# January 2013 - LM - Waiting For The Sun



## Fin (Dec 31, 2012)

*LITERARY MANEUVERS*​Waiting For The Sun​
*Reminder of the prizes awarded to the winner.*

The winner will receive a forum award which will be pinned to their lapel by Baron himself. Also, the winner will be awarded with a one month free subscription to the forums (FoWF) which will give you access to additional forums and use of the chat room where a there is a steadily growing community!

So, do your best!


*Our prompt for this month's competition is:*

*Waiting For The Sun*

In 650 words or less, write a story where the prompt above is in some way included in the story, such as the theme; object; setting, etc. So there should be many ways to connect to the prompt.


*The judges for this round are:*

*Fin*; *Foxee*; *Leyline*; *Jon M*
A click of a judge's name will take you to their profile.

(To the judges, send your scores to *Fin* via PM - and if we could aim to have them sent within a week after the closing date, that would be ideal)


*Now a recap of the rules:*


The word limit is 650 words not including the title. If you go over - Your story will not be counted.
You can no longer edit your entry after posting. There will be a 10-minute grace period, if you want to go in there and edit a typo or something, but you should approach this as if you were submitting your work to be published and paid for. When you submit, that should be your final work, the work you are happy with.
Of course, there can only be one entry per member.
No comments in this thread, please - Only competition entries (and links to) to be posted in this thread.
Also, please hold off on "liking" stories until the judging's done.


*There are two ways to post your entry:*


If you aren't too concerned about your first rights, then you can simply post your entry here in this thread.
You can opt to have your entry posted in the *LM Workshop Thread* which is a special thread just for LM entries. You would put your story there if you wish to protect your first rights (in case you want to someday submit the work to a magazine or something). *Take note: If you have elected to put your entry there in the Workshop thread, you must copy the link into the main competition thread or else it will not be counted.*

Everyone is welcome to participate. A judge's entry will receive a review by their fellow judges, but it will not receive a score.

*This competition will close on:*

Monday, the 14th of January. To avoid confusion, the thread will close at 11:59pm (Monday Night) LOS ANGELES, USA time. GMT/UTC-8

*Good luck, everyone!*​


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## Arcopitcairn (Dec 31, 2012)

2 Vampires Meet 4 Mummies (Slight language)


_Vampire Society of America Charter

_

_Bylaws

_

_Chapter 19 (Section 6): All VSA members, when convenient, and at their discretion, are to eliminate any supernatural threat or competition that endangers the food supply, including freelance vampires, werewolves, zombies, ghosts, etc…

_

  Lips blood red, blond hair pulled back into severe pony tails, pale, beautiful faces, Tina and Mistress Bloodshadow (Not her real name), handily dodged the crates that the four mummies were throwing down from the second floor landing of the warehouse. The dead girls were dressed in the standard VSA ‘Lugosi Special’ tuxedos, gold amulets swinging, black capes swirling, and their shiny patent leather shoes crunching bubble wrap and shattered antiques that exploded from the crashing, splintering boxes. Their small clearing in the forest of stacked pallets on the warehouse floor was rapidly filling with broken junk. Tina was smiling.


  “What are we waiting for? The sun is coming soon!” Bloodshadow yelled as she sidestepped wooden crates that loudly ended their flight with spraying twinkles of Fenton glass and Pyrex bowls. “What are we doing?” She growled.


  Tina smiled as she effortlessly batted aside another box. Her mouth hung half open in fang-bearing awe. “It’s just…look at them!” She laughed. “I’ve never seen a mummy before!”


  “Ever been to a museum?” Bloodshadow sneered.


  “You know what I mean, _Jill_,” Tina teased.


  “Mistress Bloodshadow!” Jill cried.


  “Mummetry at this level is unheard of,” Tina said, ignoring Jill’s indignation. “I mean, just look at them. They’re beautiful!” 


