My stories...

I got two more pictures to post, but nothing else...sorry.

Okay, so I'll post one of the stories I wrote on here and the other, there is a link. Both were for contests, which I didn't place in. The second one (posted here) is horrible, but I'll not make excuses. The first one (the link), I thought was quite good. I spent a lot of time working on it, but it seems that I didn't put enough sexual content to win first place (I didn't put any). If I had know they were looking for that kind of stuff I wouldn't have bothered entering. Although the link is to a Harry Potter fanfiction site, so...beware. And I am a converted Severus Snape/Hermione Granger fan, so that's the pairing of the piece. I know it sounds weird, but there really is only 19 years difference between the two...weirder things have happened! The second one had to be Flash Fiction (1000 words or less) and it had to involve a flood (interpreted however I wanted). But most of the review I got on that one said they couldn't understand the story. But it's hard to fit a whole story in under 1000 words! If you'd like to comment, really be honest. Don't worry about my feelings, I'd rather get the bad news now and know what I need to improve upon then get it down the road when it's really crucial.

First story: How Severus Stole Christmas

http://www.thepetulantpoetess.com/viewstory.php?sid=12194

(I don't know enough about HTML tags to make this an actual link...sorry, you'll have to cut and paste)

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Second story: Understanding

Dalton tromped through the marshy swale. He dourly scanned his surroundings, focused on his impending fate. He turned his attention to the naked trees surrounding him, arms outstretched toward the heavens praying for the early spring rains to pour upon them, bestowing greenery to their bodies. Dalton too looked up for understanding to rain down and redeem him. Sighing, he continued his search for his unsuspecting victim.

Deep in thought, Dalton unknowingly trudged past the little elf crouching in the tall grass watching with glassy eyes. Perceiving another presence Dalton swung around. Standing at full height, the elf spread his arms up and chanted in foreign tongue. The spell swallowed Dalton. Empowered with the spell’s meaning – he controlled destiny. Despite the motives for his choices, fate would shift to his needs and wants.

Dalton could here a faint grunt followed by a slightly louder thump, the sounds continued to repeat. “Urggg”…Thump! The sky gray with storm and the air full of unease, he silently drew closer. Spying a little cottage, he investigated around back; there was the man he’d been searching for. Unbeknownst to Dalton’s presence, the man continued to chop wood. A leer splayed on Dalton’s face as he relished in the feeling of what he was about to do. Just as the ax swung down Dalton shouted, “General!”

Recognizing the voice the General panicked, the ax veered off course, a sickening thud sounded as it sank into his foot, sticking. Crying out in pain, he tentatively extracted the tool. Blood spilled from the wound and soaked his leather shoe. Slowly spinning on the spot, General Gratin winced and faced his intruder. Even through the evident pain, recognition could be read in his eyes, quickly changing to fear. Gratin composed himself despite the agony.

“So you’ve finally found me. I’ve been expecting this day for sometime,” Gratin said, trying to appear calm. He pushed the wood off and sat down on the chopping stump; grimacing as he gingerly adjusted his wounded foot, blood still seeping out of the gash.

“Are you going to deny me the privilege of a fight, General?” Dalton questioned,

“Like you denied it from me in battle?”

Gratin replied with a smirk.

“If you are here to kill me I will defend myself, but I will not play games.” Gratin’s voice slightly quivered.

The General casually leaned over and picked up the hatchet lying next to the bloodied ax. Leaning over, he pulled out a swatch of fur-covered leather and polished the blade.

“What do you think happened in battle all those years ago? That I betrayed you? I was saving you! I did what had to be done.” Gratin spat.

Lies! It had taken years for Dalton’s memory to recount clearly.

Dalton searching for his fallen weapon, the elf approaching, their eyes locking with understanding. Abruptly General Gratin slashed his sword – the slice sending a shock through Dalton as the elf was struck. Realizing the next blow was for him; lunging forward into Gratin’s torso and the butt of the sword coming down upon his head. Darkness.

Dalton had stood impassively in the same spot the entire time. He’d watched the General pick up the hatchet and knew its purpose. Dalton was unfazed. Fate had bestowed a gift. Destiny would change with his will. His life was law, he could not die or fate would cease to exist.

“You tried to kill me!” Dalton screamed.

“The elf should’ve come to me, not you!” Gratin glowered then flung the hatchet.

Dalton refused to move, fate would provide. The weapon rotated beautifully and sunk into Dalton’s right shoulder. Staggering, he regained his balance and surveyed his injury with a sharp inhale. He delicately extracted the blade from his body, blood freely flowing. Upon inspection he noticed the wound wasn’t extensive. Fortune had smiled upon him; Gratin was powerless before him.

“You can’t kill me, fate and I have united! You may have delayed it Gratin, but destiny was not deterred!” Dalton mocked.

The sharp jabs of pain and rapid swelling drew Dalton’s attention back to his body. This was no ordinary wound.

“Surprised? I didn’t throw it to kill you, just wound you.” Gratin confessed. “I already told you, I’ve been waiting…and preparing. This leather’s laced with the deadly venom of the Hydros snake. You will never find the antidote, your death is imminent.”

Dalton questioned fortune. He had come to avenge not only himself but fate as well; Gratin must pay for the setback.

The pain shifted to a dull wave throbbing through him. Instantaneously, he transformed into an ox. The venom must contain hallucinogens; there was no other explanation. As death approached, he released his bowels. Nothing was making sense. The pain of the venom intensified – confused, he turned in a circle. Stumbling over his many legs, he fell into his steaming dung. Strained breathing, he lay humiliated feeling cursed rather than blessed by destiny.

Gratin staggered over, with fearful eyes.

“No! What are you doing?” Gratin screamed in rage.

The jabbing pains subsided. Immediately Dalton’s strength returned despite his wound. He climbed to his feet, bowed his head and impaled Gratin. The General gargled a moment and then was still.

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Rain poured as he ambled lost through the swale, questioning fate for humiliating him instead of rescuing him. Couldn’t fate have just killed Gratin? Why had he transformed. He had hoped it was hallucinogens from the venom, but he was still an ox, wandering lost.

The ground rumbled. Suddenly consumed in a flood of chilly water, Dalton struggling to swim. The current was too fast; he was going to die a bovine. Instantly he transformed into an otter. Comprehension surfaced, fate hadn’t humiliated him. It had redeemed him. The ox dung must have been the cure! And now he was an agile swimmer able to withstand the surging water.

Floating on his back, Dalton searched the skies; thankful they had answered the prayers of the naked trees – sending rain and his needed understanding.