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Karma: 5 |  | Contest Results [July '07]
« Thread Started on Jul 17, 2007, 12:16pm » | |
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JULY 'O7
Contest Winners
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I am very pleased with the outcome of our very first contest here on Broken Stars. I congratulate everyone that entered, and you should all be proud of your achievement. But then again, who cares? Let's take a look at our winners!
FIRST PLACE
Aura
Glade snorted in anger as Fuscia urged her on once more as her canter slowed, not understanding the importance of their flight now. Fuscia looked behind her and to her horror saw the trees rustling and the grass moving where the Asbidan Warriors now pursued her. She urged her annoyed palomino horse onwards once more, desperately trying to regain their smooth gallop. Fuscia stood up in the rough stirrups and took a position, which would make it easier for her tired horse, and although she herself was exhausted from the battle, not to mention the fact that she shouldn’t have been fighting in the first place, Glade responded with a snort and the gait increased. Fuscia was almost too tired to do anything with the reins, but Glade already knew the way and had enough common sense to dodge any obstacles. She was a practically spook-proof horse, bomb proof they had called her, so was not scared by any of the surroundings. The forest was simply the place where she, as a filly, had frolicked and played, had splashed in the rivers and dipped through the dales. It was where she had always been, and now she ran through them once more.
Fuscia glanced behind her once more in panic, and caught a glimpse of the shining metal of an Asbidan Warrior’s sword. But she had pushed her horse to the limits, and knew that soon Glade must stop or collapse with exhaustion. Fuscia lowered her head in despair, wondering if she should ever have come here. She looked down to her swollen stomach, and shed a tear for the baby that would never be born because of her own stupidity. For what cause? This battle was a lost one, and yes she had felled many a soldier, but for what reason? Now she would pay the price for their deaths, with her own, her faithful horses, and of her unborn child. Was there no justice in the world, or did it just all come down to this?
The trees seemed to go in slow motion as she rode past them, the dappled light passing her by rather than filtering over her to the ground. The light seemed to go through her and her shadow was non-existent, for that was all she was coming to be. Death was approaching, she could hear it in her distressed horses hoof beats, she could hear it in the agonized cries of the foot soldiers that had not been so lucky as to be blessed with a horse. She could hear it in the triumphant cries of the warriors of Asbidan as they speared another innocent human for their different beliefs and cultures… death was all around her, and yet there was a different sound. In Fuscias’ desperation and extreme weariness, she had not noticed it before, but now she looked up to the source of the noise. It was… hoof beats. Many of them. Coming… this way. What, more warriors? Of which side? And why?
As a jet-black horse of Friesian blood burst through the trees infront of her and Glade whinnied in anger at it’s sudden appearance, Fuscia looked around her in amazement. For nothing could ever replace what she saw next, no sight she could ever see, no sound she could ever hear, to her, at the moment, could ever compare to the one she was experiencing.
Her own people, those that she had thought to have abandoned her were charging through the trees. Fuscia did not know of what had happened to them between last moon and now, but somehow they were here, and prepared for the battle that they had missed. But who knew, maybe these newcomers to the fight of her own kin could help their struggle to the seemingly impossible victory. Maybe even now, when all hope was thought to be lost, there could be a chance. Well Fuscia would have no part in it. After the way these people, these people who she had thought to be her friends, her own family, had run away from the incoming danger and left her and the rest of her people to suffer, to face to brunt of what they had left behind. At least now Fuscia would be able to live more of her life and give birth to her child, but that was all. She would not fight side by side with traitors. Never.
Glade suddenly reared up as another horse came from the trees, flanked by soldiers with long spears glinting in the sun and poised forward. They lowered them dangerously close when they saw Glade, but suddenly recognized the horse and their rider, and held them high again, shouting questions and orders to Fuscia. But she could not hear them. She had no energy left to hold onto the rearing horse as Glade stood to her highest, hooves kicking out like the wild mare she was, in all her glory. It was a shame that her rider just happened to be there with no energy. Usually she would laugh something like this off and stay on with ease, but now? No chance. She fell, her eyes closing before she even hit the ground, thoughts of victory mingling with the lingering thoughts of the death of her and her baby.
Fuscia hit the floor heavily, and rolled once with the impact, then was still, the riders only managing to avoid her broken body on the ground. None could stop to care for her, for all they saw was another casualty of war, which was what she was. None cared that she had fallen, and the battle was upon them. Swords clashed around her, horses reared around her, and her own disappeared into the forest, bolting now because she had no rider. Glade’s swishing tail was the last that could be seen before she disappeared into the forest. Jirapa Forest. As the clash of Asbidant and Vawyer really began, Fuscia slept on, dreaming terrible dreams, trapped inside her own tortured mind, the baby the center of attention.
Call it Rose, call it Rose
A voice was calling to her in the midths of the dream that she was now experiencing. Of her first daughter, Lilly, standing infront of her in their home and smiling.
