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Sharkgirl posted this thread...
Feb. 10, 2012 at 5:58 pm

k i also have a peotry contest going on now but i felt like starting a new one so here it is submit any piece of writing and there will be three winners and awards given out and also enter some on my poetry contest deadlines and prizes will be anounced soon

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An-eloquent-leaf replied...
Feb. 10, 2012 at 11:28 pm

Ooh yay! Here's my piece called "The Interview." I've posted it below, but if you prefer to read it on its page, just click on my name and the story will pop up on the front of my profile ^_^. Hope you like it!

"Are you ready?" the receptionist asked, and you're surprised by how loud the room echoed her voice. Her delicate traits revealing the sincerity of her question, and she seemed almost fearful for you, as if your future would become terrible or remarkable, depending on how the meeting went. This secretary had watched many people go through the waiting room, coming out delighted or dismayed. Although her boss was highly respectable, she could be harsh one at times, especially if she was in a bad mood.

The circular white desk she was sitting behind matched her crisp colorless suit, which complimented her soft features. The room itself smelled faintly of pine needles and disinfectant and was spacious and bare, with almost no other adornments or color. The only thing contrasting to this theme was you, with your dark, weather-worn cloak and old leather boots, leaving a trace of dust on the gleaming white floor wherever you step.

You nod to her - too proud to open your mouth, and although she keeps her cheerful appearance, the receptionist's lips form into a slight frown, a bit disappointed. She returns the nod however and swipes a small silver card to unlock the door, her movements swift and efficient.

Walking through, you are amazed by what you see. The new chamber is similar to the lobby, with almost no decorations and the ubiquitous aroma of pine and chemicals. At first, it looks as if the room extends out forever, but you realize that the walls are curved, creating an optical illusion of sorts. As you advance, the door silently slides shut behind you and the only noise for a couple long moments are the sounds of you footsteps, followed by unexpectedly resonant echoes.

You stay where you are, near the perimeter of the room. It's the only area that isn't completely infiltrated by the harsh, white light and the idea of walking towards the middle of the open room makes you feel vulnerable. Looking forward, the only thing, besides you, of course, that does not fit in with the achromatic surroundings is the person you came to meet.

You are surprised to see that this important person is a she, and looks only to be a young teenager at that. You had assumed that someone as powerful as she would at the very least be some stuffy old person. As if that isn't bewildering enough, she's lounging in the center of the room, in what seems to be a striped purple-and-white lawn chair, casually wearing navy-colored jeans and a solid green v-neck.

She sees you standing there, your face consumed by the shadows. The only thing truly visible are your eyes, fiery gold orbs, that stare back at her from under your mask. Most of the time, a glower like this startles and intimidates people, but this girl seemed completely unfazed, even a little amused by your attempt to gain some leverage. Even now, you know this won't be a normal meeting.

"Hikaru Saboten," she calls out, her voice authoritative and confident, and you hesitate, eyes widening in surprise. You've never told anyone your true name, not in...well, a long time, getting by with lying about your name. So how did she know? It was practically impossible. She even pronounced it perfectly...

"Do you know why you're here?" she asks, snapping off her Ray-Bans without waiting for a reply. She clicks the chair into an upright position, and this time you know for sure she's staring at you.

"For a job, uh, interview," you reply, voice faltering against your wishes. Although you would never admit it out loud, the girl's commanding and criticizing presence makes you feel like an child, getting a reprimand for some impudent action you never committed.

"You do know what this job will entail, right?" she inquired. Yes, you do, at least, you think you do. As a Creator, if she decides she wants to use you, she will convert you to the certain medium or mediums she think will fit best: illustration, poetry, or prose. From there, you'll then embark on his journey, collecting information for her and entertaining others. Once your hired, it's a lifetime occupation. But before you could respond, she continued on.

"Expect to be poked and prodded, analyzed and judged. You will have to overcome both physically and emotionally challenging obstacles – yes, challenging, even for you, no matter how capable you think you are – and will be lied to, cheated on, and stolen from."

"The list can go on, and it will be, to say the least," she pauses for a moment, as if trying to conjure up the best words to describe it, "tough." She's standing up by now, and you can't help but stand up a little straighter.

"Are you in?" she asks simply and cøcks head a little, and you're a tad bit surprised that she already offered you a position this early in the evaluation. You hesitate in spite of yourself for a fleeting moment. How she explained it, there didn't seem to be any pros to taking up this commission. But there was still something tugging at him, that sense of...adventure that seemed to exude from this offer.

"Yes," you answer her firmly, and a bit quickly as well, before you could convince yourself otherwise. You won't back out now, not that agreed to the job, and you hope that you made the right decision.

