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CHALLENGE: WHAT'S IN A PHOTO - THE STORIES

Lost At Sea​

It was a dark and stormy night and the icebreaker, 'Amazing Grace', wallowed heavily in the waves that swept over it. On the bridge the Captain anxiously checked the readouts. Several red warning lights blinked ominously at him.

"It is not a good night for things to go wrong," he said to the First Mate.

"Not a good night for those scientists to be wanting to conduct their experiments," was the reply.

"Ai but they claim the conditions are perfect despite the weather, and they are paying the bills." said the Captain gloomily.

Outside the scientists set up their esoteric equipment, talking excitedly and pointing at the sky and then at each other in exuberant gestures.

Outside the storm got worse.

Inside more warning lights blinked on.

Inside the crew glanced anxiously at the Captain waiting for him to act.

Outside the scientists extended an aerial from their equipment and stood around looking upwards at the sky when suddenly a massive bolt of lightening struck the aerial. The scientists all jumped up and down with joy as the electricity crackled wildly over their equipment.

Inside the crew leaped into action as the engine spluttered and died and their control panel shorted out in a shower of sparks.

The First Mate cursed colourfully at great length about the stupidity of scientists in general and about the ancestry and intelligence of the ones on his boat specifically.

The scientists looked at their equipment and hugged each other gleefully as the boat lurched beneath them.

After struggling to restart the engines, an imperative to surviving the storm, and hearing the engineer's report the Captain called, 'Abandon ship!' His crew looked at him aghast. Surely the Captain could not be serious. Surely something could be done. Abandoning ship in the small life rafts in these seas was suicidal. But staying with the ship without engines was also suicidal.

"Abandon ship!" roared the Captain at his frozen crew. "Get those idiots off this ship and into lifeboats. Get moving NOW!"

The crew leaped into life, racing to perform the drill they hoped never to have to use and yet here they were in the midst of the worst storm they had ever seen, with insane scientists who were responsible for destroying their boat, having to rescue the idiots.

A few minutes later they all watched from the cramped life boat as the 'Amazing Grace' sank beneath the waves. Morning found them floating in a calmer sea surrounded by icebergs.

"These are very strange icebergs, Captain" said one of the crew.

"Yes look at them, all stripes, I ain't never seen no stripy icebergs a'fore."

"Bring us closer to a berg, Captain" commanded one of the scientists. "These are most interesting specimens."

"Why?"

"Because if we are right, if our experiment worked last night, Captain, then we need to examine one of those bergs."

The Captain sighed and signaled the crew to row closer to the iceberg. The scientists leaned out and examined the berg closely. One snapped off a bit and placed in the water looking at how it floated. Another tapped the berg and listened to the resonances. Another shrugged ruefully and tasted a bit. They then conferred together for a moment.

"Captain, may I be the first to announce a momentous occasion in the history of mankind," said one of the scientists. The others nodded in agreement. "An unforeseen occasion admittedly and one we hope to remedy as soon as possible, but momentous nonetheless."

"Stop blathering" muttered one of the crew.

"We have traveled," the scientist said.

"Bloody right you have traveled -traveled right out of yer bloody head," muttered another sailor.

"to another planet." concluded the scientist.

Pandemonium broke out in the life boat.

"Just what do you mean by that?" roared the Captain over the noise.

"It means," said one of the wits amongst the crew, "that we are not in Kansas any more."
 
Don't worry Sparhawk, I'm sure you will come up with something. We all hit a dry patch every now and then. And if not for this challenge, then there is always the next one.
 
The Bergs Of Pie

It was a normal enough winter Fred had to admit. Nothing out of the ordinary had happen, he had been hoping that there would have been something so that he could have gone to his summer home with a story to tell the other seagulls; but it seemed that was not to be. It was not customary for something truly exciting to happen in this, the last month of true winter. With a sigh, Fred settled down to wait out the storm that was busy throwing its weight around, and thought about food.

When the storm did finally pass and the skies were once again safe to fly in, Fred found out that something of interest could in fact happen in the last month of winter. Fred was startled out of his thoughts of food as he flew out over the calm ocean. There, floating as though they had always been there, was a group of icebergs unlike any that he had seen before. These icebergs had stripes, this fact alone was worthy of a story, and even as he was flying closer to the icebergs to get a better look at them, Fred was already imagining the looks of shock on the other seagulls’ faces. He just knew that this was going to be a story of the best kind.

