| Prompt Stories and Poems |
We have a writing contest each issue of LQ (Liquid Imagination). A prompt is posted at our Forum, and anyone can
post a story and/or poem. In this contest, we posted a picture by a famous artist (but were not given permission to
display his artwork here and throughout the ezine). The winner of the prompt is AJ Brown’s “The Babes of Angels.”
We’re publishing two other entries as well: Chris Perridas’ poem and Chris Bartholomew’s (very) short story
“Caretaker.”
Anyone can join our Forum where editors from ezines other than LQ chat with YOU. It is at Francis Ford Coppola's
(Godfather fame) American Zoetrope (http://www.zoetrope.com/join.cgi ). If you join the Virtual Studio created for
directors, playwrights, producers and writers, you can zmail me, John Arthur Miller, and I will invite you into our Liquid
Imagination web office which acts as our Forum. You can also submit stories, poetry and artwork there.
At our Forum (Liquid Imagination office) you’ll find a smattering of stories, poems, submissions to our ezine, questions
and answers, discussions and more. But most importantly, you’ll be networking with writers and lovers of fantasy just
like yourself.
Now, without further adieu, let me present the entries for our writing contest, with special attention on A.J. Brown's
“The Babes of Angels.”
Enjoy
The Babes of Angels
by AJ Brown
She sat atop the cathedral, her bright white eyes staring down onto the world
below her. The gosling sat near her, its beak almost touching her leg. Behind her
lay, Damascus, the large cat, his tail swishing from side to side, his blue eyes
watching Louisa, offering protection to the Angel of Love and Song.
"It won't be long, now," she says and rubs her extended belly. The little one inside
kicked and she laughed in excitement. "It's going to be an active child."
"Active, Louisa?" Damascus asked and raises his head to look at her.
"Yes. Very active."
The ebony cat rolls his eyes.
"Don't worry, none, Damascus. We will raise it to be gentle, to love and cherish
those things around it."
"What if he doesn't take?" the gosling asked.
"It will take, young goose, just as you have."
Louisa turned her eyes back to the world that went on below them. The streets
were congested with people pushing and bustling their way to their destinations,
their eyes focused only on the things in front of them. They seem to not notice the
people around them. Or, possibly, they just don't care.
"Sometimes I feel guilty," Louisa said.
"About what?" Damascus replies.
"About bringing a child into this world. Have you ever watched the way the people
act? The way they treat each other?"
"It is the way of the times, my Lady. Nothing you can do about the nature of man
and his obnoxious ways."
"But, what of my child? What if he becomes like them?"
"Louisa, you must not think that way—whatever the child is, male or female, we
will teach it to be good, just as you said. To be loving and to cherish his world."
Louisa leaned down and hugged Damascus. "You are going to make a great
father."
The cat only shrugged and closed his eyes as if he were bored with the
conversation. As he slept, Louisa looked at the world, the upside down way that it
seemed to carry itself. War. Famine. Hate. Murder. Thievery. They were all things
that went against the Angels Creed of love and harmony.
"Mother, you mustn't worry too much about it," the gosling said and laid its head
in her bare lap. "The world will be what it is regardless of the humans. You,
however, are an angel. You can make a difference."
"But, so can the demons," Louisa countered. "They watch us as well as they watch
the people. They want destruction and hate. They want anger and malice."
"But, we want love and harmony," Damascus said.
Louisa looked down at him. He no longer held the shape of a giant cat, but a man
whose skin was like the night, his eyes like the stars, his smile like the moon. He
stood and his body glistened as if rain had washed over him. Damascus walked
over to her and sat down. He put a strong arm around her bare shoulder.
"We will be fine. The child will be fine. The world, that remains to be seen."
From below them a crowd gathered.
"Up there," one man yelled and pointed at them. His eyes flickered a shade of red
and then back to normal. "The monsters are up there."
"Hurry, we must leave." Damascus said and took Louisa's arm. He helped her to
her feet. "Are you able to fly?"
Louisa unfolded her wings. They extended well over her head and almost to her
ankles. She flapped them several times. The brilliant white and yellow feathers
moved with the wind she created.
"Yes, I should be able to."
"Quickly, then, get up to the Mount of Saint A'dalius. I will guard your way."
"Love, what of you?"
"Go," he demanded. "Protect the child."
