MLK Writing Contest #30 [voting!]!

Which is the best story?

Poll ended at October 4th, 2014, 8:41 pm

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MLK Writing Contest #30 [voting!]!

Postby DGFone » September 27th, 2014, 8:41 pm

Another contest with only two stories submitted. Hopefully, there will be more stories next time! Anyways, here are the two stories to vote on:

[quote]Story 1:
The Kings of the Past: show
The Kings of the Past


There was nowhere to go, nothing to do but keep on fighting to survive, keep fighting the hunger, the drought. The dark sky never brightened, the loneliness pervading the lioness’s soul filled her with bitterness and hate, made her all the more determined to do something. But there was nothing she could do. Nothing would make things right again. She could never see her mate again, nor her only cub. They were not coming back. She had lost everything she’d ever had. The days grew longer and longer for the grieving lioness, and she grew unmotivated and the only thing she wanted to do was sleep. Not so that she would find peace in dreams of happier times—no, there was solace only in the temporary removal of all thoughts and senses, in the separation of her consciousness from the world around her.

Around her, her friends and relatives starved and died, but she was denied the sweet embrace of death, and awoke each morning to increasingly miserable conditions and seemingly endless struggles and despair. The old lioness felt lost and empty, her soul seeming to have fled her body and discarded her life, leaving her feeling little to nothing, no matter what occurred. In the rightful king’s absence, the lioness’s brother had taken the throne, and his managerial approach was lacking to say the least.

The lioness lay against the cold stone of the rock, gazing up at the dark clouds, her eyes beginning to mirror their appearance with a glazed misty look filling them. If only he were still here. He had been with her through the worst times of her life, and the best. He’d held her paw when she’d cried, and he’d been right there to make her smile and laugh once again. His smile had brought her unsurpassable joy, and his beautiful soul had brought prosperity to the entire kingdom. As she stared into the sky, hoping for a peek at the stars, or a drop of rain, just to ease the numbness in the depths of her being, she tried to recall his touch—and found she could not. She couldn’t remember how it felt to be in his leonine embrace, or how it had felt to look down with pride upon their son together. She could remember no feelings from her previous life with them, for that’s what it was, a previous life.

All that she could recall were pictures, still images, like a lost photoset of her life. Sometimes she’d get the occasional movement, like watching a silent film. Sometimes she could recall things that were said, but it was like she was just reading the lips of ghosts in the past, her life extinguished the day her brother had witnessed the loss of her mate and son in the gorge. Scar had claimed he’d tried to save her love, but she had stopped listening and stopped caring when she’d learned they’d never be coming back. The throne was technically hers, but she’d not had the spirit left to take over, and so she’d stepped down, letting Scar, her next of kin and therefore next in line to the throne, take her place.

The other lionesses sometimes came to her for advice or some comfort, but she had none to offer them. The aging lioness had nothing but a deep and incurable ache in her soul, the likes of which naught but death could ease. Seeing that she had given up so completely discouraged her pridesisters, and in their state of unparalleled woe, their hunting skills faltered, thus they returned all the more frequently empty-pawed and they were forced to sleep with empty stomachs. The old lioness did not notice the sickly pallor the pride took, nor did she notice how thin and skeletal her best friend, Sarafina, was becoming. Neither noticed she that the youngest and most able of the pridesisters had ventured out on a daring quest in search of aid for the pride.

She noticed nothing, had faith in nothing, and enjoyed nothing.

And so it was that she rested heavily against the cold and unwelcoming stone of a place she’d once called home, her eyes transfixed on the heavens, feeling helpless and alone, wishing only for one thing—to be in the company of her love again. Mufasa had made her life enjoyable, he’d granted her happiness, joy, youth, prosperity, loyalty; he was everything she’d ever wanted and he was gone, never to return to arms, never to lie at her side in the den, never to purr as she licked behind his ear or scratched his back just below his shoulder blades. Her love was no more, her heart crushed in the all-consuming feeling of her loneliness. Her limbs were limp and her mind felt dead, and she gazed up, her eyes closed, as she tried to recall just how it felt to nuzzle her mate, how it felt to wrap her forepaws around her son, how it felt to be alive. A tear casually made its way down her cheek, swift, as alone as she, and soon a cool wind turned her fur cold where it had trailed.

The lioness rose on unsteady paws, carefully approached foremost edge of the rock, staring down at the once luscious kingdom below. She dropped her lids again, and visualized rolling green hills and endless fields of green and yellow, splashes of blue marked the kingdom’s plentiful water supplies and the sounds of animals could be heard at all times. The breeze tugged gently at the leaves in the trees, swaying the branches and causing a surreal sense of liveliness in everything. Birds swooped overhead and called out to their own kind, antelopes pranced across the fields, grazing on the bountiful grasses. Elephants and giraffes could be seen in the distance no matter which way one looked, and the shrill catcalls of primates filled the air at all hours.

