June's Monthly Theme (Contest!)

[Saygen40]

*poke poke* We should do this. I missed out on other writing contests because I was too busy.

[Juneberry]

Kay :3 I'll put up a new theme right now. <3
EDIT: This month's theme has been decided. Please write about 'Traditions'. You may take this in any way you choose.

[Saygen40]

Wooh! What is the length requirement on it again?

[Juneberry]

I'd like it to stay under a page (about 250), but be more than fifty words.

You can be off by a bit, it's just to make it fit more easily and give me time to read them. Though, considering the slowness...I probably could make the cap higher. xD

If you're curious how long fifty words is...

This post already has over 50 words, but under 100.

[Saygen40]

So if I became a little carried away and my entry is a little past -a lot past- the maximum text, would you still take it? Lol

[Juneberry]

...Did you write a novel about it Say? >:o
But it depends on how long. I'll probably accept it since I don't get many entries, but if you send me a 50k word novel to read...Uh...I'm definitely gonna ask you to shorten it to a lot less xD

[Saygen40]

Haha nope. Not that long. It is about a page of tiny handwriting.

[Juneberry]

Well...It should be fine. Lookin' forward to it

[KathiraNarae]

I've Used The Theme!
Username: KathiraNarae
Story: Everyone has a tradition of sorts, at this time of year. This season is the winter solstice, the time when the night is as long as it can be, and the day at it's shortest. So all little creatures scurry back to their homes, make themselves as warm as possible, and stay as far from the cold as they can.

But staying home would be boring, so each has its own traditions to uphold, to make the long nights a little easier to pass. There are always differences, of course, but the most noticeable is in the biggest shared tradition.

Most places have the tradition that Santa Claus comes around all your houses and gives you all your toys, and then you leave him a little something for the trip to the next house. In North America, he gets milk and cookies.

But in Britain? Nothing but the best for the jolly red fat man. We leave him our mince pies, not so different, but then...

Then he gets the booze.

Glass of alcohol drunk, he moves on to the next house, and the next, getting drunker as he goes, while all the parents of the country pray he doesn't end up crashed somewhere in Surrey.

He's completely hammered by the time he reaches North America. Maybe you should leave him some good strong coffee this time, to help him sober up? Or at least to deal with the next morning's inevitable hang-over?

[Juneberry]

Hehe, I like that one, Kathira By the way, do they really leave alcohol for him in Britain? I mean, I don't leave anything...But my dad always has coffee laying around luckily from the day so he can have some of that probably if he needs it. But still...Quite interesting thing to learn

[KathiraNarae]

Yes, Brits do leave alcohol for him. I tended to leave sherry myself, but it can change depending on household.

[Juneberry]

I'll have to write this down as a cultural note for future stories. Thanks for the new info! Another perk of this contest and forum: I learn new neat things every day x3

[Strix Varia]

This is way to long to be in the running but it was one of those stories I couldn't avoid writing when I started thinking about it. So I will write it just for fun.

Chapter 1
All things happen in their own time. That was a phrase the old rider heard so many times in his life. He had seen much and traveled far. The wasteland that had been his passing home for the last part of this journey was coming to an end. It was all coming to an end. After so long and so far, the old rider had come to the end of the Earth.

All things happen in their own time. It was the people who were never ready to accept things. Whether designed by some divine hand or just random chance, whether preordained fate or a simple roll of the dice; things never happen to soon or to late. Things happen when they happen.

About a week ago the old rider passed a tree that seemed to be lit and decorated to celebrate some ancient festival. Now the lights and decorations had faded and the tree had withered. At the end of the Earth, the old rider stood at the very edge of a precipice. Beyond it was nothing. Just darkness and void. If there was anything beyond the void, it was not for him to see. The old rider knew that if he took just one more step, just one step off the ledge, he would fall into nothingness. He would cease to exist. Perhaps memory of him would linger on for a while but he would be gone. He knew that few people would call him a good man but he hoped there weren't to many who would call him bad.

All things happen in their own time. The kind and the cruel, the joyful and the terrible. That was not to say that all things should be accepted as inevitable. Those things that happen also include embracing the things that are good as well as resisting that which would bring harm or destruction. But there were things that would always come no matter how you fought or resisted. The old rider looked out past the end of the world.


Chapter 2
He took one more step forward. The old rider was no more.

Chapter 3
The young rider stood at the beginning of the world. He was surrounded by life and potential. He knew that like so many before him, he had many things to do and a long way to travel. His name was 2014.

[Juneberry]

Thanks for posting it, Strix. I admit it's a neat and interesting story. But...You didn't note if it was an entry for the monthly contest by using the form- I use that just to be safe, so I can note entries from other posts. Should I include it in the contest for this month? Just to make sure.

[Whitewitch]

I've Used the Theme

Username: Whitewitch
Story:

Katherine gazed at the tiny chapel as she joined the long line of pilgrims. Her back, legs and feet ached abominably from her long walk, but her desperate need for absolution drove her on. Stalls lined both sides of the path, the sellers taking advantage of the slowly moving queue.

At last she took her turn on one of the hard benches, sighing slightly as she bent to remove her shoes from her swollen feet. She wrapped them in her shawl as she moved on through the chapel to begin the final, barefoot mile to the shrine.