Summer 2013 Scriptorium Writing Competition - Short Category Voting Thread

[knight of meh]

Here are the submissions for the Short category. Please vote for your favourite one.

Also, please bear in mind that anonymity is still required here. Authors of any works below may not declare what submission may be theirs, or in any other way ruin the anonymity of theirs or another member's submission. Those found to be doing so here or anywhere else will be punished with extreme prejudice by the resident knights and rightly so.

The thread is for discussion of the articles at hand and voting, NOTHING ELSE.

Fear - Entry #1

Fear Fear I slowly wither away in this hell, While I fall into the deep clutches of fear I lie awake in this darkest night, As the dreadful shadow of Death draws near. We went behind the enemy’s lines, Into a land full of wet warmth and pain. Now the fear and anger has made me lose my mind, As I wonder what we had been expected to gain. It was a mission to take down their evil, corrupt government, To give the people the freedom they desired. We knew our mission, why we were sent, To save the sheep from the liars. The blood of my brothers ran across the city’s walls. We’d been betrayed by those we trusted with our lives. They didn’t deserve to take the fall. We were just following orders, thinking we’d survive. These monsters of people had expected our arrival. I witnessed me friends get gunned down left and right. And as it appears my affairs are final, I’m all that is left, without the will to fight. When, in that burning sun, they all perished, I survived only because in the battle, I fled I could see that my brothers’ deaths, the monsters relished, And now, for the moment, I am the only brother who is not dead. What did we do to get sent to this god-forsaken land? I now find myself praying for salvation. I am but one ravaged, broken man, And I know the outcome of my trip to this enemy nation. I look up, and see the dark clouds fill the sky, As I shiver from the new cold breeze. Maybe they won’t find the bushes where I lie, Maybe instead I will painlessly perish and freeze. I feel my anxiety rise with every second passing. My chest feels as though it will soon rip apart. I am alone with the monsters, wishing That I could stop the piercing pain in my heart. Finally, the cool, wet serenity of the grass-covered ground Calms the vicious pumping in my chest. I hear their boot-heavy steps as they begin to surround, And I know I will soon join the rest. I begin to accept my fate, A casualty of war alongside my best and most dedicated friends. I see their faces and let go of my hate. I take comfort in the knowledge I was loyal until the end. I see everyone I love, my family, my wife, And I finally begin to cry. Because this is the last day of life. This is the day I die. I will soon leave this land of Hell. Perhaps I will reach Heaven, or become a spectral ghost. These thoughts make me feel well, The idea that I’ll watch over those I love most. The enemy descends like animals upon the ground where I close my eyes. I will soon lose all I hold dear. As I empty my mind, I know my friend, the shadow of Death, draws near.

The Ferry - Entry #2

The Ferry The Ferry The lighter burst and the edge of a cigarette smouldered. A big mouth with full lips exhaled the smoke. His skin that was pale, like from lack of sunlight, stood in sharp contrast to the jet black, short hair. The well-rounded moustache crawled down pass the mouth but was not allowed to cross the chin. Another exhalation, the smoke went slowly upwards and was caught in the breeze. Margareta reached out her hand, got the cigarette from him and she asked: ”Do you really have time for this?” ”What?” ”A break? Like, right now. Ain't there many who are going across?” He glanced at his boat that tore some of the dock's moorings. There was a kind of amused superiority when he looked down the pier towards the beach. ”Well, I can't see anyone.” he said. ”OK, me neither, but you know... I assume it takes time to get across the river and in the meantime more people may show up?” He shrugged his shoulders in a relaxed manner and smiled. ”Time? Sometimes, sometimes not. Also, after all it's I who decide when I'll cross, no? People tend to show up in time for that... Yeah, something like that.” Margareta threw away the cigarette butt, a bit paradoxically dissatisfied with the man's work ethic. They stood so for a while, she kicked a bit at random against the rotten planks of the pier. The man seemed absorbed in himself, but not in an absent way. All of a sudden Margareta struck her forehead and gave up an irritated shout, which made him jump. She said: ”Damn it! Money! You're supposed to get a coin.” ”Oh, it's cool. We call it even on the cigarette. My name is Kharon by the way.” ”Margareta.” They shook hands. ”But you, well, I... do we have to leave quite yet?” On Kharon's black t-shirt she could read GET LOST crowning a big yellow Smiley. ”Naa, you can stay. Unless you are still in a hurry, about more people coming hehe, it's always nice with some company.” He smiled and tossed a little stone into the dark waters of Styx.

The Philosopher's mind - Entry #3

The Philosopher's mind Cursed be the blessed whore, that this life of mine should end, when so much yet to be explored. To think it all extinct while lucid nonetheless; to feel, to see, to taste, the cornucopia of sensations, only to recede back whence it came. Oh the horror, for such a Mind as I, which knows God more than any other Mind of man, can hardly bear the thought of everlasting bliss. There is but one retreat, here in my thoughts, where I find myself at home again. Here the Heraclitean phrase does give me comfort, as there is a single permanence, the permanence of change. ‘Tis in difference, this ephemerality, that man finds his ontology. As the resting pole in phenomena’s flight, I should know peace, since on the day I cast away this mortal coil, no further, no closer will I stand to the Divine. Still, life and death are not the same. Deus sive natura, out of which we grow, comes to behold itself. Each man is different yet all the same one with divinity. As nature gazes upon its own visage, what does it see? Only the few, the wise, can know themselves reflected in the mirror; most, much like feral beasts, simply see an other evermore opposed to them, trapped as they are in their immediacy. I am among the former, one who comprehends his Mind as the negation of its content, raised out of nature, from the soul, this feeble thing, unto the higher realms, all the while these basic, these anthropological states resume their lives. At no stage of Mind am I bereft of these, my humble origins, but to be caught in one exemplifies a tragedy, when one’s own content haunts in daylight as it would at night. Its strings within us, the external world can be a cunning foe. Is not the most pathetic amongst us all the one who seeks what he already owns? “Das Ding an sich!” the Prussian screams. Look! It makes sense! Surely there must be a thing behind the thing of Mind, lest it be all a Cartesian farce. What fools they are indeed. After all, can the eye taste the sweetness of the wine? Can the tongue see the patterns on a robe? Neither can the Mind grasp that which is not its own. Yes, this implicit thing so many desperately desire is within their reach; nay, can only be within their reach. Seek and ye shall find. The object does not attain to any higher purity. Without Mind, its determinations are ineffable. Hence, in Mind, the object finds itself complete; only here can it exist as object, its boundaries defined. But I digress. What, again, did I hope to gain from this minor inquiry of mine? Ah yes, peace. Peace is the thing I covet most. And how easy it would be to place my head, slowly, gently, into the fold of a creator. How easy it would be to deny my own existence, to tell myself I am already dead. Those are the views of thoughtless men, who seek some reality more holy than their present one. In truth, there’s nothing more real than matters of Mind. That, which by my experience asserted, forms the most perfect object, complete in and for itself. ‘Tis no illusion, ‘tis no dream, for even if it were, it’d still be real. Thus take joy in brevity! Don’t be Reason’s whore. Reach over and above, to see your Mind in action, our blessed gift from nature’s womb. Damn the wretched beasts of old; now’s the time to exalt the right. Let Spirit move with rapid force. Let it take the world by storm! Those few of us with farther vision will serve as scribes of Reason. We shall embrace the coming of the tide; let it inundate us. For peace we’ll find not by some hand divine, but only through our grasp thereof.