The Review Club Forum Contest Thread

This is the thread for the contest. Posts, ideas or just generally fun stuff.

Okay, so I didn't use the objects in peculiar ways, but this is what came out when I put those objects together. I wrote this this morning. Tell me what you think. My first attempt at a short story.

Have you ever experienced love at first sight? Not lust at first sight. We�ve all experienced that. But what I mean is the first time you lay eyes on a person, you know that he or she is someone you have a special connection with. If you�ve experienced this, you know what I�m talking about. If you haven�t, you are probably having the same reaction I would have had two weeks ago. You think the idea is a fairy tale.

The day I met him wasn�t the best day of my life. In fact, it started out crappy. I had awoke somewhere I had not fallen asleep. I jumped out of the strange bed onto the cold linoleum, backed into a white wall and the scent of bleach filled my nostrils. A video camera�s eye stared at me, judging me from the corner above the door. How I got there and why I was wearing pastel pink sweatpants and a white t-shirt was beyond me. I searched for my shoes and clothes. But the search didn�t last long because the only place to look was under the bed, since it was the only thing in the room beside me and the camera assessing my every movement.

Finding nothing, I went to the door and peered out the small window. Several identical doors lined the long hallway. My husband and a woman in green scrubs stood in the center. He scratched his head and his worried and anxious face stared at the ground. Oh my God was I in the hospital? I checked myself over. No. I wasn�t hurt. Oh crap! The kids. I darted into the hallway and grabbed Eric�s arm.

�What�s going on? Are the kids okay?� I wobbled and he braced his large hands around my tiny waist. He was such a good man, always the consummate gentleman. I loved him so much. We had the perfect life: a brand new four-bedroom house in the OC, two cars, two kids, a dog, a cat, and five gold fish. The American dream. He was my Ken and I was Barbie.

�The kids are fine. They�re at my mother�s.� Relief filled me, but Eric held me tighter than he needed too. I was fine. A little light headed, but who wouldn�t be under those circumstances. His expression asked the doctor what he should do. She turned us toward the room I�d just left.

�Joy,� she said as Eric sat beside me on the lumpy mattress. �I�m Dr. Wright. You should lie down. You need your rest.�

�Rest? What�s going on? How did I get here?�

Eric gathered me close, my ear against his chest. His heart beat slowly as if straining for each thump. He stroked my back and whispered, �Oh sweetheart, why didn�t tell me you were feeling down?�

Down? I wasn�t feeling down. What was he talking about? Before I could ask the doctor said, �Joy, lie down and get some rest. We�ll talk later.�

I had to admit, I was darn tired. A nap didn�t sound half-bad. But I needed to know where I was. Then it occurred to me. White room, ever-watchful camera, doctor, and the insinuation I felt �down.� Rubber walls might have completed the picture, but nonetheless, I figured out I was in the nut house. Not as a visitor, but as patient. How could they ever think I needed to be there? I�m a happy person. The kind of person everywoman wishes they were; a cross between Martha Stewart and Pam Anderson.

�Let�s go home.� I leaned onto Eric, expecting him to help me up, but the doctor interrupted.

�You�re required by law to stay here for two weeks.�

�That�s bologna. I don�t have to stay anywhere I don�t want to.� I turned to my husband. �I want to go home.�

�Joy, I think you should stay here.�

My legs drew to my chest and I curled into a ball. Why would he say that? I stared at the smooth sheen on the linoleum, trying to remember anything that would make him think I felt �down.� Nothing. My eyelids felt heavy. I tried to keep them open, but sleep overcame me.

When I awoke, I wandered into the hall. Eric was no longer there, but Dr. Wright watched me carefully as I approached. I wanted to protest. I didn�t belong there. Before I had a chance to say anything, someone bumped into me.

�Let me out of here.� A deep guttural voice said. Behind me, a man stood firmly scowling at Dr. Wright. The top of my head barely reached his shoulders. Anger oozed out of him. Red and dark browns seeped from the bandages covering his wrists. The second I saw his face, I froze. Wow. The quiet desperation in his eyes, struck me. Something about him made my own plight seem meaningless. This guy had problems and I needed to know what they were. I needed to know him.

