# December 2012 - LM - The Warning



## Fin (Dec 2, 2012)

*LITERARY MANEUVERS*​The Warning​
*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:*

*The Warning*

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*; *Leyline*; *Jon M*; *Potty*
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:*

Sunday, the 16th of December. To avoid confusion, the thread will close at 11:59pm (Sunday Night) LOS ANGELES, USA time. GMT/UTC-8

*Good luck, everyone!*​


----------



## Vendetta5885 (Dec 3, 2012)

_The Cold Wind
(Language Warning)
_​     The night was black.  The only light came from a couple of stars fighting through the clouds and a few cigarettes from soldiers’ mouths who had fought through the day.  At last tally we had six cigarettes.  Happiness will be in short supply tomorrow morning along with food, water, and ammunition.  I gripped my rifle rigidly with a finger on the trigger, a seemingly useless gesture as my fingers are so cold that I doubt I could pull it if I wanted to; regardless, my rifle was staying right where it was.  The sound of distant artillery shells exploding occasionally breaks the cold silence.  The wind cut through my jacket like a bayonet through the enemy’s flesh, the wind steals my warmth like the bayonet stealing a life, slowly and painfully.
  “You want some, Jesse?” Rory asked with his southern drawl, holding out a crooked, thin and flimsy cigarette which was obviously wrapped with cold hands and a dwindling tobacco supply.  “Thanks,” I said grabbing it with shaking hands. “Can’t sleep?” I asked, pausing and taking a long methodical drag.  “Shit, no.  Too damn cold. Afraid I won’t wake up.” He laughed, “Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing though.” He looked at me for confirmation of the joke.  “Not sure you mama would appreciate that joke Rory, but I suppose it is better than some of the alternatives.”  I stared down at the frozen mud, looked up at him just in time to catch the single tear. “You’ll get home.” I said passing the cigarette back to him.
  “Yeah, I know. We all will or at least that’s what everyone tells each other.” Rory said, laughing uncomfortably.  He assumes the crouching position and heads back to his rifle and pack.    I placed my rifle across my lap and rested my head against the cold hard wall of the trench and tried with all my will to place myself next to the fire with my wife and child. I kiss my wife on the cheek and find myself drifting off to sleep.
_-plop… plop-_     The warning, the precursor of inevitable death, a lost second is one too many.     _-plop -_    The mustard gas filled artillery rounds land up-wind.  I rip open my ruck sack, fingers incapable of working from the extreme cold, playing cards, the crappy novel I never read, every leisure activity I carry becomes an obstacle, an instrument of my demise.  Some soldiers become vigilantes fighting for themselves, bumping into one another throwing another down to get out of the path of death. Other soldiers become heroes, throwing themselves down to get others out of the path of death.  I find my mask and feverishly attempt to put it on, clumsy fingers fumble with the straps.  People run around me in all directions, a flurry of panic.  Rory is by my side tugging my jacket collar, yelling through his mask.
     “Lets go! Get out of here!”  He warned pointing at the seemingly benign cloud.     I nod in agreement and take off into a run looking over my shoulder attempting to tighten my mask, it is almost upon us.  20 feet, 15 feet…     _-plop, plop-_
    I look back again. I find myself airborne… I meet cold, rock hard earth at the bottom of an old trench.  My face is uncovered, I feverishly search for the lost mask, but its useless.  The cloud calmy and steadily drifts into the trench.  I see the cold wind take the cloud and send it into a chaotic spiral just before engulfing me like a stone in rough water.  Better than some of the alternatives I thought to myself and I tried with all my will to place myself next to the fire with my wife, child, and parents. I kiss my wife on the cheek and find myself drifting off to sleep.


----------



## popsprocket (Dec 4, 2012)

*A Blur of Fists and Wrath
*(644 words)


Helpless. That was a feeling that Jackson wasn't overly familiar with. He'd always had a ready solution for every problem. But, as he stared down at the pretty girl by his side, he had no idea what to do for her. Amy was all dolled up for the performance that her father had promised – and failed – to come to. This was very same father that liked to swoop into Amy’s life with promises of being a real family, and then leave as soon as he got bored. If Jackson had known that… if he had known that, then this never would have happened. He never would have pushed her to reconcile with him.

It would do him no good to apologise now.

