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Writing Contest - Prizes Included

Discussion in 'Old Events/Giveaways/Contests' started by Kovett, Feb 8, 2013.

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  1. Starting today: will be accepting short stories.

    Theme of short story: Reality

    Limits: More than 250 words, less than 800 words. Max 2 posted Stories per person.

    Anyone can participate.

    Winners will be deemed by me (and only me).

    Prizes: Unlimited number of each...(choose one of following)
    - Premium on KAG (can be gifted)
    - Paypal $15 AUD

    However: Competition ends 20th February (1 day before my birthday)

    Please do not criticise other people's stories and make sure you edit before posting.
    And please do not post unnecessary posts (such as quoting on someone and saying a few words that their story is good, just use the like button and post on their profile)

    Have fun reading and writing :)

    And only post Stories below please...

  2. Kalikst

    Kalikst Bison Rider Tester
    1. MOLEing Over Large Estates - [MOLE]

    Looks like a great contest! I think I'm in! :D
  3. Fate

    Fate Studying seashells

    How rigid is the topic? Is reality what the story will be based around entirely, or can it simply be some sort of moral (the story is for example sci-fi, but in the end, emphasises something related to reality)?
  4. I would think that considering it's 'reality', as long as it's not a surrealist piece then you're okay. Welp.
  5. perriwing

    perriwing Tree Planter

    seems pretty cool, count me in....
    what do you mean by "reality" ? care to define your context?
    and do you accept narratives only or do expositions count?
  6. Guitarman

    Guitarman Haxor Tester Official Server Admin

    I have a similar question to perriwing. Can one write about the bending and/or shifting of reality?
  7. DeathAngel

    DeathAngel Shipwright

    So the short story will be posted here ?
    Gonna make one :)
  8. You can just post here. Reality has to be a theme of it.
    Surprise me :3
  9. DeathArrow

    DeathArrow Catapult Fodder

    This is in my element im gonna write one even If I don't win I still just want to participate. Nice idea I'm very excited about this
  10. Demon_Jester

    Demon_Jester Haxor

    how about a poem (dont know the right word xD )? :L
    DeathArrow likes this.
  11. ar3k

    ar3k Catapult Fodder

    "Do the scientists really know? Will it happen today, will it?"
    "Look, look; see for yourself!"

    The children pressed to each other like so many roses, so many weeds, intermixed, peering out for a look at the hidden sun.

    It rained.

    It had been raining for seven years; thousands upon thousands of days compounded and filled from one end to the other with rain, with the drum and gush of water, with the sweet crystal fall of showers and the concussion of storms so heavy they were tidal waves come over the islands. A thousand forests had been crushed under the rain and grown up a thousand times to be crushed again. And this was the way life was forever on the planet Venus, and this was the schoolroom of the children of the rocket men and women who had come to a raining world to set up civilization and live out their lives.

    "It's stopping, it's stopping!"
    "Yes, yes!"

    Margot stood apart from them, from these children who could never remember a time when there wasn't rain and rain and rain. They were all nine years old, and if there had been a day, seven years ago, when the sun came out for an hour and showed its face to the stunned world, they could not recall. Sometimes, at night, she heard them stir, in remembrance, and she knew they were dreaming and remembering gold or a yellow crayon or a coin large enough to buy the world with. She knew they thought they remembered a warmness, like a blushing in the face, in the body, in the arms and legs and trembling hands. But then they always awoke to the tatting drum, the endless shaking down of clear bead necklaces upon the roof, the walk, the gardens, the forests, and their dreams were gone.

    All day yesterday they had read in class about the sun. About how like a lemon it was, and how hot. And they had written small stories or essays or poems about it:

    I think the sun is a flower;
    That blooms for just one hour:

    That was Margot's poem, read in a quiet voice in the still classroom while the rain was falling outside.

    "Aw, you didn't write that!" protested one of the boys.
    "I did," said Margot, "I did."
    "William!" said the teacher.

    But that was yesterday. Now the rain was slackening, and the children were crushed in the great thick windows.

    "Where's teacher?"
    "She'll be back."
    "She'd better hurry; we'll miss it!"

    They turned on themselves, like a feverish wheel, all tumbling spokes.

    Margot stood alone. She was a very frail girl who looked as if she had been lost in the rain for years and the rain had washed out the blue from her eyes and the red from her mouth and the yellow from her hair. She was an old photograph dusted from an album, whitened away, and if she spoke at all her voice would be a ghost. Now she stood, separate, staring at the rain and the loud wet world beyond the huge glass.

