Competitions

When you are entering a writing competition with a prize of $1000, it’s nearly impossible to think of something to write about, especially when everyone around you has already finished theirs.
You end up writing either something sad or just plain bazar. Something like:
Long story short, my life is perfect. My parents are rich and I’m a model. I have too many friends to count and I live in a three storey house. I practically live every other 15 year old girl’s dream.
I saw my mum start to make her way down the stairs. “Don’t forget, you have your photo shoot after school.”
“Yeah, I know. And after that I’ve got a hair appointment, and a shopping trip that’s well over due.” I walked over to her and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Love you mum.” She gave me my lunch bag and I set off to the limo parked out the front.
School was how it always was. Talked until class, went to class, sat at the back chatting away with my friends. Some more boring classes, with more chatting then learning. Back to the limo and off to the photo shoot.
I pulled up in the parking lot and walked into the photo building. As soon as I crossed the threshold, my manager was pulling me around, trying to get me dressed and put my makeup on.
The backdrop is different every time I visit the studio. Today it is a plain black screen. I stood on the stage waiting for the photos to start. I started to sway and feel dizzy. My vision was going black and blurry at the edges. I heard a buzzing getting louder and louder in my ears. I fell to the ground, and everything went blank.
I mean, what is with the sudden cut off? What happens?
By now in the story subject, you want to give up, but you really want that $1000 so you soldier on. You try the poem idea and you think that it goes well, until you read it out loud to yourself.
There once was a girl called Susan Hatt,
To sum her up in one word she was quite the brat.
she never did chores, never washed nor mowed,
she stole from the old lady across the road.
She never ate veggies. No carrots or peas.
She never said “Excuse me, thank you or please.”
She was such a brat, that Susan Hatt.
But then you realise you are just writing about yourself, so you close down your computer and walk away.

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