"Come, Gosling," she said and knelt for the goose. A bullet struck near her feet
and she jumped. The goose flapped its wings and waddled toward her.
"Go, Louisa," Damascus yelled. His eyes turned orange with deep slits in them.
His face changed before her from the handsome dark man she loved to that of a
panther. He bore his teeth and leapt from the building.
Louisa ran from the edge of the cathedral, her wings extended. The air beneath
them picked her up and she flew toward the Mountain of Saint A'dalius. Below her
she could hear the screams of many people and gunshots. From deep within her
soul she begged her Lord to spare the life of her one love.
A pain tore through her shoulder. Blood spilled from the wound as one wing went
limp. The scream tore from her throat as she plummeted falling well shy of the
summit. The jolt in her back startled her, but somehow the wind had caught her.
She glanced down to see two wings flapping with all their might.
"Gosling," she cried.
The young goose had caught her and held her on its back. He struggled beneath
her weight but pushed on as high as he could. He let out a loud squawk and then
went limp. As suddenly as he had caught her and started upward, they both fell.
They landed hard on the ground and tumbled down the mountain until coming to a
stop near a craggy ledge. Blood seeped from Louisa's mouth and bruises and
scratches covered her naked body. Neither she nor Gosling moved.
***
Pain tipped the scales for her and pushed her into the conscious world. Louisa's
eyes fluttered, opened and then closed again. She wanted to move but couldn't
tell where she was at. She also couldn't tell where the pain began and where it
ended. One of her hands moved slowly to her stomach and then stopped. The skin
of her belly was no longer pulled taut, but sagged under her fingers. She gripped
the skin and pulled it.
"Damascus," she cried out. Fear almost strangled her voice in her throat but she
managed to get his name free of her mouth before the sobs wracked her body.
"Louisa?"
His voice calmed her, slightly, but Fear stood tall in her heart.
"Damascus, my baby—"
"He is okay, Dear."
Louisa opened her eyes to the bright sun that bathed her in warmth. She could
barely make out Damascus' panther form. From his mouth dangled a baby,
swaddled in cloth. Its small wings hung from his back and his skin was a golden
brown color. Ringlets of red hair fell along his small head.
"What happened?" Louisa asked.
Damascus stepped into the light, revealing wounds to his dark body. He set the
child on the ground at her feet. "The demons. They've found us again. Like always
they turned the people against us."
"But, can't they see what those monsters really are?"
"Of course they can. But, what they see in us is all they see wrong in themselves.
Why not kill us instead of those that they have conformed to?"
Tears filled Louisa's clear eyes. "Can I hold our baby?"
Damascus lifted the child gently, picking it up by the cloth of the swaddling and
setting it in her arms.
"He's beautiful."
"Yes, he is."
"He has your skin and lips."
"He has your eyes," Damascus countered with a smile.
"Where is Gosling? Has he seen the child, yet?"
Damascus lowered himself to his rear haunches. He looked away and said nothing.
"Damascus, where is Gosling?"
Still, he did not respond.
"Please, answer me—he saved my life. I need to—"
Damascus turned his eyes to her, tears flowing from them. He looked beyond her.
Louisa followed his gaze and strained to look behind her. A patch of earth had
been disturbed near the base of a blooming Dogwood Tree. A makeshift cross sat
in the mound.
"No."
"He died before he hit the ground. I am certain of this. The bullet struck him in the
heart. It was as if they knew where to aim."
Louisa's tears spilled down her face. After a few minutes she wiped them away
with the palm of one hand. Though her eyes still held fresh tears in them, she
looked down at her baby, the baby the goose had helped save.
"We will call him Gosling," she said. "For always in remembrance of the one who
saved my life and his."
Damascus nodded. He walked over, lay down beside Louisa and licked his
wounds. In the silence of the early morning, the child cooed in agreement.
******************************************************************************************
Chris Perridas (runner-up in contest)
Before we came, the swan has swooned,
The black panther waits, looms.
She: her great wings are festooned,
And the faerie-angel is in bloom.
******************************************************************************************
Caretaker
by Chris Bartholomew (runner-up in contest)
Lila ran with the panther and garden goose. When the master started talking she slid to her knees, the panther went
down behind her. The garden goose, not seeing or hearing anything ran back to see what was wrong with the
woman.