The life of the past filling her, the lioness lifted her head to the heavens and unleashed a powerful and regal roar, one the likes of which had not been heard since her brother had claimed the throne. As her lids popped open and were greeted with the bleak, black, barren and bone-decorated lands that her kingdom had become, the lioness did not wonder if her brother could have done anything to prevent this. She did not wonder if he had directly caused this. She did not blame him, she merely blamed the wildebeest that had taken her mate away—for if Mufasa were here, all would be well. In her grief-stricken and traumatized mind, even so many months after his death, she still could not imagine a decent life without him. She would be eternally miserable and cold and barren in the soul, and so, to her mind, it was only natural for the Pridelands themselves to lose their soul and be no longer proud, but forlorn shadows of what they once had been.

These lands were envied no more. The queen was envied no more. The acting king was not coveted, and the sickly appearance of the pridesisters made them detestable to behold or to even dream of touching, and so no lion came to their aid. On the day Mufasa and Simba had died, so too had their legacy died. No one could bring back the lands formerly glory save they, and they were long lost.

Another tear slipped down the lioness’s face, her eyes beginning to cloud with them. Her legs shook, forcing her to the ground as she collapsed in a heap. Her eyes gave in at last to the tears she’d endeavored not to shed in the absence of her only rays of light. The fur of her cheeks was quickly soaked with her salty tears, but they kept flowing, covering her paws and dampening the stone beneath her. Her body was wracked with sobs and breathing became difficult. She couldn’t do anything except bury her face with her paws and cry. She’d been so strong for far too long, and she could do it no longer.

The lioness heaved, and sobbed, until there were no more tears to shed. Her mouth was dry, her eyes, dry, everything was dry. The drought had left her with little water to begin with, and she no longer cared that she was wasting the precious little that she had. For many hours the lioness lay there, covering her face as she wailed her misery and her body wretched of its own accord, bringing a sharp pain to her ribs that she enjoyed in a sick way because it made her less able to focus on the unbearably strong pain in her heart. On and on she sobbed, throughout the night.

And on the morrow’s morn, at the highest peak of Pride Rock, the king found all that was left of his sister, a hollow shell that had already become inhabited with flies and bore the marks of the beaks of eager scavenging birds who’d grown prosperous in this state of decay. With a heavy heart full of rage and loss, Scar brought news of this to the pride. The pridesisters wept, and their king pretended to do so as well, his heart secretly rejoicing at the thought that no one could ever challenge his rule now.

Thus the old lioness did lie atop the king’s dwelling, the appearance of a troubled sleep about her, but never more would Sarabi rise and greet the troubles of life, for she had moved on, to seek out her mate, with the kings of the past.


Story 2:
She let go: show
She Let Go

“Zira! Grab my paw!”

Reaching out as far as she could, Kiara was still unable to grab onto the other lioness who was barely able to get any sort of grip. If Zira was to save herself, the lioness would have to reach up herself and grab onto Kiara's paw. There was simply no way that Kiara would be able to reach down to Zira, and the ledge she was on was too small to try and get to a better position.

Zira needed to save herself now.

However, whatever was going on inside the elder lioness' mind, survival was not it. Kiara shrank back unintentionally from the glare of pure hatred she received from Zira, confused why the lioness she was trying to save was not taking the opportunity to get to safety. “Zira, please! Get up!”

At first, it looked like Zira had finally decided to allow Kiara to help her as she reached up. However, instead of grabbing onto Kiara's paw, Zira tried to claw the younger lioness, missing narrowly as Kiara pulled back just in time.

“Zira, what are you doing?” Kiara begged. “Let me help you!”

“No!”

Kiara was shocked. Why was the lioness refusing help? Couldn't Zira see that despite all their differences and hate, that Kiara was still willing to risk her own life to try and save the one of whom had just tried to murder her father. Staring at Zira's eyes, Kiara gasped in horror.

Zira no longer looked afraid, or even angry... She looked like she had just finished walking down the path to complete and utter madness.

“This is for you, Scar!” The older lion hissed out, and before Kiara could do anything, let alone find a way to finally reach down to the lioness, Zira let go of whatever remained of her grip on the cliff side.

Kiara screamed in horror as she watched Zira fall down towards the torrent of water below them, laughing the entire time, the sound only suddenly ending in a sickening crash as the older lioness hit the water and disappeared below the currents.

The younger lioness stayed motionless on the tiny ledge where she had tried to save Zira, her paw still reached out in a futile attempt to reverse the events that just had transpired, her eyes fixed on the last spot where she had seen Zira before the river engulfed the lioness's body.

Kiara remained like that for how long, she didn't know. She only was shaken back to consciousness when the gentle voice of her father interrupted her from her daze.

“Kiara... Come backup, Kiara. It's not safe here.”

The lioness turned back and allowed her father to help her back up to solid ground, still trying to fully comprehend what had happened.