  Two of the mummies, their dusty muscles rippling beneath their tight, filthy bandages, picked up a red velvet Victorian love seat and threw it. Their eyeless sockets and wrinkled mouths showed no hint of disappointment when they missed. They lumbered about, gravelly moaning, looking for more projectiles as their wrapped feet thundered on the landing.


  “Mummetry isn’t a word, stupid,” Jill said smugly. “I think ‘mummification’ is what you meant to say.” She ducked under a speeding Tiffany floor lamp, smirking at Tina.


  “Mummification is the process of making mummies,” Tina said haughtily. “These mummies are being controlled, hence, mummetry.”


  “She is correct!” Came a voice from above. It was The Mummeteer, the fat, fez-wearing, golden-robed Egyptian master of mummies. His little Lennon glasses sparkled blackly in the harsh light of the warehouse, his reddened, sweaty jowls jiggled, and his stubby hands shook in fists at the vampire girls below. The mummies halted their attack in deference to their master’s voice. “It is mummetry! And it is I who am the master of it! Gaze and tremble, stupid bitches, kneel before the mighty magical mystery of-“


  A little hole appeared in the Mummeteer’s forehead, and a sizeable portion of his twisted brain exited the back of his skull in a chunky red spray. His fez, blown off his head, seemed to hang in mid-air for a moment before it plopped to the floor. The Mummeteer stumbled, dead on his feet.  Jill picked up another marble from the pile of stuff she was standing in, and she threw it. Her second glass bullet freed what was left of the man’s brains from his head, and he fell, completely dead.


  “Humph,” Tina snorted. “Nice shot.”


  They leapt up to the landing, light as feathers, and they looked at the mummies, which were ‘alive’ but harmless now that their master was dead.


  “Should we…” Jill said, motioning to the puddle of blood forming around the Mummeteer’s perforated head.


  Tina glanced at the blood, but grimaced. “You can lick that weirdo’s blood up off the floor if you want, but I’m not going to.”


  Jill crossed her arms and pouted.


  “I want one,” Tina said as she gazed at one of the immobilized mummies. 


  “We already called it in. We have to follow the rules.”


  “Can you hear me?” Tina said as she touched the limp arm of the nearest mummy. There was no answer.


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## the antithesis (Jan 1, 2013)

Morning


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## Leyline (Jan 2, 2013)

*Judge entry: not for competition.




*Morningsong


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## Circadian (Jan 2, 2013)

*Aside from the Fire
*​            Canvas tents and rickety old trucks littered the lunar valley like the debris of a downgraded civilization.  High crags rose on all sides.  A wavering harmony could be heard singing the chorus of “Ol’ Georgiana from Down in the Bay” and it rang out into a darkness pierced only by the stars and the flickering flame.

            Sam McCleary sat beyond the range of the campfire, methodically polishing his bayonet.  The headlamp installed into his helmet sent its light dancing over the weapon, on its silver blade.  He continued to wipe the cloth over it, again, again, never minding that it was already pristine from his polishing.  In his mind, it was still battered from its ordeal on the battlefield.  Its bright blade was still stained with the dark green blood of his enemy.

            He sighed, worked at it harder.  He tried to banish the thoughts of war from his mind, but the more he tried, the more vivid the images were.

            It had been twenty years since the invasion of the Bane-breeds, hideous creatures that humanity’s own scientists had created. It had been an experiment, to plant the seeds of life on a terraformed planet and to watch those seeds grow and evolve.  Eventually becoming the very creatures who, in their depravity, sought to destroy their manipulators.

            “Feeling the mood again, eh?”

            Sam stopped the familiar movements at the sound of his friend’s voice.  Liam had silently approached and was now taking a seat next to him on the boulder, his mouth widening in a crooked grin.  He tapped the side of his faceplate and it retracted into his helmet. Only the slight flicker of his personal force field kept him from becoming space fodder.  “You know, I came to offer you some of Senna’s finest coffee. But if you don’t want any…”

            “Ah,”Sam stopped him before he could go farther. “Hand it over.”

