+ Reply to Thread
Results 1 to 10 of 10
  1. #1
    Join Date
    Apr 2008
    Location
    MutantikA
    Posts
    961

    Default Savage Tales: “A story about Buzzards” Gathering of the tribes 2015 story contest

    This is the threat to set up the Story contest of this years garthering of the tribes.
    Story must be submitted befor October 23rd.

    The story should not be shorter then 10 sentences but not longer than a page.
    The story has to have some mythical touch to it.
    also the theme will be "A story about buzzards"

    to make your time worth wile. every participant gets a number of candy scrits equal to the number of participants. (if 2 people write a story each gets 2 scrit. If 3 do so they all get 3 scrits ect.)


    to set it to start:



    When a thing dies it lays on the ground and attracts bugs and larvae, the stink gets nasty and the flesh poisoned. When nothing feed on it by than, nothing will feed on it for ever. In the days after the fall there was dead things all over the allmothers skin and the air became hard to breath. Nothing would eat all the death. Nothing would return all the trapped spirits to the big cycle. Nothing would grow ever again.
    The Mutants tried to fix the problem by burning as many corpses as they could. But soon all the wood was gone. Then they traded with with these who hide under ground for the burning black rock. But soon all that was gone too.
    One cold night the old shaman Gruk was thinking where to get more firewood to keep his tribe warm. He knew the allmother was weak and would not grow many trees anymore, and his tribe was burning more than would ever regrow in a lifetime.
    He tried to meditate over the problem for three days and nights but sitting between all the rotting and being crawled on by bugs he could not find a way to do it.
    Finally he decided that maybe the solution for his problem was found within the dead themselves. He lifted one corpse away to find an other one under it, so he lifted that one too and found many more. For 10 days he was traveling down and down into layers and layers of dead things. And when he eventually came to the bottom he could not tell one apart from the other anymore. In this deep place he found a cave made of bones, in that cave there was a young child with rough skin that was sobbing but no tears would come. Gruk tried to calm her but she would not understand and he could not make her feel better. He decided this was not a place for a youngling to be alone in and took her up to his own tribe.
    Everyone in the tribe tried to make the child comfortable, but she would not eat, nor drink, nor sleep, nor talk, nor stop the dry sobbing.
    One day the Tribes youngest sat next to the sand child and was making a doll out of twine wood and feathers. It was an ugly doll but the youngest liked to play with ugly things. The making of the doll cough the sad child’s attention and a little smile came to her face. Noticing it the youngest started to make more and more ugly feathery dolls to cheer her up. So the sad child smiled for the first time with the tribe. In days where reasons to celebrate are rare, a thing like a smiling of the sad child was more reason then needed. So the tribe came to meet and have a good day. Wile the Mutants where dancing and singing no one noticed how the sad child took trapped spirits out of some corpses and put them in the ugly dolls. The moment that was done the dolls start to move and flutter and flew away. Cycling over everyone’s head. The next morning when the mutants awake the sky was full of ugly birds, each a dead thing in there beak and taking them to a far away place. Soon the ground was free of corpses and the air was good to breath again. Gruk was looking for the sad child 'cause she was gone too. After hearing what the youngest had done, they all knew who the sad child really was. She was Sand, the allmother herself who could not be happy in a world where all the spirits where trapped and nothing new would be created.
    The youngest soon would be a grown mutant with the name of buzz, a doll maker and tinkerer. And when ever someone saw the ugly birds in the sky they refered to it as buzz's art. Or how we call them still today buzzard.
    I eat your Face.

  2. #2
    Join Date
    Aug 2008
    Location
    The Rot
    Posts
    37

    Default

    Wow - excellent story CC - you've set the bar incredibly high!

  3. #3
    Join Date
    Apr 2008
    Location
    MutantikA
    Posts
    961

    Default

    thanks
    its not like im getting any of mycandy scrits
    so go for it
    I eat your Face.

  4. #4
    Join Date
    Aug 2010
    Location
    Ft Stygian
    Posts
    138

    Default

    That was an excellent story Cc! Muties can really tell a tale. Thank you.
    Meat is meat and we all gotta eat..

  5. #5
    Join Date
    Jul 2011
    Location
    some rusty boxes near The Great Fissure.
    Posts
    139

    Default

    Buzzard Curse

    The mutant sat in the sand tied to a wooden post, blood running from his toothy mouth and covering his green chest. The two humans stood in front of him passing a bottle back and forth. The louder one kicked the helpless mutant in the ribs and laughed as the dumber one drank and cheered approval.

    The louder one leaned in close to the mutant’s bloody face, “Maybe this will teach you to come around OUR place, huh? You hear me, bump-head? OUR place, and we don’t like company!”

    The dumber one repeated, “OUR place!” and gave a gurgled laugh.

