writing contest

Kaitlyn F. Gallagher has a writing contest for anyone who's wishing to take part.

The limitations are:

- maximum of 500 words

- the piece has to contain, at one point or another the following line: ***I am sister to the serious octopus***, in honor of the very words of her little daughter.

For more information about the contest go here.

Below is my entry. I have already sent it to Kaitlyn over email, so I'm free to post it over here as well.

Strugglingwriter has also entered the competition. Check his version as well, it's sure will be a good fun to read.

Chances are that you are still able to enter....? The deadline is Friday midnight, in a timezone not mine, so please ask Kaitlyn for details.

Hope you enjoy my piece. Constructive comments are always welcomed.

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A vegetarian in the making

The afternoon sun peeked inside. It illuminated the table, where our future dinner was rested.

The knife has been sharpened just today and the blade was shining. Cuts fell easily on the board. One after another, soon there was a small pile of chunks, waiting to be gathered into a bowl. Piles after another, the bowl was filling. Finished.

The oil was slowly warming up. The chopped green paprika slices began sizzling. The distinct smell of sautéed pepper gave away it was time for the meat to enter the fat. Whoooops, in you go! The oil fizzled.

Every now and then, scattered voices of children reached the kitchen throughout the open French window. Giggles, some shouting, and the inevitable stamping of feet on the pavement. The curtain was moving with the wind. A small bush was shaking for a moment as someone passed it by hurriedly. Chuckles and excited murmurs again.

The watch on the wall disclosed the passing of time. Man, has summer gone away already! Ten minutes to six. All right, I have another forty minutes to go. That will do.

‘Hey Leah, it was really nice of you to invite us! Say farewell to the summer – Great idea.’ Ally entered the kitchen. Her straw sandals slipped softly on the stone. ‘So, how’re you doing with this very special something?’
Fine, I am. I have just watched a show on seafood the other day.
‘How’ bout the kids?’
They did not believe it. It is so rare that we get to eat fish or something like that. And an octopus….They thought I was joking. I had to tell them Mommy was being serious.
‘I guess Timmy knows what that is…But how about Karen?’
She did not seem to like the idea of eating one in the first place. She has this little puppet of hers, you know.
‘The one she takes sometimes to kindergarten?’
Yup.

The stew needed some stirring. The fragrance came up in small puffs from behind the lid.
Ally moaned: ‘Wow, I love that smell. I often keep smelling food while…’

The voices now became intolerable. A combination of cries and laughter. Who do they tease again? ‘Momma! Momma!’ – Karen’s weakened voice came closer and closer and finally she was all in, sobbing, her face dirty with streaks of sand mixed with salty teardrops.
‘Momma, Dave’s saying we have Octi for dinner. It ain’t so, is it, Mommy?’
Dear baby, of course not. Octi is sitting on your bed – go and check if you please.
‘No Momma, they say we eat Octi all right.’
Karen, your Octi is unharmed. Want Mommy to get him for you? This one’s here’s another one. An animal that was once alive but now is not. It’s meat.
She was now crying and her words were hardly clear.
‘You told me this is a serious octopus and I am sister to the serious octopus. I can’t….We just can’t let…. us eat…. my brother.’

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