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Short Story Contest 1 - "Blood"

The deadline for the second contest has already passed and the stories are available for reading. It had a Spring theme, and the winner got a $25 gift certificate. Stay tuned for information regarding another contest!
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Re: Short Story Contest 1 - "Blood"

Post Number:#31 by sexdoll
» 14 Nov 2012, 04:51

Thank you very much for sharing
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Re: Short Story Contest 1 - "Blood"

Post Number:#32 by Williamz
» 18 Apr 2013, 00:52

it's Very good Story. I hope you are also enjoy this story.

-- 07 Jun 2013, 07:38 --

Thanks for sharing a Good Story. I like it so much.
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Re: Short Story Contest 1 - "Blood"

Post Number:#33 by mydualbrella
» 17 Jul 2013, 11:46

Its a some scary story and I like to read such. I had add this to my favorite and keep the good work up. Thanks for this interesting pics.
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Re: Short Story Contest 1 - "Blood"

Post Number:#34 by liquidprinter
» 23 Jul 2013, 06:42

Awesome! I really enjoy to read your post

Regards,
John
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Re: Short Story Contest 1 - "Blood"

Post Number:#35 by wctumesh
» 23 Aug 2013, 11:12

We are on the hunt for crime stories that delve into the mind of a killer, those who have been wronged, or who seek sweet revenge of the most subtle kind.

If you can write convincing crime stories, with twists and turns that make the readers gasp for more, then we want to see it, devour it and revel in it.

Perhaps a revelation is revealed through a complex plot in a historical crime setting. Perchance the crime takes place in the mind of the perpetrator and therefore no physical crime has taken place. Expose the underhand procedures and backhanded deals in a story based on the military forces. With a Private Eye as the protagonist, a sinister world could be unravelled. Whatever happens in the story, it must be based on the premise of a crime, suspense or mystery exposed.

Your sleuth may be a regular cop, or a kid looking for an adventure or maybe a housewife who stumbles upon a grisly murder. Whoever is leading the hunt must be worthy of our attention. Whether the bad guys win (for now) or the good guys reign supreme make this writing adventure one to remember.
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Re: Short Story Contest 1 - "Blood"

Post Number:#36 by creatseolink
» 31 Aug 2013, 08:18

I can not write a stroy, I believe in reading and writing the poems.
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Re: Short Story Contest 1 - "Blood"

Post Number:#37 by neonight
» 02 Sep 2013, 01:35

We are on the hunt for crime stories that delve into the mind of a killer, those who have been wronged, or who seek sweet revenge of the most subtle kind.

If you can write convincing crime stories, with twists and turns that make the readers gasp for more, then we want to see it, devour it and revel in it.

Perhaps a revelation is revealed through a complex plot in a historical crime setting. Perchance the crime takes place in the mind of the perpetrator and therefore no physical crime has taken place. Expose the underhand procedures and backhanded deals in a story based on the military forces. With a Private Eye as the protagonist, a sinister world could be unravelled. Whatever happens in the story, it must be based on the premise of a crime, suspense or mystery exposed.

Your sleuth may be a regular cop, or a kid looking for an adventure or maybe a housewife who stumbles upon a grisly murder. Whoever is leading the hunt must be worthy of our attention. Whether the bad guys win (for now) or the good guys reign supreme make this writing adventure one to remember.
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Re: Short Story Contest 1 - "Blood"

Post Number:#38 by bookworm101696
» 09 Jan 2014, 20:39

not bad its creepy
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Re: Short Story Contest 1 - "Blood"

Post Number:#39 by Endless-Starry-Mind
» 23 Jan 2014, 02:50

You are a great writer, keep up the good work.
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Re: Short Story Contest 1 - "Blood"

Post Number:#40 by neha+thomas+
» 13 Feb 2014, 22:39

It is good story though I felt some bits of it were more satirical than evil....
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Re: Short Story Contest 1 - "Blood"

