Ah :/ I get typos as I near the end. This is good for me :) gives me a chance to identify my writing and proofreading flaws in hopes of fixing them in my future pieces of literature! Thanks Nightbane for this contest, it's a great warm up for my English. (starting school in a month, can't wait to be a Sophmore)

Song 2

Light danced through the air, warm and yellow as she twirled in her partner's arm, smiling up at the smoky faceless man that held her gently by the waist. With expert hands, he spun her out, connected only by his cool hand wisping around her pale one as he pulled her back to his chest, swaying back and forth to the music that wafted through the room.

Her partner spun her once more, but released her hand, letting her fly easily into another partner's arms. She laughed, letting it tinkle through the air as she felt her feet leave the ground, her slightly faded dark blue and black ball gown arching in the air gracefully as he spun her through the air before letting her glide to the amber and bronze dance floor beneath them.

Her partner released her and she felt her hair fall loose from the bun, falling in soft brown curl around her shoulders and back as she was caught by another man. She let her head fall back, not even noticing her necklace sliding from her neck and dropping onto the floor, only listening to the music with a calmness spreading over her quickly paling skin.

The song grew darker, the basses deeper as they danced more and more, one by one, the other dancing forms fading into wafts of smoke, until it was only she and her partner left. Still, they danced, the song slowly coming to end, and they spun to a stop, the mans form disappearing before her eyes, leaving her standing alone in the middle of ballroom, her gown tattered and falling away piece by piece of fabric.

Silence steadied over the room, and she let out a small breath, her breathing slightly deeper from all the exercise she had done. She turned her head to the front of the room, where a small stage stood, large double doors standing tall and proud beyond the stage.

The doors slowly began to open, filling the room with their own melody as they creaked along their hinges, revealing a sharply dressed man, a smile on his face. When he spoke, she felt herself swaying, each sound that left his lips like a hypnotizing lullaby.

"Welcome to Heavens ballroom."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And they all lived happily ever after. The end." Sheryl said, looking down at her daughter with tears in her eyes as she reached over, brushing that wavy brown hair from Lindsey's face.

"Are you ready, Mrs. Drake?" Sheryl heard the doctor say behind her, wincing as she glanced back at the middle-aged man in a white coat, nodding once before turning to her daughter. She slid her hand down Lindsey's arm before taking her daughters hand, holding gently but being mindful of the IV stuck in her wrist.

"You're going to be okay, alright sweetie?" Sheryl said, tears making tracks down her aging face as she talked to her comatose daughter. "You'll be going to a better place."

There was a moment of silence, a moment where Sheryl begged for Lindsey to make a move, a sound, anything, that could prove that she may someday wake up, but it was not to be, as Lindsey was already gone. She let out a sob, motioning for the doctor continue.

She felt her heart break as the heart monitor let off its warning in the otherwise silent room.





I decided to go with two, just because this idea that came to me made me so happy and sad at the same time. XD

O____O This reminds me of a challenge me and my friend did once - write a story based off a song, and you only had like as long as the song was playing to write it. She managed like 6 of those 2-3 paragraphs story (How she wrote that many words in the span of the 3-4 mins duration of the song is past me) but I only managed like 1 paragraph XD Maybe I'll do better this time~ ...wait this means I passed?!

Edit: Thank you for the beautiful songs - now instead of 3 stories i had to choose from like last time, I have near 15 floating in my head -_- Can we do fanfics btw, or must the stories be original characters, original everything? ANd if you have anymore good songs pm me with them? XD My mp3 player is lacking.

Song: #5

Warning: I had a hard time writing the ending. That said, reading the ending might also be difficult. (I'm hormonal. :3)

Giuseppe

"Let there be light," the old man muttered to himself with a wry smile as he lit a match.

The tiny flame guttered slightly as he moved it through the air and rested it against the wick of an old kerosene lamp, where the fire took hold and grew stronger, illuminating the tiny enclosed room that Giuseppe Polanski had frequented the past few weeks. It was cramped, dusty, and smelled of onion, but it served well as a workshop.