Upon closer inspection, Fred saw that the icebergs were not only striped blue but in fact had many different colours. The sight of the icebergs had created such a stir that the whole flock of seagulls had landed on and around the new icebergs. The air was filled with their loud chattering about what could have caused such odd-looking icebergs to arrive at this time of the year. Most of the other animals that lived in and around the bay had not noticed the icebergs until the seagulls had started to make a fuss and soon everyone was talking about the icebergs. It was not until the next day that the most important people in the area noticed the existence of the icebergs. The scientists at Base 101 had been studying the icebergs around the bay for the last few months but had not come up with anything interesting until one of them noticed that the seagulls were acting oddly and went to see what was happening. The discovery of the decade occurred at that moment.

A new type of iceberg had been discovered. The scientists spent the next few hours chipping pieces of ice off the bergs and taking measurements and photos of them all, including one embarrassing moment when a scientist dared another to lick one of the icebergs and needed to be freed by the application some warm tea to his tongue, which they were lucky enough to have with them. Fred and a few of the other seagulls watched all of this with interest and more than one or two chuckled amongst themselves. They had always found the weird orange people to be a great source of amusement. Fred spent the rest of that month watching the odd orange people studying the Stripes, as the seagulls had started to call the icebergs. He had noticed that the Stripes had more differences from other icebergs than just being stripy. There was something quite odd about them. This thought proved true because two weeks later, unnoticed by everyone except Fred, one of the stripes left the bay in the middle of the night. The scientists were still studying the bergs and Fred saw that more scientists had arrived from wherever the Orange people came from.

Then one night two more of the Stripes vanished. This time Fred saw that the scientists noticed that they were gone. This caused a huge stir amongst the people of Base 101, a helicopter was sent up to see if it could spot the missing icebergs from the air but there was no sign of them. This got the scientists thinking a bit more about the icebergs. Icebergs, it was agreed, do not just vanish and once one of the original discoverers pointed out that they had, in fact, just arrived as well, the thinking became quite serious. Many theories were discussed and the tides were studied, all in the hopes of figuring out the mystery of the disappearing icebergs.

Fred had his own ideas about the where’s, why’s and how’s. It had occurred to him that the behavior of the Stripes was familiar; it was a lot like how his flock migrated from their summer home to their winter one. In the odd way the world works sometimes that exact same idea popped into the head of one of the scientists that had just arrived, and at the next meeting to discuss the bergs he stood up and pointed out the similarities of the icebergs’ movements and that of migrating birds. Absolute silence followed and not another word was spoken about the idea again. It was now just three days from the end of the month, and that night there was a storm just like there had been on the night the Stripes had arrived. Ben sat huddled on his perch and wondered what he would find in the bay the next day. What everyone found the next day was a total absence of any striped icebergs. The Stripes had gone, and after much searching the only thing anyone could find that showed that they had ever been there was a message carved into the side of one of the ordinary icebergs. Everyone read it in silence,

‘We, the Traveling Icebergs of Pie, thank you for what will be remembered as one of the best holidays we have ever had - The “Stripes” ‘

Much was said in later years about the stripy icebergs that had been documented but little was ever said about that message, except by Fred who always loved the looks of shock on the faces of whom-ever he was telling the story to, when he came to the part of the message that was left behind.
 
Its comeing itd coming :) just need to write the ending and then check and edit and check again for those pesky typos :p
 
Well done Gita, wonderful story!

I'm still thinking (or to be more truthful) being lazy to write the idea floating in my head.
 
Meadow337 said:
Well done Gita, wonderful story!

I'm still thinking (or to be more truthful) being lazy to write the idea floating in my head.
Click to expand...
Buck up. please. Posting a story is only fun when there is company.
By the way, I think it's a good idea to have the photos and the stories in the same thread, for people who come in late and want to read. .
 
白茫茫
(a vast expanse of whiteness)​

Zilong sat on his hands and knees panting with the spent force of emotion.

Today was the first snowfall of winter in Beijing. The air in his dorm room was icy cold with that peculiar metallic tang in the air the snow brings with it. He sniffed the air when he awoke that morning. Could it have happened? Could it have snowed? Was there a vast pristine white canvas outside for him to write his message on? The message to 'HER' he had been longing to write for months? All through the last days of summer and the beauty of autumn, the message had been burning inside him.

He had first seen her in the student cafeteria, laughing at a joke with her friends, her long hair swaying gently, erotically in a black waterfall down her back. Time slowed for a moment and then froze as he stared at her, until suddenly with an impatient push from behind, another student started time up again. From then on he had noticed her all over campus, it was like she was haunting him. How was it that he had never noticed her before, when she was everywhere he went? Her smile haunted him in Literature, her hand waved before him in Math seeking answers, and her laughter trailed after him in corridors. He had to tell her. He knew she was the one! But alas she was never alone, she was everywhere, but nowhere. He contemplated a hundred schemes - a note? A flower? He had to tell her, but how?