"Very good," she smiles genuinely and claps her hands together in delight, obviously please with your choice. "I've always had high hopes for you, waiting for you to finally schedule a conference." Although you aren't very startled by the fact that she already knew of you – she was his Creator, after all, she knew just about everything – you are shocked that she had anticipating you. You blush a little, glad your red cheeks are covered by your mask, and mutter a short thanks.

"Now, let's get started, shall we?" she asks, pulling out a blank sheet of paper and a purple ink pen. You nod, and immediately she commences, rapidly scribbling down many words. Slowly, you feel as if you're disintegrating and crumbling apart, and find yourself transposed to the very story being read right now...

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Ethereal replied...
Feb. 11, 2012 at 4:19 am

It was cold. I could feel it, even under the covers of my old bed. No, the house wasn’t drafty, and no, it wasn’t winter. In fact, it was a beautiful autumn night- my brown wood bed seemed to creak- or maybe it was the floorboard outside my bedroom. I sat up, shaking myself awake; it was 11:56 on my glow in the dark digital clock. Four minutes to midnight. Maybe mom was just getting a late night coffee or watching a horror flick. I groaned- barely mumbling “turn it down” I nestle my head under the covers, prepared to fall back to sleep.

I woke up again.


Two minutes to midnight.

The creaking grew louder- if mom is watching psycho I swear I’ll- I thought, stopped in mid- sentence by the slow whooshing sound. My room seemed to grow slowly lighter.


One minute to midnight.

The room felt like it was spinning- probably a dream- the light grew brighter. I popped my head up, searching for anything that could explain it- then the voice came-

“welcome to the zero hour, Sofia”

It was slow, lilting, like my father’s when he boarded that plane…

“There are thirty seconds until midnight”

The voice continued, this time a booming explosion like outside the airport

“Use it wisely”

the voiced said, full of innocence, like my six-year old brother Tyler tugging on my sleeve saying “Sofia, why is mommy crying” I shuddered- this was becoming too creepy- I tried to scream, but nothing came out

“Sofia, here is a chance to start your life over, make your father come back, your Mother happy again”

It reverted to a cooing comforting voice, like my babysitter five years ago- when I was ten.

“Make your choice now.”

The voice said imperiously, like my schoolteacher when I got a C.

I looked at the clock- I still probably had ten seconds left, it had happened so fast

“Yes” I whispered, and the voice heard. The room whirred, the digits on the clock spun, finally clicking to one number-


Suddenly it all stopped- I opened my eyes, it was morning- it had been a dream after all. the bird, a cardinal, I think, chirped outside my window. I could hear the dishes rattling upstairs-

Mom was making breakfast? I tried to remember the last time she did that- the day dad boarded that plane… a voice called from the hallway “Sofia you’ll be late for breakfast” it was deep and lilting, like my father’s- my fathers!


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Sharkgirl replied...
Feb. 11, 2012 at 1:38 pm

thanks for your entrys im looking forward to reading more

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readaholic replied...
Feb. 11, 2012 at 2:26 pm

((we can submit something already on TeenInk, right? Can you read my story 'the selected'? thx!))

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Sharkgirl replied...
Feb. 11, 2012 at 3:15 pm

yes you can submit any piece of writing

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Feb. 11, 2012 at 7:28 pm

hi this is sharkgirl sorry it won't let me login i just wanted to say that for this contest you can't submit pieces that have won in other contests thank you

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Feb. 11, 2012 at 7:30 pm

(hi this is sharkgirl sorry it won't let me login) Just to let you know pieces that have won in other contests will not be accepted for this one

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Feb. 11, 2012 at 11:43 pm

I screamed.

I could feel the rawness of its power tearing apart my vocal cords as it clawed at my throat, like a desperate animal trying to seek escape. I was falling. Falling fast. I craned my neck over my shoulder and almost fainted at the sickly green scales slithering underneath the frothy surface of the sea.

I flailed my arms as the scenery rushed past me in a blur. A muffled yell tore from my lips as I twisted in the air, trying to get a better look at the Pegasus that hovered above me. The fall seemed to take forever; time did not seem to exist as the water rushed up to greet me, its mouth opening up to swallow me whole.

A crash. Cold water wrapped around and embraced me, its icy hug suffocating, sucking the air from my lungs. I whimpered. I wasn't a strong swimmer. Back and forth, I kicked my feet desperately as I sank like a rock, my eyes focused on breaking the surface. My hands shot up, searching for something to pull me out, and I opened my mouth to scream. Only bubbles came out.

