Competition Status: CLOSED
Also posted here at CRLiterature.
For my 15th literature competition I want to challenge people to do something that may benefit their writing, so I present to you all the Devil's in the Detail Competition.
Brushing your teeth if you are a vampire
Walking your dog onboard a space station
Having a prostate exam when everyone else on the planet is a zombie. (eek!)
The challenge is really to focus your mind on how your characters behave and interact with their environments and how the environment being different than yours (the writers) can affect how they do those things. Hopefully this will come in handy for you even if you don't write in the fantasy genre, because its all about character development.
This competition will close on August 17th, that's just over three weeks away. The deadline will be GMT midnight on the 17th (as the 18th breaks). If you wanna know what time that is for you, use the timezone converter here.
If you would like to participate in judging this competition feel free to note me. Judges can still participate and win but cannot pass judgement on their own piece.
1st Place2000 points from BloodshotInk
250 points from LadyLincoln
A journal feature from Persistent-Practice
Poetry commission from Sammur-amat
100 points from xlntwtch
2nd Place1000 points from BloodshotInk
A journal feature from Persistent-Practice
A journal feature from Sammur-amat
3rd Place500 points from BloodshotInk
A journal feature from Persistent-Practice
A journal feature from Sammur-amat
A critique and journal feature from mormonbookworm
A critique, journal feature and llama from DailyBreadCafe
I am accepting donations for this competition if you wish to donate please send me a note . You can donate anonymously if you wish to. Ideas for donations are; points, premium membership, prints, critiques, comments, journal features, interviews, gifts and collaborations. are prizes currently in my possession. are prizes the winners would recieve directly.
Those All Important Rules
Entries will be accepted only if posted between 20th July - 17th August 2013 in GMT.
Due to the nature and purpose of this competition original characters only please. You may, however, use existing environments (for example; Battlestar Galactica, frak yeah!)
This competition is for literature only and the poster must be the original creator of the literature submitted.
Judges and those who donate to the competition will be eligible to win again, but, in the case of the judges, will not allowed to cast any vote on their own piece. BloodshotInk will not be allowed to win but may participate for funsies.
All languages welcome but you must provide an English translation so we can study the meaning behind the words as well as the composition and words.
You must link to this page in the artists comments!
There is no age restriction on this competition
Prose and poetry (and any hybrid) will be accepted, however there is a word limit of 2000 words maximum.
You may enter multiple times but you will only be able to win once, for example if you get 2nd place you will not be allowed to also get 3rd no matter how good your pieces are.
Important the deadline is in GMT!
The judges will not comment on your work until the competition closes (for fairness sake).
We reserve the right to edit this information, including the rules, up to the date of 12th of August.
How To Enter
Write a new piece of literature (therefore it must be posted to deviantART after the 20th of July 2013.
Submit it to deviantART (in the correct literature category for your submission!)
Link to this competition page in your artists comments! You can copy this code:
This is an entry for the <a href="http://fav.me/d6eizlw">Devil's in the Details</a> competition which closes on August 17th!
Copy the address URL or thumb of your entry and send it in a note to BloodshotInk
Tell your friends!
Knots and Tree BarkHer hair was full of knots tangled with the trees
It would hurt as she brushed it she groaned as
She separated from the bark some more
She brushed it all the same wincing as she
Brushed out knots and moss from it
A particular twig she almost had to pull out
Next time she would remember to only
Sleep for a decade not a century
GhostwriterBack when I was alive, I used to complain that I never had enough time to write. That’s always the excuse, isn’t it? Yes, I have a free half-hour now, but that isn’t nearly enough time to be truly inspired. Might as well finish this crossword puzzle, first.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have anything against a fellow cruciverbalist; time just happens to be mostly meaningless, nowadays. I could easily sleep through the next few centuries, except for the fact that I am perfectly content where I am at the moment.
These days, it’s progressively difficult to find a working typewriter.
When I first died of a heart attack back in ‘56, I was so overcome with despair at my own death that I immediately fell asleep for several decades, finally awaking to find a suddenly and drastically altered world. Not only had I to mourn the imminent death of the paperback book, what with the increasing popularity of those ridiculous electronic books, but that of
Planning out something logicallyHer tiny delicate wings fluttered for just a moment, hovering and trailing golden dust, before dropping down in an OOF motion.<da:thumb id="390655390"/>
Silken threads brushed against her slender legs, annoyance beat steadily out of her tiny heart. She yanked hard on her blonde bangs before trying again, blue eyes shining more of exasperation not determination.
Shining copper taunted loudly, the assumption of the fairy girl even making it was heretic. The height was too high, environment too unfamiliar. White wood whispered her doubts and the girl looked up, then down, jerking her head back and forth indecisively like a rocking ship on a stormy sea day.
