Wednesday, June 24, 2009

The people's writing competition: July

Right, it's quite simple, folks.

You write, in the comments section below this post, your story.

The topic is: Transformations.

The provisional word limit is between 1500 and 4500 words, however, if you go a bit below or over this, I doubt if anyone's going to care or even notice. If anyone's wondering how far they can go over the limit, well my university always used to say about a thousand for longer essays, so I'm going with that.

The only other stipulation is that you post your work anonymously or under a pseudonym, and that your piece of writing was written between the date of this blog entry and 25th July 2009. Of course, you can submit something you wrote previously if you want, just don't tell us. But in the spirit of the contest it would be preferable if it was written during the competition period.

Without further ado, over to you!

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  3. The motorcycle spins into the parking lot of Calmette General hospital. She is in my arms. The bike is cast aside, its engine still turning. Running, i carry her down corridors and crash through doors.Into the casualty department. I place her on the bed and a doctor checks her pulse. I stare at the stone that has become his face as the seconds pass. He pulls up her T shirt and I feel a wave of shame for her as he exposes her breasts to the gaze of patients and staff peering curiously in our direction. Almost invisible, the tiniest red mark, like a biro dot on her breast. His voice is little above a whisper, "Dead."
    A speeding train crashes off the tracks, its carriages turn over and over. Sulphur fills my lungs. Blood fills my eyes A screaming roar of burning steel fills my ears This grim depressing room becomes a spinning blur. Reality fails.me. My eyes bury into the doctor's as he turns away, his job done. I grab his shirt to prevent him leaving, as if by turning away he will seal her fate. He looks at me. A face with no expression. He looks down at my hands clawing at his shirt. He says nothing. I am in a world of boiling, blurring madness. I'm screaming and kicking at cupboard doors. I'm beating on the walls. I glimpse torn health posters and guernies and hanging drips and damp peeling paintwork, and splintered tiles and trolleys of blue cloth and cabinets of medicine and pretty nurses in crisp blue uniforms. Around the room the injured and the sick raise their heads and stare. Spinning and tumbling, the room fuses and spits and morphs and boils in and out of view.
    In the distance someone has called for security. I feel hands sieze my arms. The words fade away as i'm marched out of the ward and into the night. Outside, hands release me and i stagger away, turning in circles, trying to think ,trying to breathe, trying to spit the taste of copper out of my mouth. I turn and look up at the security guard. His face is soft with pity. I find the words and explain that i need to go back inside. I need to see her one last time. I need to say goodbye. Seeing me calmer, he nods agreement and steps aside. I walk back into the hospital. They have pushed her into a corridor and I kneel by her side and take her hand and brush the hair off her face and kiss her lips. My mind is empty. I take off her rings and her earrings, unclasp her necklace and slip her bracelets off her wrists. I place them all into a pocket. "I promise i will take care of our son," I whisper. I turn and leave her and walk out the door.

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