"You should be quiet and peaceful when you are the guardian of a human getting ready for life on earth. He will suffer
much at the hands of others of his kind, he will face death and the deaths of others. He will be hungry and there will
be no food... and he will need something, a way to find peace while his life is going on. Sing, laugh, tell wonderful
stories of our world. No more running and carrying on or you'll send him out there with no peaceful memories."
Lila was taken aback, held her stomach and asked for forgiveness, and then began to sing of her wonderful life.
******************************************************************************************
**********************************************************************************************
post a story and/or poem. In this contest, we posted a picture by a famous artist (but were not given permission to
display his artwork here and throughout the ezine). The winner of the prompt is AJ Brown’s “The Babes of Angels.”
We’re publishing two other entries as well: Chris Perridas’ poem and Chris Bartholomew’s (very) short story
“Caretaker.”
Anyone can join our Forum where editors from ezines other than LQ chat with YOU. It is at Francis Ford Coppola's
(Godfather fame) American Zoetrope (http://www.zoetrope.com/join.cgi ). If you join the Virtual Studio created for
directors, playwrights, producers and writers, you can zmail me, John Arthur Miller, and I will invite you into our Liquid
Imagination web office which acts as our Forum. You can also submit stories, poetry and artwork there.
At our Forum (Liquid Imagination office) you’ll find a smattering of stories, poems, submissions to our ezine, questions
and answers, discussions and more. But most importantly, you’ll be networking with writers and lovers of fantasy just
like yourself.
Now, without further adieu, let me present the entries for our writing contest, with special attention on A.J. Brown's
“The Babes of Angels.”
Enjoy
The Babes of Angels
by AJ Brown
She sat atop the cathedral, her bright white eyes staring down onto the world
below her. The gosling sat near her, its beak almost touching her leg. Behind her
lay, Damascus, the large cat, his tail swishing from side to side, his blue eyes
watching Louisa, offering protection to the Angel of Love and Song.
"It won't be long, now," she says and rubs her extended belly. The little one inside
kicked and she laughed in excitement. "It's going to be an active child."
"Active, Louisa?" Damascus asked and raises his head to look at her.
"Yes. Very active."
The ebony cat rolls his eyes.
"Don't worry, none, Damascus. We will raise it to be gentle, to love and cherish
those things around it."
"What if he doesn't take?" the gosling asked.
"It will take, young goose, just as you have."
Louisa turned her eyes back to the world that went on below them. The streets
were congested with people pushing and bustling their way to their destinations,
their eyes focused only on the things in front of them. They seem to not notice the
people around them. Or, possibly, they just don't care.
"Sometimes I feel guilty," Louisa said.
"About what?" Damascus replies.
"About bringing a child into this world. Have you ever watched the way the people
act? The way they treat each other?"
"It is the way of the times, my Lady. Nothing you can do about the nature of man
and his obnoxious ways."
"But, what of my child? What if he becomes like them?"
"Louisa, you must not think that way—whatever the child is, male or female, we
will teach it to be good, just as you said. To be loving and to cherish his world."
Louisa leaned down and hugged Damascus. "You are going to make a great
father."
The cat only shrugged and closed his eyes as if he were bored with the
conversation. As he slept, Louisa looked at the world, the upside down way that it
seemed to carry itself. War. Famine. Hate. Murder. Thievery. They were all things
that went against the Angels Creed of love and harmony.
"Mother, you mustn't worry too much about it," the gosling said and laid its head
in her bare lap. "The world will be what it is regardless of the humans. You,
however, are an angel. You can make a difference."
"But, so can the demons," Louisa countered. "They watch us as well as they watch
the people. They want destruction and hate. They want anger and malice."
"But, we want love and harmony," Damascus said.
Louisa looked down at him. He no longer held the shape of a giant cat, but a man
whose skin was like the night, his eyes like the stars, his smile like the moon. He
stood and his body glistened as if rain had washed over him. Damascus walked
over to her and sat down. He put a strong arm around her bare shoulder.
"We will be fine. The child will be fine. The world, that remains to be seen."
From below them a crowd gathered.
"Up there," one man yelled and pointed at them. His eyes flickered a shade of red
and then back to normal. "The monsters are up there."
"Hurry, we must leave." Damascus said and took Louisa's arm. He helped her to
her feet. "Are you able to fly?"
Louisa unfolded her wings. They extended well over her head and almost to her
ankles. She flapped them several times. The brilliant white and yellow feathers
moved with the wind she created.
"Yes, I should be able to."
