Super SoaP! Win $25!! Closed!

[Overlord]

Tome City proudly announces the first ever Super Story of a Picture writing competition!  


Competition Entries:

Entry 1 - Mage Crossing. 30th Dec 09
Entry 2 - Stuck on You. 13th March 10
Entry 3 - If Only. 30th Mar
Entry 4 - Doorways - 31st March.



How to enter, rules and all that jazz. Please read carefully

The rules and so on are just about the same as a regular SoaP, but this time the winner will walk away with a USD25 prize!

1. Look, Write, Submit.

Below this entry a picture will be posted.

Look at the picture and write a short story (max 2010 words) which, at some point, the picture is a part of.

For example. If the picture is of a man jumping through a window, then you can write a story where a man, at some point in the tale, jumps through a window.

In the story you must describe the picture and it must match the picture pretty much exactly.

When you have written the story, PM it to me!! Do not post it below!

Once the competition is closed, the story will be thrown open to the vote.  

Please keep comments to a minimum in this thread whilst the submission phase is underway.

There is no entry fee for this competition.  The winner will get twenty five dollars US (via Paypal only I'm afraid) or as much as a prize in equivalent Tome stuff that I can manage.  

You may enter as many times as you like!

The competition will be closed when I think there's enough entries, or the end of February 2010, so plenty of time!

Entries should be checked carefully and formatted properly before submitting.  I reserve the right to reject writing that I believe is not up to standard!  

Entries that are above the word limit, or don't meet the picture description well enough will also be eliminated with extreme prejudice.  

Entries will be posted exactly as they are submitted.

Entries may be of any genre except explicit pornography.  Erotica or other mature content is probably acceptable.  The Overlord will make a judgment on any borderline material.

All entries must have been written by the submitter, and may not have been posted on Tome previously.

All entries are PMd to me so the authors remain anonymous to reduce prejudice in the voting.  Any author revealing him/herself as a contestant will have all their entries disqualified.  

All submissions remain the property of the author.

By submitting an entry the author agrees to these terms and conditions.  The contestants also agree to have their submitted work published in this thread for the duration of the contest.

The Overlord or a non-interested third party will break any tie.

The Overlord's ruling is final.  

Rules may be added to or adjusted with no notice except the one about submissions remaining property of the author.

Closing date for submissions 31st March 2010

[Overlord]

Here is the picture! 

[Overlord]

“Damn it Heather, I didn’t intentionally cheat on you, I was drunk, very drunk!” Shouted Jack, from his position on the mantel above heather’s fire place. Heather had walked in on him and Lucy kissing. She’d transformed Lucy into a flower arrangement, including what appeared to be orchids. Then she’d picked up picture frame and trapped him in the picture frame. That was one of the major disadvantages of your girlfriend being a powerful half-elf mage, you didn’t ever cheat on them.
“Heather, baby I still love you! Don’t leave me stuck in this picture frame.”
Heather laughed, but there was not joy in that laughter. She was standing 4 feet away, totally naked.
Damn, thought Jack, if only she hadn’t sealed him in this picture frame with his fingers stuck out either side of his face,  he’d have been able to reach his…
“OW!” he screamed. “What the fuck was that for!?”
“Having perverted thoughts about me you fucking bastard. I loved you, you cheating fucktard.” She screamed Heather.
“Damn it woman get out of my head!”
That was the thing about elves and half elves they could invade your mind with ease. He was amazed she hadn’t figured out what was going on so…
“OW, Dear gods, what the fuck Heather, what the fuck is it with you and electrocuting me?”
Heather grinned evilly, but tears stained her face and welled up from her eyes.
“So this has been going on for a while then? How could you do that to me? I trusted you, I didn’t invade your mind before this because I didn’t think you were… were… were doing this, you bastard. You could have had the decency to break up with me before moving on to the next girl.” She broke down then, sobbing uncontrollably.
Well that was just typical, she was over reacting, it had just been a little fling, he needed his piece on the side.
He screamed in agony, this time fire licked hungrily across his face and hands, not electricity. The flames burned him for several more seconds before going out.
Heather cried even more as she turned and ran into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She emerged from the room she was composed, but there was a black look in her eyes, she stalked across their flat and out the door.
“Well this is shit.” Said Jack.
He tried to form a spell that would get him out of the picture frame. When he did think it up he cast it. Nothing happened, damn bitch had put wards up. He hadn’t attempted it whilst she was in the room because she was far more powerful than him, as with all humans, he was not a particularly good mage, sure, he could cast some basic spells and by human standards he was quite powerful, but even the weakest of half-elf mages was a good match for him. Heather was not a weak half-elf mage by any stretch of the imagination, in fact she was the most powerful half-elf in the college, only a few true-elves and the masters and mistresses of the college were more powerful than her. He knew he’d exhaust himself attempting to break her wards far more quickly than she’d exhaust herself maintaining them. Damn it why had he decided to cheat on her? Now he was stuck in a picture frame quite possibly indefinitely and it was damn cramped in here. Well at least she hadn’t bound him in here with any of her… Well shit, he shouldn’t have thought of that one, now she’d summoned a group of sprites to harass him and he couldn’t do jack-shit. Well might as well make the most of a bad situation he thought.