            “Darn,” Liam said in mock disappointment, handing Sam the steaming mug.  Their force fields crackled briefly as the drink exchanged hands.  Sam cradled it, feeling the warmth seep through his gloves. “Blessed heaven,” he moaned, taking a sip.

            “So,uh, you gonna join us by the fire, or what?” Liam asked.  Sam glanced behind him, to where the rest of their contingent were gathered around the fire, encased in its shield.  Senna was nearby, brewing coffee from a machine in the back of her sky truck.

            “Nah, I’ll sit here awhile,” Sam replied.  “Watch the sun pass over.”

            “Ah, the sun!” Liam exclaimed.  “I used to love watching it pass over.  You’ve got to admit, it sure is spectacular.  But, well, I seem to have lost the enjoyment since the war started.”

            Sam nodded.  Many amazing things had long since lost their beauty during the war.  “Should come any minute now,” he said, checking the watch installed into his wrist armor.

            Behind them came another resounding chorus of “Ol’ Georgiana,” hardly recognizable now in all its rousing, off-key glory.

            “I’m gonna join the boys, see if I can teach them something about singing,” Liam said jokingly and headed back for the campfire.

            Sam, alone now, reached back down for his bayonet, feeling its reassuring solidness in his hands.

            Then it happened.  Warmth that only came with the arriving sun, light only seen with its approach, bathed Sam’s face.  Over the jagged horizon came a roar and a whipping of winds and then the sun tore over the lunar surface, stirring the dust and trailing flaring tendrils in its wake. Pulling the sun were four silver otters of cosmic proportions, their fur like star-speckled silk, their eyes like miniature novas.  They kicked out their strong paws the size of planets and vanished beneath the opposite horizon just as quickly as they had come, taking the sun with them.

            Sam watched this spectacle, let out another sigh, and resumed his polishing.

~Circe


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## Jamie (Jan 2, 2013)

*The Count of Wonky Bigtoe

*647 words


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## popsprocket (Jan 2, 2013)

*Erica
*[600 words]

Life bled out; death crept in. He didn’t know which it was.

Everything that made him human seemed to be fading from his body. Pain and fear and love all abandoned their vessel as it came to the end of its time. They wanted no part in this. He would die truly alone, in the end, and all that would be left was the reason he had clawed his way up here.

The man dragged himself along abrasive concrete in the wan predawn light, lending pale skin to the pavement with each writhing inch. Behind him ran a trail of blood as the last of his broken life drained from the stump where his leg had been severed. It looked like a trail of fading hope; a sickening smear leading off into the darkness that he had tried so hard to flee.

He could have stayed in that wretched city beneath the surface. He could have lived happily with a wife and children under the bright lights that kept the darkness at bay. All it would have taken was the will to move on and continue living. Was this the better choice? Was it really better to die for this than to live for them?

“Not that it matters anymore.” He muttered over the effort of hauling his body, a tired voice all he could manage as his vision began to blur. A decision had been made and the consequences had been accepted. To now claim that it wasn’t worth it would have been a waste of life. No; it was worth it. 

It had to be.

With a heave that cost him the last of his strength, the man pulled himself up against a cold concrete wall. He rolled awkwardly until he was facing eastward, his head sagging weakly as he strained to see. It was coming. If only he could last a few minutes longer he would get to see it – to see his sunshine one last time.

Above mountains that soared to the heavens, the sky shone faintly with more shades of grey than he could have named in a lifetime. Even the brightest of those distant stars faded as they gave way to the brilliance of the rising sun. But it wasn’t coming quickly enough. The man could feel his focus leaving. He had come here to do something… to see something. But what was it? Desperation clawed at the edges of his mind, but he couldn’t remember why. He had forgotten something important and it tore terribly at his broken heart.

