Role playing – Writing challenge winners

Once again, dear friends, we seem to have a tie. This time around, Alison Pearce and ClothoTwine put on their literary masks, for this writing challenge centered in role playing. For your reading enjoyment, here are the top 2 works:

One by Alison Pearce

It was a game we used to play a lot when we were young. If we became annoyed at each other, instead of fighting we would simply switch roles. Astrid would bury her nose in a book, flick her hair behind her ear and begin every sentence with “Did you know”.
I would prance around the house in what I considered Astrid’s “prissy” clothes and dance in front of every mirrored surface and bounce up and down on my toes until everyone’s attention was drawn to me.
The original source of aggravation would be forgotten and we’d burst into giggles when our parents got us mixed up. We could mimic each other’s personalities so fluidly that with our identical appearances, it seemed to others that we had in fact truly switched roles.
It stopped being a game and became more of a reality for me on the day Astrid’s physical presence was taken from this world. Astrid was at dance class, I was in the school auditorium running through a final rehearsal before our debate team faced off against a competing school when the storm broke.
It was a freak event people would later say. Astrid had run outside to grab her water bottle from her knapsack only to be greeted by a bolt of lightning that almost seemed to have been waiting for her.
The moment she fell, on the other side of town, I felt something inside me being torn viciously away. It was painful and terrifying, an agony I have never been adequately able to explain even to myself. The closest I could come was to imagine that someone had reached inside me and pulled my heart out with red hot, blunt, knife.
I fell at the same time Astrid did; but unlike my sister, I got up again.
I remember the sudden clarity I had in the moment the lightning struck. I knew exactly what I was losing and my mind had cried out, “God, no! I can’t live without her”.
When I woke up I knew my wish had been granted. It was a strange feeling; instead of feeling like I had been torn into pieces, I now truly knew what it felt like to be whole. A complete person. Now, after I have finished delivering well thought out speeches in front of judges and juries I come home to twirl and dance in front of mirrored surfaces. I tend to bounce up and down on my toes as I read through case files, beginning me sentences with “Did you know” and making sure everyone’s attention was drawn to me.
Twice, Astrid and I have been torn into two separate pieces.
Once in the womb.
Once by lightning.
But now Astrid and I are what we were always meant to be.
One.

© Alison Pearce 2010-09-30

 

Clotho and the World by ClothoTwine

PRELUDE

Before Birth

Far far away (though according to the whole complicated time-space continuum thing, also very very near), the youngest of the three fates waited. Around her in an eternal halo were the gossamer threads of creation. Most people believed she span these all by herself, and in truth maybe she did. It was hard to remember though.

After the first trillion millennia the past became a bit vague. She wasn’t even sure where she herself came from. She suspected some deviant forerunner of white-anglo-saxonism – hence the eternal work ethic. It could just as easily have been a rogue Salamander from the pink ponds of Vermouthia.

The present however, was constantly interesting. Sentient and self-aware, young Clotho The Maker was asquirm with sensation. And she had an idea.

While browsing through the pages of contemporary earth blogs, Clotho had discovered a poem. The poem was about a thread. The injunction at the nub of the matter was to follow ones own. Like a camera lens stuck on wide, there was suddenly a sustained burst of illumination. Not godlike, but more of a laser beam. It struck Clotho in her fourth eye. With it came a realisation.

Of all the skeins of life-silk now shot through the pluriverse, not one of them was her own. She listened to her womb and knew. It was time to create herself.

After Birth

Dust motes floated past. Clotho could feel the prick and rasp of the rusty dumpster lid beneath her bare thighs. A few fetid odours mingled nearby and then dispersed. Born for the first time, confusion sparred with delight. It seemed as if many deep truths were absent here, and yet….the dimension of body now flooded into everything. She swung her legs to and fro, testing.

Before long another body appeared. Shaping the cyberspace beside her with something unfamiliar yet longed for. The shape was almost human. And so it began…

 

 

 

 

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