******

Heather strode along the corridors heading towards her lesson, this was fire training, here she would learn of the aspect of fire. She was in her final year so was now learning the really advanced things like how to control a fire from a great distance. This time though, it was a lesson dedicated to a test of control over fire, you had to walk through a furnace set to several thousand degrees, yet remain un harmed by it. She’d leave the bastard in the frame for several more hours yet, then throw the frame with him still in into one of the class rooms, let someone else figure out a counter spell. As for the girl, Lucy, well she’d undo the spell in as soon as the test was over. Let Lucy free, place an illusion over the picture frame so she couldn’t see Jack and use a mind spell to make Lucy forget that she’d been transfigured. She smiled and walked into the furnace.

[Overlord]

I've had several late enquiries about this competition, so I'm going to extend the entry date until the end of March, but no more!

Please remember the entries are supposed to be anonymous, so just PM me your shorts! 

Happy writing! 

[Overlord]

We have another entrant!   

Please remember, authors must not reveal who they are before the voting is over!



Stuck on you

Is it really all that interesting really? He asks himself ruefully as he continued staring, he was starting to get cross eyed. It wasn't even something he would normally look at, and he was trying to break his neck in the process. Why was it just so compelling? Looking at it didn't change anything, it didn't make him feel better, it didn't make him feel any worse he just couldn't stop looking, he didn't even want to blink for fear of... fear of what? Missing something? He doubted anything would really change in the blink of an eye. He felt cramped, he couldn't move, he didn't want to move, he didn't feel compelled to move like he felt compelled to keep on looking. He'd seen them plenty of times before why then couldn't he turn away from this one?

Sighing moved his head half an inch, his frown lines were getting bigger by the minute he thought they way they were being stretched in this contraption. It was like when Alice went down the whole and got smaller only he never got smaller he just got stuck. Tapping his finger on the side of the contraption he continued looking it was really the only interesting thing in the room until its inhabitant walked through the door but who knew how long that would be. And surely he'd by then given up this compulsion to staring. He wasn't a pervert by any means, just it was almost like obsessive compulsive disorder when it came to this one thing, he couldn't help himself. His friends called him Blue cause he had carrot red hair, an Aussie trade mark of course.

He was known for being sentimental but not deranged surely he wondered to himself, maybe he'd had a bad prawn at lunch. Prawns couldn't do this to you could they? But maybe salmonella poisoning could he pondered. Just his luck, he already felt like a voyeur in this guise and now was possibly hallucinating as a deranged... and on top of that he was losing track of his thoughts! It was late, or he'd been here for awhile he couldn't remember which. Either way time seemed pointless to be worrying over when he was more concerned for what he was looking at. Resting his eyes for a moment he fell into a deep sleep unintentionally. Time again continued to pass, the inhabitant of the room entered and laughed when she saw his face.

His perfect angel face, she'd captured that photo of him when he was sleeping not realizing that she'd also capture his soul, his being entirely. A living mortal photo meant that they would be yours for ever and a day unless you break that photo and set them free. Somewhat like the gold fish he'd been staring at it was trapped just like him. The gold fish had been swimming around and around seemingly quite content with his lot in life. If only Blue could have the three seconds memory of a gold fish and he'd possibly be content with living in a picture frame. But he'd only work that out if he were awake and was able to communicate with Pearl. Time was an ironic innuendo that played on its characters as it rolled the dice for them.

Stuck, stuck on someone in love, compulsively stuck, or literally stuck in a photograph meant he was stuck on you. Whatever he did in his previous life he didn't know but hopefully somewhere in time he could bring the karma lord around to his terms. For now the peacefulness of sleep filled his brain and gave him the sense of calm and nothingness. Was this how it was going to be forever? As it always was and always will be time will tell.

[Overlord]

This closes on 31st of March people, come rain or shine!  If you wish to enter, PM your entry to me ASAP!