He had to remember…

Funny… he couldn’t feel his hands anymore. They were scraped raw, but there was no pain to match the blood. Were these someone else’s hands? He was sure that he should have been able to feel something. His eyes drooped. It felt as though he hadn’t slept in days.

A vagrant thought strayed across the edge of consciousness and the man latched onto it as if it were his last hope.
_
Erica._

Yes. That was right.  He’d come here to see Erica one more time. To see the girl that had been sun of his life.
Ragged breath drew as he raised his eyes to the horizon. Grey skies fled before the fires of life as dawn shattered the darkness and warmth bathed the man. It was… familiar; this was the same warmth as hers. Perhaps love had not abandoned him in his last moments after all.

“Erica.” He whispered through a smile as the last of his life left him. 

He had gotten to see her, one last time.


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## Staff Deployment (Jan 4, 2013)

Pole Station


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## Lewdog (Jan 4, 2013)

(Mature Language)

*Dirt Nap*

650 words

The lights seems to flicker, it's power pumping with the rhythm of my heart.  I stare at three walls and a set of bars that separate the animal in me and the world of lambs.  The three walls look like sponges painted grey and stacked to the ceiling.  The porous concrete has sucked all the life out of me.  Tonight I'll be 'taking the big sleep,' at midnight sharp.  I don't plan on getting any last minute calls, why would a governor want to save someone that told him to, "go fuck himself?"

I know I deserve to die.  I took the life of an 18 year old college student and mother of one, over $47.54.  I thought the gas station would have more money that late in the night, I was wrong, and she lost her life because of it.  I was blinded in anger, I just pulled the trigger. Mother always said I had anger issues.  She said I would bite her nipple during breast feeding til the point of blood when I wasn't getting enough milk.  "Born evil," I often heard her say.  I guess I've lived up...or down to her expectations?  

At trial I told the girl's family that I was sorry for what I had done, but I didn't expect them to ever forgive me, I didn't deserve it.  I told them I was glad I got caught, if I hadn't there might have been MORE families in the court room that day.  They wept, and the father spoke, trying to put into words emotions that I'll never understand.  I didn't have a father growing up, and the only attention I got from my mother came from the back of her hand.  If there was such a thing as the tooth fairy, I would have been pretty rich from the number of teeth knocked out of my head.  

About an hour ago I feasted off the best meal of my life, it was like diving head first into a dumpster behind Golden Corral, which I had done many times, but this was all FRESH and HOT.  I ate steak, meatloaf, red potatoes, garlic bread, pizza, lasagna, and my favorite...pecan pie.  In fact I got a WHOLE pie, and ended up eating half of it.  I asked the guards to give my left overs to the guy in the cell next to me, but they said they weren't allowed.  I wouldn't be surprised if those lazy asses did't eat it all themselves.  That shit pisses me off when they get to go home after 8 hours and can eat out whenever they want!  

Not long after I got done eating, they asked if I would like to talk to pastor, rabbi, or anyone of my faith.  I told them I didn't give a fuck about religion, when I die, I'm going to go where I am supposed to go.  I've done a lot of bad things, and if I'm supposed to go to hell...if there is a hell, then I deserve it.  Some last minute words from a 'holy man,' isn't going to change that.  I never did get the guys that lived evil all their life, and thought that getting on their knees on death row asking for forgiveness was going to really matter.  I guess I'll ask them when I get to hell if it made any difference.  I chuckled out loud with that last thought.

Well, I hear foot steps coming up the corridor, which signals my time to take a walk.  This has perhaps been the shortest day of my life, I chuckled again.  I guess things go much faster, when you are no longer waiting for the sun, and only darkness comes.


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## Deleted member 49710 (Jan 4, 2013)

Plantation: Spring 2268
(language warning)


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## namesake (Jan 4, 2013)

The Jewel-Eyed Lady


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## Foxee (Jan 4, 2013)

I wasn't going to write anything but you all were having so much fun I had to sit down and spin something out. Enjoy!

