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CONTEST: Mr/Miss/Mrs (Blank) Lives for a Day
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Violet Parr
Violet Parr
Thespian

Jan-30-2010 07:30


(Creative Writing Contest)

In the wonderful spirit of giving and universal oneness Sleuth is showing, I have decided to host a contest I have wanted to do for a while. The premise of this contest is inspired by a charming little movie I watched a while ago called “Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day”, whereby in the course of twenty four hours the character of Miss Pettigrew is introduced, developed and, by the end of the movie, gets her romantic destiny achieved.

The contest is this: Write a creative piece in which you introduce a fictional character to the reader, develop it as much as you can with interesting detail and have it fulfill some sort of destiny within the course of one day in the character’s life. The rules are as follows:

1. The character has to be fictional -it can be your detective’s or another one that you’ve created.
2. The piece you submit is limited to 6,000 characters (i.e. 3 posts as a maximum.)
3. Your piece must be entitled: “Mr/Miss/Mrs (insert your character’s name) Lives for a Day”.
4. The entries will be judged on writing, creativity and entertainment value.

The judging will be done by yours truly. I promise to endeavour to be as fair as humanly possible.

The winner will receive a 6-month gift subscription to Sleuth Noir. There is also another optional prize if the winner is a role player and would like to start a new thread on the stage: I will offer to join his or her story as the Violet Parr character or as a character of the winner’s choosing and design.

All entries must be submitted by the deadline of Saturday, February 6th, 2010 at 23:59 hrs, Sleuth Server Time.

I encourage everyone to give this contest a shot, enjoy writing and have fun!


Replies

Peter O'Neil
Peter O'Neil
Old Shoe

Feb-6-2010 17:18

Finding herself at last in the lobby, she was surrounded by blue-haired ladies and mink coats. (But even in that perilous moment, it struck her " mink in Key West?) She rushed through them, her tousled disco dress, rumpled hair, smeared makeup, and lack of shoes (left behind for the run) a stark contrast to the group. To the startled desk clerk, Phaedra gasped and struggled to explain: “Call the police. Kidnapped. They have guns and knives. They’ll kill me. Hide me. NOW!” The clerk stared at her, mouth agape, so that Phaedra just wanted to shake her. At last the clerk came to her senses, hotel security was called, and the police, who had to wake the drugged mongrels up, arrested her tormenters, obviously without resistance.

Miss Phaedra lived that day, and Miss Phaedra lives today.

*Word shows 5757 characters. I guess in editting for the MB I over ran the 3 post yardstick. Hope this still works.*

Joseph Zeo
Joseph Zeo
Tale Spinner

Feb-7-2010 00:08

Mr. Nevaeh Lives for a Day


James Nevaeh had no idea why he should be here, but he was.

The hustle and bustle on the busy platform at daybreak astounded the musician. He hasn't been out on a morning for a long time. Trains whistled here and there, and travelers tend to run him over if he walked a bit too slow. James picked up his saxophone case and left Victoria station. He needed to find lodging soon. The man was exhausted.

Call it a change of scenery, or giving himself a go at his dream, but the truth was, James was hiding. New York didn't work out for him, not because he wasn't talented. The proud man could never work with anyone, and even a solo artist needed to play along with others. Perhaps a new city would make all the difference.

He wouldn't know when he would start playing again, so he watched every cent he had. The flat he picked was overrun by rodents, but nothing a little rat poison couldn't do. James slept right away. By the time he woke up, the day was still bright. The dreary London sky looked grey all the day, so he didn't know the time until he looked at his watch. Tea time. This would be a great hour to brave the bars for getting possible gigs.

James descended the stairs just as a boy and two girls ran up. The boy rammed right into him almost knocking his instrument case out of his hand.

"Watch where you're going, are you blind?" James yelled. Just then he realized the pupils of the boy was half glazed, and was on the edging of blindness.

"Sorry sir. I'm really sorry." The boy apologized quietly. James didn't know how to react, so he continued to descend the stairs.

He quietly went for a black coffee, and headed for the bar area with his instrument in his hand. One after another the venues turned him down. Business was bad even on this side of the ocean. The sun had already set and James still haven't found one single gig.

Joseph Zeo
Joseph Zeo
Tale Spinner

Feb-7-2010 00:38

Finally at a more prominent hang out by the river Thames, James found an owner who appreciated his playing. "You can start tomorrow. Come me with to the office to get some paperwork done." The bar own said. James felt his luck just changed.

