It's been a month, so that means it's time for another contest. For the last contest, I submitted a weird photo and asked you to construct a five-sentence scary story based on it. This time I have located a similarly strange photo, from this Flickr site. I don't know the photographer or anything about the photo...I just discovered it by searching for "weird" on Flickr.
Here's the photo:
Your job for this contest? Compose a five-sentence romantic story (or story snippet) inspired by whatever is happening above. Like last time, it has to adhere to five particular rules:
Rule #1: It doesn't have to have anything to do with the actual real-life subject of the photo.
Rule #2: It has to reference verbatim any phrase from "The District Sleeps Alone Tonight," by The Postal Service, which was playing when I started this blog post. (If you need to slightly alter the wording to fit the story, that is allowable.)
Rule #3: It also has to use the name "Ruby." Just because.
Rule #4: Your story must contain five sentences. No more. No less.
Rule #5: Your story must be about love, relationships, or otherwise romantic in tone. But not vulgar or overtly sexual.
The winner gets a free signed copy of Pocket Guide to the Bible. (If you win and already have a copy, then we'll figure something else out.)
The contest lasts until 9 am central time tomorrow, at which point I'll choose my favorite five-sentence story. To get things started, my sample submission is below.
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He didn't know why. Maybe it was the simplicity of her sleek and colorful appearance. Maybe it was her name, Ruby--so old-fashioned yet so at odds with her choice in casual wear--or maybe it was how she seemed so out of context in that gaudy apartment complex. Regardless, he knew his love for her ran deeper than the Alaskan snow. So when he tracked her down in the frozen wasteland north of Anchorage, he was elated at (probably) having found her...yet intimidated by the task of identifying her among the rest of her bobsledding-for-cancer-awareness team.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Five-Sentence Romantic Story Contest
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Finally, we reached the shores of Lake Mokitoku, the smallest man-made lake in Wisconsin. The tryouts for "America's Next Top Female Shaved Pink Panther Triathlete" were over. The decisive victor was, of course, Ruby. It had just began to rain a bit when the photographer suggested we do one of those "silly" poses. The only thing keeping us dry are these crazy pink suits.
I'm still uncertain why you left me for Ruby. Just because our physical relationship has been lacking lately is not a reason to leave your son and I feeling void and empty. Now DC Sleeps alone at night, staring at your picture; then calling me into his room asking who Ruby is and why you left with her. We miss you, and want you back. Please realize you are still my "Norwegian U-boat Dream" (you remember that don‘t you?) and I will forever wonder why we were the ones worth leaving.
Tightly twisted in the knot of sleek pink girls, Ruby was lost in the depths of her mind. As the spandex caucus toppled onto freshly packed white powder, she snapped to attention-- awakening from a deep daydreaming death. She wanted to be anywhere but there, but mostly she wanted to be with Seth. She had ruined everything with that one bad decision, ruined the chance to spend the days that would make up the rest of her life with Seth. Now she was exiled to live out her sentence in that shiny ensemble, the Day-Glo suit like a vinyl sticker with big block letters adherent to her chest, telling her new friends I am a visitor here.
I'm staring at the smeared black ink and thinking your palms must have been sweaty as you wrote your letter; which is a strange irony, because the postmark on the envelope reads Barrow, AK. A cold place for your cold heart, I suppose. Ruby keeps asking about you and I finally showed him the picture you sent; the one where you're you with the cast of "Pretty In Pink 2: The Alaskan Frontier" (it won't be the same without Duckie). He smiled at first, but I watched a single tear slowly hike down his forest of whiskers. I still can't believe you did this to him, Steph.
I am a visitor here. I am not permanent, and the only thing keeping me here is wondering what's buried beneath where I am. It has taken a lot of digging to finally see why I was worth leaving here with a birthstone named "Ruby". It says I am a Leo, but both seemed out of context with that colorless birthplace. Yet, through the loneliest of
evenings they opened up your life to me, like a stranger with your
door key, and finally, I am seeing what was buried in mine.
“The high concentration of estrogen in this group is really starting to get to me,” Ruby texted to her fiancé once dexterity returned to her frigid fingers. Curled up in a leather armchair by the lodge’s fireplace, Ruby succumbed to the hormones that had been keeping her on edge for days and indulged in a good cry. When the sobs subsided, she took a few deep breaths and thought about how much she missed Derrick and how she wished her agent had never booked her in this stupid Pepto Bismol commercial a week before their wedding in Maui.
But then, as she wiped the tears from her cheeks and noticed the rivulets running down her torso, the absurdity of the whole situation struck home and she just had to laugh. “Here I am,” she mused to herself, “thousands of miles away from Derrick, crying my eyes out, and the only thing keeping me dry is this crazy pink unitard.”
"No, I won't- I can't accept it," Ruby said to him, tears threatening to spill over her cheeks. He just looked at her, the heavy of the truth weighing heavy on his shoulders. He leaned down, kissed her long and softly on the forehead, then whispered in her ear, "I am not permanent." He straightened back up, bravely smiled one last time, then turned and walked off into the white tundra, his pink spandex unitard growing smaller and smaller. He was gone. But he was never there.
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