"Quickly, then, get up to the Mount of Saint A'dalius. I will guard your way."
"Love, what of you?"
"Go," he demanded. "Protect the child."
"Come, Gosling," she said and knelt for the goose. A bullet struck near her feet
and she jumped. The goose flapped its wings and waddled toward her.
"Go, Louisa," Damascus yelled. His eyes turned orange with deep slits in them.
His face changed before her from the handsome dark man she loved to that of a
panther. He bore his teeth and leapt from the building.
Louisa ran from the edge of the cathedral, her wings extended. The air beneath
them picked her up and she flew toward the Mountain of Saint A'dalius. Below her
she could hear the screams of many people and gunshots. From deep within her
soul she begged her Lord to spare the life of her one love.
A pain tore through her shoulder. Blood spilled from the wound as one wing went
limp. The scream tore from her throat as she plummeted falling well shy of the
summit. The jolt in her back startled her, but somehow the wind had caught her.
She glanced down to see two wings flapping with all their might.
"Gosling," she cried.
The young goose had caught her and held her on its back. He struggled beneath
her weight but pushed on as high as he could. He let out a loud squawk and then
went limp. As suddenly as he had caught her and started upward, they both fell.
They landed hard on the ground and tumbled down the mountain until coming to a
stop near a craggy ledge. Blood seeped from Louisa's mouth and bruises and
scratches covered her naked body. Neither she nor Gosling moved.
***
Pain tipped the scales for her and pushed her into the conscious world. Louisa's
eyes fluttered, opened and then closed again. She wanted to move but couldn't
tell where she was at. She also couldn't tell where the pain began and where it
ended. One of her hands moved slowly to her stomach and then stopped. The skin
of her belly was no longer pulled taut, but sagged under her fingers. She gripped
the skin and pulled it.
"Damascus," she cried out. Fear almost strangled her voice in her throat but she
managed to get his name free of her mouth before the sobs wracked her body.
"Louisa?"
His voice calmed her, slightly, but Fear stood tall in her heart.
"Damascus, my baby—"
"He is okay, Dear."
Louisa opened her eyes to the bright sun that bathed her in warmth. She could
barely make out Damascus' panther form. From his mouth dangled a baby,
swaddled in cloth. Its small wings hung from his back and his skin was a golden
brown color. Ringlets of red hair fell along his small head.
"What happened?" Louisa asked.
Damascus stepped into the light, revealing wounds to his dark body. He set the
child on the ground at her feet. "The demons. They've found us again. Like always
they turned the people against us."
"But, can't they see what those monsters really are?"
"Of course they can. But, what they see in us is all they see wrong in themselves.
Why not kill us instead of those that they have conformed to?"
Tears filled Louisa's clear eyes. "Can I hold our baby?"
Damascus lifted the child gently, picking it up by the cloth of the swaddling and
setting it in her arms.
"He's beautiful."
"Yes, he is."
"He has your skin and lips."
"He has your eyes," Damascus countered with a smile.
"Where is Gosling? Has he seen the child, yet?"
Damascus lowered himself to his rear haunches. He looked away and said nothing.
"Damascus, where is Gosling?"
Still, he did not respond.
"Please, answer me—he saved my life. I need to—"
Damascus turned his eyes to her, tears flowing from them. He looked beyond her.
Louisa followed his gaze and strained to look behind her. A patch of earth had
been disturbed near the base of a blooming Dogwood Tree. A makeshift cross sat
in the mound.
"No."
"He died before he hit the ground. I am certain of this. The bullet struck him in the
heart. It was as if they knew where to aim."
Louisa's tears spilled down her face. After a few minutes she wiped them away
with the palm of one hand. Though her eyes still held fresh tears in them, she
looked down at her baby, the baby the goose had helped save.
"We will call him Gosling," she said. "For always in remembrance of the one who
saved my life and his."
Damascus nodded. He walked over, lay down beside Louisa and licked his
wounds. In the silence of the early morning, the child cooed in agreement.
******************************************************************************************
Chris Perridas (runner-up in contest)
Before we came, the swan has swooned,
The black panther waits, looms.
She: her great wings are festooned,
And the faerie-angel is in bloom.
******************************************************************************************
Caretaker
by Chris Bartholomew (runner-up in contest)
Lila ran with the panther and garden goose. When the master started talking she slid to her knees, the panther went
down behind her. The garden goose, not seeing or hearing anything ran back to see what was wrong with the
woman.