    "What're you looking at?" said William.
    Margot said nothing.
    "Speak when you're spoken to." He gave her a shove. But she did not move; rather she let herself be moved only by him and nothing else.

    They edged away from her, they would not look at her. She felt them go away. And this was because she would play no games with them in the echoing tunnels of the underground city. If they tagged her and ran, she stood blinking after them and did not follow. When the class sang songs about happiness and life and games her lips barely moved. Only when they sang about the sun and the summer did her lips move as she watched the drenched windows.

    And then, of course, the biggest crime of all was that she had come here only five years ago from Earth, and she remembered the sun and the way the sun was and the sky was when she was four in Ohio. And they, they had been on Venus all their lives, and they had been only two years old when last the sun came out and had long since forgotten the color and heat of it and the way it really was. But Margot remembered.

    "It's like a penny," she said once, eyes closed.
    "No it's not!" the children cried.
    "It's like a fire," she said, "in the stove."
    "You're lying, you don't remember!" cried the children.

    But she remembered and stood quietly apart from all of them and watched the patterning windows. And once, a month ago, she had refused to shower in the school shower rooms, had clutched her hands to her ears and over her head, screaming the water mustn't touch her head. So after that, dimly, dimly; she sensed it, she was different and they knew her difference and kept away.

    There was talk that her father and mother were taking her back to Earth next year; it seemed vital to her that they do so, though it would mean the loss of thousands of dollars to her family. And so, the children hated her for all these reasons of big and little consequence. They hated her pale snow face, her waiting silence, her thinness, and her possible future.

    "Get away!" The boy gave her another push. "What're you waiting for?"

    Then, for the first time, she turned and looked at him. And what she was waiting for was in her eyes.

    "Well, don't wait around here!" cried the boy savagely: "You won't see nothing!"
    Her lips moved.
    "Nothing!" he cried. "It was all a joke, wasn't it?" He turned to the other children. "Nothing's happening today: Is it?"

    They all blinked at him and then, understanding, laughed and shook their heads. "Nothing, nothing!"

    "Oh, but," Margot whispered, her eyes helpless. "But this is the day, the scientists predict, they say, they know, the sun. . ."

    "All a joke!" said the boy, and seized her roughly. "Hey, everyone, let's put her in a closet before teacher comes!"
    "No," said Margot, falling back.

    They surged about her, caught her up and bore her, protesting, and then pleading, and then crying, back into a tunnel, a room, a closet, where they slammed and locked the door. They stood looking at the door and saw it tremble from her beating and throwing herself against it. They heard her muffled cries. Then, smiling, they turned and went out and back down the tunnel, just as the teacher arrived.

    "Ready, children?" She glanced at her watch.
    "Yes!" said everyone.
    "Are we all here?"

    The rain slackened still more.
    They crowded to the huge door.

    The rain stopped.

    It was as if, in the midst of a film, concerning an avalanche, a tornado, a hurricane, a volcanic eruption, something had, first, gone wrong with the sound apparatus, thus muffling and finally cutting off all noise, all of the blasts and repercussions and thunders, and then, second, ripped the film from the projector and inserted in its place a peaceful tropical slide which did not move or tremor. The world ground to a standstill. The silence was so immense and unbelievable that you felt your ears had been stuffed or you had lost your hearing altogether. The children put their hands to their ears. They stood apart. The door slid back and the smell of the silent, waiting world came in to them.

    The sun came out.

    It was the color of flaming bronze and it was very large. And the sky around it was a blazing blue tile color. And the jungle burned with sunlight as the children, released from their spell, rushed out, yelling, into the springtime.

    "Now, don't go too far," called the teacher after them. "You've only two hours, you know. You wouldn't want to get caught out!"

    But they were running and turning their faces up to the sky and feeling the sun on their cheeks like a warm iron; they were taking off their jackets and letting the sun burn their arms.

    "Oh, it's better than the sunlamps, isn't it?"
    "Much, much better!"

    They stopped running and stood in the great jungle that covered Venus, that grew and never stopped growing, tumultuously, even as you watched it. It was a nest of octopi, clustering up great arms of flesh-like weed, wavering, flowering this brief spring. It was the color of rubber and ash, this jungle, from the many years without sun. It was the color of stones and white cheeses and ink, and it was the color of the moon.

