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Track. Let's hope I even have five seconds to create an art entry. ;u;
tracking & working on writing submission!
question: is photography an acceptable format for art submissions? just want to clarify for current and future reference.
As long as you can have "FeralFront" written on a piece of paper in the photograph somewhere, preferably with the date. Or have the website in the picture if it's near a computer. Just incorporate FF somehow.
Flora sat in the tile floor in the middle of their small kitchen. Her legs hurt from sitting on the cold tile for so long,but she ignored the pain as her mother braided her hair. She spoke up,her voice soft and delicate "Mother, how come I can't go outside,or go to school or even the store like all the other kids. " She had asked this question many times,and had always received the same answer. "Because Flora,you are a beautiful flower and you must be preserved." This made anger flare in Flora's heart,more and more, each time those words came off of her mother's lips,but she had never spoken up, until now.
"Then I wish I wasn't beautiful,so I could come and go like everyone else!" Flora yelled. She didn't want to be preserved,she just wanted to be normal. A sharp slapping sound was heard as her mother's hand was slapped accross her cheek. Her mother had never slapped her before,Flora was more astonished then hurt. Flora's mother had finished her braiding,and stalked off,her long black hair flowing behind her.
Flora looked in the mirror that sat in front of her, she looked at her wispy, scarlet colored hair, her brilliant, violet colored eyes, her rosy cheeks and snowy, white colored skin.She was different,she thought as she stood up. Her mother had black hair,her father's was a silvery gray color. Both of their eyes were a pale blue. She had seen pictures of all the other people in her city,on a website online. Their hair ranged from white to black,and their eyes ranged from pale blue to a dull brown. None of them were as pale as her,they all had darker tones to their skin.
She had never seen the sun,but she felt she must feel it's warmth in order to live,so she snuck up to the attic every day, and opened the blinds on the window. She never ventured close enough to the window to look out of it,she only sat in the patch of sunlight with her back turned to it. She had read that looking at the sun was bad,so she feared to do so.
One day,as she was doing this,she finally looked at the sun. She was captivated by it's beauty and stared at it all day. She turned her head as her mother called, and realized all she could see, was darkness. She couldn't see any more,and she stumbled down the stairs from the attic. "Mother! Mother!" She cried frantically,the feeling of warm tears on her cheeks.
She felt her mothers arms wrap around her and heard her voice coo "What is it, Flora?" Her voice held worry but also love. "Mother, I can't see." She sobbed. "All I see is the dark." Her mother tensed up,and she felt her hands on the sides of her face,as if she was looking into her eyes. " Oh Flora, but you were so beautiful.." her mother let go of her, and she heard her mother walk away sobbing.
"Am I not beautiful anymore?" She spoke,her voice was barely a whisper. Flora stumbled into where she knew the bathroom was,and closed and locked the door. She frantically tried to look in the mirror,opening and closing her eyes again. She couldn't see,but being rendered blind must of turned her hideous. She shivered remembering the despair in her own mother's tone.
"What would father think?" She spoke aloud worriedly.
Flora suddenly began to cry, she felt worthless and betrayed. She felt lost and confused. She felt as if she was no longer wanted. She felt around and put the stopper in the tub and filled it to the brim with water. She removed her clothes and braid the best she could and stepped into the water. She simply closed her eyes and inhaled water and air,until she no longer had any air. She passed away within moments, with her sightless,violet eyes on the ceiling. A powerful witch, whom had been watching Flora for a long time was jealous of her beauty. The witch now couldn't feel any jealousy, only pity. She quickly poofed herself into the bathroom with Flora and spoke a spell
"Beautiful flower, you shall see. Turn to petal and stem forever to last. In this form you will stay and be. Until a man,enchanted by your cast. Falls in love which seems strange.Picks you up and presses a kiss to change."
Flora was then turned into a scarlet rose with a violet stem,the witch slipped her into her cloak and dissappeared. The witch went into the forest and planted Flora in the soil in the shade of a beautiful willow tree. Her beauty was to be preserved until it was to be noticed once again.
Here is my short story entry,heh.
yo, idk, i gave it a shot
The sun’s rays beat down upon her head, cloaking the child in warmth. Sand squelched beneath her feet, scratching her heels and blistering her toes. A yellow sun dress hung from her small body, dark hair contrasting the bright colour. Her throat itched and her stomach grumbled, calling to be fed, but her stark blue eyes never broke. Determination was what kept the child going, the determination to finish her mission, to find one last beautiful thing before she left this desert land.
Mountains of sand greeted her, a hot breeze whipping at her fragile form. The air was thick, each step becoming harder and harder as she pushed onward. Not a single figure stood in the distance, the sand hills endless, stretching out around her in every direction. She’d depleted her water source a while ago, the consequences of that slowly beginning to take their toll. But still, her stark blue eyes never broke.
