Explained: A story about the creation of something, be it metaphorical or literal.
- The story deals with creation in an artistic, metaphorical sense.
- The story deals with the literal, technical creation of something non-living.
- The story deals with the creation of a universe.
- The story deals with the creation of mankind/society.
- The story is from the perspective of a creator, be it metaphorical or literal.
Rules for Voting:
- Read ALL entries.
- Vote on your favorite entry.
- Please post explaining your vote and why.
- Please provide helpful feedback on the entries.
- Do NOT post anything insulting or offensive about the entries.
- Do NOT vote for your own entry.
- Do NOT tell others which entry is your own.
Components required for casual entries: 1
Where did it begin; this unquenchable passion to build and to create? It was both a passion and a power-one I had not even known had been mine. But once upon a single world I learned what power was within me and I could not restrain myself from trying. I was not arrogant, I knew to start small, and it began with a barren stretch of land, with tall dried long grass that swayed in the calm breeze. From there the warm and golden rays of the sun were added, as were the silent and silver rays of the moon and the astral stars. The skies were followed by the proud sea, crashing both gently and violently upon the rock-filled shores. And these were the beginning stages; this was where I first felt the rising passion-the passion that I could create something so outstandingly beautiful.
From here I moved forward, making my natural world more complex. Trees were the next creation that would join my growing world. Silver birch trees within the forests, evergreen conifers up near the ridges and lonely willow aside their lonely lakes. Below the branches would grow bushes of all shades of green and all depths of thickness. These beautiful trees and bushes were all of something special, but still the world seemed to single colored and so from soil, branch and leaf millions of tiny buds sprouted and colored the world. As though the color alone were not enough of a difference I gave them vivid fragrances as well. What an aesthetic and pleasing creation I was making, something so spectacular and I had not even been aware that I could make it before.
A world of varied sights and smells needed some more sounds than just that of the howling wind and the swaying seas. It was here when I thought that my world should be inhabited by many, marvelous creators. I started with birds, elegant, flying feathered animals that traveled with the wind and sang sweet songs upon the dawn or called solitary cries in the dead of night. Should the wind have life then so should the ocean. Beneath her I made beautiful coral reefs that were would become the home to brightly colored fish, crafty eels and graceful stingrays. Also joining this underwater medley were powerful sharks, intelligent dolphins and colossal whales. It was nearly a world in its own, a colorful kingdom surrounded in dark blue.
And then there was the third of my kingdoms to populate: the land. With such a large and empty mass of land I would have to fill it with many creatures. I started with the smallest ones, the bugs and worms, feeding of the plants and seeds of my natural world. Feeding on the bugs and seeds I made the rodents, quick to scatter. Eating on the long grasses and berries were the elegant herbivores that included agile deer who wandered the world tenderly and the wild horses who harmonized with the gusting wind. As it was necessary the majestic wolves of the mountain were made to eat these beautiful creators, preventing the rapid increase. And lastly were added the great bears of the world, feasting upon the fish in the stream and the berries upon the bushes. My natural world and her beautiful creations are complete.
But my lust for creation knows no bounds and this natural world of serenity was not enough for me. From here I began to create creations from my existent world. I started with a small house made of fine oak wood and crafted bricks and added upon it large leaves and crafted stones. And in this house I formed finely carved furniture and placed it strategically to make the place less bare. And then upon one wall a hearth was added, with a calmly blazing fire and upon the beds were added warmly knitted blankets. But how could my small little house exist when it was so alone? Outside the house I added, many more of similarity that were not replicas and so the little stretch of land became a village.
My village was bare though, without a single creator who used it, and thus I created the creature that I call man, to live and enjoy my small village and all of the land. These people were each made different, not two exactly alike: a grouchy and stern blacksmith, a troublesome youth and nostalgic old man to name a few. And these people all had their own families, how shocked I was with what I could create. But a village was still small, and I added another, miles away and several more. Soon my world was filled with hundreds of tiny villages, each with dozens of tiny houses and hundreds of tiny people. But I would not be stopped here.
I built castles and fortresses, I built caves and mighty dungeons, I made people both cruel and kind, both brave and cowardly. And I continue to expand on my world, I continue to add truths and lies, new creatures and remove the old. I continue to nourish and destroy, my world is my own creation and within I can make it as grand as I please, as stunning and awesome as can be imagined.
