Alrighty guys so I don't really have a lot of news for you guys at the moment. However, I can say that the blog is currently working underground on something BIG, so be sure to keep your eye out. ;) Also, with the Super Bowl coming up, I will be writing a poem for the Super Bowl Champion, with it changing depending on the victor. (Though my money is on the Giants), so that will be posted either Sunday evening or tuesday evening.
Now, lastly, in order to get the community, I will allow all my viewers to choose what my next story/poem topic will be about. Just post a comment and I will choose one of the lucky readers topic and write either a poem or story on that topic. So be sure to comment! With that said, let;s get to today's post shall we?
Sweat was dripping down my face, and my body tight, I would periodically pull at my shirt collar. The others assigned to my table weren’t nearly as nervous as I was nor were they as pensive. I was lost in my own thoughts, denying every drink that was offered to me by one of the waiters on scene. All my thoughts were on this contest and the upcoming announcement of the victor. I was currently at the New York Times Annual Writing Contest Ceremony, where the top writer in each category would be announced, as well as the grand prize winner. I submitted a short story called, “The Second Place Gold Medalist”. If I won the grand prize, I would earn 10,000 dollars and finally gain a bit of recognition. I looked around Radio City Music Hall and at what had to be over a thousand people. Although there were over 500 participants, most of these people here were supporters for the participants. Except for an unfortunate few people, everyone had someone there who was there to cheer them on and give their support. I was one of the unfortunate few who were alone. The whole issue though was irrelevant, because very soon they would call my name for the grand prize winner. After another five minutes the host and special guest of this contest, Stephen King, stepped up on stage and walked over to a podium in the middle of the stage. He began to give his welcome speech yet all my mind could focus on was how my story came to be in the first place.
“What do you mean did they win? Dude they just took you guys down in a seven games! Are you drunk bro?”
~ Edited by Elizabeth, Logan, AAA