A dark shadow loomed over me and I stared blankly above. My lungs felt like they were collapsing in on themselves. My body felt like I was running naked through a frozen tundra while on fire. Pain. It encloaked me. It embraced me, became familiar to me. Became me.

The dark shadow dove closer towards me, and I found myself getting lost in crystal blue sapphires. If this was what heaven was like, I'd go peaceably. Without a struggle. The edges around my vision grew darker and I drew a breath, reveling in the water that filled me, slowly. Agonizingly slow.

I glanced up, confused. I was sinking, but now I was soaring. Up, up. Closer towards life, and a step farther away from Death. The surface was rushing up towards me, the bright light growing dimmer. I opened my mouth once more and let out a piercing wail, which was lost in the thick waves.

I gulped down sweet air as I held on tightly to Peter. I vomited a couple times, but he didn't seem to mind much. In fact, he was pretty calm about it, though his eyes blazed with concern.

My dear, heroic Peter. He was beside me, his hands entwined with mine, his arms wrapped around my waist. His face was buried in my sodden brown hair, his eyes closed as he held my body to his. I wanted to melt into him, become one with him. Maybe it was because of my close brush with Death that made me suddenly so aware of his warmth, his presence, his overall smell.

I wanted to kiss him.

It was a burning ache inside my heart, like a wildfire that started in my soul and was slowly burning away at the rest of me. My eyes strayed to Peter's wet lips and I silently marveled at how perfect they were. I wanted, needed, desired him.

Maybe even loved him.

I leaned forward, pressed myself against him and left little space between us, as I buried my nose into his neck and inhaled his sweet scent.

Peter grabbed my cheeks, his icy cold fingers sending shivers through my spine, and he stared into my eyes. I stared back. A small reflection of me stared back from Peter's eyes, her eyes accusatory for the recent predicament we were in.

"Stupid girl." He let out a shaky laugh before pressing his warm lips against my forehead. "You stupid, reckless girl. You should not have dove at the sea serpent like that. You could have DIED." Peter sighed before giving me a stern look, the warmth leaving his eyes and being replaced with an icy glare. I couldn't help but smile back. "You ever pull a stunt like that, Sasha, and you can forget about coming out to the field again."

I rolled my eyes and pulled away from Peter, a frown plastered on my face. Leave it to him to ruin the fun and kill the moment at the same time.

"I was doing fine without your help," I snapped as I ripped my arm away from Peter reluctantly. I shook the water from my hair and scowled at Peter's look of concern. "Let's just get back to the Base. We lost it anyways."

I started to swim towards the shore, towards the black Pegasus whinnying about me almost dying. I ignored the sad look on Peter's face, not wanting to face him or the truth. Maybe I was just imagining those previous feelings I thought I was feeling. Maybe it was the fact that I could have died that made me think I wanted to kiss Peter.

As I repeated those lies to myself, I waited for that burning, tingling ache inside of me to frost over; I wanted to be numb to the feeling of love again.

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Sharkgirl replied...
Feb. 12, 2012 at 4:03 pm

by the way no pieces that have won in other contests will be accepted

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Sharkgirl replied...
Feb. 13, 2012 at 1:49 pm

deadline is march 10

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Sharkgirl replied...
Feb. 15, 2012 at 9:03 pm

sure no prob

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FreedomIsMyVirtue replied...
Feb. 18, 2012 at 5:31 am

You can check out my entry. Just click my username and look for "Give Me Your Purse". It won't be hard to find since I don't have a lot of works posted. :) I'm posting it as a reply on this thread too, but if you want a nice format, better check out the one on my profile. :) *** Leukemia… That was what would make my firefly life shorter. Maybe, this was where my story would end—I would die. When the doctor told me about it, I wasn’t dumb enough to be unable to translate what he said into simpler terms: goodbye. People said it could make you more prone to infections but leukemia couldn’t kill you by itself. All I could say was that those people were dumb. Anyway, I would be lying if I said I knew something about that disease. In fact, all I knew about leukemia was that it was blood cancer. Oh, that’s not all. It was what killed my friend and it was what caused my father to suffer. The doctor said that there were types of leukemia and he told me what was mine. But I didn’t pay attention to it because no matter what happened, it was still leukemia. Blood cancer. Serial killer. The night was dark. Of course, nights were always dark. But it wasn’t what I was talking about—the moon wasn’t bright enough for me and the stars that were supposed to be hung up in the sky were out of sight. The lampposts and the fireflies that reminded me of my life length were the only sources of light I had. Bending down, I picked up a rock and sat on a bench. The park was deserted. So I was alone—except for the fireflies and the chilling cold of the night. Gripping the rock, I tried to see if I could break it into ashes with my palm before it could make me bleed—I tried to see if I could fight against cancer before it could kill me… Pain made its way into my palm and I knew it—I lost! Sighing, I looked to my right to see a silhouette of a man from afar. Realization—that he was walking toward me—hit me. That was when I stood up from the bench… and ran. Before I could reach a distance, a big, masculine hand grabbed my arm and it was instinct that made me scream. “Keep quiet.” His other hand was holding a knife that was aimed toward my throat. If he would kill me in a second, it was better than leukemia who would torture me before I died. Still, it was terrifying. “Keep quiet.” That was when our eyes met, brown to brown. His features were that of a prince a little girl would ask for. And we were staring into each other like a boy-meets-girl-and-the-world-seemed-to-stop movie scene. Could it be that this man was my prince? He raised the knife higher, aiming exactly where my pulse was. “Give me your purse.” “What?” It shouldn’t actually have surprised me. Maybe, not if I wasn’t dumb enough to think of him as my prince charming. Of course, he would kill me without second thoughts. “I said ‘give me your purse.’” When I didn’t make a move, he made me feel the steel, light enough not to make me bleed. “Now.” Frantically, I gave him my purse. Taking it from my hand, he squared me in the eyes… and ran away. I sighed and tried to relax my heart beat. Too bad, leukemia would still have someone to play with.