Post Number:#41 by lucindaheartsbooks
» 05 Jul 2014, 20:06

you did really well... but i have to admit - it was a little creepy
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Re: Short Story Contest 1 - "Blood"

Post Number:#42 by Johntherobert
» 03 Aug 2014, 13:12

It was very interesting. Strange ending. I feel it turned into a poetry, yet it was a story about an evil boy who killed his family. Eight.
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Re: Short Story Contest 1 - "Blood"

Post Number:#43 by animalgirl
» 16 Aug 2014, 14:14

I really enjoyed reading your story. It's the kind of story that I tend to read on my own. It seems fine and I didn't find anything that needs fixing, but I noticed the repetition of "I'm evil." Repetition can be effective and it is in your story, but, and this is only my opinion, that you used it a little too much. If you use repetition too much, the effect you want to create is lost. But like I said, this is only my opinion.

I loved the plot and storyline. The only thing that kind of got to me was the killing of the dog, since I'm an animal lover, but I realize it's just fiction and that it's just part of your story. Also, everyone knows that serial killers start out with killing small animals and insects, so you almost had to put it in there. I just gritted my teeth at that part and read on

Good work, hope you find a home for this if that's in your plans.
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Re: Short Story Contest 1 - "Blood"

Post Number:#44 by Sunjay
» 19 Aug 2014, 14:08

ShortStoryContest wrote:[Please note that the below story contains profanity and explicit descriptions of violence. Read no further if you may be offended.]

Blood by [Anonymous until contest is over]

Blood. My parent's always said it was the first word I ever said. It wasn't. The first word I said was doggy, and I said it as a baby when I pointed at the cute little family dog.

I know why my parents said it the other way, though. It was a turn of speech or some other metaphorical crap. And, they always said it. They always said the first word I said was blood. They said it until the day I killed them.

Despite my parent's symbolic lies, I wasn't always evil. I was a kid for a while. I played with the cute family dog. I made mud pies. I played ball. I gardened with Grandmamma. When the right music played, I even danced like a goofy kid from New York.

That's what I was: a goofy kid from New York.

I wasn't raised in New York, though. I was just "one of those kids that move around a lot." At least, that's what all the teachers and guidance counselors said to each other about me as I traveled in and out of schools.

I didn't move around because my parents moved around. They didn't move around. They sent me to live with Grandmamma and Big Pa. We called my grandfather Big Pa, because he was tall and more importantly fat. He worked in the military. He didn't fight anymore, but he taught classes and other crap I don't know about. He got restationed often, which is why I was one of those kids that moved around a lot.

"A kid needs his parents." That's what Grandmamma always said to Big Pa, usually after I misbehaved.

I "misbehaved a lot." At least that's what Big Pa said to Grandmamma. Big Pa would always tell Grandmamma, "Stop making excuses for the boy, Kaiya. You always make excuses for everyone."

Big Pa was right. I did bad things. Inexcusable bad things. I'm evil.

Grandmamma didn't think I was evil. I know she didn't because she told me.

I broke her vase. I didn't break it by accident. I did it on purpose. It was her favorite decoration. She had a lot of decorations, but the vase was her favorite. When her and Big Pa went out to dinner one night, I got a chair to use as a stool. Then, I got up and took the vase off the display shelf. It was a heavy vase, but I lifted it above my head and threw it down to the wood floor. I did it just to do it. I watched the vase smash into the ground, shattering with pieces bouncing back into the air and scattering around. I looked at the pile of broken pieces, and then spat into it.

When Grandmamma saw it, she asked me if I knew who did it. I told her that I didn't. She asked if I was sure, and I told her that I did it. Then, I asked her if I was evil. She said, "No, you're not evil. You just made a mistake."

I said, "But Gradmmamma, I broke your vase. Isn't that a bad thing?"

She said, "Sometimes good people do bad things, Tristan. You're just a seven-year-old boy. You're not evil, son."

