Hallo everyone, generally I list the featured works before, but I know only a few of you will reach the end of a journal and, among the ones who do it, a little slice of this cake will comment below
Well, so before the features, just a few contests you might be interested in.
If you're fond of children is holding an interesting contest. You have simply to use one of the stocks listed in the news article Childrens Fantasy Art stock, the article, and follow the rules.
Deadline 30th November.
I hope you enjoy it.
I dream of Jeannie.
The date has been extended till the 30th of October.
The Eerie wall
One day you perceived something in that wall and now you try to avoid it. The idea to approach it terrifies you, because it contains something evil, something forbidden, something supernatural. Something that shouldn't be there....
This seems nice to partecipate for me myself... è_é
I have some scary ideas in the last times...
Check the blog article for more info...
Visit the blog linked above or visit %MarvelousManips'homepage
Visit ~Contest-Cornucopia home, blog and galleries. The entries for this contest have been very interesting... Here the winners and, in the following sections, honorable mentions and finally other mentions.
I hope you enjoy!
1 vote for 2nd place
1 vote for 2nd place
memories make people.i am six. "are you okay?"
i nod at the police officer,
as another escorts my dad out the door.
i am eight. the day's mail
sits on the dining room table. mom's
arguing. the person on the other end shares my last name.
i am a little past three
mom says it's alright for you
to call him dad, do i do.
i am thirteen when someone asks
why don't you call him dad?
"he wasn't there, someone else was." i tell them.
i am ten when mom
tells dad not to come back.
this time, i don't ask her to let him.
i am eleven when i go visit grandparents i never knew.
"she looks just like you"
"she's my daughter"
i am five and it's christmas day.
"she won't get hurt, relax." dad's drunk.
i crashed that three-wheeler into the clothesline.
i am seven, sitting at a lunch table by myself. mom's late
to pick me up from ballet. it's dark when she gets there.
she smiles, but i can see the bruises forming.
i am four when i first see
my dad raise his hand
and the mark he left on my mother.
i am fourteen when i stop visit
memories make people.
2 votes for 3rd place
When We Were Young It was a calm day, although I suppose no days were bad in the fifth grade. Yet, as the sun beat down on the children at play during recess a group of children could be seen who did not reflect the sentiments of the day. I fondly remember enjoying the day, that is until a procession of role players ruined it. Exactly what they were posing is lost to time, as all I remember was them imposing their game upon me. Not being allowed to join on my own accord I instantly took offense to such actions; how dare they presume I wanted their company. So as they frolicked about the wood chips my mind formulated one thing, a single question that I knew would start a great conflagration. And in a smug and probably condescending manner I questioned their manner of entertainment. I was of course not inquisitive, but slightly vindictive; I knew the question would be a catalyst to a fight that I was determined to win.
Being children, o
When we were young
1 vote for 3rd place
Childhood memoryThe doorbell awoke me and I jumped out of the bed. The linoleum stuck to my bare feet as I ran towards the window in the hall that was directly above the front door. I stepped over the dog's latest 'accident' and by the time I reached the window, the doorbell had sounded again. Nothing stirred in my mother's room, she must be very deep asleep. I peeked out, wiped away the condensation and then to my joy saw my daddy standing there. He was getting all wet because of the heavy rain and after he rang a third time he walked away, his shoulders hung.
With great difficulty I pried the window open, while at the same time shouting for my dad to make him stay where he was. Finally the window swung open and I felt the chilly rain on my face. I said mommy was still asleep but that I would let him in. I knew the key to the front door hung from my mommy's jeans. And those were always on the ground in front of the bed.
I stalked as softly as I could to my mommy's bedroom. The sucking noises of my fe