Scattered before him on a desk were the tools of his trade - some threads and needles; jars of paint, both opened and unopened; balls of yarn and a few canisters of buttons; and most importantly, the dresses.

Many were folded with loving care, and a few of the finest were arrayed upon tiny headless mannequins where the frills and laces could cascade down freely, without being wrinkled or damaged.

Giuseppe adjusted his spectacles as he leaned over his current 'patient'. A Venetian doll of fine porcelain, her owner a little girl from a wealthy home. Such was his reputation as the Doll Doctor. Many children had their beloved toys damaged at one point or another, and when it came to fixing them, there really was no one quite like Giuseppe.

Most adults claimed that the quality of his work was due to his attention to detail, his many years of experience, and (perhaps) he went to a school specializing in toy making.

The children claimed he was magic, and that he whispered to the dolls and brought them back to 'life' with a kind of spirit, and if one were to ask any of his patient's owners, they'd swear their little dears were far better than when they'd first received them.

But Giuseppe, whenever asked to reveal his secrets, would simply smile and reply, "Is there a secret to love?"

Giuseppe loved his work, but more importantly, he loved the children whom he worked for. Throughout his years, he would swear that there was no flame warmer than the smile of a happy little tot, no sight purer than the youngster at play, and no music sweeter than the genuine laugh of a child. It was for these treasures of humanity that Giuseppe worked and put every ounce of passion and care he had into his 'patients', just so he could watch their owners swoon with delight.

The Venetian doll before him wore a lively costume of satin, the fabric a pale yellow and purple trimmed with creamy lace. Her face was painted, not in the usual way that English dolls were decorated, but with a butterfly 'tattoo' that was common of circo performers. A lovely little clown. But a clown that was missing her smile, for the paint around the lips had cracked and chipped away from, perhaps, one too many teacups.

And so, Giuseppe reached for a jar of paint, and a tiny brush, and with a steady hand that belied his age, slowly brought the clown her joy again in short, smooth strokes. He took his thread and his needle, and mended a small tear in the cloth on her leg, and for a final touch, took a pen and twirled her russet curls, tightening them back up to their former glory.

He laid her aside to dry, and patted his hands on his apron as his eyes swept to his next patient. It was a little stuffed Scotty dog with a tattered blue ribbon around its neck. One of its button eyes was missing, but it was "too much" love that had given the pup its ragged appearance.

A tender smile touched Giuseppe's face as he lifted the dog up and reached for a tiny pair of etched scissors. Like a surgeon who was attending to a favored patient, Giuseppe snipped the other eye off the dog before he reached for a new pair of shiny black buttons and sewed them into place. The tattered blue ribbon was removed and replaced with a new ribbon of dark blue.

He sat the dog up near the Venetian doll, then frowned slightly as he realized the head was a bit wobbly from the stuffing having lost its fluff over the years. He took the dog, and with his scissors and a bit of fresh stuffing, refilled the dog until it was like new, and then restitched the seams together again.

He was familiar with the boy who owned the dog. The poor lad had wanted a puppy his entire life, ever since he had learned to walk. But alas, every attempt at finding a furred friend for the him had ended in misery, for the poor boy had dreadful allergies and could not stay in a room with a dog longer than five minutes. So one fine Christmas, his papa had the stuffed dog made for him, and the little boy had so loved the dog that within three years it needed the care it was getting now.

Giuseppe stifled a yawn and looked over at his final patient for the evening - a raggedy doll, with no clothes, no face, and bedraggled yarn for hair. She was stained so thoroughly from mud and dust that she no longer looked like a doll, really, as much as a piece of a mop. It would take a lot of work to bring her back.

But Giuseppe was ready to work, and work he did. It took time to bleach out the stains, making her white as could be, before moving to the yarn hair. He removed the old yarn and carefully threaded in new yarn, a beautiful silken gold color. He took two blue porcelain buttons and sewed them on for eyes, before painting on a small nose, smiling lips, and a smattering of freckles. And the final touch was a blue gingham dress, with a little white apron and pockets for hiding the tiniest of treasures. Truly, the raggedy doll was his masterpiece of the evening, and he swelled with pride as he sat her alongside the Scotty dog, and the Venetian doll.

