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Won a Writing Competition! |
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Like yes!! ;D I can't believe it! =D I won first place for the first time ever in a writing competition in Gaia. x3 I was actually surprised that I won first.. but I did push myself to the limit and used all of the available prompts in the short piece. x3 The prize was 10k and that finished off my quest for the Pandy Pack. So.. first winning: 1st September 2007. Hopefully, I'll be able to write more in the future and win more competitions. Fingers crossed, wish me luck. ^_^
Originality: 10/10 pts.
Character Development: 10/10 pts.
Plot Development: 10/10 pts.
Adherence to Prompt/Guidelines: 9/10 pts.
Spelling/Grammar: 5/5 pts.
Overall Enjoyment: 5/5 pts.
Total: 49/50 pts.
Comments:
I absolutely loved this story, I really did. It was refreshingly different from most of what I’ve seen so far in this contest, and indeed, anywhere else as of late. Wonderful. The development of the story and the characters, the spelling and grammar, all were spot on.
The only request I have is that you take a second look at your dialogue. Did it really sound like the way your average person talks in this day and age? I do understand, however, that this might change depending on the setting, so I’m not too worried about dialogue.
All in all, excellent work!
Overall Contest Ranking: 1/20
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Username: Rino-chan
Contest: Short Story
Title: Love of a Killer
Word Count: 2172 Words (not exact)
Prompt: All. Yes, all - I'm a bit idiotic that way. xD I'll underline them. ><
Story:
The children of killers are not killers, but children.
But apparently, it’s not the same with me. I was born from a killer, and was born as a killer. No matter what situation it is, they will always judge me for what I am… not who I am. It’s an annoying little thing, I must admit, to be judged for something you both are and aren’t. It’s an annoying little thing when you know your life has truly ended because of all that. But ah well. It’s life, isn’t it? When they say that you are who you are, I never thought it would be true. But like I said… it is life, isn’t it? Right?
WRONG.
Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain. Life is about who you are, not what you are. Remember that and stop being ignorant because even though ignorance can be important… in this case, it’s just plain damn stupid to be ignorant. I speak from experience. My name is Cedric, and I am the son of a killer. My name is Cedric, and I am the son of a famous serial killer. Am I proud of it? No, of course not. I don’t know who John Ferraby is. I don’t even care who he is even though he’s my father. All I know is that John Ferraby shares my blood; that he kills, that he is now murdered and that the police are now looking for the murderer even though they are, quite frankly, rather relieved that John Ferraby is dead.
But this is where the irony comes from.
My name is Cedric and I am the son of a killer… and apparently, I just killed that particular killer seven days ago.
I told you that life is about who you are and not what you are. True, I am the son of a killer and true, I am now also a killer… but that quote stands to you all out there, alright? Just because you are the sons and daughters of killers, it doesn’t mean that you will be. Unlike me. My story is different.
The day was chilly, but full of life where my story started. Leaves painted with an assortment of colours lay helplessly on the damp ground, colouring the mud-coloured roads with shades of reds and oranges as though someone had shone bright sunlight onto the surface of a gleaming ruby stone. Stray leaves danced with the singing wind, twirling here and there as they moved. The brilliant rays of sunshine poked itself through the remaining leaves on the dark-brown tree branches, casting a rather ornamental touch to the whole forest.
There I walked, admiring the beauty of nature, my head bowed low as I watched the scene before me. My steps were soft for I didn’t want to injure the delicate leaves under my feet and my breathing was slow and calm for I did not wish to disturb the tune of the passing wind. It was all rather beautiful and soothing and I was myself at that time – Cedric Ferraby, a young seventeen-year-old boy with his life already planned out in front of him.
But then... how was I to know that on such a beautiful and meaningful day, I was to face the worst situation of my life?
There are moments in your life that make you, that set the course for who you’re going to be. Sometimes, they’re little, subtle moments. Sometimes… they’re not. Bottom line is, even if you see them coming, you’re not ready for the big moments. No one asks for their life to change, not really. But it does. So what are we? Helpless? Puppets? No. The big moments are going to come, you can’t help that. It’s what you do afterwards that counts. That’s when you find out who you are.
And apparently, the day was today for myself; while I was walking along the beautiful forest in my homeland.
I could feel the weight of a wedding ring in my right trouser pocket as I walked through the forest that day. But you might be questioning me for that. Why would a wedding ring weigh me down? I must tell you now that wedding rings are cursed and blessed at the same time. They are quite heavy when they mean something to you. In fact, no matter where you put the wedding ring, it forms a chain to your heart and weighs you down. You can’t do anything about it. It’s just there. And this wedding ring was important to me. Because I was about to propose to the woman of my life; my Elise, my love.
I knew the time for my happiest day would come sooner or later…but who would have thought that the day would be during the worst moments in my life?
It started when I saw my father as I finally reached my destination. It was my private place with Elise and we were both supposed to meet each other there, but instead of my lovely, to-be wife, I saw my father there who was grinning with a rather twisted smile on his face. I never actually knew him, but I had collected all of his old documents, pictures and newspaper clippings about him in the past, merely to understand who my father was. I didn’t expect for him to know me, however. But there he stood, gazing at me as though he knew me… and I was gazing at him for the very first time in my life.
At once, I dreaded the worst. Where was Elise? Did I turn up too early…? Or did my father… kill her…? Questions thundered in my heart and soul, and like the crazy but clever person he was, my faher laughed sinisterly and raised an eyebrow.
