I MADE MY SISTER A BIRTHDAY PRESENT! TURN UP YOUR SPEAKERS AND CLICK THE LINK YAY!
Click here for fun times.
IN WHICH I DEMONSTRATE MY HYPER-LITERATE ABILITY BY DECONSTRUCTING ALL OF THE ENTRIES AND TALKING ABOUT SEX
My entry Well, this is the one that started it all. Looks like a pretty sincere psuedo-spiritual take on the cyclical nature of history. In response to the criticism that my story isn’t actually 87 words, I’d like to blame the UNIX programme, “wc” in conjuction with my usage of it (cat myawesomestory | wc [...]
THIS IS SHAKESPEARE’S POSTHUMOUS ENTRY FOR THE SLEEP500 87-WORD SHORT STORY COMPETITION. WHAT A SMARTASS.
All’s Well That Ends Well As You Like It Love’s Labour’s Lost The Merchant of Venice The Merry Wives of Windsor A Midsummer Night’s Dream Much Ado About Nothing Pericles, Prince of Tyre The Taming of the Shrew The Tempest Twelfth Night The Winter’s Tale King John Richard II Henry IV, part 1 Henry IV, [...]
THIS IS HAMISH’S ENTRY TO THE 87-WORD SHORT STORY COMPETITION. I LIKE IT. I THINK I’M GOING TO JUDGE THEM TONIGHT.
Cock. Quim. Clit. Orgasm. Sperm. Anger. Shout. Knife. Stab. Murder. Fucking. Dying. Fucking and dying. Fucking and Dying. FUCKING and Dying. FUCKING AND Dying. FUCKING AND DYING. FUCKING AND DYING AND FUCKING AND DYING. FUCKING FUCKING FUCKING. DYING DYING DYING. Fucking and dying and fucking and dying and fucking and dying and fucking and dying [...]
THIS IS KIM’S ENTRY FOR THE SLEEP500 87-WORD SHORT STORY COMPETITION. IT IS VERY SINCERE.
A conglomerate of ludicrous houses sat opposite a cornucopia of desolate lots. Unspectacular, yet Penelope liked the juxtaposition. She stood in the middle of the road, her toes curled in perturbation. The cockamamie events of the past day flummoxed her. Her floccinaucinihilipilification of everything had aggravated Peter and it enervated him. He had become taciturn [...]
THIS IS ALLY’S SECOND ENTRY FOR THE 87-WORD SHORT STORY COMPETITION.
This is my OTHER entry. It is also 87 words. Pick your favourite or something. You cried in the departure lounge, a thin sound split by whimpers; you sat by me on the plane and picked at the safety card until it tore. At 30,000 feet thin streams of snot ran down your face, and [...]