Call my sister Rose, please mother, call her Rose…
Fuscia turned over in her dream, took a gasp as the nightmare began, then was motionless as the Battle of Traitors, that would be remembered for years to come, truly began.
{I picked Aura as our first place winner because I liked how she used a different point of view and added a bit of information to a story she already had. It was unique and creative.}
SECOND PLACE
Silver Serenity
It was a simple one-room thatch cottage in a small fox daemona village; its contents including a simple bed, a few cupboards and cabinets, and a warm sod fireplace with a stew cooking over it. There sat by the fire a young and beautiful fox daemona, her hair a strawberry red. Despite her young and gay appearance, she had already become a widow, having lost her husband to the human army. She had a young child, named Kay, who was late, as usual, for dinner. She sighed. Everything had changed since the humans had waged war. The harvests were not quite as plentiful, and the animals ceased to roam freely anymore. The daemona knew that these signs did not bode well for them or the earth.
Suddenly, a frantic knock came at the door. The fox daemona tilted one ear to the side and raised one eyebrow. “Who could that be?” she pondered aloud. She abandoned her post near her stew pot to answer the door and found her young Kay cowering on the stoop. She seemed like a little mouse surrounded by many cats. The daemona looked about outside to see why Kay behaved this way.
Nothing could ever replace what she saw next. It was horrible! Her fellow villagers were darting left and right as a human raid took place right in front of her very eyes. Homes were ablaze, the fire not hesitating to destroy its victims and devouring everything in its grasp. The town’s defense force had been slaughtered, and the bodies strewn across the ground. She cursed; the bravest fighters of the village, male and female, had been slain without hesitation. And the children! The children were the worst of all. Little legs, although much swifter than a human’s, had not won over against the brutal blade. Some had been crushed by those fleeing the village. She gasped as one poor thing tried to escape the crowd of stampeding daemona and reached its little hand out in hope of grabbing someone firm and strong that would protect them. Within a second, it was hit by a human’s arrow and fell to the ground dead.
Our fox daemona wished to help in the battle, but it was clearly lost. It had been waged long ago, and the human forces had clearly outnumbered the low supply of daemona fighters. She swept Kay in the door before she had to gaze upon the horror for another second.
“Mommy!” Kay shouted as she slammed the door behind her. Her face was flushed and dirty as if she had been rolling around in the dirt, too. “What is happening, Mommy? Everyone is screaming and running away!” The fox daemona beckoned her daughter over to the bed for a quick medical inspection.
“Oh, Kay Honey, are you alright? Did they hurt you?” her mother cried as she clasped Kay tightly in her arms.
“While I was playing at Ellie’s house, people started running away, and I almost got squished! Then Mrs. Ellie’s Mommy told me to run home. I started running with Ellie, but something hit her in the back. She fell down and wouldn’t get up, like she was sleepy. A pointy stick was poking out of her back, and I tried to wake her, but she wouldn’t get up!” Kay was crying now. “Why wouldn’t Ellie get up, Mommy?!”
The mother fox daemona started sobbing into the fair hair that resembled her own. Her daughter, a tiny tot, could hardly comprehend the shock of death. Although she was trying to comfort herself by reminding her worrisome mind that both of them were alive and in one piece, she knew all too well that it was only a matter of time before the humans broke into their house too. For now, all she could do was comfort Kay. She scooped Kay into her arms and started to sing her a daemonish lullaby:
Little babe of mine,
The spirits watch over you,
To them, your smile is a thousand golden sunbeams,
And your laugh is a thousand songbirds singing,
So don’t cry, little babe of mine,
For the spirits watch over you.
As Kay drifted off to sleep, her mother wrapped her in a blanket and headed for the door. If she could only sneak out of the village a different way than everyone else, they could still survive. The handle was in her grasp when the door was smashed through. She was knocked against the wall with all of the force of her body, and it was all she could do to keep Kay safe in her arms. She looked up at the human that had destroyed her home and growled. He was a massive, evil being: tan and hairy. He whipped out a bloodstained long sword. The daemona flinched. She knew the blood was that of her friends and family. She was enraged now; if she was going to let this man kill her, she was going to be as much of an obstacle as she could be. She was going to make him know that it was deadly to get on a daemona’s bad side. But she couldn’t, her Kay was always the first thing on her list, even before revenge.
He advanced toward her, and she transformed into a mother fox carrying her darling kit in her mouth. It took a lot of energy to transform her sleeping Kay into fox form as well, so she was slow to dodge the swing of the human’s massive sword.
She made her way for the door and caught a glimpse of the outside. The town was empty now except for a few cottages that had been unaware of the siege, being raided right now, and, of course, there were the dead. The daemona tried to dart out the door but was too late. The long sword came crashing down onto her back, and she was dead immediately.