I am the writer.
The Clockwork Man
'Twas the first when we drew our plans
Within that dark and gloomy hall
Whence came our great clock man
Who was o'er ten feet tall
'Twas the second when we hired our hands
Who soon would toil within stoic bands
To weld together mechanical parts
To make a clock man with humanity's smarts
'Twas the third when we made our clock man
The workers had toiled 'til break of dawn
Alas, we had nary a swell plan
On how to make our man act like fawn
'Twas the fourth when our man came alive
With a great whir our man did revive
A gear-powered spark within his eyes
Like an infant, he was beginning to arise
'Twas the fifth when we all died
Killed by our man, we were surprised
He had found us with snide
A trait that quite frankly, he despised
Hello! My name is Aiko. I know you don't know me yet, but I'm super happy to meet you. You seem like a really nice person. Oh, I'm being confusing aren't I. Most stories don't talk directly to the reader do they... *bows apologetically* I'm sorry, please stay with me... I'm not actually a story, I'm the idea of someone who never actually got to be a part of this world yet. It just really lonely, waiting for someone to actually recognize me... *looks downward bashfully* I did something really naughty. People that don't have souls yet aren't supposed to be a part of the world of the living, but I cheated... Since I couldn't have a real body, I made a new part of sub-reality, the place where ideas are stored. You aren't mad at me are you? It seemed like such an innocent thing to do. At least this way, for the short time that someone reads about me, I can be something... *frowns with guilt* This might be a bit sudden, but I'm jealous of your life... In the place I wait, there is nothing to prove that I'm even here. There is no time, no family, no worlds, no joy, no smiles, no kindnesses, no love... *tries to keep composure* I don't even... really have a way to distinguish myself. I know that God told me that there is a world of the living, but that only made it harder to take. *tears begin to fall* It is like a state of nonexistence that exceeds nothingness. It is something that is constantly promised the potential to be, but could never quite make it there. I'm supposed to be the first girl who was born during a period of world peace! *tears stream down in a torrent* Why did I have to be such an impossible set of circumstances? Why! I won't ever become something real. Why would God be so cruel, to make me feel like less than the nothingness that surrounds me? I could have been blissfully ignorant. I could have never realized there was anything but nothingness. Instead, he left me all alone, painfully aware, forbidding me this guilty pleasure. *looks up longingly into your eyes* Please don't stop reading. When you read about me, I can actually feel like I could be a part of something. I know that I said that I'm jealous of you, but right now, you make me feel like the most amazing girl in the world. You gave me this one chance to actually become something, even if it is a little thing. *hugs tenderly* I just wanted to let you know that I love you. I know I haven't known you very long, but I promise I do. *sits lightly in your lap laying against your shoulder* It is hard not to love the person who created you, but I wonder if you could possibly return my feelings. After all, to you I'm just some collection of letters, incapable of feeling. Without you, I'm just some value that is lower than nothing. Even when I try to reach you with my actions, it is all just so abstract. *laughs softly* I never even know if you are listening to me, but I just hope you are there because if you aren't right here with me that means all my hard work to reach out was meaningless. I know I'm being selfish right now, but could you think about me every once in a while? There are still so many things I want to learn about myself.*gleeful* What does my hair look like? What kind of person am I? Who are my parents? How did they treat me? Do I have any friends? Oh ummm, sorry about that... I just have always wanted to be a part of your life. *smirks* During the time you were reading, I could see your story too. I know you don't always think it is worth much, but I would do anything to be a part of it. Maybe I could be your cute little sister! I think we could have so much fun together. You would look out for me right? You wouldn't let bad things hurt me. *closes eyes daydreaming a few minutes* I know this sounds silly, but could you tell me you love me right now? Just one time... Before I fade away...
As I stared at the ceiling I could hear my parents fight once more. Over my dad's screaming I could barely hear my mom's words, struggling through the weeps as he hit her. I didn't dare to go out of my room, and, for the thousandth time that year, I curled up and I quietly started to cry as well. The feelings that I had were never easy to cope with and, even though I tried, I could never really understand how so much pain and anger could lie so deeply in such a young being, like me.