    The children lay out, laughing, on the jungle mattress, and heard it sigh and squeak under them, resilient and alive. They ran among the trees, they slipped and fell, they pushed each other, they played hide-and-seek and tag, but most of all they squinted at the sun until the tears ran down their faces, they put their hands up to that yellowness and that amazing blueness and they breathed of the fresh, fresh air and listened and listened to the silence which suspended them in a blessed sea of no sound and no motion. They looked at everything and savored everything. Then, wildly, like animals escaped from their caves, they ran and ran in shouting circles. They ran for an hour and did not stop running.

    And then-
    In the midst of their running one of the girls wailed.
    Everyone stopped.
    The girl, standing in the open, held out her hand.

    "Oh, look, look," she said trembling.

    They came slowly to look at her opened palm. In the center of it, cupped and huge, was a single raindrop.
    She began to cry; looking at it.
    They glanced quietly at the sky.


    A few cold drops fell on their noses and their cheeks and their mouths. The sun faded behind a stir of mist. A wind blew cool around them. They turned and started to walk back toward the underground house, their hands at their sides, their smiles vanishing away.

    A boom of thunder startled them and like leaves before a new hurricane, they tumbled upon each other and ran. Lightning struck ten miles away, five miles away, a mile, a half mile. The sky darkened into midnight in a flash.

    They stood in the doorway of the underground for a moment until it was raining hard. Then they closed the door and heard the gigantic sound of the rain falling in tons and avalanches, everywhere and forever.

    "Will it be seven more years?"
    "Yes. Seven."
    Then one of them gave a little cry.
    "She's still in the closet where we locked her."

    They stood as if someone had driven them, like so many stakes, into the floor. They looked at each other and then looked away: They glanced out at the world that was raining now and raining and raining steadily. They could not meet each other’s glances. Their faces were solemn and pale. They looked at their hands and feet, their faces down.

    One of the girls said, "Well. . . ?" No one moved.
    "Go on," whispered the girl.

    They walked slowly down the hall in the sound of cold rain. They turned through the doorway to the room in the sound of the storm and thunder, lightning on their faces, blue and terrible. They walked over to the closet door slowly and stood by it.

    Behind the closet door was only silence.

    They unlocked the door, even more slowly, and let Margot out
    [SPOILERS] This is reality themed on the terms of its examination of how social perception of reality can translate into what is accepted as reality. Margot claims to know what reality is, but her voice is denied by the social group who locks her in a closet.
  12. Hella

    Hella The Nightmare of Hair Global Moderator Donator Tester

    Writing something up right now.
  13. lavalord

    lavalord Haxor Staff Alumni Donator Tester

  14. Hella

    Hella The Nightmare of Hair Global Moderator Donator Tester

    “-it shit shit shit!”

    The handle of the mug slipped through my hand, and I frantically pawed at the boiling coffee as it trickled down the side of the couch, leaving a smear of bitter flavour in the upholstery. My leg swore with pain where the stuff had smattered against my skin, a searing agony that throbbed as I stood. This is why you don’t drink fucking coffee whilst naked; there’s no future in it!

    Swallowing the last dirty residues, I sauntered into the kitchen in search of a towel. I should start leaving a fresh one in every room, especially with how often shit like this happens; you’d think they might learn, right? Coffee dribbled torpidly down my thigh, leaving a pooling mess on the linoleum. Goddammit, my leg hurt like fuck. At least they got that right.

    Vigorously, I massaged my tortured skin, allowing my mug to clatter to the floor. I glanced up, through the window. Weather, as usual. Why the hell couldn’t someone just change the scenery once in a while, I don’t know, stick some glitter in it or shit like that? Could make it a whole lot more pretty and I wouldn’t be staring at almost grey wisps of cloud all round.

    A taste of coffee began to linger on my tongue. Backwards, again. Different, this time, too. Ah, they never manage to get these tastes right, I swear it should be categorised halfway between tobacco and chocolate, but it’s always got this distinct edge, the indistinct, whirring tiredness of the head late at night, just before you wake up. Plenty of the crap left, I can try again tomorrow. It might be better, then. Might not smell like somebody scraping my teeth in grit.

    My hand flapped vaguely in one of the cupboards for something to cover my nakedness, returning from their quest with an probably grey shirt and its matching pair of boots. They’d do. They’d have to do, it’s not like anyone in particular would see me, anyway. Quickly, trying to catch it out, I glanced through the window, staring hard through the grimy glass panes. Weather, still. Hah. They’re not so sharp anymore, time they had a proper shake down, like that time, back then.