If he didn't know any better, Jackson would have guessed that she was crying. Only, Amy didn't cry. She was stronger than that.

The sight of a man sitting on his front step made Jackson stop dead. Amy carried on a few steps before coming to her own halt.

“Michael.” Jackson snarled, rage thundering through his veins at the very sight of the man.

“Dad?” Amy whispered with a quick glance upwards before returning her reddened gaze to the pavement.

Her father saw the pair of them and stood awkwardly like he had been caught off guard by something. He seemed dishevelled, as though he’d spent hours sitting on that step. What was he doing here? Why hadn't he gone to Amy’s apartment to apologise? The answer to that was obvious. This wasn't an apology. This was goodbye – and by proxy, at that. He’d come here to ask Jackson to relay his farewell as he left his daughter behind, heartbroken, yet again.

Jackson continued walking until he was just a few feet from the most horrible man he’d ever met.

“Amy. Go inside.” It was gentle, but firm. She didn't need to see this. Jackson didn't even know if she would approve of this. But sometimes you had to take responsibility for protecting the people you cared about, no matter how hard they kicked and screamed.

Without another glance at her father, Amy disappeared through the door and shut it gently behind her.

Michael opened his mouth to speak but only managed a weak and strangled gurgle. No excuses to be offered, then. Despicable.

With a roar to make the heart weep, Jackson launched himself at the foul man and planted two quick fists into his ribs. Michael doubled over at the blows and stumbled backwards, but Jackson kept coming. It was all a blur of fists and wrath that didn't end until Jackson couldn't feel his hands anymore.

He panted hard and shoved the loathsome wretch to the ground where he bore down on him with all his weight, crushing Michael’s windpipe. Their faces were inches from each other and Jackson could feel the fear emanating out from the man like a wave of putrid heat.

“You had better think carefully next time you blow through her life like a storm, because you only get one warning: if you break her heart again-” Jackson squeezed harder on Michael’s throat until purple bruising bloomed beneath his fingers, “-I’ll kill you,” he finished in a venomous whisper.

He waited a few moments to make sure his point would sink in before letting up off the man. Michael immediately began to cough and splutter as air rushed into his lungs. Without a glance backwards, Jackson opened the door of his house and slammed it closed behind him lest he kill such a villain on the spot.

And there was Amy, just beyond the door. She knelt awkwardly on the ground with her legs splayed out like they had simply given up as soon as her father was out of sight. Looking up at Jackson’s seething face through tear-filled eyes she whispered gently,

“Thank you.”


----------



## Arcopitcairn (Dec 5, 2012)

You Don’t Get to Have Nice Things When Bear Suit is Around

  The first time anyone saw Bear Suit was on the day he riled up the police so much that they sent a SWAT team into the art museum. And when the strange fellow finally made his way to the high, shiny roof of the beautiful building and swung his hairy arms about like some ursine King Kong, the gathered onlookers certainly didn’t know what to make of him. The local news cameras captured his leap from that roof, and the horrified gasps of the crowd turned to mumbles of disbelief when he did not die.


  He’d spent two hours inside the museum, destroying the art. No one saw where he came from and he could not be stopped. Security guards and even concerned patrons tried to chase him down, but he was too fast. Bear Suit shredded canvas with his costume claws, the unblinking eyes of his rented-looking suit flashing, his frozen, plastic-toothed mouth perpetually open. He powdered marble with his bare paws and he twisted iron and steel sculptures effortlessly, a brown blur dashing through the galleries, inhumanly quick. After he exhibited such frightening physical prowess, the police were called. And eventually SWAT, because the man in the bear suit, if that is what he truly was, scattered policemen like leaves, shrugged off tasers, and laughed at bullets when the frustrated cops tried to wing him.


  And the oversized head gazed down now at the assorted rubberneckers, press, and police. He was a furry exclamation point, locked in a silent stalemate of reality with the people below. He stared at them from the edge of the roof until he heard a noise behind him. He turned and across the way there was a woman with a microphone and a man with a camera. He stepped back from the edge and waved a paw, calling them over.


  “Would you like to talk to me?” Bear Suit said, his voice a calm flow. “Please, I won’t harm you.”


  The woman, a pretty blonde in a t-shirt and blue jeans looked at her camera man, who wore similar clothes, and they silently agreed to take the chance. They picked their way across the gravel on the roof, but stopped when Bear Suit walked towards them. He stopped at a respectful distance.