She was wrong, though. I was evil. I still am, and I always will be evil.

That's why I killed the family dog.

The family dog lived with me and my parents when I was born. It stayed with them when they sent me to live with Grandmamma and Big Pa. But, on my eight-year birthday my parents brought the dog to live with me as a present. About a week later, I killed the family dog by smashing its head in with my baseball bat.

I did it when it kept following me around. It annoyed me, so I killed it because I'm evil. I heard Grandmamma try to make excuses to Big Pa. She said, "The boy's just hurt about his parent's going back home." She said, "Maybe he's jealous of the dog. Don't you think he wonders why his parents kept the dog and not him?"

Grandmamma was wrong. I didn't wonder anything. My parents kept the dog because it wasn't evil. The dog was cute and cuddly. I am evil. That's why I killed the dog; Because I'm evil. Grandmamma was just making excuses.

I killed Big Pa 6 months after that. Grandmamma thought he died of a heart attack, but I killed him.

I tore up his papers on his desk in his office. And he said, "Come here you evil little bastard. I'm going to give you a spanking and knock some sense into you."

When he tried, I kicked him in the nads, and called him a fat f*cking fag.

Maybe it was the kick. Maybe it was the screaming. Whatever it was, I gave him a heart attack and he died.

I tried to tell Grandmamma that I killed him, but she just kept making excuses. I told her that I killed him by calling him a fat f*cking fag because I'm evil. She said, "You didn't kill him. He died of a heart attack. You just want to be evil so that you can understand why the world's been so hard on you."

I said, "No Grandmamma! I'm evil! I killed Big Pa, because I'm evil! You're just making excuses! You always make excuses for everybody!"

She said, "Calm down, Tristan. You're just imitating Big Pa because you miss him. Come here, son."

She let me cry on her shoulder.

She called my parents soon after. She told them that she had to send me back to them. She told them that she had to go to a home soon. She said that she couldn't take care of me without Pa. She said, "A boy needs his parents."

Shortly after I moved in with my parents, I killed them both.

I waited for them to go to sleep. I listened to them talk. They were talking about sending me to school. My mother said, "We can't send him to public school. The boy's a demon child. His first word was blood."

After they fell asleep, I snuck into their room quietly. I used a big kitchen knife to stab my father through the throat while he slept. The noise of his death woke my mother up. I had a special treat for her. I told her, "My first word was 'doggy' you bitch!" Then, I used that same old baseball bat to bash her brains in.

The police knew it was me. It was obvious. They found me dancing in my bedroom.

Grandmamma testified at my court hearing. She made excuses for me. The attorneys said that made a big difference and helped me a lot. They said, thanks to her I'd be able to get out of jail in 10 years if I behaved. I didn't behave, though. I never behave because I'm evil.

Grandmamma visited me once a month. When I turned 18, they transferred me to a jail with adults. My Grandmamma still visited me there.

One time, I told her to stop coming. I said, "Stop coming to see me, Grandmamma. I'm evil."

She said, "You're not evil. You need to someone to take care of you. Do you remember when we used to garden?"

"Yeah," I said.

She said, "You see flowers need someone to take care of them, to love them, and to help them grow into beautiful flowers. There's nothing wrong with you. You just needed someone to tend to you better. You just needed better soil to grow in. But now, you gotta tend to yourself. You gotta start behaving, so that you can get outta here."

I said, "I can't behave, Grandmamma, because I'm evil. Some flowers are just ugly, Grandmamma. You know that. And, nobody wants the ugly and evil flowers. And, that's me. I'm the ugly and evil flower Grandmamma. That's why I always do bad things, Grandmamma. And, that's why I will always do bad things. That's why nobody wants me. I'm evil."

She said, "It's not your fault. It's not your fault that nobody wanted you. You're not evil. Sometimes good people do bad things."