    Hastily grabbing some fruit from a gaudily disguised bowl, I stepped outside. Reaching around, I turned on the light, carefully shuffled towards the shower, switched that on too, then spun around and went outside. A small bite of the fruit confirmed that it was apparently a mango, and I went outside, where the weather was out.

    There was a breeze out here, not bad, but normal, really. It barked at my shirt, ruffling it about my knees and exposing the now livid red mark to the cool air. The air had a tinny taste, though, like a rusty thermometer. I went outside and sat on the couch, taking care to avoid the still warm stain.

    Still, they were improving every time, as far as I could tell. When I wake up, I can slap them around a bit and maybe they’ll be a chance that they can make my fucking coffee right next time. Slipping on what might have been a grey-ish blindfold, I made an attempt to doze off, still ignoring the persistent moaning ache of my now emotionally neglected limb. I drifted from consciousness upon a wave of muffled expletives.


    Peeling apart sticky lids, I gazed about me, and began removing the various wires attached to my chest. Time to go for the feedback; I’d have to remind myself to mention that the toes weren’t registering properly. It’s likely that they’re experiencing just another malfunction.

    Standing, I picked up the still sultry coffee that some kind soul had left me, delicately sipping as I gingerly approached the exit. Through the window, the stars could be seen glittering tentatively in the sky, desperately hoping to impress. Hah. Fuck the stars, they were documented an age ago, at least. Time to plumb our own depths at last, instead of simply staring gormlessly around us, as they say. I stepped outside, standing in the gentle gleam, waiting for my coffee to merely become leg-scaldifyingly hot.

    See? Just look at that. I bet the bloody stars could never make up words like that, not in a week of days! They’re just great balls of water, or gas or something, or something, like what the books say. The taste of an early morning mind began to linger in my mouth, and I stepped outside, where the air might not sound as tinny.
    Basically, the first thing that came into my mind when you said that the theme was Reality was some indistinct quote from a chinese philosopher, which I've heard bastardised many times in many different places before. Looking it up specifically, it was:
    Then I decided to write a story about a guy spilling coffee on his dick.
    Varion, Stevedog, AL3X_j_M and 6 others like this.
  15. Eden

    Eden Galen Slayer Donator

    Realality storey!!!!

    it wahs in merica 2008 i was 8 we wer on teh strets of merica las vegas, we wer arond wal mart nd i sore a doge stadng ther,,, its fac was lyk if it saw his mohter been kild by another doge den repded lol necrofiliak dog.. i waz vary into dis doge.. i go up to iyt nd i luk at her in nd star at her eyes... we luk at ech othr for aeges.. i mak a mov nd go behind her, i luk at her ferry flufy bum... butt it waz nt a doge... it waz anythgn butt a doeg, it was nikci minaj, i sai, "nikci minahj wot r u doin?!" sh replys "i am nut niki minahg" i say "who ar U???!" "I AM PAULIN HANSEN" i say "WHAT THER FUK R U CRAZ E?!!!!??!?!,, PAULINE@@!!! u hav so much swag, i muts cal da yolo policc u fak!!!!" i dial 1800 7652 nd say "rrrr hey pauklin hansen is her :/" the yolo polic reply w/"ok" .... i was vry distrouht abut this! i swer she waz nikci minaghg but it was not! ... i was scaerd, so i go2 wal mart2 buy asian 4 doge wich is actual paulin hansen .. we havnt sen paulin hansen agin.. tru story .. like if u lov gode, ignor if u wana b anal rapd by invertd rapex in hel whil saten cock smuthres u in the fac :^)

    mor than 250 wrdsd les that eight100!
    Varion, Stevedog, AL3X_j_M and 4 others like this.
  16. You can write a poem if you want. But it must tell a story. There won't be a limit on the poem.

    Here's 2 examples I wrote when I got bored...they aren't very good but meh.

    The examples here can help you have a slight idea of how to write one. It has the have the theme of reality or similar to it...if you don't know, look below.
    Surprise Me.
    Bringing out my longsword, I lunged forward, aiming for the dragon's belly.

    The dragon flailed its slimy tail at me as I neared, but fortunately, I successfully dodge its deadly attacks.