Her skeletal, transparent wings harder, with no rhythm nor solid intentions. The tiny girl's heart was set on getting done with her conflicted emotions, and getting done with it fast.
Higher, higher, and OOF! She collided with the soft carpet, wings crumpling behind her. They straightened out a bit after her fall, but her fairy dust was running out. Soon she'd
MetamorphosisYou must listen everyday
Your ears hear the words
Your Stupid,ugly, Worthless,useless
On a Tight LeashIt always makes me laugh when I hear people referring to their boyfriends as “dogs.” And why does it amuse me so, you may ask? Well, probably due to the fact that the man I am currently dating is a werewolf.
I won’t deny that I might have panicked a little when he broke the news to me and tried to pummel him to death with a silver cross.
But we’re past that now. A little midnight romp under the full moon where he had accidentally transformed and chased after a stray cat had been the undoing to Rory’s lupine secret. Of course, it had taken me awhile to accept the fact that my goofy and sweet hunk of a man was actually a beast of legend, but it wasn’t too hard after the third time he managed to rope me into a snuggle session with his wolf form that I became completely okay with his “condition” (as Rory likes to refer to it).
It was, however, on the days where he begged me with those brown puppy dog eyes of his to go for a walk where I alway
The Unforgettable Circus A small town is where we begin our story. It's not on a map, if you're wondering. Believe me, I've checked. Now you may be wondering what's so special about this particular small town and I'll tell you, but before I do, there's something you need to know: not everything is as it's seems. The story I'm about to tell you is no different.
In this particular town, like any, there were groups. In this town's case, the groups were divided in an interesting way: those who would engage in out-of-house activities weekly, and those who did it monthly. It may not seem like much to an outsider like yourself, but in this little town it was everything. As a matter of fact, such a thing could make or break a relationship. Don't believe me; ask one of the citizens, if you can. It may be difficult at first, but I'm sure that, after you've finished reading, you'll see how one event can change a person foreve
A Curious JobIt was a curious job I had, being janitor of the Moon.<da:thumb id="393197931"/>
I had tried to make a better life for myself, but never found the aspiration one required to take a career to a satisfactory level. So here I am, appointed by an impersonal corporation, the cleaner of messes nobody makes.
“Go up there and make sure it’s spotless for when the guests arrive.” said the Big ‘Ol Boss Man of the Interplanetary Colonisation Corporation I had been employed by a few years ago. I accepted the task, signed the papers and was put on the next Moon-bound flight within a matter of days.
I had arrived to a empty, completed construct, devoid of life. It had metal walls and dust covered floors, that no one had walked on in years. See what happens is, the company decides to colonize and sends in a construction crew to build the housing structure. Once complete, scientists are sent up next, and these chaps make sure all the atmosphere processors are all functioning correctly and to a viable
Intimacy in the Intergalactic Interrogation RoomI'm quite a hard ass and today I'm gonna pick my teeth with this one. I'm looking hot in my grey business attire with my little sexy pencil skirt to boot. I like them to remember me before they go down. It makes me a force of estrogen to be reckoned with. I may be pretty and look like the girl next door but they come to find I will seriously clean house if I have to. I don't take phone numbers...you can't call the dead, they have no home. I'll take it all from you and leave you homeless and you'll die hungry and thirsty too. No last wishes will be on your mind other than to regret our brief acquaintance.<da:thumb id="390286003"/>
Apparently this one is a live one. He's flashy and his files repeat a unique influence over others, a rebel leader of sorts kind of like a "snake charmer", I like to call these types. These guys can lead with authority the most hardened criminals. They'll turn murderers into loyal seeing eye dogs and give them a reason to carry on another day. I've heard of the biggest drug lord around
On the Road BelowWell, here i go again. im going to jump. not too far, just a 75,000 foot drop, kiodai. nothing too hard for your wings right?<da:thumb id="390080673"/>
as i fell through numerous cumulonimbus clouds (i was positioned over an earth city named "Seattle") i started to count down...
i stopped short in my fall, and i knew i was dead. there was no other explanation for what happened. i tried to move a wing just to be sure.
it budged ever-so-slightly.