I said, "NO! No, Grandmamma. I'm evil. My first word was blood. You're just making excuses. Just like always. You always make excuses for everybody, you bitch."

The doctors said she died from a stroke, but it was me. It was what I said. I called her a bitch and she died. I killed her because I'm evil.

I wish I could garden with her again. I wish we could be in the garden, like when I was a kid. I wish we could tend to the flowers and love them, so they can grow beautifully.

I can't because I'm evil.

We don't have flowers in jail, because jail's for evil people not pretty flowers. And, I'm evil.


OMG!!!!! Such a good story .... thank you so much
"Our love broke my heart, and stopped yours." Lemony Snicket
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Re: Short Story Contest 1 - "Blood"

Post Number:#45 by Stacilyn
» 20 Aug 2014, 19:27

Hansika wrote:
ShortStoryContest wrote:[Please note that the below story contains profanity and explicit descriptions of violence. Read no further if you may be offended.]

Blood by [Anonymous until contest is over]

Blood. My parent's always said it was the first word I ever said. It wasn't. The first word I said was doggy, and I said it as a baby when I pointed at the cute little family dog.

I know why my parents said it the other way, though. It was a turn of speech or some other metaphorical crap. And, they always said it. They always said the first word I said was blood. They said it until the day I killed them.

Despite my parent's symbolic lies, I wasn't always evil. I was a kid for a while. I played with the cute family dog. I made mud pies. I played ball. I gardened with Grandmamma. When the right music played, I even danced like a goofy kid from New York.

That's what I was: a goofy kid from New York.

I wasn't raised in New York, though. I was just "one of those kids that move around a lot." At least, that's what all the teachers and guidance counselors said to each other about me as I traveled in and out of schools.

I didn't move around because my parents moved around. They didn't move around. They sent me to live with Grandmamma and Big Pa. We called my grandfather Big Pa, because he was tall and more importantly fat. He worked in the military. He didn't fight anymore, but he taught classes and other crap I don't know about. He got restationed often, which is why I was one of those kids that moved around a lot.

"A kid needs his parents." That's what Grandmamma always said to Big Pa, usually after I misbehaved.

I "misbehaved a lot." At least that's what Big Pa said to Grandmamma. Big Pa would always tell Grandmamma, "Stop making excuses for the boy, Kaiya. You always make excuses for everyone."

Big Pa was right. I did bad things. Inexcusable bad things. I'm evil.

Grandmamma didn't think I was evil. I know she didn't because she told me.

I broke her vase. I didn't break it by accident. I did it on purpose. It was her favorite decoration. She had a lot of decorations, but the vase was her favorite. When her and Big Pa went out to dinner one night, I got a chair to use as a stool. Then, I got up and took the vase off the display shelf. It was a heavy vase, but I lifted it above my head and threw it down to the wood floor. I did it just to do it. I watched the vase smash into the ground, shattering with pieces bouncing back into the air and scattering around. I looked at the pile of broken pieces, and then spat into it.

When Grandmamma saw it, she asked me if I knew who did it. I told her that I didn't. She asked if I was sure, and I told her that I did it. Then, I asked her if I was evil. She said, "No, you're not evil. You just made a mistake."

I said, "But Gradmmamma, I broke your vase. Isn't that a bad thing?"

She said, "Sometimes good people do bad things, Tristan. You're just a seven-year-old boy. You're not evil, son."

She was wrong, though. I was evil. I still am, and I always will be evil.

That's why I killed the family dog.

The family dog lived with me and my parents when I was born. It stayed with them when they sent me to live with Grandmamma and Big Pa. But, on my eight-year birthday my parents brought the dog to live with me as a present. About a week later, I killed the family dog by smashing its head in with my baseball bat.

I did it when it kept following me around. It annoyed me, so I killed it because I'm evil. I heard Grandmamma try to make excuses to Big Pa. She said, "The boy's just hurt about his parent's going back home." She said, "Maybe he's jealous of the dog. Don't you think he wonders why his parents kept the dog and not him?"