*By Heart*
_V.G. Kemerer_
*
Judge's Entry, Not for Competition*


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## bazz cargo (Jan 5, 2013)

Noir.

His fingers gently tracing lines of icy fire down my spine. A kiss so slow, with lips full of tactile promise. Breathing stopped. The thunder of rampaging hormones driving me mindlessly into a passion verging on violence. Love and lust's first bloom.

* * *

Lying there curled together. Relaxed. Carried in a cloud of endorphins. Waiting for the first ray to slip through the curtains in the window. Love always arrives with excitement and addiction, but never lasts.

* * *

In the first touch of morning light I carefully slide my thighs over his gently snoring head. Then I topple over the side of the bed, squeezing as I go. The snap of his neck echoes round the room. I drag his still alive but paralysed naked body to the en-suite and lever it into the bath.

The hot tap has a remarkable amount of pressure. Aiming carefully I hit his head against the tap. Blood seeps into the filling bath. I look into his eyes. “You were the best. No-one has reached me the way you have.” I push him under the water and pump his chest a few times. The bubbles stop coming.

A bar of soap goes into the bath. A part burnt cigarette, I had found outside the bar, goes onto the carpet.

I put on my blonde wig. Overdo the make-up and plump up my cleavage, the guy in the No Tell Motel reception will remember them and not my face.

A girl has to make a living.


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## Bad Craziness (Jan 11, 2013)

*TEMPE, Mitchell. ID: 0059912 (650 words) (Language Warning)*

TEMPE, Mitchell. ID: 0059912 (650 words) (Language Warning)


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## Brock (Jan 11, 2013)

*The Last Sunset*

*The Last Sunset*
(Mild Language and Mature Themes Warning)

The vodka bottle rattles against the rim of Nicole’s glass as her hands tremble uncontrollably as she pours another drink.  She takes a deep drag off her cigarette and exhales at her reflection in the large bay window.  She takes a drink and leans on the window ledge, gazing blankly out over the endless dark abyss of Barrow, Alaska.

Shawn walks up behind her and places his hands on her shoulders.  “Only eleven more days, honey,” he says with a weak and unconvincing tone as he attempts to comfort her.

The Sunset Killer has been terrorizing the community of Barrow for the last six winters, always taking his first female victim on November 18[SUP]th[/SUP] and claiming his last on January 24[SUP]th[/SUP].  These are the days that the Sun forgets to shine on Barrow.

“I want to move!” Nicole yells.  “Kristin – my god, she was my friend, Shawn!  And Mrs. Patterson was our son’s teacher, for Christ’s sake!  They are never going to catch him and you know it!  I don’t care about your job – this house, none of it!  I’m tired of being afraid.  I want to go now!”

“Look, sweetheart.  We just have to be extra cautious; he stops killing in eleven days.  We can’t just up and leave right now and give up everything we have worked so hard for because we’re afraid.

Nicole says nothing.  They have had this conversation before and she knows he won't move regardless of what happens.  

Her eyes glaze over as she continues to stare in to the darkness.
“I want some goddamn sunlight!” she suddenly screams as she shatters her glass of vodka on the tile floor.

“You’re out of control,” Shawn says as he grabs the bottle and guzzles from it as he leaves her alone to sob.  “I’m going to bed.”

“What the hell kind of husband are you?”  Nicole yells as she follows him to the bedroom.  “Aren’t you even the least bit worried?  Women are being murdered, Shawn!  Kristin could very well have been me last night.  I use the same gym – even the same parking space where she was abducted!  Doesn’t that bother you?  Is your job and this stupid house really worth the risk of your wife being raped and murdered?”

“No, it’s not,” Shawn sighs.  “I don’t know what to do.  I’ve worked so hard to get us where we’re at.  But I’ll do whatever you want to do.  You want to move?  Let’s move.  I’m serious; we’ll figure out a way to make it.”

“Are you being serious?” Nicole asks as she puts her arms around him.  “Can we really leave or are you just saying that?”