 

[Overlord]

Lucy couldn’t actually remember when the last time she’d been without him was.  Not exactly, anyway.  He’d been a day older than her, but she’d been years wiser.  He was immature, but she loved that about him.  Some would call it boyish charm.  Personally, Lucy hated the phrase.  If she were to describe him, she’d say he was carefree; that he was optimistic- perhaps too much so.  “We’ll get out of this town, just you watch,” he’d constantly tell her.  That was another thing about him, he repeated himself a lot.  “I love you, cutie.”  “I’ll never leave you, Luce.”  She could almost hear him saying them now.  Fond memories.

Sitting on her bed, she stared at the photo in her hand, but as hard as she wished, it never stared back at her.  A smile rested on his face, preserved forever, surrounded by wispily dark stubble.  It was only a shot of his head, so no-one but Lucy knew that he’d been wearing nothing but his boxers, as they’d made love an hour before it was taken- another memory held high in her mind -and he couldn’t be bothered to get dressed again.

Eventually, though, he did get dressed.  Lucy could have stopped him.  If she’d been a good, permissive girlfriend, and made love to him a second time like he always begged her to- and this time had been no different -then he’d have never been able to make it to the bank in time, so he’d have stayed in her bedroom, and far away from the green Ferrari.  Even now, one week on, she hadn’t changed out of his t-shirt and her panties; as if that could bring him back somehow.

Her bed still smelt of him, too.  Deodorant had always been a pet hate of his, but Lucy didn’t care.  Never again would she wash these sheets, even after his smell had long left them.  She’d never let go of him, even though he’d let go of her.

There was a book that she remembered reading somewhere once that said there were seven stages of grief; seven distinct phases that most people pass through.  All she could remember were guilt, denial and depression.  Then again, all she’d experienced was guilt, denial and depression.

A knock at her bedroom door didn’t even startle her.

“Lucy, darling?”  The door opened to a middle aged woman in a dark dress.  Katherine, his mother.  At any other time, she’d have covered herself up.  Now, though, she doubted there was anyone who could distract her from staring at him for something as trivial as her own privacy.  That belonged to him anyway.  Her whole being belonged to him, just as it always had done.

“Lucy?  Your mother is terribly worried for you.”  No response.  “Says you’ve not left your room.  You’ve not been in to work.”  Still nothing.  “That you do nothing but look at a photo all day.”  This caught Lucy’s attention, but there was no indication of it.  She walked across the room to the bed where Lucy sat.

“My, that is a flattering shot.  Makes my Mic-”

“Don’t...”  Lucy interrupted her.  “Don’t say his name.  He hated that name.  He hated Micheal.”  Her voice was uneven, troubled, strained.  She turned to Katherine, aggression in her eyes.  “You gave him a name he hated.  You gave him a name he hated!” she screamed, and went to thump her, but as soon as her hands came near, any effort waded away from her, and she collapsed in Katherine’s arms, nestling her head in her chest.

“There, there, pet.”  Katherine was a midwife, and she’d always been able to keep her thoughts straight, for as long as Lucy had known her.  One hand wrapped around her back as she began to weep into the silky fabric, and the other found her hair.  It was dirty and greasy, but that thought didn’t seem to bother her.  She stroked it the exact same way as he used to, Lucy noticed guiltily.

“I’ve brought you something,” Katherine said calmly after Lucy’s tear ducts had run dry. 

“Something he made for a school project in Year 9.”  Lucy lifted her head from the dress to see Katherine reaching into the shoulder bag she always carried.  What she took out was quite simply a frame.  It looked like a store bought one, with a curved ridge running along the wooden edges, but as Katherine handed it to her, she saw his name neatly written on the board behind the frame that holds the photo in.

Without even thinking, she ripped the back off- luckily not breaking it -and put the photograph of him inside it.

“I thought you’d like it.  He gave it to me, but I never got around to giving that one a picture for some reason.”  But it was no use talking to her.  Lucy was back to the state of fixation with the photograph, so she kissed her softly on the head- not even getting a reaction from that -and left her in peace.

It was a strange feeling, Lucy thought randomly.  This feeling that her whole world was now contained in her mind.  A chilling wave swept over her body.  She was unsure whether it was physical or emotional, but she crawled inside her sheets all the same, propping the photo up on the shelf above her bed so that she could see him as she lay there.

Resting her head back on the pillow that he’d once lain on gave her some minor comfort, but it also added weights to her eyelids.  They dragged themselves down, and her last thoughts before she fell asleep were of the face in the photograph.  Oh, how she wished the laws of reality didn’t apply.  If only there were some way he could fix his fingers around the edge of the frame, and climb out from a happier time to lie there with her, to cradle her in his arms as he’d always done for her.  If only he could be with her from beyond the unanimated world she’d held in her hands for the last week, to soothe her sleep and hold back the nightmares.  If only...