As they entered into the small office James could see a lady in a shimmering turquoise one piece lying on the couch. She looked strangely familiar. "Honey, this is James Nevaeh. Our next saxophonist..." The man said to middle aged lady.

"Oh I know who he is!" The woman smirked. James then realized who he was looking at. Dolores Donaldson. They had a huge fight once. James even said that she wasn't fit to lick a stage. "If you wanna hire this man, I'm gone."

James knew exactly what that meant.

***

James could usually hold his liquor, but tonight he puked after the fifth shot of Scotch. His feet were wobbly and he almost didn't recognize how to get back to his new flat. A rat pass across the street and James wanted to smash it to pulp with a stick, but he tripped and fell flat on the pavement. "Perhaps a new city wouldn't make any different after all." He muttered.

As he hauled himself up the stairs, he could hear a trio playing Mozart behind the doors. It came from his neighbor downstairs. The violin was bittersweet, the piano playful, and the cello was deep and steady. Everything matched. James was not a fan of classical, but the music somehow drew him. He couldn't resist but to peek through the window to watch them play.

It was the kids who ran into him earlier in the day. The boy who was going blind made the violin soar. It didn't matter that he couldn't see much longer, it didn't matter that the world will go dark for him. His soul was on fire. Just then, the young girl pianist missed a note and lost her track. The other two didn't stop or scold at her. They continued.

"Come back at bar 52." The cellist stated assuringly. The girl nodded and a few moments later the music continued as if nothing happened.

Joseph Zeo
Joseph Zeo
Tale Spinner

Feb-7-2010 00:46

James then noticed that the hands of the young cello player was badly deformed. She had only two to three healthy fingers on each hand, but her music was solid, just like the musician herself was. James felt ashamed at his invisible deformity.

Slowly he returned to his flat and took out his saxophone. He didn't play but simply looked at it. He made a promise to his beloved instrument: maybe not immediately tomorrow, maybe not even in a week, but surely he will make himself a worthy character fit to be called a musician.


*Sorry about missing the deadline (for an hour). I tried my best to make it but time ran out. If this cannot be counted as an entry, it is fine. I enjoyed writing it and wished I could have more time to refine this piece :P *

Secret_Squirrel
Secret_Squirrel
Safety Officer

Feb-7-2010 00:59

lol I'm late and over limit :D so I already know I'm disqualified (hence my lack of effort in editing), but like Zeo I wrote it and it was fun.

Larry the Toe lives for a day.

I took the cigarette out of my mouth long enough to taste the soup I was stirring. It tasted OK I supposed. Probably better, but a pack a day'd killed off my taste buds before I was 16. Better than if I'd made it myself at any rate. Maria down at Sami's always had it ready for me when I came callin. Broad had a good heart, it was just a pity she didn't know how to shut up now and then. Made me squirm, all those knowin' smiles, callin me 'an angel in disguise', and fussin' over me like I mattered some. Still, the soup was free, and I could put up with a few awkward moments just for that.

A hard, heavy hand clamped down on my shoulder. I didn't even have to turn round to know I'd been sprung. Again. "Now Larry, didn't I tell you that it doesn't set a good example if the children see you smoking." I smiled and dropped the smoke, stepping on it for good measure.

"Sorry Padre." I said, turning to face Callum Mulready, Parish Priest of St Botolph's in the Field. He laughed loudly and broadly, as was his want. Loud enough to set half the neighbourhood dogs barkin their heads off. Loud enough to have kids stickin' their faces to dimly lit windows, or bangin wire doors as they ran out into the street. Loud enough to set more than a few of the dodgy lookin' characters further afield to pull the collars of their coats up, and slouch off down the side alleys they'd been lurkin' in.

Secret_Squirrel
Secret_Squirrel
Safety Officer

Feb-7-2010 01:00

That was the thing 'bout Callum, the kids, the down and outers, the grandma's and bench-sleepers, those that dont got not-one but themselves, to them his big 'ol boomin voice, well it was like an angels-song. But to those that weren't so innocent, or those preyin' on the innocent, well Callum's voice musta sounded like the gatesa Hell'd opened up and Cerberus himself was a'comin down the road after 'em. He could nurse an infant in one hand and shake the kids father by the scruff o'the neck with the other, all whilst givin' a lecture on the demon drink. Callum was as black and white as his shirt and collar.

"So Larry, have you thought any more on what we talked about?" he asked.

