The results of this years competition have been posted - I didn't win, nor even get a dishonourable mention *sob* which tells me I probably need to put more effort in, starting now, rather than attempting it the month before the closing date, an afflicton I'm suffering from greatly, since there simply aren't enough hours in the day.
This is the link for the results, have fun!
There's a chance I can re-write a couple for this competition instead - I can't stand waste! But I've less than two weeks: The Hint submissions are open till 15th August and linking here means I can submit three stories ... so I ought to crack on now! Failure in that of course, means they'll at least be freed up for possible use on the Scatter!
These were my entries for Bulwer (reading previous entries under the link will give you the idea; it's fun, have a go!)
1. Staring at her reflection in the grimy shed window, she raised the garden shears (a little blunt and exceedingly rusty but they’d have to do) and hacked away her golden locks; thinking of him - his satisfying, honeyed porridge; soft, comfy chair; warm, snug bed - hate washed over her and she shoved the amputated ringlets through his cat flap.
2. Laying the worms in a line, Charles neatly severed them in half, wondering how long it would take for them to regenerate - the butterfly’s wings had never grown back and the daddy longlegs hadn’t moved since he'd pulled the legs off - he was beginning to despair of his theory; thankfully, the publishing deal was signed and sealed.
3. His fingers crashed across the keyboard, until it became apparent that the SmartBridge Alerts, MSN Messenger pop up, McAfee Expiry message and the “This program has performed an illegal operation and will be shut down” warning had no intention of allowing him to logon in time to make a deal with the kidnappers.
4. He glances furtively to either side as he leaves his downtown office, buttoning up the grubby brown mac, which used to be beige he thinks, or maybe taupe, or was it actually a creamy colour - a present from Auntie Edna, if he remembers correctly, but wear and tear and dodgy curries had taken their toll.
5. Scarlett was a spoilt little bitch, who lifted her skirts for the boys and couldn’t give a damn if the washing up needed doing; she wasn’t doing it and that was that.
6. Frodo was idly checking through his diary when he clapped his hand to his head in despair; he’d forgotten Uncle Bilbo’s birthday.