgie around?" I asked.

"Georgie... you mean the guy that came with Big Sam?

"Yeah."

"Uh, no... he was still there when we left. He was making out with some chick, last I saw. You, my man, were out of it by then.

"yeah... it was those shooters."

Brad laughed and mentioned he'd lost count after the 6th shooter I'd downed while standing on the coffee table. Apparently, I'd just made it to the couch before crashing. I drank the last of the beer, burped again, and Brad repeated the procedure of handing me a fresh one.

"Thanks." I smiled, accepting the beer. "Who came around after I passed out? I don't remember any chicks at the party."

"Yeah, there was a threesome that came in. Two girls and a guy. Those ladies were hot, man! We partied for a bit with them, but none of us were in any condition for romance. One of them went straight for Big Sam and Georgie saddled up to the other one."

"what about the guy?"

"Oh, he was a quiet type. They brought some wine and he just sat around sipping out of a bottle. Didn't look like he was interested in what the chicks were up to. I figured he was a brother or something... like, he wasn't going with either one of them. The guy didn't say much, just sat there smiling and listening to the conversations."

I took another long pull out of that bottle and sat down.

"Brad...?" I said, looking all serious now.

"yea?"

"I think Big Sam is dead..."

All done! And Then There Were Two

If it's deemed too horrible, then just let me judge instead

[edit on 11/19/2009 by Juston]

DOH ..... wrong link , try this ?

End game cheats ......the escape [ AFWC ]


or this ..... ? www.abovetopsecret.com...

Hey guys n' gals, here's my submission, hope you enjoy

If you find this, tell my story

My Submission, suggestions/thoughts are welcome!

Majestic! Cemel Dosce!

I am going to try to enter this one. I love sci-fi/horror and I already have a few ideas so far.

Teaser Story continued

Brad looked at me funny for just a sec, took a long drink out of his beer, burped and said "Yeah...".

I stared at him and said nothing other than take a swig myself.

"Lemmie get this straight. You come over here, have a couple of beers and then tell me that you 'think Big Sam is dead?"

"yeah."

"You left your apartment with Big Sam in it and you think he's dead, you're not sure, but you left anyways and came over for a beer. Man, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"He wasn't alone. There was a guy in there with him and they were both covered in blood... well, the guy's face was, but Sam had blood all over him and he wasn't moving. I think his throat was cut. The guy told me to get out, I did. I wasn't gonna hang around with all that blood all over the place... you know?"

"Oh...", Brad knitted his forehead and I could see he was getting to the nub of things.

I reached over and pulled a couple more beers out of the case and handed one to him. "Wanna go back and have a look? I'm sure as hell not going back alone."

"Yeah. Let's get the others outa bed and we'll head back up to your place."

With that, Brad went over to his record player (yeah, he's got a turntable) and put on Tubular Bells, cranking the volume up to kinda loud. He then went into the kitchen to make coffee for the others. Me, I was getting a nice little buzz from the third beer which I was now just sipping away at. Man, it tasted soooo good. Walking over to his vinyl collection I saw that it was all stuff from the 60's and 70's. Each jacked had a plastic cover and each disc inside had those Angel covers too. Hadn't seen them in ages.

The Tubular Bells were crazy, but good.

Got my idea. I'm in. This is gonna be fun.

A question . . .

Pretend this is my title:

ASSUMED GLORY

Would the title have to be:

ASSUMED GLORY--AGAINST THE FLOW WRITING CONTEST

or

ASSUMED GLORY--[ATFWC]

Or would either be acceptable?

reply to post by BO XIAN


I'd accept the second, but would prefer 'Assumed Glory [AFWC]'

reply to post by BO XIAN


ASSUMED GLORY [AGAINST THE FLOW WRITING CONTEST] ?

OR

ASSUMED GLORY [ATFWC] ?

OR

ASSUMED GLORY AGAINST THE FLOW WRITING CONTEST ?

WHICHEVER IS FINE WITH ME.

Originally posted by BO XIAN
reply to post by BO XIAN

 

ASSUMED GLORY [AGAINST THE FLOW WRITING CONTEST] ?

OR

ASSUMED GLORY [ATFWC] ?

OR

ASSUMED GLORY AGAINST THE FLOW WRITING CONTEST ?

WHICHEVER IS FINE WITH ME.

None of the above.

Only Assumed Glory [AFWC]



I think your caps lock is stuck.