    Avoiding its next assault, which consisted of several jets of water, I ducked underneath its thin green body and thrust my sword upward. It pierced the dragon's hide and I followed through, cutting a wide wound down its lower body.

    It screeched in fury and sprayed a huge jet of water at me, just missing by an inch, but still with a force enough to push me back a few inches.

    However, it turned around rapidly and whipped me with it slimy tail, sending me flying through the air and into a tree. I dropped my sword on contact with the tree.

    Clattering to the floor, the sword became crucial…

    It was a race between me and the dragon. We both darted towards it but it was I that succeeded. Picking up the sword and tossing it a few times in the air, the sword soon flew toward the dragon again, slicing through the air like a falcon diving its prey.


    Decapitating its neck, I took cover as clear blood sprayed in a fountain from its neck. I had ended its life.

    A smack on my head brought me to turn away from the writhing water dragon and I stared up at my sister. She glared at me furiously, making strange gestures towards her clothing while droning on in an alien language.

    "It's nearly impossible to not get wet from the water dragon. You're lucky you're still alive." I replied to her coded messages.

    Turning back towards the filthy creature after sheathing my particularly long longsword, I picked up its watery hide and dragged it across the small clearing, towards my wooden hut in the tree.

    “MUUUUUUUUUUUUUM!!! David’s playing with the knife again! And he’s cut our garden hose with it…AND WORST OF ALL HE GOT MY CLOTHES WET! I JUST GOT THEM YESTERDAY, THEY COST SO MUCH AND I WAS GOING TO WEAR THESE TO THE MOVIES WITH ADAM TODAY!!!” shouted my sister.
    "Ring-a-ring a geranium,
    A pocket of full of uranium,
    A tishoo, a tishoo we all fall down.
    Ring-a-ring a geranium,
    A pocket of full of uranium,
    A tishoo, a tishoo we all fall down."

    It rang in his head.

    He looked at the sky again. Three planes flew very high up in the sky. Just visible among the clouds.

    A tiny dot. Bigger and bigger. Perhaps a parcel, perhaps a bag of leaflets. Or maybe a person.

    Guessed wrong. The dot seemed to slowly descend toward his city.

    But he knew it wasn't slow. It was travelling faster than any train could.

    It pierced the last layer of clouds and seemed to be the lone object in the sky.

    He could imagine it. Diving head first towards the city.

    How exhilarating, how incredibly ecstatic one would have been, until they hit the ground of course.

    Soon it was at the height of Mount Fuji.

    Next second it passed the record height of the city's highest tower.

    The dot dropped into the city and disappeared.

    Nothing happened for a second.

    Then. It. All. Came. Crashing. Down.

    White light flooded everyone's eyes and soundwaves of extreme intensity, although inaudible rocked the city.

    And when Yamato got back up, nothing could compare to what he had just witnessed. NOTHING.

    Screams of horror filled his mind…

    Before he jolted back to reality. He got up, and went to the bathroom. Taking off his shirt he stared at his body.

    Ugly scars of "it" still remained. It was a wonder how he didn't die.

    He turn around and looked back at the mirror at his back.

    You couldn't call it a human's back anymore.

    He faded out of reality again…

    Screams filled the air and explosions sounded everywhere but he could hear naught. Buildings still continued to crumble but he could not see any of it. All he saw was the people.

    Everywhere around him...some were already on the floor, some still writhing and others shocked to comas.

    But most disturbing of all, was the imagery to the naked eye. One from afar would think it was just a massacre.

    But if you get closer, you'd be horrified. Humans were not humans anymore.

    What once was smooth healthy skin, was now replaced with patches of traumatic pale flesh.

    Yamato couldn't take it anymore.

    He died eyes wide open but dull, froth foaming at his mouth and face as pale as snow.

    But he died standing upright. 10 years after "it" happened.

    "Ring-a-ring a geranium,
    A pocket of full of uranium,
    A tishoo, a tishoo we all fall down."
  17. DeathArrow

    DeathArrow Catapult Fodder


    It was a mild evening in the room of a 8 year old child, who was in deep sleep. After a day of kag. As he felt the cool breeze from his bedroom window opening, he fell into a pitch of blackness. He woke eyes open sweating, hearing noises. He found himself right next to the one and only Fuzzybluebaron. He gasped in a state of "Crap".

    As he came to realise everyone that was on the Australian server was the real life people that played these characters. All the greats lavalord, Soulrealm, Canadian98, Beasterdenbeast and Ruleral. He spoke.