WHEW. i thought i had died. angels can't die. i was almost sad at the fact i wasn't dead. i would have made history! been on "The Flying Rocks" or some other famous magazine. Yes, i would be gone, but famous.
no one could see me on this planet. not observant enough. hm. i decided to fly hoe before arcaes became upset. i tried to lift my wings to fly home, but nothing happened. i looked around and saw another angel, lying dead on the road beside me. i bent over this lifeless corpse, and wiped away the tears brimming at my eyes for the reali
McCaskel's Bad DayThe buzzing of the cheap, dollar store alarm clock cut through George McCaskel’s hung-over ears like a surgical saw. Struggling upright from the over-stuffed mattress his girlfriend –ex-girlfriend- insisted on buying a week before she announced it wasn’t working out and she’d be shacking up with her boss, he groped for the off switch. With a loud snap! The switch jammed half-way. He sighed and winced as he reached for the power cord. A bottle spun away from his unsteady tread as he padded to the bathroom. Shower first, he thought. Shower, then food. Pants should probably factor in somewhere. Yes. New day. New, improved George. New, improved George made the mistake of gazing in the mirror before hopping in the shower, seeing the ravages of his friend’s appreciated but misguided attempt to stop his moping. The bags under his eyes had bags. Supressing a shudder he shuffled under the shower head and managed to rattle the door shut. Hot water would probably hel<da:thumb id="392779667"/>
Shower SceneKiril silenced the alarm and grumbled in the darkness, uncertain of whether his groggy curses came in English or in Russian. Both, most likely.
It took a lot to move and to face the first dark moments of the day, and Kiril always felt a jagged twinge of guilt whenever he had to break Hal’s dreams and subject him to the hard/cold end of whatever might have started the night before.
Hal moaned a near-coherent complaint and held Kiril in a clenching embrace.
“Nyet,” he said, quietly. “You still have one hour of good sleeping.”
“Bullshit,” Hal grumbled, and for a moment it sounded as if he’d swallowed a bear. “I’m awake now.”
“Then stay warm,” Kiril said. “Sleep one more hour for me.” And it took something of a fight to disengage: first from Hal’s lingering sleeper’s hug, and then from the bedding itself. He moved gingerly and flinched at the chil
Weaver's WebThere once was a young weaver who worked day and night at his craft. He worked so hard, in fact, that fairy-folk and elves came from surrounding villages to see him. Butterfly-lace shirts, satin vests, and skirts made from the silvered manes of unicorns- he could take any material given him and turn it into sheets of fabric, and then again into delightful garments.
At least, he liked to imagine that he could. You see, this talented, young weaver had an adventurous spirit. He never worked with the same material twice in a row, and never more than four times a month. It was too easy to get lazy that way.
So, each evening, after he'd closed his little shop, the weaver fluttered his wings and flew to the nearby forests and fields. He could lose hours there, gathering hundreds of abandoned spiderwebs and baskets upon baskets of petals and leaves.
One day, the fairy decided this was not enough. None of it. He was well-known in his part of the kingdom, yes, but royalty had never heard his n
A Guide On How To Shop In The Pias UndergrowthSo, ye need some groceries and things from the shops. But ye live in the undergrowth of Pias, so it ain’t a case of just popping to some omni-mall. What are ye going to do? Ye can’t farm cos’ the ground here ain’t gonna get enough sun, and there’s nae way in hell ye can just experiment with all the fruits of the jungle, cos’ ye value your life too much. Whatcha gonna do?
Well, good ol’ Cygno here can help ye wi’ this trusty guide! Available in all the shady places over the Kairos galaxy. This guide here’ll tell ye all about how to find the best markets in Pias and how tae not get scammed by some scoundrel.
First off, terribly sorry for ye bein’ here. I dunno if ye were forced tae run from the gangs or police in Canopy City or whatever other tragedy befell ye, but sorry. Pias ain’t a holiday site once yer under the leaves, I can tell ye that fer sure.
By the time yer readin’ this, y’l
Pets Can Play Too It was a lazy afternoon and was laying in my over size pet bed while my Master fiddled around with some silly game. I looked over at my him with a confused expression. He was playing with that odd plastic thing he called a controller. He looked over to me, seeing that I was staring at him. Aaron smiled and motioned me over.
"Come here Nickie" he said softly.
My large ears perked up as he acknowledged me. I stood and went over to him, my extremely large tail wagging. His smile widened as he laid back on the couch so that I could sit in his lap. I purred softly and plopped down happily.
Oh, and if you haven't noticed already...I'm an athromorphic kittywolf, and Aaron is my loving owner.
Anyway, he then handed me his controller. I merely looked at him with great confusion. He scratched behind my ear and said.
"Today little one, you are gonna learn how to play video games.."
My eyes widened at his words, but I nodded slowly. He smiled and began telling me how to play a, 'video
Tainted BloodDeep in the bowels of the Hall of Make-Believe, the souls of forgotten superheros, fairy tales, and imaginary friends gathered dust. The oldest souls hung heavy on their fishing hooks, their seams struggling to stay together.