And as the days went by, every curse word I got from my dad and every moment that I spent in school, all of those idiots staring at me, taunting me and beating me up, multiplied. I even got to take a look at life through a gun once. Slowly, the fear started turning into anger, and the anger into rage. I couldn't stand anything that was around me, I felt like dying so bad. But I didn't die, I lived and I suffered instead.
Despite everything that occurred in my life by then, I managed to get out of school years later, and, for a while, everything seemed to have gotten to an end. My dad was long gone, my mother was weakened but still able to live her life decently, and I was technically already a grown-up. Even though I got out of that school for mentally ill people, I still had to deal with therapy every week. They hope that they can help a psychopath like me to regain the values that he lost ages ago, but I know that it's completely useless. Because, other than the burns and scars on my skin, there are deeper wounds inside of me, that immediately open up as soon as I don't have anything else to think of again. And they can't heal that.
I was no longer human. Something else was now living inside of me, a nucleus made out of all the pain I have endured, all of the anger and the rage that I've been feeling my entire life. Something created out of feelings was now subconsciously keeping me from feeling anything new. If it was still there, my heart would be cold and nothing could reach it. Incapable of mercy, compassion, love or desire, here I go, roaming through life unable to care about anybody and anything.
And even if I will ever meet something or someone that will be able to reach my cold-hearted inside, the wounds will always be there, and I will always look at all those stupid, happy people and envy them because they have everything I didn't have. They have happiness, yet they're all blind. They can't see beneath the world they live in, they just live. Instead of wondering why they feel and why they think about what they do, they just do. I used to cry myself out because I couldn't be like that anymore, but then I stopped and all of my feelings turned into simple hate. I hated everybody that was happy, because of how unfair it seemed.
Even if everybody would describe me simply as a psychopath, I know I'm more than that. I am what they're not able to be. I am a being created in darkness, by hate and pain. This is how I have been created. I'm a shadow, blending in the crowd, analyzing everything other people are able to feel, learning how to fake it. In other people's eyes, I've become a skeptical, sarcastic and manipulative person. But I do more than just fake some feelings. I control the only real ones I have left, the hate and the anger, and I hide them deeply. When I can't do it anymore, all of the pain explodes out of me and I can't see, I can't hear, I can't breathe. Maybe I am a monster. Maybe I am a psychopath, maybe I'm not. All I know is that, as I struggle through my meaning-less life, other blind and stupid people will always be there to wonder what I am. Until the day I find someone that will truly make me feel less looked upon, less like a mental patient, to love me without the need to understand where all the hate comes from, and to see the real living thing inside of me, I will lie here and wait, writing the story of how a shadow ended up on a planet full of dull, blind creatures, and of how it was created.
"Her Own Little World"
I wake up; I seem to be on a cold ground, maybe dirt or even sand. Slowly I brush my fingertips lightly on ground. Opening my eyes slowly, pushing myself up with my hands. I look around to examine my surroundings, asking myself questions as they flow through my mind. Where am I? Who am I? All of these things, for some unknown reason they become most important in my mind. So I think for a moment, and the name Annabelle comes to mind. I do not know why or where it came from. But I think that is my name for everyone has a name, do they not?
I shake the thought, moving on to the next task; finding out where I am. I look around and off to my right I see a glistening lake in the distance, a heavily wooded area off to my left, not a single person in sight. I proceed to walk towards the lake, as I kneel down I gently glide the tips of my finger across the water, sending small waves flowing. Almost the same effect you see when you drop a small pebble in the water, that magnificent ripple effect it creates. Suddenly, where my fingers have just been and where they are now; the water turns blood red, almost a crimson color. With great speed, I pull my fingers out of the water, my heart racing at least one hundred beats per minute, and then like nothing ever happened, the water looks normal again.
Shaken up by recent occurrences, I proceed to stand up and go on to examine the woods. As I warily travel across the dirt- careful with my steps, assuring I do not trip over any wayward branches. Mostly, so I do not step on anything that might injure my bare feet, for I do not have any footwear. Silently I wish to myself that I do, and even after giving it my best effort to avoid such things, I step on a piece of glass. However, the glass does not penetrate the skin. As I look down, picking up my foot to ensure it isn’t bleeding or injured. I see that I am now wearing brown boots, the sight of the boots brings on a strange phenomenon, I suddenly have images flashing before me, and they are not very clear images. However, the boots are in said images except they are covered in what appears to be some kind of liquid substance. These images however, they are clouded, and do not last more than a moment.
