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Apr-25-2012 16:52

May-5-2012 20:42

just so folks know, a post is 2000 characters. That's 'about' 350 - 400 words, depending on your grammatical bigafication. < totally a word!

May-6-2012 14:05

We have one great post so far! Keep it up. Hope to see another post soon!

May-6-2012 20:58

lol I tried to be lazy and use an Intro for a SM I started to write ages ago and erm yes 16000 + characters. Ooops. Long-winded much :D

May-7-2012 10:25

Judges,

I started thinking about the judging and I realized I never mentioned about it. Judging will be grading by numbers. 100 being the highest, 0 being the lowest. The competition has officially started, and we've already got one post. I hope to see more soon!

May-8-2012 00:31

For attention of Prince of Shangri-La



'' To Althea

I have a little hobby. Come, sit, I'll tell you what;
it's just a little pastime, I think you'll agree too.
Just, would you like a cuppa? It comes so piping hot,
we'll warm our hands upon the mug and gas about who's who.
.
That's right, just you get comfy; - I see you've drunk the lot!
Well, now I'll let you in on my secret, dark habit.
I lure in unsuspecting young people, to this spot;
this room has seen some beauties, I've skinned them like a rabbit.
.
You look a little puzzled. There really is no need.
I'll explain what is happening; the drug was in your cup!
you'll find it hard to move now; don't pay it any heed;
that's just to make it easy for me to truss you up.
.
Now, dear, I cannot hear you; - I know it's hard to speak,
so don't know why you're trying, - relax and let me work.
My hobby's so absorbing, the pow'r-rush makes me squeak;
The high anticipation; - the smell of blood and murk...
.
You see me lay the plastic; you watch with frightened eyes;
I pick out nice clean scalpels, you roll your head and strain;
I cut some juicy slices of flesh out from your thighs,
and pop them in the frypan, then cut and come again.
.
Oh dear, you've only fainted! That will not do! Not fair!
That spoils the whole effect, wake up! I need to see your pain!
- Dear me, they keep on dying; I'll have to take more care.
I don't know why it happens. Each one I've tried in vain... ''



Signed:
Wladislav ''Hannibal'' Buranek
''your daily Villain and dedicated fan''.

May-8-2012 08:14

My entry is still forthcoming. I have completed a first draft and am still revising and editing.

Another superb entry from Cekuray. I love the sinister poetry!

May-8-2012 09:17

Great posts to the two of you who posted. Both are excellent!

May-8-2012 13:42

Waiting for your post to cheer NQ! Good luck everybody!

May-9-2012 01:44

Night Queen, sinister as in opposed to dexter poetry? Although, "I have a little hobby" may be both.
I do like it indeed.

May-9-2012 19:00

The inside of the tent was sweltering, and rivulets of sweat streaked the back of Molly’s neck as she perused a scroll. The only illumination offered was a dusty old lamp, nearly clogged with the desert sands of Egypt that surrounded her on all sides. Her eyelashes were clogged with the damned sand- her ears, her hair, it gritted between her teeth when she spoke, and her entire mouth tasted of parched rocks and sunlight. It was more torture than a soul should have to bear.
But she only had to bear it for a night longer, she thought as her blood began to pound with adrenaline. For there on the scroll, concealed in the centuries-old hieroglyphics, was the answer to the riddle they had been searching for. The location of the 9 scored ankh of Hatshepsut, or “The Nine Lives” as it was called in most theory. A priceless ankh cast of white gold, encrusted with 9 huge rubies around the rim, and priceless stones all down the hilt. It was a long-lost treasure, coveted by many seekers. It was said to be cursed, however. Some said that the Gods grew infuriated at Hatshepsut’s arrogance, of her taking the sacred symbol and making it gaudy with worldly accoutrements. The very thing that was to guarantee her enduring life, was said to have cursed her, and brought her downfall. It was said that Senenmut, her chief architect and lover, had realized this mistake and hidden the artifact away. But it was too late for he and his queen both. The only thing that remained of this legacy was the tattered papyrus scroll he had left as a riddled guide to the ankhs location.
Molly had pored for hours over the papyrus, and the singular riddle it contained.
“If you go where it is most holy. The ninth will grant you life.” Just beneath this was a crude sketch of a pillar. Molly had suddenly been struck with its meaning. Most holy. The temple Senenmut had built for Hatshepsut at Deir El-Bahari. It was called Djeser-Djeseru, or “Holy of Holies” The ninth will grant you life- the pillar must