As they day went on, the sun only seemed to rise higher, its heat growing by the second. Time had become meaningless, its existence entirely ignored in this patch of her world. Her body ached and her skin burned, the sun’s rays relentless in their ferocious attack. The child’s eyes searched for shade, hoping for a moment of rest but again was greeted with only endless dunes. But still, her stark blue eyes never broke.
It was as if by a miracle that colour blossomed before her. Green, red, yellow. Her feet moved before her mind could catch up, her legs barely holding her weight. It was only when she’d reached the small patch of green that she finally fell to her knees. They burned against the sand but her mind was preoccupied. Within this vast desert, within this singular patch of green, she had managed to find something beautiful. And finally, her stark blue eyes broke.
Tears formed in the corners of her eyes as she leaned close, a single, colourful flower opening its brightly coloured petals to her. Reaching forwards, thin fingers brushed across the soft petals, the feeling sending a shiver across her body. Within the flowers centre, she saw it, an oasis. A beautiful forest with fruit trees and bushes that grew hundreds of flowers. A pond that stretched the length of the image, wildlife residing within. But, beauty was in the eye of the beholder.
She reached forward, taking the stem of the flower between her fingers. Then with the gentlest of touches, she tugged, drawing the stalk from the ground. As if by magic the world around her began to fade, patches of sky and ground being replaced with white lights within a sterile room. A hospital rooms. A single flower was clutched in her hand, her eyes casting down to the most colourful thing within the room. Her lips stretched upward in a tired smile. A loud, beeping alarm began to sound beside her, but the sound was drowned out by the chirping of bird.
But then, her stark blue eyes closed, and nothingness took her into its cold embrace.
i was super hyped about the prompt this month so i just had to write something eheh
The dog’s dark ears pricked forward, listening over the murderous roar of the artillery fire from the other side of the trench. He could not fathom exactly why his people were being attacked, but he knew that there was death. When war comes, human lives start dying.
He could feel it in the way their young hearts pounded against their chest, sick with fear and bent on fighting to see another day and perhaps even win victory for their nation. The dog had been sent out behind the lines many times, and he saw many achingly familiar faces there, now colorless and stiff with death. The strong, brave, young soldiers fell like flowers to the ground, cut down by the bullets as they attempted to gain a few more inches of land. The advances were futile but they still kept pushing on … somehow …
Like flowers fighting to survive the deathly frost of winter …
His head jerked up as a group of men leapt down into the trench one after the other, their bodies weary and weighed down by mud. The dog recalled that these men had leapt over the trench earlier to attack the other side, but the defense must have been too strong for them to break through and they retreated.
The dog weaved in and out between the legs of these men and jumped up to peer over the trench. The terrain was entirely mud and filth. Barbed wire glittering with blood and craters caused by mortar littered the ground. It was revolting and reeked of death. The few trees here were charred and thin.
Despite all this, the dog could scent life. One man had not yet returned from the mission, and he was alive. A livingflower among the deceased, though he was nearly about to be lost to the war, the winter.
Without warning, the dark-furred canine conducted an impressive leap over the trench. He was silent and focused, his caramel-brown eyes narrowed and senses honed in on the life that lay defenseless in the land of hell on earth. The dog’s heart did not for a moment quake in fear as the groaning and screaming of artillery fire pierced his ears.
He finally reached the wounded man, grabbing him by the coat arm. The man sobbed, a wordless noise of utter relief and hope. The soldier helped as much as he could, dragging himself along and tangling his fingers in the dark fur of his savior. The dog realized at this point that the man was not able to walk, and the dirt was clinging to their bodies, hindering their movements even more. The dog was panting heavily, muscles straining underneath his sleek dark fur. Enemy fire flashed all around them, and more than once, the soldier slipped in the mud and filth. The dog refused to leave him behind. He faithfully continued to guide the wounded man back to safety.
They finally reached the trench together, and the other men swiftly helped the injured soldier over. The wounded man’s hands grasped the dog’s face and his gray eyes, glinting with tears, shifted down to read the nametag. He smiled as he mouthed the name of his rescuer and a word of thanks.
That was the moment the dog began to feel dizzy, a sharp pain piercing his abdomen. He stumbled, the light in his own eyes fading as he watched the man pulled away from him and hauled back to safety. The dog slumped to the ground, breathing in short, shallow gasps, but the last thing his senses focused in on was the quiet celebration of a man who had been saved from certain death.
Soon they would turn to the hero dog, only to find that he had passed away, struck down by enemy fire. Despite that, there was a look of ultimate serenity on his countenance, content with the outcome of his final struggle. He had won … he had helped this flower fight to see another autumn day.
author's notes;; specifically, in the first world war, red cross dogs were used to locate wounded men on the battlefield, typically in trench warfare. the dog and the situations in this short story are based off of those facts. the exact nationalities and location of these events are purposefully left vague.
ah! thank you so much! congrats to you too tikki!
Congrats you two!