Grateful for my new shoes, I continue on into the woods, not worrying about splinters, rocks, or shards of glass. As I enter further into the woods I stop to mark a few trees; I do not know how I know to do this. But it seems like instinct, my mind tells me to do this so I know my way back, and I do this at maybe every fourth tree. It is a beautiful day, the sun is warm, the breeze is cool, and the clouds are brilliantly white and amorphous as they should be. I look down at my white dress thinking to myself how the white of the dress, is almost as white as the clouds in the sky. But then my stomach starts to grumble, I think I am hungry my body starts to crave for food. However, I do not see any near me, so I decide to go back to where I was near the lake.
When I reach the location where I had awakened, there is not only food, but a feast. Weary of where the food had come from or rather who it had come from. I pick up an apple, the simplest of things on the table; I sniff it as if I could tell if there was poison. It seems safe, and the rest of the food is completely delicious looking. The temptation becomes too strong, so I seat myself on a bench that has been aligned with the table. I slowly fix myself a plate, and as I begin to eat, the flavors explode in my mouth. This triggers another one of the images I had experienced earlier. Except this time, I am sitting at a table much like the one I am currently seated at, the only difference being the location. This place that I saw, it seemed warm to me familiar even, as if I had been here before.
When I find myself back into what seems to be reality, I have finished all of the food on my plate. However, I find that the other food has seemingly gone missing. The table and bench were still present, just not any of the delicious food. A tad bit confused, I wonder about what has happened to the food, although this place has not been exactly normal since I woke up here. So I just try and figure out my next move. When I hear footsteps in the distance, I immediately on instinct rise from my chair. in a bit of a defensive stance, my arms firm against the two slender sides of my body. Finally grasping the ability to speak out loud, I say to the unknown creature. “Who is there?!” After that the noise takes form, through nearby bushes comes out an older woman, the woman seems harmless. She is also wearing a brilliantly white dress, almost identical to the one I myself am wearing.
I speak softly to the woman, “H-hello, do you mind me asking where we are?” unfortunately she stays silent, almost as if she cannot hear me at all. She draws closer to me finally looking up to face me; she is about two feet from me at this point. I for some reason do not feel fearful of this woman, but rather I feel safe. “Annabelle” She says softly from her very frail lips. This sends a shock through me, almost as if I had just been stabbed, or even electrocuted, not a very pleasant feeling. But even then I do not feel any reason to fear her, regardless I answer her with caution “Yes?” I say. She is delayed in her response as if she is debating something, finally she says “You need to decide, you can either stay in this world you have created for yourself, or you can return home, to the real world, just think about it, decide your own destiny, this will forever be here for you, it will fulfill your every want and need, for it is at your mercy, you are its creator. Just decide my granddaughter, I’m sure you will make the right decision in the end; however you are running-“She is cut off, disappearing into thin air.
Suddenly this world that was once beautiful starts to become a beautiful nightmare, my white dress now covered in blood, the trees around me burst into flames, the lake evaporates as it begins to downpour with rain. Where I once stood I now lay, experiencing the worst pain of my existence, I can no longer speak instead I hear the beeps of machines, the yelling of several voices none of which speaking clearly enough for me to understand. Again I feel a jolt flow through my body, and then suddenly everything goes black…
What seems like years, is only minutes later when I regain consciousness. The beeping has stopped just as the yelling fades to the tears of only one. “Where am I?” I say weakly to the woman in tears, her face displays shock. “Oh my Annabelle, you are alive! The doctors said you were gone, I thought I lost you.” She leaves the room, grabbing the attention of a man in white. They both enter back into my room. While examining me, he begins to explain what happened “Annabelle, you were in a bad car accident-“
It was like he wasn't even speaking as I was sent back into a trance, all of my memories flooding back to me, ending with the accident. When he finishes I snap back into reality. I see my mother and my doctor, I let a smile out. They are relieved as I seem to be okay, and that is when we hear a few gunshots, sending the whole floor into panic. Then without a word being spoken, the man with the gun enters my room, shooting not only my doctor but my mother. Lastly he shoots me, I am sent back into blackness, and soon I wake up, back in my own world, the world that I will spend eternity in now. My mother and deceased family members are there to welcome me back to live in forever peace in this new found world. My world.