I sighed. "Ah don't go on about it now. I told yer it wasn't for me. It just aint... right." I went back to stirrin my pot."Glad you're here though Padre", I said trying to change the subject, "Been any longer and this soup'd be colder than a mother-in-laws heart."

Callum laughed again. "S'hard to turn your back on His voice Larry," He said, pulling a large white apron over his head. It was a signal, of sorts, that we were ready. Shadows shifted, moved hesitatingly, and then turned into people. The kids that had hovered on the other side of the street moved quicker than the adults, they were already lined up, reaching for bowls and spoons, eyein' the soup and bread hungrily.

Secret_Squirrel
Secret_Squirrel
Safety Officer

Feb-7-2010 01:01

A little smudge-nosed kid reached for a piece of bread and Callum's ladel cracked down on the table beside his hand. "Are you not going to be a good lad and wait for God's words Alan?" The kid was too busy countin his fingers and his blessings to answer. "Lord, there's a lot tonight." Callum whispered. I looked down the street, at the people fallin' into line. There always seemed to be more. Callum rose his voice to the darkening sky. "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. For those who hunger and thirst, let there be food and drink, and for those who have food and drink, let there be a hunger and a thirst for justice."

"Amen" I said with the others.

So there we stood, scoopin' out soup into bowls, dolin' out lumps of bread, both of us lookin' warily into the pots every now and then to see how far we could make it stretch, but neither willin' to hold back or skimp. After a while I lost myself in the sea of faces, in the rhythm of 'thank you's' and 'your welcome's'; in Callums voice greetin' everyone by name, askin' after their family, listenin' to their gossip, their woes... their pain. We were there for hours, the moon high in the sky by the time we'd finished, and I realised, as the last late comer brought back his bowl and shook Callum's hand wordlessly, I hadn't reached for a smoke, not once.

"Glad that's over", I grunted, tryin' to work the kinks out of my shoulders, smilin' at the women and kids that swept the the bowls and pots away off to their little houses to scrub them clean as soon as we stood back.

"It'll never be over", Callum sighed lookin' out towards the park. He laughed " but it was hollow. "Still, life wasn't meant to be easy for any of us, eh man."

I shrugged noncommittally. "Same time next week then Padre?"

Callum grinned, "Perhaps I'll see you on Sunday?"

I grinned back, "Perhaps I'll see you at Lucy's?"

Secret_Squirrel
Secret_Squirrel
Safety Officer

Feb-7-2010 01:01

He shook his head, shucked his coat over his shoulders, and headed off towards the shadowy recesses of the park, his little church waiting on the other side.

"I try Cal'...", I wasn't sure what it was I was saying really. "... to listen". Callum paused and turned. He didn't speak, he just waited. "To His voice, I mean." Silence. I swore. I felt like a fool. The priest just laughed. Least this time it didn't sound so hollow. Full of mirth it was, full of something I didn't quite understand, but it made me feel a bit better... kind of.

"C'mon boyo", he said nodding through the trees. "I'll buy you a drink. Tibby'll let me in, even at this ungodly hour."

He was right, a drink and a smoke, that's what I needed. Nah. I was kiddin myself. Maybe for once I 'was' listenin. Heck maybe for once I 'heard'. I scuffed my shoes into the ground. "Why don't you show me this church of yours instead."

I thought he'd laugh for sure... but he didn't.

Callum just nodded off through the park like before, turned and started walkin. Kinda just let me fall in alongside.

I lit up.

Force of habit.

Smoke musta got in my eyes though, coz everything got kinda misty. I tried to laugh it off but, well, it didn't much sound like laughter comin outa my mouth, an' before I knew it, heck, I was crying like a baby. Shit. Me. Cryin'!

Callum he just walked along in silence. Leadin' me on toward the little church at the edge of the park. Leadin' me on to what, I didn't know... but then findin' out, that was better than never knowin'. Had to be I figured.

I flicked my smoke into the darkness and watched the ember fade.

Molly Maltese
Molly Maltese
Old Shoe

Feb-7-2010 19:05

Oh no! I'm so sad I couldn't submit my entry; there was one of those annoying twists of Fate in which one's retarded (Dell, of course) laptop crashes for the 3rd time, and a family emergency arises. However I loved reading all the entries and I know the winner will be well-deserving! I hope we have more contests like this, it was a marvelous idea, thank you Vi!

Anais Nin
Anais Nin
Thespian

Feb-7-2010 19:15

Submit it now so we can read it anyways, Molly! :) Laptops crashing are very annoying. :P

I loved reading everyone's as well! :) Great job everyone!!! :D

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