    The bound and bloody mutant squinted through his one good eye at them, “You smoothskins are fools to tempt the buzzard curse…”

    “It’s you who’s gonna be buzzard FOOD!” scoffed the louder human.

    “Yeah, it’s YOU!” repeated the dumber one.

    The mutant shook his head and spat blood into the sand, “You do not understand, I will explain slowly. My tribe is one with the land and sky, the beasts and birds. When harm is done to us harm is done to nature itself. So the King of Fire lays a curse on those who slaughter His children, He turns the wronged souls into spirit buzzards! If you kill me, by His power, every buzzard you see in the sky above will be the vengeful soul of a murdered mutant. They will always hang over you like a dark cloud bringing worry and sorrow upon your life. They will wait for the day to claim their moment of justice, a moment that must come. You can not escape it, you can not win! The Buzzard Curse will follow you everywhere until your ugly end.”

    The mutant spat blood again to signal the end of his tale, “So kill me, and I will circle you for the rest of your days, and you will know it is only a matter of time before I pick your bones.”

    The dumber one took another drink and waited for the louder one to decide what they thought. The louder one stared at the mutant a moment and then looked to the sky. “Well, don’t come around here no more, hear me?” he threatened, a faint note of fear in his voice now.

    “Let’s get outta here, Dan…” the dumber one said, looking around. “Yeah, t’hell with this one!” declared the louder one as they turned and walked nervously away.

  6. #6
    Join Date
    Apr 2008
    Location
    Apophenia, Malady Bog
    Posts
    1,121

    Default

    ((Dan, eh? Uhoh...))

    Faces

    When the Old World was young, Buzzards wore glorious crowns. Slender, shimmering feathers, sigh-soft tufts of gem-hued down, elegant riots of long and curling plumes. They soared without effort, circling gently, filling the sky with dazzling whorls of color. And they did thrive.

    The singing birds grew envious. They rolled in pigmented dust to tint their feathers, and they preened themselves often to keep themselves beautiful, believing they too would thrive and be blessed. They did complex dances, and sang intricate songs, trying to match the Buzzards' beauty.

    When came the burning light, the singing birds hid their heads beneath their wings and sheltered in their nests. They sang songs of the beauty of themselves and the world.
    The waters fled. The earth cracked.
    Outside, the Buzzards showed their faces. And some of their feathers fell away.

    When came the choking ash, the other birds hid their heads beneath their wings and sheltered in the cliffs. They sang songs of the kindness of themselves and the world.
    The skies darkened. The air chilled.
    Outside, the Buzzards showed their faces. And more of their feathers fell away.

    When came the eating rains, he other birds hid their heads beneath their wings and sheltered in the caves. They sang songs of the strength of themselves and the world.
    The metals eroded. The stones decayed.
    Outside, the Buzzards showed their faces. Still more of their feathers fell away.

    When came the blowing sands, the other birds hid their heads beneath their wings and sheltered in the ruins. They sang songs of the love of themselves and the world.
    The dunes rose. The rocks fell.
    Outside, the Buzzards showed their faces. And some of their feathers fell away.

    And so the Ages passed. Now the singing birds are scarcely seen, scarcely heard. Now the Buzzards' heads are stripped of glory, their red and wrinkled flesh burned by the sun. Now they eat rot, and their voices are loud and harsh.

    But still the Buzzards soar. Still the Buzzards show themselves bravely. Still the Buzzards thrive.
    Whatever shit Wastelanders do, however dirty or bloody or batshit random it is, it comes right from our gritty, fucked up little hearts, and that's beautiful.

  7. #7
    Join Date
    Aug 2010
    Location
    Ft Stygian
    Posts
    138

    Default

    Jayzus Apo..that's beautyfull....
    Meat is meat and we all gotta eat..

  8. #8
    Join Date
    Apr 2008
    Location
    MutantikA
    Posts
    961

    Default

    At least this part of the event will still happen and i love the 2 stories a lot.
    a couple more hours to go, maybe there be yet an other one?
    I eat your Face.

  9. #9
    Join Date
    Apr 2008
    Location
    MutantikA
    Posts
    961

    Default

    story contest endet.
    thx sam and apo for your stories.
    3 candyscrit each get delivered asap.

    thanks for taking the time to write them, i realy enjoyed them!
    I eat your Face.

  10. #10
    Join Date
    Apr 2008
    Location
    Apophenia, Malady Bog
    Posts
    1,121

    Default

    Woo! Thanks, Ccindy! And thanks for hosting the contest - I always love having another excuse to write stories. Especially myth-type stuff!
    Whatever shit Wastelanders do, however dirty or bloody or batshit random it is, it comes right from our gritty, fucked up little hearts, and that's beautiful.

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts