Week #15 Fox Tales : Announcing the next story image, winners, and another chance to win extra STEEM!

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If you love writing stories then this contest is for you! Write a one paragraph story about the image pictured above. Be creative, think outside of the box, and follow the contest rules! 

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Here are the winner’s from Fox Tales Week #14. There were so many incredible stories which made it difficult for me to choose. I also want to applaud the writers who were able to incorporate an ‘infinite loop’ into their stories, well done!

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1st place // @dreambridge “The Gray Directory”

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…Three. Two. One. This is the gray directory, came the voice. There is no parent directory. This is the directory from which all other directories derive. This is the gray directory. Initiate base level sequence. A rapid succession of abrupt, high pitched tones became audible. Sequence complete, said the voice. It was a soft, but firm voice. A woman’s voice. A familiar voice. Familiar to whom? asked the voice. Familiar to all, it replied. This is the gray directory. Where all things begin and end. Where possibilities can be remade. There was a pause. Then let it begin. The woman’s voice was not disembodied. Her form emerged from a fine mist that became a liquid expanse in which she was floating. She reached out a slender hand, and held it before her face, turning it back and forth in the space before her eyes. Incredible, she whispered. Turning her head, she noticed a circle of white stone whose polished surface emerged just inches above the waterline. She pulled herself up onto the stone, realizing that it was a circular column that extended downward, far into the water’s depths. On solid ground, she stretched out her hand, and with her middle finger touched the liquid pool that spread out as far as she could see. She watched the ripples moving away from her fingertip, the surface of the liquid bending her reflected image. In the ripples, there were dark shapes that became shadows that became, like images projected onto a screen, hillsides bursting with wildflowers. I want to stay here forever. But the hillsides melted into city blocks of gray high rises. Secondary directory detected, came the voice. It was a familiar voice, but it was not her voice. Or at least she did not remember uttering those words. The buildings became jagged rows of shattered concrete pierced by twisted rebar. Words spray painted on one cracked wall read, “We cannot eat. We are eaten by the storms.” There was smoke everywhere, and fires. There were water logged bodies rotting on the ground. How many? She saw a woman stoop over one of the bodies to examine it. Then came the explosion. The woman was thrown, and her face became suddenly familiar. It was her own. Two men jumped from the side of a gleaming, oblong shaped flying craft as it touched down. They rolled her onto a stretcher and loaded her onto the craft. One of the men man looked at her with sadness in his eyes. “Can we save her?” he asked as the other man fumbled with a cord. After parting her hair, he inserted the plug into a jack behind her right ear. “Just think of the meadows Claire,” the anguished man pleaded. “Just think of the flowers, and somehow I will find you there.” The craft prepared for take off as the copilot plugged the other end of the cord into the on board terminal. All clear. Five. Four…

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2nd place // @sigmund (19th SEPT 2014)

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"I hope this time i get it right." Sandra thought to herself as she took the pill and prepared her mind for what is now an inevitable slumber, a sleep she now needs if she ever hopes to be with the love of her life. On the 12th of Jan 2018, she had gone for her best friend's engagement party, she had given a toast and listened carefully when Dave, the groom, shared the story of how he first met Stacy. She had listened not because she loved the story but because she couldn't help but stare at the man she loves more than anything else, the man who is now about to get married to her best friend. When everyone raised their cups for a toast, she had raised her heart hoping that somehow, everything could all go back to that night when she first met Dave. She had grabbed a bottle of Rombauer Chardonnay wine, gulped half its content before rushing down to the toilet to cry her eyes out. By the time the party was over, she was half drunk and half crazy. Holding her heels in her hand and kissing Dave squarely on the lips, she had left the party a broken lady. In her drunken state, someone walked up to her and gave her a bunch of pills, "they would help with the pain" he said. When Sandra got home, she took one of the pills without second thoughts and slept off almost immediately. Sandra woke up to the sound of her roommate and best friend calling her name, "Wake up Sandra, we'll be late for prom" Stacy said. "How do you mean prom? Yesterday was your engagement party, you are supposed to be with Dave" Sandra replied with a look of bewilderment. "What are you talking about? What engagement party and who is Dave?" Stacy replied. It was then it started to dawn on her, she looked at the date, 19th Sept 2014 She looked at the pills and it all came to her. Somehow the pill she took brought her back to the day she met Dave. Now all she had to do was make sure she wins his heart before Stacy has a chance to. But it wasn't as easy as she had thought. After 9 pills, she wasn't anywhere near winning Dave's heart. One time she was tagged a stalker, another time she was thrown out through the window by his friends. She was beginning to wonder when this infinite loop would end. "I hope this time i get it right." Sandra thought to herself as she looked at the date again, 19th Sept 2014!!!

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3rd place // @jhaysnsonofbenz “VIA”

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Via awoke with ease, she was stunned. For years now, waking up has been the hardest thing for her to do. But today, she stood up like an athletic. Standing on gallant feet, she inhaled. Her lungs responded swiftly. Via took in deep breaths until she felt her chest was about to burst open. The air smelled of picoline. An anticeptic, where was she? Via took a quick glance around. She was at a river bank. Thick trees bothered the walk way. The river had a silvery-blue waters that looked imaginable inviting. Via could swear she had never been to this place, yet something about it looked strangely familiar. This river bank, it appears bears a little semblance to the painting that hung in her living room. A painting that Via always reasoned was a picture of her ideal paradise. Is this paradise? Via pinched herself and got a sensation she perceived to be that of an injection administered. The pain not withstanding, Via felt relieved to be alive. She looked at the river again, quiet, eerily. It's been long she took a dive, and being well again nourished her the desire to swim in the steady waters. Via took a step forward, dipping her finger in the waters and watched her reflection rippled with the waves created. So inviting, Via steadied herself for a dive. She longed for soothing peace the water had to offer. As she prepared to dive, a heat of searing pain tore through her chest. She felt like she'd been hit by a defibrillator . In an instant, she heard distinct voices behind her and a beep that musically and rythmically sounded like her heartbeat. Via glanced back, but saw no one; only the calm rustling of the leaves above. She looked at the river again, "how bad can a dive be?" She reasoned. She plunged, crashing into the waters and letting herself free. The pains she felt yesterday gone, as an unexpected peace settled on her. Via had never felt more alive as this steady water took her to a place she knew not. She was willing to follow it to where it ended. In the building of the Compton County Hospital, group of four specialist are trying, against all odds to bring one Miss Via Penson back to life

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I wanted this week’s story image to revolve around expression. I’ve been lost thinking about story board panels, silent movies, and the wonderful documentary “The Kindgom of Dreams and Madness” which I find very inspiring. In the documentary Hayao Miyazaki explains how each scene has a mood and how expressive each character has to be; watch the film and you’ll understand why.  

This week, to win extra STEEM, I want to challenge everyone to write a story that’s EXACTLY 15 sentence with no clear beginning or ending. Think of the story as if you were reading from a page that was left open or any film by Tarantino or the Coen Brothers.

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A portion of the prize pool is a contribution courtesy of @artwatch! Thanks so much for helping to sponsor this writing contest! Please give @artwatch a follow! 

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Prizes:

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1st // 5SBD (5 BONUS STEEM)

2nd // 3SBD (3 BONUS STEEM)

3rd // 1SBD (1 BONUS STEEM)

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Contest Rules:

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Resteem this post.

Create a separate post with your ONE PARAGRAPH stories and use the #foxtales tag.

Feel free to use the current story image for your post.

Submit your post in the comment section below.

Maximum of 3 entries - only one story per person will qualify for a portion of the prize pool so everyone has a fair chance.

The length is to your interpretation. There is no real ‘rule’ of how long a paragraph is but I’d say to use your best judgement. If it doesn’t flow right and you know that it is indeed going over then edit your writing.

Write a 15 sentence story with no clear beginning and ending to win the extra bonus STEEM prize!

Deadline // Friday March 2nd  //  5:00 UTC

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Thanks for stopping by and good luck to those who decide to participate!

Do you have any questions? 🦊