Malinda Andrews is our First Place winner! Yay!
Opening scene from an In-Progress Urban Fantasy Detective Novel tentatively titled “Blood and Pearls” by Malinda Andrews, also writing as M.R. Peterson. The weather was against Melanie Dunn. She sat in the black un-cushioned fold out chair with her hands folded in her lap. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a neat low ponytail, the ends of which rested on the black fabric of her dress between her shoulder blades. Her sunglasses, fashionably large, did a good job hiding her red and puffy eyes. Unconsciously her right hand fingers twisted the diamond scroll work that made up the wedding band on her left ring finger around and around. No one was seated next to her. James hadn’t any family left to attend. And few people stood around. Melanie had spent the better part of the last two weeks in a tear-filled stupor; ever since the man in a dark suit had come to her door to give her the news. She still remembered the last time she had seen James. His dark hair was ruffled as he flew off of the couch to answer his cell phone, one flannel pajama leg still scrunched up around his knee. He always took the calls she wasn’t allowed to overhear in the study. He came back, his face flushed with excitement. “The witness is willing to come in and testify!” He kissed her on the cheek with a remark to not wait up for him. James worked odd hours, but that comes with working for the FBI. She had gone to a cold bed, and woken by the doorbell and the man in the dark suit. A drum roll started and she was yanked back to reality. A tear threatened to fall, but she’d be darned if she let anyone see her cry. James’s partner stood opposite the casket from her. His hands were folded in front of his waist and his dirty blonde head was bowed. Two Marines proceeded to fold the flag. Birds chirped in the background. The day was unusually warm for a spring day. Why couldn’t it have been raining, or at least overcast? It would have matched her mood much better. Melanie accepted the flag, and watched in stony silence as her husband—the only man she had ever loved—was lowered into his grave This is the conclusion of the Story Beginnings Contest. Keep your eye out for the next one!
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You will love this story by our Second Place Winner, Fiona Martin! She has definitely impressed me with her descriptions here. Tell Fiona what you think in the comments!
Expired - Fiona Martin He examines the faded blue ink on the newborn baby’s wrist, shaking his head slightly, puzzled. He looks at his watch. At the clock on the wall. At the calendar nailed to the door. “It’s another one,” he breathes. “Pardon?” inquires the nurse watching him expectantly, pen and paper in hand. He blinks the spots in his eyes away before turning to her. “Sorry, umm--” his voice trails off. “Doctor, are you alright? Let me have a look.” She leans over his shoulder, trying to make out the 8 small numbers tattooed on the baby’s skin. He quickly covers the it’s with his hand, and the nurse jumps. “Doctor, what’s the problem? I need the Expiration,” the now aggravated nurse demands. “I--It’s nothing. The Expiration is, uh, May 3rd, 4062,” he stutters. The nurse scribbles on her paper, then rushes out of the room huffing. The doctor exits the room and quietly pulls out his cell phone, calling 1 on speed dial. The phone rings quietly in his ear, before a frustrated voice shrieks through the line. “What is it, Thornhill? You know I’m a busy man!” “It’s another one. Another ByGone.” Silence. “Sir?” “Yes. I’m here. Where are you?” “193 SE Parkhill… The Grimshaw Hospital.” “I’ll be there shortly. Make sure you get a DNA sample and meet me out back.” “And the baby, sir?” “Don’t worry about it. Just leave it with the family.” “Alright. I’ll meet you out back at eleven.” Beep beep. The line goes dead. The doctor tucks his phone into his pocket, and rings the intercom for a replacement doctor, then sneaks quietly out the door. Congratulations to Emma Bazley, third place winner of our Story Beginnings Contest! She did an amazing job, and I'm sure you will enjoy her story.
The McCloud kids By Emma Lynn Bazley Some things in life are unmistakably, undeniably clear. Things like, 'the sky is blue', 'the Sun is yellow,' and, 'if you are breathing, you are alive, and if you aren't, then you're not' (no matter what the zombies might say.) things that, if you declare aren't true, you will be immediately labled as a nutcase and shipped off to the nearest insane asylum. The phrase 'the McClouds are the strangest family in north Carolina and possibly the world' is right up there with the breathing one. Nobody really knew the McClouds. Everyone knew they were weird, but for different reasons. Old Mrs. Goodenough from across the street, for example. If you asked her what she thought of the McClouds, she would promptly gasp and say " What I think of them? WHAT I THINK OF THEM?!? They're WILD that's what I think of them! WILD!! All them children runnin' round by themselves," ( that wasn't entirely true, they rode their bicycles too ) -" Well, well, it's just SCANDALOUS!! SCANDALOUS!!" this was normal for her, seeing as she thought most of everything was scandalas, unless it was Victorian tea or early bedtimes. Almost nothing was goodenough for Mrs. Goodenough. And Mr. Chu, the garbageman.if you asked him, he would say, "Every Tuesday, I go to McCloud house. I open can, I see shoes. Shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes! Girl shoes! Big shoes! Small shoes! Pink shoes! In China, people don't wear pink shoes! Americans wear pink shoes! If Americans stop wearing pink shoes, who wears them?! Who, huh?! THE FRENCH?!? Mr. Chu had a very low opinion of The French. And if you asked the Plumber, he would go on and on about the HUGE hairballs he fished out of the McClouds drainage pipes every other Saturday, and if you asked the grocer he would tell you about the strange things they ordered, things like 'Quinoa' and 'kimchi' ( whatever that was.) But you're probably wondering who are the McClouds exactly? Are they who everyone says they are? Are they better? Worse? All of this in a moment. |
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