�I can�t do that.� Dr. Wright rested a hand on his thick arm the way doctors do when they think you�re buying their sympathy. �Why don�t you go to the recreation room? We�ll have our first group session in an hour.�

He sneered, looked at me, rolled his eyes, and then stormed down the hall, pushing the glass door of the common room open. I followed, keeping my distance. The black and white checked floor made me dizzy. I steadied myself, catching the couch�s arm and disturbing two drooling patients staring at the muted DVD of Dumbo. What losers. All too compliant. Maybe it should have occurred to me that I wasn�t exactly fighting to get out either, but I now possessed a mission. Find out who the dark haired Adonis was.

Adonis snatched several pages of drawing paper and a purple crayon from the craft table. He headed to the corner, no longer stomping, but his step wasn�t that of ballerina either. He threw himself into a chair and immediately started scribbling words onto paper. I found a seat in an empty easy chair and sat there, arms around my knees, watching him. His mood would switch from angry to sad and back again, the purple writing corresponding with his expressions.

For the following week, I tried to work up the courage to approach him as he spent his days writing. We shared the same �group sessions� as two women who constantly whined about their husbands leaving them and a gay guy who convinced himself therapy would turn him straight. Why Dr. Wright put him in with those two head cases, I couldn�t figure out. Listening to them would turn any man homosexual. Adonis and I never spoke during group. I�m not sure why he didn�t. I didn�t because I had nothing to say.

Three days ago, I finally built up the nerve to sit at Adonis�s table. He smiled when I joined him. The first glimmer of happiness I�d seen. But after the quick welcome, he went right back to writing. I sat with him yesterday, trying to get a glimpse of what he wrote. But I�d never noticed how hard it is to read purple crayon upside down.



And that brings us to today.

As I sit here after two weeks of staring at this man, I realize I�m infatuated with this stranger and I have been since the first time I laid eyes on him. The strange thing is that it�s a pure love. I haven�t pictured his big hands cupping my breasts or imagined the way his penis would feel inside of me. No. All I want is to hold him and make him my own.

Maybe I do belong here. I have a great life and a great husband, why I am obsessed with this mess of a man? Eric and the kids are supposed to pick me up in few hours. Dr. Wright doesn�t want to let me go, she says I�m in denial. Denial about what, I don�t know. But I am considering staying, not because she thinks I need to, but because I can�t leave my Adonis.

I clear my throat and he looks up from his scribbling. �Are you getting out today too?� I ask -- no point in staying if he isn�t going to be here. He nods, reaches into a pocket, and hands me a crystal, one of Dr. Wright�s many decorations from the �group therapy� room. I laugh and let the stolen goods roll in my palm. He takes my hand, presses it and the crystal into my chest. His aching eyes drill me. I pull back. Shivers. Something in his stare rattles me.

I motion to his wrists. �Why�d you do that?�

�I have nothing left,� he says. �I just want to be with my family.�

I understand the reference immediately. Someone close to him died. �Surely there is someone that would miss you.�

�My kids and my soul mate are dead. They�re all I ever cared about. I don�t care if anyone else would miss me, because I can�t go on without them.� His jaw muscles twitch as his face scrunches, fighting back tears. My heart goes out to him. I can�t imagine what he is going though. He gathers his papers, wads one, and then leaves it when he walks away.

I unravel the page. A circle with a wave through the center dividing it in two flowing symmetrical halves, stare at me. The Ocean Pacific logo? Weird�

Dr. Wright enters and taps my shoulder. �Are you ready for your last group?�

I get up and follow her, might as well get it over with. I sit in my usual seat, across from Adonis. The hags settle between me and the gay guy. Dr. Wright lights a few candles, making the crystals hanging through out the room take on a soothing and slightly eerie tone. �Joy, why don�t you begin tonight?�

�I told you I don�t have anything to say. My life is perfect.�

Hag number one bust into laughter. Dr. Wright scowls at her. �What?� The gorgon huffs. �I�m tired of coming in here night after night and hearing her say her life is perfect. Why the hell did she do that if her life is so great?�

�Do what?�

Adonis mumbles something along the lines of, �What an insipid b***h.�

I glance at him and smirk.