  “I promise I’m more Munchausian rascal than raging lunatic, a lawless daredevil at the worst,” Bear Suit said happily through his angry mask, “perhaps an obstreperous wag in a hard mad world. Say, you’re the weather girl aren’t you?”


  The blonde blinked at him, “Um, yes, Deborah Cates,” she said, and she held the microphone near to Bear Suit’s mouth. “Who are you?”


  “Why is the weather girl up here on the roof of the art museum? You look different. You’re usually in a pretty dress, gliding across the weather map, but now…”


  “We were close by when the, uh, trouble started.”


  Bear Suit stepped closer to her, but she held her ground. “Ambitious, bucking for promotion? That’s nice, but I have to say, if you want my meager opinion, that you make a very pleasant weather girl, my little doughnut, my little candy bar.”


  “Well thank you,” she said, slightly rankled, “but if you could just-“


  “Did you see the galleries as you snuck up here? The art?”


  “Yes, I saw,” she said, “But why-“


  “Did it make you sad? What I did?”


  She hesitated, and then set her jaw. “I think it’s a tragedy. A horrible tragedy.”


  Bear Suit looked at her silently for a moment. “Good. I am here with a statement and a warning. You saw the statement. The warning is that I promise I will destroy the things that you love until you learn to love the right things. Death to finery!”


  Then he took three great strides and leapt laughing from the roof.


----------



## Deleted member 49710 (Dec 7, 2012)

Bonnie and Clyde
(language warning)


----------



## Xalor (Dec 11, 2012)

http://www.writingforums.com/writer...2-lm-warning-workshop-thread.html#post1581259


----------



## Foxee (Dec 11, 2012)

*Death of a White Rabbit*

Forgot to add warning for suggestive content.

650 words.


----------



## lothianwriter (Dec 13, 2012)

*The worst Friday ever*

There had been many people that foretold the end of the world, but perhaps the biggest, well the biggest of recent times had been the end of the Mayan Calendar, Friday December 21, 2012 I had joked with friends at work that day. They had to make it a Friday, after a long hard week at work what do you have to look forward to? Not even the weekend, I had said, everyone laughed it was a Friday after all and the weekend was almost upon us, the last before Christmas Day and everyone was in good spirits.  Finishing time rolled around, I switched off my PC, tidied my desk as I usually do on the last day of the week. I headed out to the car and turned on the radio and laughed as I recognised R.E.M and it’s the end of the World as we know it. I pulled up at the junction to the main road just as the song was stopped midway for an important announcement. The Sun had blasted out a solar flare larger than anything previously recorded. NASA had completed a press conference and advised the solar flare was due to hit the Earth around 11 AM Eastern Standard time, that would be 6PM GMT and as I had just been to Mexico that summer I knew Mexico had a time difference of 6 Hours from GMT so it would hit Mexico at Noon when the sun was at its highest.  I laughed nervously waited on the radio announcer to laugh and say it was all a joke, I changed the station a few times but each station was talking about it. The cars out on the main road had come to a stop, drivers were getting out, some started looking toward the night sky, why I didn’t know, we would not have been able to see anything.  The radio was still on and I heard them talking about keeping calm, staying indoors, the usual stuff during any sort of emergency.  I saw people with their hands up at their ears obviously on mobiles. I went for mine but couldn’t get a signal and put it away. Drivers were starting to use their horns obviously they were looking to get home to their families, and wanted the cars in front to get moving, a few fights began to break out, probably due to fear. I had been the last out of the office and realised there was no car behind me don’t know why I was so calm about it but I reversed the car back into a parking space, got out locked it and walked the hour or so home. The Police were out on the streets warning people to get off the streets, it was mayhem I thought about what I had been talking about earlier in the day and chuckled, surely this isn’t the end of the world I thought.  It took a little longer to get home than I had thought it would, I had a bite to eat; the walk had worked up an appetite. People had been talking about the Mayan calendar for years Warning us about the end of the world, even if we had taken it seriously could we really have done anything about it. I am sitting at a desk in my house writing this down and am just about to go to my bed who knows if anyone will ever read it or if I will even waken up.There had been many people that foretold the end of theworld, but perhaps the biggest, well the biggest of recent times had been theend of the Mayan Calendar, Friday December 21, 2012 I had joked with friends atwork that day. They had to make it a Friday, after a long hard week at workwhat do you have to look forward to? Not even the weekend, I had said, everyonelaughed it was a Friday after all and the weekend was almost upon us, the lastbefore Christmas Day and everyone was in good spirits.  Finishing time rolled around, I switched offmy PC, tidied my desk as I usually do on the last day of the week. I headed outto the car and turned on the radio and laughed as I recognised R.E.M and it’sthe end of the World as we know it. I pulled up at the junction to the mainroad just as the song was stopped midway for an important announcement. The Sunhad blasted out a solar flare larger than anything previously recorded. NASAhad completed a press conference and advised the solar flare was due to hit theEarth around 11 AM Eastern Standard time, that would be 6PM GMT and as I hadjust been to Mexico that summer I knew Mexico had a time difference of 6 Hoursfrom GMT so it would hit Mexico at Noon when the sun was at its highest.  I laughed nervously waited on the radio announcer to laugh and say it was all a joke, I changed the station a few timesbut each station was talking about it. The cars out on the main road had cometo a stop, drivers were getting out, some started looking toward the night sky,why I didn’t know, we would not have been able to see anything.  The radio was still on and I heard themtalking about keeping calm, staying indoors, the usual stuff during any sort ofemergency.  I saw people with their handsup at their ears obviously on mobiles. I went for mine but couldn’t get asignal and put it away. Drivers were starting to use their horns obviously theywere looking to get home to their families, and wanted the cars in front to getmoving, a few fights began to break out, probably due to fear. I had been thelast out of the office and realised there was no car behind me don’t know why Iwas so calm about it but I reversed the car back into a parking space, got outlocked it and walked the hour or so home. The Police were out on the streetswarning people to get off the streets, it was mayhem I thought about what I hadbeen talking about earlier in the day and chuckled, surely this isn’t the endof the world I thought.  It took a littlelonger to get home than I had thought it would, I had a bite to eat; the walk had worked up an appetite. People had been talking about the Mayan calendar foryears Warning us about the end of the world, even if we had taken it seriouslycould we really have done anything about it. I am sitting at a desk in my house writing this down and am just about to go to my bed who knows if anyone will ever read it or if I will even waken up.


