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The Rejected: Short Stories

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DaShroom    1

So, you've made a short story for the Castle Crasher Fan-Fic contest. You put a whole buncha love, soul and wit into it. Yet, you didn't win. WHAAAAT?!

Rejection, no matter how little you care, always stings a little. But, that doesn't mean that it has to be a bad thing! Not all, quite the opposite in fact. Whiles you didn't win, you can still learn from it. So take out that surgery kit you have somewhere in the basement, take out that scalpel and shovel, and start digging. Find out what you did wrong. We learn best from our failures, am I right?

So step on up! Boldly share your failures with the world!

I'll start.

The Story:

What I did wrong:

Well, the most obvious thing I did wrong was ignoring the theme of the contest, an origin story. I just got so excited when I came up with the idea, that I rushed to the keyboard and started typing/slamming, not really caring all that much about what the rules were.

Another thing I've thought about is the length. 550 words is nota lot to work with, and that kinda reflects badly in the story. The text could easily do with another 500, or a thousand, and it would be better. That's the hard thing when you have constraints like this, I think, you can't just rush into it and hope for the best. Which is, well, what I did.

TL:DR Post your stories and talk about why they weren't good enough.

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scarabix    250

Mine was rejected, for whatever reason

Your entry was very good as well and the decisions were very difficult to make.

You can read it here.

It had been this way for days. Every time he finally managed to sleep, be it for a second, the sound of slicing woke him up. From this particular cell, he could hear it all day; either from the outside, where the barbarian and the royal soldiers' heads kept raining down, or from the inside of the castle, where death sentences were given to the sorcerers.

Henry had felt closer to the barbarians than he had ever felt to the king, let alone his presumptuous guards.

His magical powers had brought nothing good to his life. Not only was it frowned upon, but there was nothing good his magic could've accomplished. For years he had been an outcast of society, hiding from the other people in the kingdom.

That was, until he attempted to take the king's life. In his rare, brief moments of sleep he could see this moment over and over again: him, entering the royal kitchen, under the guard's watch. With so many people trying to kill the king, it was mandatory that he was to be searched for weapons and narcotics. What they didn't know, is that the poison really was inside him, for the whole time; ever since he was born, actually. That would probably be the only time his power would've helped him, or so did he think.

Naturally, Henry got caught. He never was the sneaky kind of guy, anyway. The green smoke produced from his body didn’t help, to be honest. What did it matter, really? In a matter of days, his head would be cut off, and his life over.

Accompanied by the sound of footsteps came a large, grey figure. "So, did you reconsider my offer?" the guard said. For the third time this week, the familiar shape stood in the doorway. "You have nothing to lose at this point. It's simple, you deal with this barbarian problem, and your debt to the kingdom is considered paid. Of course, that technically makes you a knight, which means we could still need you, even with the barbarian problem out of the way”. The man in the grey-plated armor then drew out a massive axe and offered: “I could also put an end to this miserable life of yours, as soon as you want. But that’s not what we want, is it?”

Henry had reconsidered. He did not want to become yet another headless corpse. He didn't want to be one of the king's cannon fodders, either. But at this point, what he wanted above all was survive. And since he's still here in his scratched, distinctive green-plated armor to tell me his story today, I guess that's what he did.

Now, why he reached as far as my chapel, through the thieves’ forest and the flowery field, I wouldn’t know. He said he was here to buy some potions, and that he and his friends were mostly in for the girls and loots at this point, but his new life seems much more enjoyable to him. Although judging by the stains on his cleaver, I think he’s got used to the sound of heads being sliced off.

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