An afternoon spent researching an essay topic on "Love in the Computer Age" presented him with answer, a message big enough for the world to see, but what to do? Beijing had no beaches to write it in the sand. Then he had it, he would write it in snow. Hadn't he seen other, smaller, less important messages written with fingertips on icy windows? So impatiently he waited, listening to the weather reports - 50% chance of snow, 60% chance of frost, but none fell. But today, today, it had finally happened, and on a day when there had been only a 45% chance of snow, surely the gods were with him.

Zilong bounded out of bed and took the half step necessary to reach the window, he held his breath and looked outside, it was white as far as he could see! Today was the day the world would know, and yes SHE would know how he felt.

He crossed the quadrangle at the edges following the path so as not to mar the blank canvas awaiting him. He chose a spot below her window and began to write. The English words flowed unusually easily and he knew she would appreciate the effort for both of them struggled in their English class. He wrote them almost as high as he was tall and just like in that message in the sand he had seen, he substituted a heart for the 'o' in 'love'. Surely that word carried his heart?

He stood beneath them, waiting for her to rise and look out the window, as she did everyday. Was that her face? Three flours up and five windows across he double checked. Yes it was. He waited for her response. The window opened, SHE leaned out, his heart beat faster, HER mouth opened, he couldn't breath, and she said, "Why did you mess up the snow, you idiot!" before slamming it shut again.

He turned away, hot tears of shame scalding his frozen cheeks. He fell to his knees, leaning on his hands and panting with the force of his emotion, she had rejected his offering? She had rejected his love? For a moment he knelt there, in the cold, beside his useless English words, then he got up and looked at them, she was right, he had ruined the beauty of the snow.
 
An Impromptu Poem​

It was supposed to be a simple hike through the winter woods to find the jar of pecan nuts that Edgar had hidden. Why he had hidden them in the first place was a mystery to everyone, including Edgar himself. They had to admit that they had not been at all keen to go out into the icy cold to look for a jar that they had not been able to find before it had started snowing, they thought that their chances of finding it were now was a bit like suddenly finding a Dodo. But their aunt, who was visiting for the winter, had promised to make her famous pecan pie for them, which was known by everyone to be the best pecan pie in the known world, if they could find it. So out they went into the cold winter morning, wrapped up in so many layers that they didn't walk so much as waddle out into the winter air, driven by the thought of pecan pie and an adventure.

It was not a long walk from their house to the edge of the forest but by the time they had gotten there Edgar, Pot and Pan had already starting to think that pecan pie or not, it was time to head home, the air was cold and already their noses were starting to run. But the allure of an adventure and of course pie, pushed them on into the snow covered forest. Snow flakes swirled around them as they walked through the trees along what was a foot path in the summer, Pan elbowed Edgar and said with great clouds of steam, 'Have you by any chance at all remembered were you hid our pecan nuts?' Edgar shook his head and shivered.

'It was in the woods somewhere.' Pot joined in the conversation and in the cloud of steam that was trailing behind them as they walked,

'That is what you said the first time we looked.'

'Well what I remember hasn't changed since the last time we looked Pot.' Pan stuck his hands deeper into his pockets and said,

'I still don't know why you hid the jar in the first place.'

'Or why you didn't hid it somewhere you could find it again.' Pot added in again. Edgar harrumphed not so quietly to himself. Pan looked over at Pot and rolled his eyes, Pot grinned or at least as much as anyone could see of Pot grinned and stepped up next to Edgar and took a hold of his left arm as he said, 'The one thing that we didn't do when we first looked was to look through all of your normal hiding places'. Pan stepped closer and took hold of Edgar's right arm and said,

'This is true, and yes I remember that the reason that we didn't was because you said that you hadn't hidden it there, but seems as you can't remember where you did hide it or why for that matter. So I for one am perfectly happy to double check.' So with an arm each Pot and Pan lead the very cold and reluctant Edgar, who really just wanted to go home, from one hiding spot to another, for the rest of morning. But as lunch time drew nearer and still there was no nuts, thoughts of warm fires and hot stews grew in their minds until they had decided that they were of one mind. It was time to go home. But home was at this point quite a long way off and when faced with the long cold and hungry walk back, Pot piped up and said,

'I know a short cut home if anyone is interested.' They were of course very interested in the idea of a shorter walk home than the one that was ahead of them, the quicker they got home the better. With quick steps they followed Pot through the woods until they came to a long narrow clearing in the forest. They were standing at one end looking down the length of the clearing and at the side of a mountain. Snow swirled up in twists and twirls in the breeze, silence filled the small valley and wrapped itself around them. As one they stepped closer to each other, this was the moment that they knew that they had taken a wrong turn and had strayed way way way off the path and into danger. They had somehow climbed up the south side of Ice Mountain, home of fearsome and terrible giants who dislike all things soft and squishy and unfortunately for the soft and squishy things, tended to show this dislike by squishing them.