----------



## Bad Craziness (Dec 13, 2012)

*Easy Like Sunday Morning*

http://www.writingforums.com/writer...2-lm-warning-workshop-thread.html#post1582141


----------



## FleshEater (Dec 14, 2012)

WARNING: VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

http://www.writingforums.com/writer...2-lm-warning-workshop-thread.html#post1582397


----------



## Kevin (Dec 14, 2012)

http://www.writingforums.com/writer...2-lm-warning-workshop-thread.html#post1582560


----------



## Jeko (Dec 15, 2012)

*Chewing it over
*​(mild language!)
​
​Danny scooped out a chunk of flesh from his bowl and let it drip blood in front of Lil, who grimaced from across the table. He chewed down hard on it. Blood ran down his chin. ‘Come on Lil,’ he said with a bloody mouthful. ‘Yours’ll go off.’

‘I’m not hungry,’ Lil muttered. She pushed her bowl away.

Danny chuckled. ‘You’re a pretty shit cannibal if you can’t eat an old man’s thigh muscle.’ Lil shot him a glare. He swallowed. ‘What? You are.’

‘I already told you,’ she said, arms folded.’ I’m not eating people.’

‘Like I said.’ Danny chewed another chunk of muscle. ‘Pretty shit cannibal.’

Lil grabbed her bowl and hurled it at him. A splash of blood hit Danny’s arm as he dodged the worst of it. Furious, he leapt up and shot into Lil, pinning her to the wall and extending knife-blades from his fingertips.

‘You be nice now,’ he hissed. ‘Don’t forget I’m older than you.’ He was by three years. Lil was thirteen. ‘Say sorry,’ he said. Lil was shaking under his grip.

‘Sorry,’ she mumbled.

‘This is your last warning,’ said Danny. He released her. ‘You start soon, or I won’t hunt for anything else.’ He sat back down. ‘You gonna starve?’

‘No,’ Lil said.

‘That’s right.’ Danny went back to his supper. Lil left the room in a hurry.