Shawn lifts her chin with his finger and looks her in the eyes.  “Yes, I’m serious; let’s get out of here, baby.”  He leans in and gives her a long soft kiss on the forehead as if to seal his promise.

Although Nicole felt relieved of her fear, she was feeling guilty over the fact that Shawn had given in so quickly.  “We can stay and wait for the sun to – “Shhh,” he whispers, cutting her off as he presses his finger to her lips.  “You don’t like it here anyways.  Let’s just get out of here, hun.”

He kisses her on the lips as she goes limp in his arms and kisses him back.  She unbuttons his shirt and removes it as she plants soft kisses on his chest.  He lays her on the bed and unties her bath robe.

“I love you, Shawn” she whispers as she pulls at his boxers. 
Eyes closed, he loudly exhales and whispers back:  “Oh, Kristin.”

They both freeze and open their eyes.                 
Nicole struggles to speak:  “Sh-Sha-Shawn?” 
“Yes?” he replies with a blank expression on his face.
A tear runs from the corner of Nicole’s left eye.
“Uh.... Where were you last night?”


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## FleshEater (Jan 11, 2013)

TheMonsterThatIsMan (650 Words)

http://www.writingforums.com/prose-...-waiting-sun-workshop-thread.html#post1591945


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## Tiamat (Jan 12, 2013)

Maintenance


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## squidtender (Jan 12, 2013)

Six Steps


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## Anna Buttons (Jan 13, 2013)

My entry:

*Tick Tock*


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## BenTurnbull (Jan 14, 2013)

A Funeral


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## moderan (Jan 14, 2013)

Waiting for the Sun. Dangit, I forgot the {language warning) again.


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## garza (Jan 14, 2013)

*Sunrise*


Joe lay in a hammock on the first-floor veranda of Preacher's Paradise Hotel and bar. He woke to the sounds of morning. Downstairs, waiters were putting out tables for the tourists up early for cave trips and visits to Mayan ruins. 


The broken rhythm of Sandy on the back stairs echoed down the hallway that ran through the building.  The same broken rhythm of one foot in an orthopedic shoe continued as she walked to the veranda. Joe raised his head and looked over the veranda's railing. There was some lightening of the sky in the East. The single royal palm at the end of the street was a die-cut silhouette stark black against the growing light.


 Joe sat up. 'He did say sunrise, didn't he?'


'He said sunrise. What'll you tell him?'


'That I don't have the money.'


'He ought to understand that it's not your fault you were robbed. He ought to give you time. After all, the hotel's making good money.'


'That's why he wants it, and why he's not going to understand anything except that he has a promisary note with my name on it. I can give him the money or I can give him the hotel or he can sue me and take the hotel.'


More footsteps on the back stairs, two pair. They reached the top, came along the hallway. A smiling little man in a grey suit walked onto the veranda. Another man stopped at the door.


'Hello Joe, Hello Sandy,' said the little man. 'Here I am, a few minutes early. We can watch the sun rise together.'


'Hello Stuart. Who's he?' said Joe.


'Somebody I just met,' said the little man. 'He was one of the witnesses to your robbery, Joe. He was in a room, right up here. He didn't see anything, but he heard everything.'


'Not much to hear, according to the bartender. Two men came in, one had a gun, they took all the money in the cash drawer, then made the bartender open the safe.'


'So your bartender had the combination, eh Joe?'


'No. The robbers had it somehow.'


'Maybe we know how, Joe. My friend here says he heard one of the men walk to the back, then walk back to the front and both ran out. Ain't that right?'


The big man nodded. 'Ran out real quick like. Then somebody else came up the stairs, walked down the hall and went into a room. It sounded like they met one of the robbers, then came up here.'


