Welcome to the GALS Gerry's 40th B-day Bash Creative Contest - VOTING!!
You may vote for ONE entry and ONE entry ONLY, by sending a PM (personal message) to me (Jenn) by 12 NOON Pacific Time on November 7.You cannot send in proxy votes. In other words, you can't send me a PM telling me that you're also sending me so-and-so's vote. So-and-so needs to PM me themselves. Those entering in the contest are also welcome to vote! Happy voting!
The winner of this category will move on to compete against the winners of all Creative Contest categories!!!
Please scroll down to view all the entries
Please PM the letter of the entry you are Voting for and which contest you are voting on (short story)!!
I couldn't sleep, again! I pulled on my hoody.
It was cool, but not a cold autumn night, moon hung high in the black sky, the remnants of the fallen leaves still blowing about, their smell with that of the city, hung on the air carried aloft by the breeze. Most of the trees were bare and their limbs cast eerie shadows in the street lights.
A figure came towards me. I grasped the mace in my pocket. He was tall, strong looking, and could easily over power me! Both hands were shoved deep in his pockets! Did he have a knife?
As we got closer, I debated on whether to cross the street or keep my head down and walk on.
A gust swirled up, blowing off the stranger's cap which playfully cart wheeled towards me. I retrieved it.
"Good thing you came along!" he replied in a delightful accent that put me at ease. "This was a gift from someone dear for my birthday yesterday."
"Happy Birthday." I said.
"Could I treat you to coffee for saving my hat? " he asked.
We crossed the street and I wondered if I was doing the right thing. He could be luring me in to his trap! But something about him didn't seem threatening, except for the bulge in his pocket! Could it be a gun?
"Do you live nearby?" he asked.
"Moved in last week." I answered.
"Then we're neighbors." he replied. "Welcome!"
"Thanks. I haven't had much time to get out." I admitted.
"I'll have to show you around sometime." he offered.
"I'd like that. Being in a big city can feel quite lonely." I told him.
"I know that feeling, even when you're surrounded by people." he replied.
He pulled his hand from his pocket, producing what looked like a jar of jam.
"It's my Mum's jelly." he explained. "When I can't sleep, I go to this all night coffee shop, have some toast and spread on a little "home". I never seem to have any bread at my place. You should try some! It's amazing stuff!."
"You carry a jar of jelly and I carry," I pulled out my can of pepper spray. "a girl's best friend!."
He laughed deliciously, "I thought you were going to show me a knife!"
We entered the shop and he ordered his "usual", making small chat until the toast and coffee came. He was quite handsome and I was happy he did most of the talking.
We shared the jelly, toast and each other's warm company on this cool fall night. I felt comfortable with him, like an old friend I had never met!
"We should do this again." he suggested. "I could use the company of a well equipped lady on my midnight sojourns."
We both laughed at his choice of words, but I understood what he meant.
I held up my cup.
"To midnight sojourns, good neighbors, and Mum's homemade jelly!" I proclaimed.
He smiled and touched his cup to mine and I saw his eyes! I could get used to looking in those eyes, even over a midnight latte'.
The End or not.
The year was 1969. The young Scottish lass sat back in her rocking chair and gazed down at the perfect angel in her arms. Just days before on the 13th of November, she was blessed with the birth of the beautiful baby boy cradled against her breast.
She had known the minute she laid eyes on her son that he was special. Not in the sense like most new mothers think their babies are special, but she had a deep rooted feeling in her heart that he would touch many lives one day.
As the newborn stirred and opened his eyes, her breath caught in her throat for they were the most angelic she had ever seen. She leaned closer and whispered to her son, "promise me, little one, that you will always hold me dear in your heart and never forget the land you were born of. I know you'll make me proud someday. You are destined for great things. I can feel it in my heart." A smile crept across the child's face as if to acknowledge her sentiments.
Forty years later, the same woman sits next to her grown son. Her handsome, yet humble son with the same angelic eyes that have always taken her breath away. As he gently squeezes her hand, she admires the impressive man he has become. He might have lost his way a few times, but he had found his calling, and now sits in this theater with distinguished colleagues, now one of the most recognized and admired of them.
Her heart thumps as he smiles down at her. A voice from the stage echoes across the hall. "AND THE AWARD FOR BEST ACTOR GOES TO....". As his name is read, he turns to her and wraps her in his strong arms, kisses her cheek, and wipes away a joyous tear as he steps toward the stage to thunderous applause. As he takes the award and steps up to the podium, he has to check his emotions before he can speak. He had dreampt of this moment since he was a boy, and now it was reality.
"Wow! I can't believe this. I'm so honored.Thank you so much. My fans....you're the best. Thank you for staying with me all of these years. I never thought I'd get here, but someone special always told me to follow my dreams, never give up, and do special things with the gifts given to me. Whenever I come to a fork in the road, all of them lead me home to Scotland, to the one person I hold dearest in my heart forever and always. I couldn't have done this without her. I love you, Mum."
A tear trickled down his cheek as he held the golden statue above his head and blew a kiss to his mum as he stepped away from the podium.
The Optimistic Ballerina
She picks up the mask and holds it in her tiny hand. When she makes sure no one has seen her, she quickly runs beyond the broken mirrors after him.
She calls out in a loud whisper,
"Opera Ghost, I have your mask.
Please, Sir let me finish my task"
He is running and he looks back as he hears Meg. Madame's daughter? What could she want with him?
He doesn't trust her at first. Was she not amongst those singing "Hunt Down This Murderer"? He asks her what she is up to,
"What is your task, Young Maiden?
To see me hang for the crimes that I have done?"
She explains that she has lost the crowd and only wants to return his mask and help him escape; that she merely pretended to be on the side of the mob. Though skeptical Erik accepts the mask and tells Meg ,
"Come, My Child, Give me my mask and go.
I'll turn away so my face you won't frighten you."
As he puts on his mask she retorts,
"Sir, at first sight I reacted with shock not fear.
One cannot help how they are born, I don't fear your face."
Then with a look of pure desire she gazes at him and tells him what is in her heart,
"When you sang Past The Point Of No Return seductively to Christine. I wished it were me.
I wanted to feel your touch.
I wanted it so much."
Erik is surprised, yet still so crushed by the loss of Christine, he cannot even think about someone else, besides this is his savior Madame's baby girl. Though she and Christine are the same age. Meg is petite and Erik hadn't thought of her like that. Then again, he remembers her in her gown at the masquerade and her costume in Don Juan Triumphant. She's definitely all woman. Melancholy, he says nothing. They continue down beneath the Paris streets.
Erik looks crestfallen. Brazenly Meg throws her arms around him, kisses his cheek and hugs him tight. Her touch is like velvet. Erik gently pushes her away from him; thinking of her mother.
For her own good he tells her to go back to her mother. Meg ignores him and keeps following him.
Meg vows to never leave him and to win his love. No matter what. Even if she must live beneath Paris for the rest of her life as a fugitive.
As it gets darker the farther down they go, Erik turns and takes her hand .
'He is probably only holding my hand for my mother's sake, but Christine chose Raoul.', she thought,' Erik will grieve for her quite a while, but I will be there to comfort him. He will love me. I shall never give up.'