Lil stole outside into the garden. The night wind was bitter and the grass was cold. She paced around, staring down at her numb toes, wishing that her boots weren't made of people's skin. Then she wouldn't feel so guilty when she wore them, and she wouldn't have to force herself to walk barefoot at times like this.

She couldn’t face up to Danny, but she’d have to soon. Lil wished she knew what to do. As if the thought had summoned her, Lil’s mother appeared on the high fence of the garden. Lil almost jumped at the sight of the long, mangy puss. Looking at her for just a moment, her mother knew that nothing had changed.

‘I wish he’d understand,’ Lil said. Her mother nodded, leapt down from the fence and curled up at her feet. She was warm. Lil sat down to stroke her.

‘What was it like for you?’ Lil asked.

The cat looked up at her. ‘The first time?’ she mewed.

‘Yes.’

‘I didn’t have a choice,’ she said. ‘Your father nailed me to the floor and force fed me your grandfather.’

‘I thought he died of Typhoid.’

‘He did,’ the cat sighed. ‘Didn’t make him taste any better.’ Lil’s eyes were shut. ‘You have to live with it, Lillian. The curse is in your blood. Once you reach your Time, you won’t be able to eat anything else.’

‘I know.’ Lil felt her eyes grow hot and watery. ‘What can I do?’

‘Be strong, Lillian. Consume not what makes you, but what hates you. Doesn’t the world hate you?’

‘I like the world,’ Lil said. ‘It’s so big.’

‘Then what does hate you?’

Lil realised she was crying. No girl should have to go through this, she told herself. The curse was horrible. She would be an abomination the moment she gave into it, just like Danny.

She had to follow her mother’s advice. Only by consuming what hated her would she overcome her hatred of what she was. She had to find the one thing that made her life a wreck. Only then could she live with her awful reality.

Suddenly, Lil realised what she had to do.

She stood up, shivering. Her mother nodded, giving her one more glance before she started off and disappeared into the night. Lil found her knife in the bushes, caught her reflection in the clean blade and then, breathing deeply, she went back inside.


----------



## anonick (Dec 15, 2012)

*A Romantic Story* (647 words)

I was awakened by the ringing of the phone, and when I picked it up Rohini’s soft wispy voice whispered a sweet “Hi” into my ear. I looked out the window, it was dark and the street lights were off.


“Hey.” I said.  “What’re you doing up at this time? When you come back home for the holidays you’re supposed to sleep properly.” I loved Rohini - exactly in what way I am still unsure.


“Akshay, I want your opinion on something.” She said with a mild uneasiness in her voice. “My parents want me to break up with Varun.” 


So she’d told her parents about Varun. She had kept her past relationships hidden from them after her dad made her break up with her first boyfriend - that was years ago. She was much more serious about Varun, though. Her parents took it as a challenge and broke her.


Not that she was sobbing over the phone. “If I decide to stay with Varun they say they will cut off contact with me. I cannot live without their support.”


The threat sounded awful to me. “Why do you even think they will stop supporting their only daughter?” I argued. “You know you love Varun. You understand each other. Just give your mom and dad some time and they’ll see your point of view as well.”


“But what they say isn’t wrong, is it?” She replied, suddenly her parents’ advocate.


What they had said was this - Varun wasn’t from a rich family like theirs, and with his chosen profession (astrophysics) wasn’t likely to earn money by the buckload. How could Rohini raise a family with him? To top it all, Varun parents didn’t speak English or Hindi, and lived in a little village somewhere deep within Kerala. They would only be a burden. ‘Listen, Rohini, we’ll fix you up with a Gujarati businessman, and you’ll be happier than with this guy.’


I can imagine myself standing in a corner smirking while my parents rattle on about the unsuitable lovely-eyed girl I’ve chosen for myself. But then I’ve always had little regard for my parents’ opinion. It was different with Rohini. As she stood in the corner listening, and later as she sat on the bed beside her mother talking of loves and lives, they got to her. 


“Listen to me,” I told her, “I know how things are with you and Varun. I know you’ll do well. You’re both brilliant and ambitious and there’s no reason in hell you’re going to have a hard life.”


And so on. But she wasn’t being convinced. “Alright,” I said finally, in a cautionary tone, “whatever you might think now, don't decide anything till you go back to Bangalore. Meet Varun again. It’ll change your perspective.”