He glanced at the clock on the wall, and then looked over at the bunk bed attached to the wall with a sigh. There was no point to going upstairs on a night like tonight - the sirens going on and off in intermittent spurts, warning the people "hide, run, hide, run". It would be just as well to sleep here.

With his mind made up, he removed his spectacles, leaned over the lamp, and puffed it out, dousing the room in darkness.

~~~

The darkness within the small bomb shelter was nothing compared to the darkness outside. Even when the morning sun broke over the city and warmed the chilly morning with its rays, the smoke from the raids the night before dimmed any hopes the remaining citizens of London had.

Giuseppe had risen early, taken a simple breakfast of eggs, seasoned with onions from his garden, and then took the three dolls from the night before and set out on his long journey through the ravaged city.

Twice he had to detour, before he was able to reach the home of the Scotty dog. On the steps he met the boy and his mother, both of whom were on the verge of tears. Upon seeing his beloved Scotty, the boy cheered up and reached for his stuffed companion, giving it the hug it so well-deserved. And another hug to the man who had brought his dog home in time.

"You be good for your caretakers in the countryside, and before you know it, you'll be home again soon,"
Giuseppe smiled, looking over at the mother who was, now, in tears as she thanked him repeatedly for what he had done. Her child would have an easier time of the separation now. And all prayed it would be a short separation.

Giuseppe gave a farewell wave as they hurried down the street to the train station. And a prayer to God that they would be safely delivered through this wretched war.

~~~

Giuseppe next went to the estate of the Venetian doll. While it was a part of the city, it was on the outskirts and away from the majority of the bombing. Still, its family had evacuated and gone to a vacation home somewhere in the countryside, leaving the servants and the butler to care for the estate in their absence.

So it was the butler who received the doll on his mistress' behalf, and while Giuseppe was treated with the distant professionalism that is trademark of a good butler, he caught the small, sad smile the man gave the doll as he closed the door. Family or friend, it mattered not. Distance is a hard storm to weather, and harder still when brought on by the clouds of war.

~~~

Giuseppe finally made his way to the darker part of the city, and found he could not detour through. The buildings were shredded from the bombs the night before, and fires were blazing, smoke filling the air. But Giuseppe would not be deterred as he navigated the streets.

Strangely, no one stopped or interrogated the old man. After all, they had too many other things to worry about. And so it was that Giuseppe reached his final delivery point.

~~~

There was nothing left of the old orphanage, save for the cornerstone column, and even that would tumble at the slightest breeze. The heavy scent of charred earth filled the air, and the old man could only stand there on the street and stare at it, the raggedy doll clutched close to his chest.

His eyes searched the remains, but there was no sign of any of the children, or their former caretakers. It was a small eternity before a policeman finally came along and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"You can't stay here, sir. I'm going to have to ask you to move."

"...Did anyone survive?"

"...I'm afraid not, sir. Someone you knew lived there?"

"No...not anymore, at least." Giuseppe smiled sadly, and then nodded in farewell to the officer before moving back down the street, back to his home.

~~~

It was a long trudge home, and when he finally got inside, he felt the weight of his age pushing down on him. Giuseppe hung up his hat, and his scarf, and then took the raggedy doll into the living room.

He gave the doll one last loving glance, a smile stained by sorrow, and then lovingly propped her up on the table by a picture - a faded old picture of a young boy standing outside an orphanage, holding the hands of two little girls beside him, and a woman standing behind them, who had been a loving mother-like figure, a teacher, and a friend.

He reached out and traced the picture quietly, before turning and making his way back to his work, in the bomb shelter.

Original stories lmao, no fanfic.

Anyways, it sounds like, you'll have no struggle writing this time then? Have fun ^_^

No fanfic? Drat there goes half of the 35 ideas XD Oh yeah I'll send you the other round one stories once I'm done with like relooking through them (even though they're uncompleted)

have fun writinggggg <3

Wow! You guys sure make my story look like a rough draft :) those are awesome! I just wanted to say great job, I admire your writing

Thank you! XD

Thank you, very much.
I enjoyed yours, it has a lot of excitement in it!