Rob drops his cigarette on the ground and steps on it twisting his foot back and forth before returning to his garage locking the door behind him. He walks over to his work bench where all of his tattoo equipment is set up. The setup is just like you would see at his tattoo shop. Saran wrap laid down incase ink spills and to help make it easier to clean up when he is done. A few rows of ink caps all filled with different colors and a cup of water needed to rinse the needles of the his tattoo machines.
He sits down and puts on his black rubber gloves before picking up one of his tattoo machines and starts attaching the needle. The first machine is sets up for all the line work and small details he will add in the end. Another machine is used for filling in color and and shading. He turns his power supply on and plugs in his footswitch and clip cord and does a quick test of each machine before he can start working on the final tattoo he needs to finish something he has been working on for months.
Normally before starting a tattoo of any size the artist would have everything drawn beforehand and have a stencil made of the tattoo and use it to transfer the image from paper to skin. This is done so the customer can see what the tattoo would look like on them before going forward with it. Rob made them all the time but this tattoo was different. This tattoo was going to be done freehand and didn't need the customers approval before he started. Laying face down and naked on an old massage table was Rob's next canvas. The body of a young homeless man from Rob's neighborhood.
Rob found him in the middle of the park sitting on the same bench he uses most nights for a place to sleep. The needle used to pump heroin in his veins was still in his arm as he laid there motionless from overdosing. Rob pulled the needle out and tossed it into the bushes behind the bench before picking the man up placing him over his shoulder. Robs heart starts to beat faster and faster as he walks back to his car. He knows this is the last piece he needs to finish it.
Rob steps down on his footswitch and the buzzing sound from this tattoo machine fills the garage. He dips the tip of the machine into a cap filled with black ink before he starts the tattoo. As the needles pierced the skin the machine goes from a loud buzz to a soft humming sound. Rob takes his time pulling the first line of black ink on down his victims back. After the first few lines have been made Rob starts to speed up to get the tattoo done as quickly as he can.
Seven hours later and Rob is done with the tattoo. A huge exploding pirate ship is now covering the mans back. Large dark blue waves and a dark sky surround the pirate ship. Parts of the ship are flying off in different directions while the ship is engulfed in by flames. In Rob's eyes its perfect and all he needs to do now is remove the skin from the mans back and start the process of preserving it for his mural.
This last piece would complete the huge human skin mural of a ocean battle between two fleets of ships, The mural took up almost half of a wall it was hanging on in Rob's garage from the ceiling to the floor. There was ten ships involved in the battle. One ship had a giant octopus wrapped around it pulling the ship into the ocean while another ship was being crushed by huge waves. Standing back and looking at his masterpiece, Rob couldn't believe it was almost done. All he had to do was attach the last patch of skin and that was it.
Rob knew he could never show anyone the art hanging in his garage. He couldn't display patches of skin sewn together it at a art gallery or post pictures online without the possibility someone reporting him to the police. As much as he wanted to share his art, keeping it hidden away from the outside world hanging in his garage was good enough for him.
Sitting down looking at the many patches of skin hanging on the wall he thought he would feel the satisfaction of completing a one of a kind mural. Instead, all he could think about was how he could take this kind of art to the next level.
Theme & Components Provided By:
General Guidelines For All:
Please use this thread to comment on and discuss entries according to the rules listed above. Participants in the contest are allowed (and encouraged) to vote and comment as freely as a non-participant, provided that they do not vote for themselves, and they do not give away which entry is theirs. When reviewing entries, a faux review of one's own entry to preserve anonymity is acceptable.
If a participant sees a formatting error in their entry that they believe to be the mistake of the managers, they may contact a manager privately to have it fixed. Managers will only fix mistakes that were their own fault from putting together the voting threads, and will not fix formatting errors that the author made upon submission, nor typos, etc.
Banner Thanks To: love that panda.