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Oh yeaaaah, sorry, I forgot I posted it on the other thread, oopsy.

30-Apr-2010 17:10:41

30-Apr-2010 17:13:23

Okay, here is my entry, Logan:
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It sat there. Its white sheen glowed in the early morning sunlight.
To one side, lay an envelope. To the other, a bottle of ink. Above it floated a hand. The hand shook. Hesitant. Willing.
Thoughts streaked relentlessly across its surface, struggling to fill its endless void. The hand began its own movement, capturing the stray thoughts as they passed. As the movement continued, the thoughts were captured; the void was filled.
Eyes gazed down, reading the thoughts. Suddenly a surge of sorrow came forth. What had the man done? The void was now filled. He fell forth, weeping for the creation he had brought, and the destruction that had come with it. He wept for the void that he had filled and in turn, the possibilities that he had slaughtered.
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Obviously, the item I chose was a piece of paper!
I decided to be a bit Poetic about this story. The main idea of this story is that a blank piece of paper is a world just waiting to be created; while a piece of paper that has writing -although it is a masterpiece- is a graveyard for stories that could have been.(If you do not understand why the man wept, then there is your answer - he wept at the thought of all the worlds he possibly destroyed.) Good luck to everyone in the competition!

01-May-2010 05:04:55 - Last edited on 01-May-2010 05:49:22 by [#5FW7XYI0S]

Poetic Sigil, the deepness of your story struck a special cord in me. I thoroughly enjoyed your story, however short it was. Below is my story, and the object I chose was a photograph. Logan Shafts, I apologize if you were looking for some three post short story, but when presented with a theme I do best with very short stories.
=-= Level =-=
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~ A Blurred Memory ~
Eyes traced the etched lines of woeful remembrance, wove intricately amongst the swirling panorama of color, silently offering a single glimpse of what had been. The smiling face, in peaceful ignorance, watched beyond her realm with no understanding of the events that overtook her.
The eyes above now traced her delicate features, the pale skin under her cheekbones, and the silken ebony hair that fell lightly across her brow. A shocking blue colored her irises, only adding to her perfect likeness, and a slight smile played across her thin lips, almost taunting, but even so, painfully unaware of the events of late.
“How has death found you? How have you felt its terrible sting?” The words were spoken softly, a hoarse whisper that only momentarily lifted the room from silence.
A single drop of water fell from the skies above, blurring the woman’s beautiful visage. Already her memory began to fade.
The man withdrew, leaving the photograph to sit mutely by the window, imprisoned forevermore.

02-May-2010 01:50:45 - Last edited on 02-May-2010 01:51:16 by The Level