Grandmamma was wrong. I didn't wonder anything. My parents kept the dog because it wasn't evil. The dog was cute and cuddly. I am evil. That's why I killed the dog; Because I'm evil. Grandmamma was just making excuses.

I killed Big Pa 6 months after that. Grandmamma thought he died of a heart attack, but I killed him.

I tore up his papers on his desk in his office. And he said, "Come here you evil little bastard. I'm going to give you a spanking and knock some sense into you."

When he tried, I kicked him in the nads, and called him a fat f*cking fag.

Maybe it was the kick. Maybe it was the screaming. Whatever it was, I gave him a heart attack and he died.

I tried to tell Grandmamma that I killed him, but she just kept making excuses. I told her that I killed him by calling him a fat f*cking fag because I'm evil. She said, "You didn't kill him. He died of a heart attack. You just want to be evil so that you can understand why the world's been so hard on you."

I said, "No Grandmamma! I'm evil! I killed Big Pa, because I'm evil! You're just making excuses! You always make excuses for everybody!"

She said, "Calm down, Tristan. You're just imitating Big Pa because you miss him. Come here, son."

She let me cry on her shoulder.

She called my parents soon after. She told them that she had to send me back to them. She told them that she had to go to a home soon. She said that she couldn't take care of me without Pa. She said, "A boy needs his parents."

Shortly after I moved in with my parents, I killed them both.

I waited for them to go to sleep. I listened to them talk. They were talking about sending me to school. My mother said, "We can't send him to public school. The boy's a demon child. His first word was blood."

After they fell asleep, I snuck into their room quietly. I used a big kitchen knife to stab my father through the throat while he slept. The noise of his death woke my mother up. I had a special treat for her. I told her, "My first word was 'doggy' you bitch!" Then, I used that same old baseball bat to bash her brains in.

The police knew it was me. It was obvious. They found me dancing in my bedroom.

Grandmamma testified at my court hearing. She made excuses for me. The attorneys said that made a big difference and helped me a lot. They said, thanks to her I'd be able to get out of jail in 10 years if I behaved. I didn't behave, though. I never behave because I'm evil.

Grandmamma visited me once a month. When I turned 18, they transferred me to a jail with adults. My Grandmamma still visited me there.

One time, I told her to stop coming. I said, "Stop coming to see me, Grandmamma. I'm evil."

She said, "You're not evil. You need to someone to take care of you. Do you remember when we used to garden?"

"Yeah," I said.

She said, "You see flowers need someone to take care of them, to love them, and to help them grow into beautiful flowers. There's nothing wrong with you. You just needed someone to tend to you better. You just needed better soil to grow in. But now, you gotta tend to yourself. You gotta start behaving, so that you can get outta here."

I said, "I can't behave, Grandmamma, because I'm evil. Some flowers are just ugly, Grandmamma. You know that. And, nobody wants the ugly and evil flowers. And, that's me. I'm the ugly and evil flower Grandmamma. That's why I always do bad things, Grandmamma. And, that's why I will always do bad things. That's why nobody wants me. I'm evil."

She said, "It's not your fault. It's not your fault that nobody wanted you. You're not evil. Sometimes good people do bad things."

I said, "NO! No, Grandmamma. I'm evil. My first word was blood. You're just making excuses. Just like always. You always make excuses for everybody, you bitch."

The doctors said she died from a stroke, but it was me. It was what I said. I called her a bitch and she died. I killed her because I'm evil.

I wish I could garden with her again. I wish we could be in the garden, like when I was a kid. I wish we could tend to the flowers and love them, so they can grow beautifully.

I can't because I'm evil.

We don't have flowers in jail, because jail's for evil people not pretty flowers. And, I'm evil.


It's not your story dude. but nevertheless nice story


Why did you say this isn't his/her story? How do you know? I think its a great story, by the way!
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