"You should be quiet and peaceful when you are the guardian of a human getting ready for life on earth. He will suffer
much at the hands of others of his kind, he will face death and the deaths of others. He will be hungry and there will
be no food... and he will need something, a way to find peace while his life is going on. Sing, laugh, tell wonderful
stories of our world. No more running and carrying on or you'll send him out there with no peaceful memories."
Lila was taken aback, held her stomach and asked for forgiveness, and then began to sing of her wonderful life.
******************************************************************************************
**********************************************************************************************
| TWO NEW CONTEST!!! |
We are having a contest for best screenplay at our web office at American
Zoetrope (go to www.americanzoetrope.com/ and search for Liquid Imagination).
The screenplay should be a modern day fantasy, no longer than 120 pages,
preferably 100 pages. Participants allowed entry are those who have written
screenplays (any genre), and had them edited and reviewed by others.
Participants SHOULD join our Liquid Imagination web office (invitation only, but
join www.americanzoetrope.com/ and look up Liquid Imagination for an invite).
The winner receives his/her screenplay novelized. The novel will promote the
screenplay saying, "Based on the screenplay of... " Liquid Imagination Ezine will
promote the screenplay, and any/all print publications of Liquid Imagination will
promote the screenplay. Liquid Imagination will represent the author of the
winning screenplay, endeavoring to find placement for the winning screenplay
either through cinema, television or stage. If the author of the screenplay sells it
on his/her own, all rights revert back to the owner. If Liquid Imagination finds a
home for the screenplay, Liquid Imagination will receive 10% of procurement for
the screenplay. Attach to email and send to Shastelshzzz@aol.com
********************************************************************
The second contest will feature the work of international artist Ivan Ognianov
Serbezov. Using his painting "Tales from the Balkans" as a writing prompt,
writers will create stories based on the picture. Let your imagination flow, and join
us at www.americanzoetrope.com/.
Zoetrope (go to www.americanzoetrope.com/ and search for Liquid Imagination).
The screenplay should be a modern day fantasy, no longer than 120 pages,
preferably 100 pages. Participants allowed entry are those who have written
screenplays (any genre), and had them edited and reviewed by others.
Participants SHOULD join our Liquid Imagination web office (invitation only, but
join www.americanzoetrope.com/ and look up Liquid Imagination for an invite).
The winner receives his/her screenplay novelized. The novel will promote the
screenplay saying, "Based on the screenplay of... " Liquid Imagination Ezine will
promote the screenplay, and any/all print publications of Liquid Imagination will
promote the screenplay. Liquid Imagination will represent the author of the
winning screenplay, endeavoring to find placement for the winning screenplay
either through cinema, television or stage. If the author of the screenplay sells it
on his/her own, all rights revert back to the owner. If Liquid Imagination finds a
home for the screenplay, Liquid Imagination will receive 10% of procurement for
the screenplay. Attach to email and send to Shastelshzzz@aol.com
********************************************************************
The second contest will feature the work of international artist Ivan Ognianov
Serbezov. Using his painting "Tales from the Balkans" as a writing prompt,
writers will create stories based on the picture. Let your imagination flow, and join
us at www.americanzoetrope.com/.
AJ Brown has been "recommended" to
receive a Bram Stoker for his story "The
Woodshed." Look for "The Woodshed"
inside Dark Distortions from Scotopia
Press, available now. It contains 580
pages of dark delights such as novellas,
stories, flash fiction and poetry. It's going
fast! Get your copy TODAY!!!
receive a Bram Stoker for his story "The
Woodshed." Look for "The Woodshed"
inside Dark Distortions from Scotopia
Press, available now. It contains 580
pages of dark delights such as novellas,
stories, flash fiction and poetry. It's going
fast! Get your copy TODAY!!!
This is to be a modern day fantasy, 2,000-6,000 words. No indentions, please. The
winning story will appear in issue no. 2 of Liquid Imagination with Ivan's
masterpiece. In the subject line write "Submission/Contest." Send your stories to
lqeditor@gmail.com and your poetry to liquidpoetry@gmail.com.
winning story will appear in issue no. 2 of Liquid Imagination with Ivan's
masterpiece. In the subject line write "Submission/Contest." Send your stories to
lqeditor@gmail.com and your poetry to liquidpoetry@gmail.com.