“Daddy... She let go. Zira let go, even though I was trying to save her,” said, clearly traumatized, “Why did she let go?.. I was trying to save her...”

Simba embraced his daughter in a hug, trying to calm her down. “I know, we saw, Kiara. There was nothing you could have done. Kiara, it's not your fault.” His daughter hugged him back, and he could feel her body trembling in fright. It was easy for him to imagine to guess what scared her so much, for he doubted that for someone as young as Kiara, the prospect of a creature taking their own life was very alien and monstrous.

“Why did she do it, daddy?” Kira sobbed, “Zira saw that I was trying to help her, but she... she looked at me right in the eye as she let go, like it was my fault... Like I let go of her...” She buried her muzzle into her father's mane, trying to take some comfort in it.

Simba contained to hug his daughter as the rest of the pride, as well as the remaining outsiders, slowly made their way towards the. “I don't know why Zira chose to take her own life, Kiara,” Simba said quietly, “perhaps she didn't want to live in a world where she didn't get her way, or perhaps... perhaps she felt that taking her own life would be victory enough. Whatever the reason, you did your best, Kiara. After Zira decided to do what she did, there was nothing you could have done. It's not your fault, always remember that.”

Stepping back slightly, Simba allowed Kovu to take his pace in comforting Kiara. After what had passed these past few days, perhaps it would be better for the ex-outlander to be by Kiara's side for now.

Kiara at first clung to her father tightly as she felt him move backwards a little, not wanting him to let go of her. But as she saw Kovu take Simba's place, she quickly grabbed onto the other lion, glad to see him once more, but also rather hesitant. “Kovu... I'm sorry! I tried to... she just let go...”

Whatever his own feelings at seeing his own mother willingly take her life, Kovu embraced Kiara as well, rubbing her back with a paw gently. “We all saw what happened, don't worry, Kiara. You did your best. Try to calm down.”

Kiara fell silent, crying quietly into Kovu's mane, so the lion chose to simply hold onto her gently and not move as he waited for her to let her emotions out. True, seeing Zira let go was very troubiling, but life in the outlands had made him harder than he perhaps wanted to be. If anything, seeing Zira chose to die rather than live under Simba or with his betrayal of her views was no doubt too much for hear to bare. If anything, he almost... expected her not to survive. After seeing her finally compltetely lose it and declare war not only on the pride landers but her own pride as well was almost a last testament of how little sense his mother had by the end. She always wanted to live in Scar's legacy, and in some ways, it's almost like she chose to finally go and live with the lion that she so adored.

Finally, Kiara relaxed her grip on Kovu as her crying died down and stopped. “I'm sorry, Kovu,” she whispered, “just seeing Zira let go was so...” she was at a loss for words, and so didn't say anything.

Kovu nodded understandingly. “Don't worry about it, Kira. No one's angry at you over what you did. On the contrary, I think we're all very proud of what you tried to do, even if you didn't succeed.”

Simba came over once more, smiling slightly. “Kovu, Kiara... Let's go home. All of us.”
[/quote]

Voting will end on Saturday, October 4th!

Voting rules are the usual: Don't vote for yourself, and don't vote for a story that you simply know was written by a friend. Don't ask others to vote for your story either. Read each one carefully and give all the stories the same consideration before you make your decision.

Good luck!
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Re: MLK Writing Contest #30 [voting!]!

Postby DGFone » September 30th, 2014, 8:10 pm

I know it's still early, but there are no votes yet, so do get around to reading the stories!
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Re: MLK Writing Contest #30 [voting!]!

Postby DGFone » October 3rd, 2014, 6:24 am

Only two days left, and still no votes! Come out and vote!
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Re: MLK Writing Contest #30 [voting!]!

Postby TheWhistlerify » October 3rd, 2014, 4:49 pm

Have no fear, contest!

I shall come to thy rescue! :3
Sometimes I simply sit down and write because I cannot help it. Who knows, perhaps one day something will come out of it. Writing is the only thing that, when I do it, I don't feel I should be doing something else.
My 'The Lion King' fanfic: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10370841/1/
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Re: MLK Writing Contest #30 [voting!]!

Postby FlipMode » October 6th, 2014, 12:35 am

Ah cam'an man! I missed the voting deadline by two days. Oh well, I read the stories though. Great work, guys!
Also when will the new contest submissions start? I have some time off work and the writer in me is calling, he says "Flip_FTW, put pen to paper and put finger to keyboard and write the things that come to your head!"
Or something.
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Re: MLK Writing Contest #30 [voting!]!

Postby TheWhistlerify » October 6th, 2014, 6:03 am

Hmm... Interesting. :p
Sometimes I simply sit down and write because I cannot help it. Who knows, perhaps one day something will come out of it. Writing is the only thing that, when I do it, I don't feel I should be doing something else.
My 'The Lion King' fanfic: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10370841/1/
My 'Pokémon' fanfic: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/9017329/1/
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