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Celeste_N. replied...
Feb. 27, 2012 at 10:44 am

10 years ago....

As the day goes by
I sit here wondering why

The same answer I always greet
"One day, again, shall each other meet"

The truth is now burning in the sun
And I go on like nothing had begun

I look back 10 years ago
On the days you didn't have to go

You were in their arms
Safe and no one can harm

You were already part of us
So very small and such a fuss

We thought you would always be here
Didn't think about shedding a tear

Now Death has taken our heart
Succeed in tearing us apart

He is now an angel in the sky
Never again shall I ask why

A son, nephew, grandson, and brother
Our Dear Liam couldn't be any other

Today is your special day
But yet there's nothing left to say

We all love and miss you
But there's things still to do

Never will you be forgotten
You're living up there, beyond the balls of cotton

This is a true story about my life!!

And its my first rhyming poem!!

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Celeste_N. replied...
Feb. 28, 2012 at 12:49 pm

please read 10years ago!!! thnx!!  

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Sharkgirl replied...
Mar. 2, 2012 at 3:47 pm

Thanks for your posts look forward to more

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missloveliee replied...
Mar. 4, 2012 at 2:29 pm

Three days have gone,and the tears have now dried.Sadness has taken a hold of me. I wake up empty,tired and depressed.All I am left with is a powerful mistake. I walk down the hall with all my problems in my mind,I have no one to talk to, but only off onto the space. Flowers bloom to make happiness,instead my flowers wither away.I guess I'm left with a pen to fight off the mistake.

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Celeste_N. replied...
Mar. 19, 2012 at 11:46 am

can yuh tell us who won??  

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mollyb replied...
Mar. 19, 2012 at 1:58 pm

I pushed through the double doors, strutting in like I owned the place. I didn’t, of course, but it couldn’t hurt to pretend.

I pressed through the thick swarms of people until I found myself in the very middle of the open space. I stood with my shoulders back and my head high, acting like I had a purpose.

I had a purpose, didn’t I?

Of course I did. I was looking for someone. Him. Today would be the day, I just knew it. I felt it. I believed it.

I let my eyes slowly scan the room, trying to let my search be discreet. I came upon no one out of the ordinary. No one I hadn’t seen before. Of course, I didn’t really know them. This was a new town, a new place. But I’ve seen people like them. People they might as well be.

I waited, and I waited. But nothing happened. No one shouted my name over the noise of the crowd and came running towards me with open arms. That didn’t happen. Not today.

I looked around again, turning my head as far as it would go either way. Still, nothing.


Maybe I wasn’t even looking for the right thing. Maybe I was looking for blonde hair, when I should be searching for brown. Maybe he was short, and I was looking for tall. Maybe I didn’t know at all.

He wouldn’t come today, maybe not ever. I hoped he would eventually. But if not now, then when? Couldn’t he see that I needed him? If he knew me better than anyone, wouldn’t he be aware of that simple fact? Or maybe not. Like I said, I just didn’t know.

So I stayed there, standing alone in a crowded room. I looked and looked until I realized there was no longer anyone to look for. The building was empty. The people had left. He had left, if he was even here in the first place.

Knowing that there was no one to be found today, I left the building, thinking the same thought I had when I entered. Someday.

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Sharkgirl replied...
Apr. 16, 2012 at 4:26 pm

sorry ive had computer problems so i havent had a chance to look at the entrys hopefully i can get the results up soon

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