Harpy number one spit, �You�re a serious whack job aren�t you? All the bleach in that hair of yours must have soaked through to your brain.�

�Enough.� Dr. Wright slams her chair, causing a racket. �Wynona, why don�t you start?�

Hag number two bites her lip, grabs my hand, and looks at me. �You honestly have no idea why you�re here do you?�

�Do you?�

�You don�t remember trying to commit suicide?�

I laugh hard and Dr. Wright scrunches her brow. These people have a good sense of humor. Maybe I miss judged them. �I did no such thing. The only one here that�s suicidal is Adonis over there. You guys should ask what�s bothering him and leave me out of it.�

�Adonis?� Dr. Wright points at the gay guy.

I shake my head. How could she assume I meant that scrawny insecure man when my Adonis is beside him? Maybe I should have asked him his name. I point. �You know. The strong silent brooding guy that�s always scribbling in purple crayon.�

Dr. Wright walks to me, blocking my view of Adonis. She bends down, staring in my eyes while she picks something up from beneath my seat. She hands it to me, but I don�t look. The way she�s eyeing me as if I�m far more insane than she previously realized, threw me for a loop. �Joy,� she says. �You�re the one that writes in purple crayon all day.�

She gestures to what she handed me and I look at the pile of paper, my handwriting staring back at me. I jump, knocking my seat back. �This is a trick.� I look to Adonis, but he just smiles and then fades away like a ghost. Chills attack my body. My heart drums a pulse into my throbbing wrists. Bandages? I tear the gauze away, revealing dozens of stitches. I collapse, wanting to melt into the linoleum. �Oh God.� I cry. �Eric, the kids� They�re gone, aren�t they?�

�Yes, dear.� Dr. Wright smoothes a hand down my back. �You don�t remember you�re mother bringing you here after the funeral two weeks ago?�

�I do now,� I squeak.

Here's my entry.

Here is my contest entry:



And thanks for teaching me a great random way to stimulate a story.

Alrighty then. My homage to one of the best shows on TV:

I'm going to have to graciously bow out of the writing contest. I started Friday night on it and then later on that night I found my voice for one of my stories and got caught up in it. By the end of yesterday I ended up writing 4500 words split between 2 separate chapters.

Now we are on our way to the park and I just don't think I'll have the time tonight to finish the little story I had in mind for the contest.

Alright just to let you know we are closing out the contest. We should have a decision in a week or so. But I want to thank everyone who participated. These are some really entertaining stories :) And we'll definitely have more of these contests in the future.

Cameron

Okay, so all of the entrants were great. We really want to thank everyone who participated. However, we do have to choose a winner. Now the criteria we used was the most creative use of the elements. And then how many of the elements were used creatively.

So the winner was Bill. For Fade to Black.

Yeah I thought about an envelope there, but I didn't want to get carried away.

Woo hoo! Congrats to Bill. ;-)

::cool:: Well, knock me off my seat! I've rarely won anything. Have I ever...? Hmm.

And to win in the face of such credible efforts by Rob and B. Billy is especially sweet. Thanks for all your applause. It's really not embarrassing; you may keep on if you wish.

Now I know what it must feel like to win a Pulitzer!

I've now been handed the trophy! My hands are sweaty. Don't drop it. Will the Newshour be calling for an interview? Oh, I'm gushing. Oh, oh...

CLAP CLAP CLAP!!! Bravo! Take a bow..... WHEEEEET!

Grats Bill!

Thanks everyone. A shot of encouragement is strong adrenaline in our line of work. You've lent me considerable support toward getting on with it, and I hope I can repay you all in the getting on.

bill

A hefty, well-deserved Congratulations! Don't spend it all in one place...Oh...nevermind, I guess you have to.

Brent... between you and Anthony you guys always make me laugh.