“Cedric… my son. At last, you have finally come to meet me.” He greeted, stepping nearer to me, but he stopped abruptly when I moved back.
My eyes narrowed for I did not like what I was hearing. I tensed, ready to strike if needed – he was my father in blood, not in person. “What have you done with Elise?” I asked coldly, fists clenched at the stranger.
“My my… you are one impatient person. I am proud of you. You’re just like me.” He replied, cocking his head slightly. His voice was cold and stiff, breaking the song of the wind with its hardness. It was as if even the wind feared him. Stillness hung in the air.
I breathed a few times and shook my head. “No, I am not like you. Now where is Elise?” I demanded angrily.
My father sighed. “Your Elise is safe… in a way. She is not dead.” He answered eventually.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Being alive was the safest one could get when dealing with John Ferraby. I, at least, should know that much. But before I could reply, my father smiled again and turned, walking away, but also indicating that I should follow.
So I did.
We strode quietly through the trees, leaving behind the place where I should have proposed to Elise. I was scared, but I did not show it. I was scared of my father and I was scared for Elise’s life. But eventually, we reached the place where he wanted me at and my eyes widened in horror as I saw Elise lying on the ground, apparently unconscious with her face turning away from me. There was a large, deep gash on her cheek and I knew at once that the mark of that bloody gash would stay there forever.
Immediately, I rushed to Elise’s side and held her in my arms, my eyes burning with anger and pain. This was supposed to be the day she was beautiful and happiest! Not the day where my father would kidnap her, take her to somewhere more isolated and scar her physically, spiritually and mentally for the rest of her life! I held her tight in my arms, my shoulders shaking as I tried not to attack my father.
“Skin breaks so easily, it makes me wonder if we were meant to hurt.” He said softly, in an almost comforting way.
“Shut up.”
“Do not be angry, my son. It is your destiny.”
“I do not wish to listen to more crap from you.”
“Come with me.”
“No.”
“You can bail all the tears you want, but the saving thing has more to do with the hospitality of your heart. Together we sink. Together we float. Together. That’s the small, tender mercy of the ride.”
I released my fiancée and turned to face my father, fingers clenched as I wished to lash out at him. But I held myself still for the moment, breathing deeply. “I am not your son.” I said, as I felt my long fingernails dig deeper and deeper into my skin. “I am not your son.” I repeated, as though I was trying to convince myself. I knew that what I was saying was wrong… and mean. But being evil is always possible. Goodness is a difficulty. And it certainly wouldn’t be manageable when one needs to deal with another like John Ferraby.
His eyes told me a different story though. They were sad. And for some reason, I suddenly felt guilty and sorry for him as though my words had broken his heart. Those words were intentional… but at that moment, I could see that it wounded him deeply.
Then, Elisa stirred.
The sadness in my father’s eyes disappeared as Elisa groaned out loud. Demented desire took the place of mysterious pain and I panicked. My father was a killer – he was demented… and Elisa was taking his attention – and his desire to kill. When she stirred, my father moved as though he was a vampire craving for blood. He lunged forward but I was quicker and I jumped head-first into him before he could reach Elisa. We fell on the ground but I had held my hand out to support my fall and it landed on something round and large. Without thinking, my fingers tightened around it and I lashed out, hitting my father full force across the face.
He groaned and I attacked him again, blinded by fury, anger and fear, as though he might lash out and kill Elisa at any moment. He groaned a few times and eventually stayed silent. That was when I stopped. I released the thing (which I now realise was a rough branch) and moved back with my hands and legs, staring at him. He opened his eyes and the look was back – that pain… staring into my eyes.
“Thank you, my son.”
I never wanted it to happen. But you can only want things to happen or you can make things happen.
I made mine happen.
My dearest Elisa disappeared from my life afterwards. She isolated herself, broken and tormented until she could take no more and hung herself. I believe she was scared… scared of me, scared at the little souvenir my father gave her on the day she was supposed to be my wife. Scared of everything. Especially when the press said that my father is now known to have mental disabilities – like a split personality. Or probably delusional. I know I would be scared as well. I know I am scared, just like her. In a way, one would say that I lost her. But in my mind… she is still with me.
It's called Love. One which would forever haunt us until we are forced to reveal everything. One which gives us strength during our worst and best moments, giving both life and death, both killing us and keeping us alive. Love.. such a small word, but most powerful. Without love, I would never be a killer. But without love, I would never have grieved over my father's death.
Passion. It lies in all of us, sleeping, waiting, and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir, open its jaws, and howl. It speaks to us, guides us. Passion rules us all, and we obey. What other choice do we have? ….It hurts sometimes, more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we’d know some kind of peace, but we would be hollow; empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we’d truly be dead.
And now, my passion is gone and it is time for me to leave. So this is my story. After you read this, please give this script to the police. They should earn their peace from the Ferraby family. For I am the last Ferraby known to kill. Am I sad to leave this world? Of course not. For I still love my Elise like no other. I have my strength to leave this world, and that is something one does not find very often, for Strength is great and Power strikes fear into heroes and villains alike, but someone who follows their heart, putting their loved ones first, damning the consequences, and even themselves in the process... Believe me, those people, they're worth paying attention to.
So pay attention to me now. Just because you are the child of a killer, you are not a killer until you kill. And just because you’re the child of a killer, it doesn’t mean you will kill. I learned that the hard way. But love is calling me now. After all…
death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.
 Rino-chan · Wed Sep 05, 2007 @ 06:57pm · 0 Comments |
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