[Overlord]

Entry three slips in as the deadline looms!

There's very little time left to enter this competition and stand a chance of the grand prize!

Any more submissions must be PMd to me by midnight GMT on the 31st of this March.  

Don't delay, write today!

[Saint]

Off-Topic:

The google tags reveal a side to the Overlord we've yet to see.

[Overlord]

Everyone believes that doorways are either open or closed, possibly ajar but always swinging one way or the other in the end. Walls. Most people think they have to be in walls too. “Why would you need a doorway if there isn’t a wall around it?” I’ve heard them say.
I never thought any different to that. I’m not one for those stories of doors that lead to other worlds and doorways can take you anywhere and be anywhere.
That used to be my belief anyway. I know different now. Sometimes they take you places you’re rather not be. Take this as a warning – always check what’s on the other side of the doorway before you get too close to it. Then again, once you’ve opened a doorway there aren’t many ways to back away from it.
You still don’t really take this seriously, do you? Let me tell you how I ended up being where I am, and maybe you will watch your doorways a little more closely.

*

The hand brushed by the sleeve of my shirt as it tried to grabbed me as I passed the hall table.
I dropped the plate I was carrying, creating a small hill of broken china and Spaghetti Bolognese, and yelled loud enough to receive a sharp knocking on the wall and a shout to keep the noise down.
“What in the name of –”
I stepped back from the table, or to be more precise the dangling arm and staring eyes that were both coming, bizarrely, from the inside of a picture frame that had until now contained nothing more exciting than a photograph of my long dead dog.
“Hey!” the face in the frame said, his tone light and airy as though speak to someone from within a six-by-four wooden frame was no different to meeting someone on a street corner.
“Hey,” I replied, a little less enthusiastic.
There was a silence as the arm retracted into the frame until only the fingers remained on my side, gripping the top edge while an identical set appeared at the bottom corner. The male face pressed closer towards me, the nose poking out into the room.
“This could be a strange question,” he said, seemingly oblivious to just how strange I was finding the whole scene, “but why is this Door so small?”
The words I wanted to say, which were mainly four letters long and primarily made of consonants, wouldn’t form on my tongue. After a long pause, I finally managed to give what I thought to be the only logical response to what was a very illogical question.
“Because it isn’t a door.”
“What?” the man asked. “Of course it is. Look.”
He backed out of the opening, and I watched as the old, familiar picture of my dog swung in from the left until it was back in place and the world seemed right again.
I stood for a moment, then slowly glanced over my shoulder, half expecting to see some smart arse with a camera pointed at me. As my paranoia found no grounds to remain, I discovered that it took with it my only rational explanation for what I had seen.
I carefully took a step up to the table and without touching it, looked over the top of the frame to find the regular black back and stand. No man. No door hinges.
Then I heard a click just under me and jumped back.
“See,” the man said. “I told you it was a Door.”
The picture had again been replaced by the same face and fingers.
Everyone has times in their lives when stress and the general grind of the day makes them a little insane. Some go on killing sprees, others have complete breakdowns and spend months being counselled back to normalcy. I had not heard of anyone seeing a door in a picture frame or, to be more exact, having a conversation with someone on the other side of that door.
“It would seem so,” I said uncertainly. “Where are you?”
“Here,” the man said.
I shook my head. “I meant where are you through there? If you close that…” I paused to make sure I was really going to say the words I had on my mind, “…door, then where would you be?”
The man looked at me. Slowly a smile broke across his face.
“You haven’t seen a Doorway before have you?” he asked.
“Oh I’ve seen hundreds,” I replied. “Big things. Usually in walls to help you get from one side to the other. Have another bit of wood called a door over them.”
“Not those. I mean a real live Doorway.”
“If you mean one in a picture frame, then no.”
“They aren’t just in picture frames,” he said. “They can be anywhere, everywhere. All you have to do is learn how to spot them. They don’t always last forever though, so when you find one, you have to get what you can from it before it closes.”
I shook my head. “I can’t begin to tell you how fascinating all this is, but I still think I’m going insane and all this talk of doors –”
“Doorways,” the man corrected me.
“- doorways, really isn’t helping.”
We looked at each other. For some strange reason, I felt a little awkward as though I had caused the silence. It took a moment to register that I was feeling like a stranger in my own house. This man and his impossible door – doorway – were here in my house and it was as close to being invaded as I could imagine.
“You still don’t think I’m really here, do you?” the man said.
“Do I need to answer that?”
“Guess not,” he said with a laugh.
There was another silence.