She started whispering back in protest.


“They broke your heart by making you cut contact with Bimal. Don’t back down now. You’ll never find anybody as suitable for you as Varun. I don’t want you to regret this.”


“I already called him and told him everything. We’ve called it off.”


And thus the world crumbles - when you reluctantly picture the girl you love (for everything she is) listening to her parents and nodding in resigned assent; later in the night, calling up her boyfriend and telling him that he should’ve been a wealthy Gujarati instead of a Kerala village-boy, because well it sucks now.


All I managed in response, however, was a feeble, disbelieving, “You broke up with over the phone?”


We chatted for a few months after that, growing close, growing apart - but I never loved her. Now she is happily married to a nice Gujarati boy who works in management. She found him on her own.


----------



## Leyline (Dec 15, 2012)

(My intended LM entry just seems to keep growing. Wrote this instead.)

Judge entry, not for competition.
*

Apology*​
Kids, listen to me:

A monster is coming.

 God, I feel so useless. I can't help you. I'm in your future. I tried to build a time machine but it refuses to work. It's just a bunch of sad junk I lashed together. I just got enraged, kicked it apart and fell down in a stupid heap, crying.

A monster is coming. A hideous piece of garbage that can't deal with his own life so he decided to take yours.

No, I don't know why.

I'm sorry, kids. Sorry I couldn't and can't help. Sorry this ugly world is so ugly, and that you're gone from it.

I'm sorry.

If I could, I'd travel back in time, I'd burst into that school like an avenging angel and I'd take every single one of your hands and I'd say: 'Run!'

I wish so much I could just tell you to run. Just send my damned voice back in time to scream 'Run!'

Is that so much to ask you ugly, awful world?

I'm sorry.


----------



## Anna Buttons (Dec 16, 2012)

Inevitable 
(Adult Themes)

http://www.writingforums.com/writer...2-lm-warning-workshop-thread.html#post1583031


----------



## Don V Standeford (Dec 16, 2012)

http://www.writingforums.com/writer...g-workshop-thread.html?highlight=#post1583075


----------



## ravensty (Dec 16, 2012)

*Find Shelter    [Adult Themes]*

Home​ 
     I walk into the house. I shut the door behind me quickly, and at the sound of the door meeting the jamb, I can hear her footsteps, her wine, her clawing at the door, immediately. I yell at her to shut up, but she keep on yappin’ as she do. So cruel that girl, she got no concern for me, and I be damned if she don’t get more cruel every day. 

      I give the door a few kicks, and she calm down real quick. She done felt what that door felt, and she don’t want to feel it none again. It’s only a matter of time ‘fore she tires herself out, anyway. It be all the better when she do, so I can eat in peace. Hell, all the damn money I spent on her just about runs me dry, got the inside of the fridge looking bone white like a damn skeleton.

“Please! Please!” she yells.

‘Please what,’ I think to myself laughing. ‘Please, Please,’ that’s all she know is please. 

“Please ain’t manners; manners is keepin’ your mouth shut till spoken too,” I tell her – but she so cruel she ignore me and keep on.

     I give her a “shut-the-hell-up” and walk on into the kitchen. I flick on the light and scream, and my heart stops and starts again. I can’t believe, but there’s Petey, my boy, lying on the floor in the corner. He just lying there dead stiff, his eyes wide, looking up at nothing.

“Petey?” I say

“She gone kill you,” he say, but I don’t see his mouth move none.

“She can’t kill me Petey I locked her up.” 

“She gone kill you” 

“Naw, she locked up, see.” I point to the closet door. 

“She gone kill you, when she get out.” 

“How, Petey?” I say. Then, I hear somebody beatin’ at the door, and I see shadows at my window -- people standing out on my damn lawn. Whoever it is banging, he starts asking me to open the door. 

“I don’t know who you is, sir,” I say, and he start bangin real hard then.

“Please!” she yell. 

“Shut the hell up with all that screamin’!” I say, but of course she keep on, louder.

“Mam, open the door!” the man yells.

“Sir, I don’t know who you are?” I yell back. 

“Help, me! Help me!” she yells.

“Open the door, Now!” he yells.

“Shut up, girl!” I yell.

“She gone kill you!” Petey yell.