Kay jumped out of the wrapping to aid her mother, but did not go unnoticed by the large human. With one swing of his deadly sword, Kay’s right foreleg was wiped clean off. She yelped in pain, and just when the human was about to deliver the finishing blow, a horn sounded, and he left the barren cottage, knowing the village had been taken.
Kay gazed around the room. She and her mother’s bed lay with a gigantic hole in it from when the human had taken her leg. The feathers that stuffed the bed were scattered around the room. She smelled the stew that would have been her dinner as it hissed and burned. And last, she looked at her dead mother, her eyes wide open and her lips pursed as if she wished to say something. Kay could not believe from looking at this corpse that her mother was alive or dead; it seemed so unlike her. It looked less loving and caring. They both were still in fox form, and after what Kay witnessed, she knew that it was best to die in the form that least resembled her killer.
She limped over to her dead mother, her leg still bleeding, and threw her self upon her. She wept for everything that had happened in the last few minutes for what seemed like hours. Was it really only a few moments ago? It seemed like so much longer. Slowly, Kay drifted off to sleep and did not wake again, for she bled to death atop her mother’s breast.
{I picked Silver as our second place winner because her entry was well written, hardly any gramatical mistakes, and I liked the theme that she carried out. It was a different topic and I enjoyed it.}
THIRD PLACE
Tulip Dragon
Aftermath
The sky was red. The ground was barren. The great mountains, rising over the horizon in the distance, were bare. The majestic forests that once graced their peaks were long since burnt to dust. She was shaking, on her hands and knees upon the charred, cracked ground. This place was once known as the Great Eastern Plain, a fertile, bountiful grassland that stretched from the beautiful city of Col in the East to the gentle-flowing waters of the wide Pebuun River, far, far away from this place. She had always dreamed of travelling to see the city, and the river. Col had been destroyed in the battles. The Pebuun’s vast waters had dried up shortly after.
She coughed up dust, and raised her eyes to the crimson sky. Streaks of gold graced the scarlet canvas as stars fell from their constellations. So many were falling. It was beautiful. It was tragic. The heavens wept.
She recalled a time when she would wish upon the rare falling star. A solitary tear slipped down her face.
She coughed again, and then pulled herself to her feet. Her shaking legs barely held her up. She wiped away another tear and surveyed the scene. The fires had long since burnt out. There was no-one else left. She could see bodies. There weren’t many; most of the people had fled, or been taken, but there were those who had stayed to face the storm.
Light rain began to fall.
She couldn’t understand what had happened. She could remember, once, when she understood everything, and only too well. It seemed so long ago. It could only have been last night. Now everything was wrong. The storm had broken. The angels had come down from the sky. The war was lost. No more hopes. No more regrets.
She began to walk, gazing at the sky. It had never used to be that colour. The stars had never used to fall so freely.
Rain joined the tears trickling down her cheek.
If everything was over, what did she do now? Start again, in an empty, faithless, broken world? She went over it all in her mind. The cause was dead. The mortals punished. The angels gone. So why was she still here?
Maybe it was not over.
Maybe someone, somewhere, was still holding on to the fight. Perhaps the mortals still had a chance. She dragged the back of her hand across her cheeks, wiping away the tears. She was the only one remaining here, yes; but that did not mean it was all over. Strengthened by the thought, she forced herself to begin walking forward, toward the edge of the Plain. It would be a long walk, but she had to find somewhere to stay until she had a chance to recover and work out what she had to do next.
One of the bodies left by the storm was laying a little way ahead of her. She lowered her head, not wishing to see. She forced back more tears. She managed to pass the body, but, as she did, she couldn’t help but glance at the poor victim’s face. Her breath caught in her throat.
She’d seen betrayal, pain, grief, and loss, seen the destruction of the cities and the people and the hope, seen and endured the terrible work of the angels; but nothing could ever replace what she saw next. It was him, laying there, cold and still as the air around them.
It was him.
There was no mistake; she knew his face as well as she knew her own. It was because of him they’d begun their fight, and he was the only one who could have ended it. He had guided them through the storm, and now he was dead, and there was no reason for anything any more.
She sunk down to her knees and let the tears fall freely. She had thought, desperately thought, that he’d been taken; maybe then there still would have been a chance to recover the fight. But now it was over. There was no reason for her being here, she hadn’t been saved, there was no-one still out there somewhere; this was her punishment, to continue living in a dead and broken world. She bowed her head and remained motionless, still overwhelmed by the outcome of everything.
Time passed. Eventually, she glanced up to the horizon. The stars still fell. There was nothing else left to do. She slowly got to her feet and began walking toward the skyline, readying herself for what lay ahead. There was only one place the angels would have taken the others. She had hoped to never have to see that place, but now it was her only option. After the end of everything, after the war had been lost, she had to go and save them.
And so that was what she did.
{I picked Tulip Dragon as our third place winner because her story left you hanging and used emotions very well throughout the book. There was never a moment where you weren't interested.}
CONGRATULATIONS!
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