    "Hello FuzzyBluebaron" He Said.
    Fuzzy Didn't reply. Then the boy realized it was 0 spawn. And they were the last few left so he thought what the hell and started chopping down trees and got some bombs. Yet that he didn't know if you died it was for real! As he strode into the battlefield he was met with the screeching noise of his fellow teammates dying right before his eyes. It was up to him now.

    He ran as he advanced to the red base built by raven. As he stood in awe looking at the almighty structure of ravens design he quickly realized MINIMAN and Tj were chasing after him. It was 2 of the was 2 of the best KAG players heading straight for him with a bomb. It was if it was in slow motion as MINIMAN realesded his bomb the boy deflected over reds base and all of a sudden had the flag.

    He had 3 bombs and was swearing. He Didnt know what to do so he leaped up to the top of the tower and bomb jumped to the middle of the map were MINIMAN and Tj were standing! He took out his 2nd bomb and held it in front of him. It reached 0 and he shielded it into MINIMAN and Tj and he look up and he saw fireworks.

    HE HAD WON he had beaten the best of the best in epic fashion. As he started jumping up and down he WOKE.
    "It's only 3:00am. I loved that dream it was awesome.

    That day he went to school and saw his good friend jleon66 and told how all about it. The words were just slipping out of his mouth his friend then said
    "YOUR MAD"
    That Dream had changed the way the boy looked at KAG and after telling his dream to the KAG community, he became one of the most funniest guys on KAG and he was alleys known as



    Good luck to everyone else
    gorilakingmk2000 and soulrealm like this.
  18. Imaperson2

    Imaperson2 Catapult Fodder

    "The Rain" by: Imaperson2

    "Splash Splash you got to get washed"
    "The Rain is comin so you better get ready"
    "Splash Splash come on down you better Rain"
    "Or il Splash you back up now you Rain"

    "The Rain comes from the sky"
    "When Rain hits the ground it says Splash Splash"
    If your a worm you better watch out"
    "Cuz your goin dieee"
    "Splash Splash says the Rain its singing sayin" Get Away"

    "When Rain comes Hurray cuz it will Splash on you whenever your out out"
    "So you better watch out cuz its rainin outside"
    "So Rain its time for you to come"

    The End

    Its a singing poem so you read it with like farm songs you know what im saying?Or i think Cowboy singing cuz its better that way , also its borring if you dont have any rthym.
    Best I could do in 5 minutes. So "Splash with me "
    </br>--- merged: Feb 10, 2013 5:33 PM ---</br>
    "Patience Is Needed" by: Imaperson2

    "Dad please let me buy the full version of KAG"cried Jake".
    "You said any present Dad this one is in Alpha so it has discount"Jake said".
    "Sorry son I said present I won't buy online because It could be a scam"Dad explained".
    "Now now Jake its breakfast no talking while eating"Mommy said".
    "How come my friend Soulrealm ask for it in his birthday and I can't?"Jake complained".
    "Son you dont get it do you"Dad said".
    "If hes your friend he would give you things"Dad said".
    "Well Dad hes an online friend ,he doesnt know where I live"Jake explained".
    "Ok son how much does it cost?"Dad asked?.
    "Well Dad it cost $12.99 can you afford that?"Jake said".
    "Done I bought it already"Dad said surely".
    "For reals Dad ,wow that was fast"Jake said proudly".
    "Yup you just need patience"Dad said".
    "PATIENCE Dad PATIENCE aaaaahhhhh"Jake shouted".
    "How much does that cost Dad you want me to pay for that ?"Jake asked".
    "Well son-"Dad said"It doesnt cost anything".
    "Oh well ok I know what it means now"Jake said".
    "Oh son it says the code is going to arrive in 3 weeks"Dad said".
    "WHAT 3 Weeks"Jake complained".
    "Son thats when "Patience Is Needed"Dad said".

    The End

    This story is about a child who badly wants the full version and begs for it from his parents,his parents bought it ,but the kid was surprised by how long the code is going to arrive.Some kids dont have patience,dont let your child not have patience because they might regret that. I added aphostraphi at the last sentence for "Patience Is Needed since thats the title of my story.
  19. Mazey

    Mazey Haxor Global Moderator Forum Moderator Staff Alumni Donator Official Server Admin

    Read how many words you must use pls.
  20. Imaperson2

    Imaperson2 Catapult Fodder

    Aw snap soulrealm can i still participate please D:
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