Shoved far, far behind Egyptian deities and the husks of dinosaurs, a nightmare soul was kept under large chains and half a dozen padlocks. Every few years, the new hired help blew the dust from the box and rattled the heavy metal, pondering the secrets held within. Trying to set the secrets free, to discover the past world the government refused to let them learn about. Usually, they were caught before the soul woke. Usually, no damage was done--the Earth kept turning, oblivious and naive. People lived their lives apart, segregated and unknowing.
The bolt cutter twanged in the silence and Allison licked her lips. Tugging the chains from their resting place, she drew a deep breath as the soul shuddered beneath her hands,
The boy and the butterfly of deadIt's morning and the sun takes its time to reach the top of the air. The light of the sun shines in my eyes, telling me to wake up. I brush my hair and put my clothes on. My master is already working hard around the house. Reading and answering letters of visitors to my masters house. And putting water on the feet of Physalis alkekengi.
The Physalis alkekengi is the home of many dead souls before they leave earth. People stay until they find its time to leave. The orange lanterns give room for these souls. When there are a lot of orange lanterns many people can fulfil their tasks before leaving earth. The task of my master is to give the Physalis alkekengi as many as orange lanterns as the flower can take. When people leave the lantern the lantern loses its life. My master takes the dead lanterns away to give room for new orange lanterns.
It's time to leave the Physalis alkekengi my master is already waiting for me. When he puts the last letter on the wall, I arrive at his side. Awake
A Trick of the LightWhen morning light slanted through the window, casting grey shadows across the white sheets of Seoirse’s bed, he was still laying with his hands behind his head, gazing up at the wooden beams of the ceiling. He disentangled himself from the sheets and he ambled to the kitchen. Painted a soft yellow by his own hands for his late mother, with white and black daisies circling the windows and cabinets. His coffee cup sat in the same place that he always left it, beside the tarnished kitchen sink. It was cream, maybe eggshell or ecru… He didn’t know; he was an artist not an interior designer.
Grudgingly, Seoirse poured the last bit of coffee into the crisp white filter from the blue plastic can that set in his cabinet. He sat at the kitchen table, large enough for eight people, alone. Golden strands danced inside the wood, intermingling with the soft browns.
When the last bits of dark coffee dripped through into the stained pot, he arose and picked up the coffee cup. Look
Flea and Flee‘It should not be this difficult!’ said Mother. ‘We are witches!’<da:thumb id="393764910"/>
She always said that, but it always was that difficult, every time. After all, witches may be witches, but cats are cats so naturally they have the advantage. Our cat Midnight always knew, no matter what we did, or how many times we tried to hide the flea treatment. One month it was in the kitchen cupboard with the crisps and cereal and baked beans. The next month, it was behind a bottle of newts’ eyes. Once Mother hid it in her sock drawer. This time, it was in amongst all the mouse tails.
‘Look what you brought us!’ Mother said, fishing around in the tails and making cutesy noises at Midnight, who was blinking up at her with huge, bored, knowing, evil yellow eyes.
‘Clever, clever boy!’ Mother told him. Then suddenly she said, ‘NOW!’
Now? I thought. Why should now be any different? But I did it anyway, so I could at l
Under the SpotlightActing is hard. You know what's even harder? Being a dragon who can't seem to get a foot in the door. Jörmungandr shifted to his human form with a loud yawn, absently brushing his teeth with a toothbrush from his brother Fenrir. He pressed the button to his answering machine as he picked out what he was going to wear for the day.<da:thumb id="393836206"/>
"This is Jorg. Leave a message after the beep." He rolled his eyes at his own voice coming from the ancient chunk of tech before a different voice came on that had him turning around so fast toothpaste spattered the mirror.
"This is Svarthiem Entertainment calling back about your audition for the part of the main character in Fight Fire with Fire-" Jorg realized that they were speaking to him live and he spat out the orange foam into the sink to answer the phone properly.
"Jörgamungandr Lokisson speaking."
"Oh. A pleasant surprise, Mr. Lokisson. I was under the impression that I was speaking to your answering machine. I'm Njall Ulf and-"
"You're head of castin
Impossible Dreams of Love“When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” — Arthur Conan Doyle
Words mean everything and nothing. They are as deeply felt as they are heard, even more so than one could imagine. That is where our story begins.
Aingeal knows death. He knows it like the scythe in his hand and the cloak that settles over his slender shoulders tattered as well as aged with the sentiments it carried. But this fluttering feeling... Well, it down-right confused Aingeal. He'd never expirienced such a longing for someone so very alive.
He glided softly behind the mortal, knowing that his presence was likely bothering this man. Aingeal couldn't help this strange fascination nor could he remove it; he'd tried several times to take the bright spark from his chest by force, yet it reignited fiercer and brighter with each attempt. Following the absurdly beautiful man seemed to only make the spark grow and Aingeal