'See, Joe, if you say you don't got the money, s'okay, I believe you. But I don't believe you was robbed, at least not the way you think. Way I got it figured, somebody in the hotel gives the safe combination to somebody outside. That somebody and a pal come in, hold up the bartender, give him the combination and make him open the safe. One of 'em goes to the back and hands the money over to the somebody that's in the hotel, who comes upstairs and hides the money in one of the rooms while the robbers run out the front.'


Stuart turned to Sandy. 'Do me a favour, sweetheart, walk for me.'


'What?' said Sandy.


'Just walk for me.'


Sandy walked to the end of the veranda and back. The big man nodded. 'That's it,' he said.


'Oh, look,' said Stuart. 'The sun's coming up. It's a beautiful sunrise, ain't it sweetheart?'


'Tell me, Sandy,' said Joe.


'You can't prove it.'


'I can search your room.'


Sandy stood for a moment then sat in the hammock and began to cry.


'Is it all there?' said Joe.


'All but two hundred I paid those guys.'


'Get it.' Joe turned to Stuart. 'I think I'll keep my hotel. Okay by you?'


'Okay, but you better get yourself a new girlfriend.'


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## allyson17white (Jan 15, 2013)

Waiting for the Sun​
	She was alone that night, the night of death, of sadness and tears. Alone in her room watching the stars twinkle in the sky. Alexia ignored the screams that filled the house that night. It wasn’t so different from any other night she lived. Every night the same silent tears stained her face, the same agonizing cries filled her ears, and the same lights shined in the sky. Those lights held promise for Alexia, the promise of a new life, for it was because of those stars and the great moon that she held on to life. They were proof to her that there was something more, because Alexia was only eight that night and to a young girl full of hope and magic the stars were spirits that watched down on her. They were fairy dust sprinkled in the sky. They were life and death and love and they held it all in their light. Because to an eight year old girl stuck in such a lone place those stars were her friends, her support, and her lifeline. Now to that young girl the sun hid away. The sun hid from the pain and fear and hurt that haunted her nights, but the stars, they braved the night with her and stood by her side. So what was she to do? When she felt scared, no one was there. When she was hurt, no one was there. When she was sad, no one was there. When she saw monsters in the shadows, no one was there. No one was there but the stars and the moon. The screaming continued as the girl began to pray. She was too young to really know what praying was so she talked the higher power, and to her that was the stars. So she said, “Hello stars, how are you? I’m not doing so great right now, you see mommy and daddy are fighting again and I’m alone. Except for you stars. I like you. Do you like me stars? Do you care about me enough to stay with me? I don’t want to be alone. Not any more. I see stars, when I look at you, that one day things will be better, because if you can fly up there in the sky then surly I can become better than this. I don’t know if you ever had someone yell at you but if you had then you know what it’s like stars. It is a horrible thing. I don’t know what I did. What did I do wrong stars? Stars I wish that I could be like you so brave. Brave enough to fly away in the sky and face all of life. But I’m not brave, I’m weak and I need some one to help me. Just anyone. Stars, why are you so brave? How can you face the night like this. I love you stars, but I wish that the day would come because I’m not brave and don’t want thins to keep going. Stars will you be with me tonight? Mommy is yelling really loud and so is daddy. I just don’t know what to do. Is there anything to do? Ok stars I know things will get better. But when? Well thank you for listening stars. I love you.” And she turned back to her bed and young Alexia crawled under her covers and waited for the sun to come. And when it did it brought with it sirens and flashing lights and strangers. That night Alexia didn’t sleep but she stayed with the stars. There had been two loud bangs in the house. She never did see her mommy or daddy again, just strangers. But she stayed with the stars because they were never strange. And that night she had spent waiting for the sun with the stars.


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## Potty (Jan 15, 2013)

This competition has now closed.

Ignore me, I was looking at the wrong clock... hasn't closed quite yet.


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## Kevin (Jan 15, 2013)

http://www.writingforums.com/lm-cha...aiting-sun-workshop-thread-2.html#post1593004


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## Fin (Jan 27, 2013)

*


Click here for the scores to this competition​*


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