AnonymousSorry, but nope. It’s hard to attend an event when you’ve never heard of it. Also, I imagine this question has been posted not to long ago; probably two or three months ago.
Damn. I lost a short story contest at my local library. My native library had recently garnered a grant; so as to celebrate, they host a variety of literary events dedicated to—it being October—Edgar Allen Poe, my most favorite Gothic author I’ve ever read, considering Poe’s is the only Gothic work I’ve read other than Mary Shelley’s The Modern Prometheus (a.k.a. Frankenstein for my illiterate readers), Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Grey, and Bram Stoker’s Dracula (The latter two I incomprehensibly recall. I’ll have to reread those this Winter break). I’m very much interested in reading Louis Steven Robertson Robert Louis Stevenson’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (He must be rolling in his casket). Luckily, I own a copy of such, inherited with other ghoulish tales written by… whatever his name is. This is dictated, not read. (Lie no. 1)
Ann Radcliffe would be nice; Some H.P. Lovecraft too… But I digress.
So the story that lost, “Somnambulist’s Diary,” was—as I’m told—very… confusing, I bet. It goes a little like this:
Tumblr is a place to blog? F^©k. I thought I could write stories here, as can be seen by my “diligent” posting. That be sarcasm, mate. Oh well, at least this could be practice for actually writing considering my lack of interest in writing personally. I’d much rather type science-fiction or fantasies then my boring-ass life.
I mean it, my life sucks! Not on an emo-bitchy level or goth-fake hive mind, but a “minor” mental disorder fun. But nobody wants to hear about that, assures the homunculus in my mind, so don’t get me started on it… ‘cause I won’t. If you were expecting some kind of dramatic irony there: I’m a tease.
What I will write about my life is the creativity I regurgitate from my demented frontal lobe for contests and the like.
I won a Halloween contest at my “college” (they thought they could trick us by promoting themselves from a “community college” to a “college” college. I see no other difference than a longer e-mail address) with a story about the urban mythos of… THE SEED EATER! Dun dun done! Apparently, the contest wasn’t on whether how scary the tale was, but rather how well it was written. I find “fear” a complicated mood to convey, I seem to articulate a sense of suspense easier though the end was rather weak because of the word count-slash-page number cap. I think one very influential aspect of my narration, other than my love of the thesaurus and confusing the common man with my archaic sentence structuring and jargon, is the inclusion of the “real” seven ordnance of THE HUNT. I feel that I cheated because the rules did not state the allowance of graphics.
Still, a win’s a win.
P.S. Mate =/= Australian