     With all the yells comes confusion. I start to feel dizzy from it all, and I feel weak. My legs go, and I fall to the ground. From there, I’m looking up at a man’s face. He got a blue uniform. He looks like Daddy.  I hear my daughter. I hear her, and wonder what he’s done to her. 

Hospital​_
Dear Family,_
_
I don’t remember what happened that day. The shrink here said the policeman said I had fainted. Then, they said some horrible things, said I was running around the neighborhood screamin’ and hollerin’, said I locked my baby in the closet. I remembered and told the shrink about how Daddy locked me and Petey in the closet when I was young, how he’d starve and abuse us. Petey died, and I promised him I’d kill Daddy. Now, the shrink saying I became Daddy! “No, never,” I said. Then, the shrink told me what had happened was a “psychotic episode,” said “it usually happens without warning.”  Well, I don’t like that none. I want a warning. I should have a warning before I lose myself. When you can’t trust yourself it’s like you ain’t got nothing, no security, no shelter. I don’t wanna live like that, and I won’t. That’s why I’m writing y’all this letter, so at least y’all have a warning for when y’all lose me._ 
_Love, _
_Haddie_​


----------



## Jon M (Dec 16, 2012)

Judge's Entry​


----------



## garza (Dec 16, 2012)

*Panther Burn*

'Shoulda never come.'

'Told you that last week, Roy. Gave you fair warning, I did.'

'Had to come, Ethel. Toby was my brother.'

'For 20 years you've not said so much as ''hello'' to Toby. You ain’t spoke to him since your Daddy’s funeral. Was me, I'd've left it there.'

'Wasn't you. He wasn't your brother.'

'He was my brother-in-law, and I knew him better'n you. You never knew what drove Toby, and until today you never knew what the people here thought.'

'I was born in that old house right yonder. I went to school here. How could I not know what people thought? I grew up in Panther Burn same as Toby.’

'Grew up? Roy, you never grew up. When Toby was ten years old he was more grown-up than you are right now. And you never knew what people thought because you’ve never been one to pay much attention to the feelings of other people.'

'The farm shoulda been mine. I was the oldest. Toby tricked Daddy into leaving it to him.'

‘Uh-huh. Some trick. Started getting up at daylight when he was little, doing ,chores before he caught the school bus. All without being told. I’ve heard the whole story from Toby and your Daddy both. And what in the name of all that's holy would you've done with that farm, if your Daddy had left it to you?'

'Farmed it, I guess.'

'No you wouldn't. You never cared about it when you were a kid and your Daddy knew it. Toby did care. He worked hard all the time he was growing up. Good enough in school to get a scholarship. And when he was back from State College he took over the whole farm while you were off and goodbye-gone. You got so angry when your Daddy left the farm to Toby that you didn’t speak to your own brother for 20 years.'

‘He come home from college full of odd ideas. Talked Daddy into makin’ soybeans instead of cotton. 

'And made more money than your Daddy or your Grandaddy ever made growin' cotton.  The best you could do was clerk in a feed sore in Yazoo City. You went in that old house today and you heard all those old women gossipin' to beat thunder. They let you know the truth about you and Toby. A truth you'd rather not know.'

 ‘Then why’d you marry me? Why din’tcha marry Toby, you think he was so great?’

‘I didn’t love Toby. I loved you. Still do, after 30 years bein’ married to you. I admired Toby, the same way your Daddy did, but I didn’t love him. And here’s some news for you. You were always your Daddy’s favourite. First-born sons usually are. He admired what Toby could do, respected him for all the hard work, but your Daddy loved Toby only as a second son. You were his favourite, and you broke his heart.’

‘That don’t give those old women the right to talk about me the way they did today. You shoulda heard ‘em when we got back to the house after the funeral. You’d of thought I was deaf. They didn’t mind at all telling one another how lazy I’d been as a kid and how wonderful Toby had been, and all the while I stood close enough they knew I could hear every word. 

‘I’ve heard it all before, Roy. Your Aunt Webby and your Aunt Rachel have both asked me why ever did I marry you, when I could just as easy have married Toby. What you heard today is what they’ve been sayin’ about you and Toby since you was both kids. I warned you. I told you at home not to come here today, and I told you at the cemetery we should head out and not come back to the house.'

'Shoulda never come.'


----------



## Fin (Dec 17, 2012)

_This competition is now over._​


----------