“How about I step back and let you have a look through to this side?” the man said.
“I’m not sure,” I said, feeling ridiculously spineless.
“What’s the worst that could happen?” he asked, laughing. “Either there’s nothing there and I vanish, or you’ll see this room behind me.”
I moved forward slowly, a smile crossing my own face. “Well, when you say it like that…”
The man retreated around the corner of the frame, revealing a small but undoubtedly there room. I moved closer until I was close enough to feel a light breeze coming through the opening. I found myself glancing over my shoulder, still searching for the rational explanation that maybe I was somehow seeing a reflection of something in my own house. There was nothing there that could create such a mirage. I turned back to what was now definitely not just my imagination.
Hands grasped the side of my head and jerked me forward, pulling me off my feet. I saw the face of the man in the frame rushing towards me, his features distorted as he screamed at me. Our foreheads met on the edge of the frame and suddenly all light blinked out of the world.
A moment later the light returned and I fell backwards, released from the grasp of the madman’s hands. I peddled across the floor, propelling myself backwards across the hard floor.
The doorway moved further and further from me, the hinges visible as a door with a dog on one side swung freely.
A shadow fell over the opening and the man bent down and peered inside.
Except it wasn’t the man. It was me.
“What the...?” I said in a whisper.
“I don’t think I introduced myself,” the other me said. “My name is Michael Winters.”
“No,” I said quietly. “No, that’s my name.”
“Was,” Michael Winters said, grinning. “It was your name. Not any more though. It’s mine now. You’ll have to find a new one.”
I started to get to my feet, but my legs gave out throwing me back onto the floor.
“I don’t understand,” I said in something hideously close to a whimper. “What do you mean?”
“It would be no fun if I told you all the rules, would it?” the other me said. “I’ll tell you one thing though. Remember what happened when I touched you. Now, I’ll let you get on.”
“Get on?” I aksed. “Get on with what?”
“Well, looking for another Doorway, of course. When someone passes through a Doorway, that Doorway has no purpose anymore. It closes for good.”
“Closes for good?”
“You have a lot to learn,” the new Michael Winters chuckled. “Just make sure you learn it quickly. Doorways are getting more and more rare each day. If you don’t find one in time…well, I’m sure you get the idea on that one.”
Michael Winters reached into the Doorway and took hold of the swinging door.
“I would say I’ll see you around,” he said, “but I really doubt I will.”
“Wait!” I shouted, scrambling across the plain hard floor.
“Happy hunting,” my voice said from the other side as with one sharp flick of the wrist he jerked the door closed and all that remained was a very feint memory that it had ever been there in the first place.
I clawed at the white surface, hoping for my nail to catch on something but the surface was completely smooth. I felt tears running down my cheek although I wasn’t crying, not intentionally anyway.
I didn’t stop clawing that wall until my fingers bled. Then, when I did stop, I just sat there defeated, confused and certain I was dreaming for God knows how long. It was some time later when I finally began searching for what I have come to think of as my Doorway. This place is strange, always changing, sometimes frightening. There are animals here every now and then, occasionally other people. I don’t know whether I have been here months or years, but I know I have killed both types of living creature during that time. Kill or be killed seems to be very much the motto here.
And searching for my Doorway is the only thing to do other than survive.
Which is why I warned you about Doorways. Be wary of Doorways that just appear when something opens that shouldn’t. It can happen anywhere, anytime. If you get too close, you might not even know it’s open before you find yourself on the other side looking for a door of your own.
Turn the page, now. Continue to read on.
Just remember though. Anywhere.

[Overlord]

And with literally minutes to spare, a fourth and final entry slips under the door!

In a few moments I will put up a poll, but first please read:


A reminder to the authors: Please do not reveal you entered this competition!  This is to ensure people vote for their favourite story, not their favourite author or friend!


To everyone else:  Please read the four entries above and vote for which one you like the most!  Authors may vote for their own story of course, assuming they believe it is the best!


I will close the voting in 2 weeks.  A tie will be broken by a random dice roll. 

Note: If you have multiple identities on Tome, you may only vote with one of them!

[Panda-Brain]

Off-Topic:

Off-Topic:

The google tags reveal a side to the Overlord we've yet to see.

Hahaha, epic!

[Overlord]

'If Only' takes an early lead!   

Don't forget to vote for your favourite story. 

[ashkent]

Off-Topic:

Off-Topic:

The google tags reveal a side to the Overlord we've yet to see.

Hahaha, epic!

Off-Topic:

Google tags are the best!

[Overlord]

Very well then, time is up!  (Finally).

It was a fairly close race, but the winner was   If Only!

Congratulations, and thank you all for entering!
 

[Saint]

*Win'd and prize'd*

*Brags*