Pan was the first one to say something,'I think it is time we went back the way we came...' Edgar nodded furiously in agreement.

Pot was the first one to turn around, he froze in mid-turn and said in a small voice, 'There might be a small problem with that idea...' Edgar and Pan turned around and found them selves face-to-awful-frosty-face with a giant. They all stood there frozen with fright, then the giant rumbled something to itself in a cold booming tone and slowly rose to it feet and lifted up its club. Seeing that they were about to be made into small splats in the snow brought life and movement into their legs. They ran faster than any of them thought that they could have ever ran before. The club thumped into the snow behind them as they rushed across the clearing. The giant followed them out of the forest bringing down his club narrowly missing them. Great clouds of snow filled the clearing and hid everyone from site. Taking advantage of the cover provided by the snow Pan Pot and Edgar dived for the trees on the other side of the clearing and for the slight cover of a hollow a boulder overhanging a shallow indentation in the ground offered.

They sat huddled there trying to catch their breath as the swirls of snow cleared from the clearing in front of them. They could now see as well as hear the giant walking up and down the valley looking for them, 'Maybe if we just stay here the giant will leave after a while?'

Pot looked over at Edgar and said, 'No he won't, haven't you ever listened to any of the story's and lessons on how to get away from the giants? The only thing that might, if it is good enough, make him not squish us as soon as he sees us, is some poetry. Specifically poetry about snow, ice and all things cold.' Edgar and Pan looked out of their hiding place and through the clearing snow, the giant was walking up and down the valley muttering away to himself as he waved at the clouds of snow with a big hand trying to spot them. Dimly, out of the deep and lost jungles of their memories they remembered long lectures from their father about telling them what to do if they were ever silly enough to go into giant country and get caught by a giant. If their memory was correct, and that was debatable, the only two options open to them were to get squished or suddenly remember a really good poem about winter or, make one up.

'So who is going to go out there and recite a poem to him?' Pan asked hoping that it was not him.

Edgar and Pot looked at each other around Pan and said as one,'You!'

Pan turned around and faced Pot and said in a shocked voice,'Me? I know nothing about poetry! Anyway aren't you the one who got us lost up here in the first place, shouldn't you be the one to go out there and write something in the snow? That way you can make a run for it back to safety while he is reading it.'

'Well that would be a very bad idea, if I got us lost in the woods that we have spent years in, I don't think that I would do any better getting us out of this.' Pan had to admit that he had a point.

Edgar knew that he was the next one on the list and decided to put an end to any idea about him going out into that clearing, 'And you know I have a memory problem since I fell off of the roof and onto my head last week and all of this stress just isn't helping. What did we come out here for?' He added this just to make his point clear.

Pot looked at him and said, 'Edgar you didn't fall on you head last week or any week ever for that matter.'

So the argument went around and around as the second hour of the afternoon slid into the third hour, as they talked the snow had settled down again and they could see the giant clearly as he searched for them. Finally it was settled, Pan would go and write a poem in the snow. Bravely he stood up and readied himself for the dash out into the clearing, when a thought occurred to him. He turned and faced Edgar and Pot and asked, 'Um, guys, do any of you know how one writes a poem?'

There was a moments thoughtful pause before Edgar said, 'Don't you...write words that...rhyme?'

'Yes and something else... but I cant remember.'

There was a longer moment of thinking before, Pan said, 'Is that all?'

Pot and Edgar nodded together, 'Well that is all we can remember.'

Pan nodded and then took a deep breath and held it until the giant was a the far end of the clearing. He let out his breath in a big swoosh and ran as fast as he could to a spot just in the clearing where he bent down ready to write but he found that his mind was a total blank. The giant had seen him and was now heading towards him, he had to start somewhere anywhere. Pan, expecting the giant to flatten him any moment, leaned down again and wrote the first thing that came into his head, and didn't stop writing until he had run out of things to write.

'Oh I love you snow
So cold and crunchy
White and fluffy'​

Somewhere deep down Pan knew that he was probably writing the worst poem in history and he was fairly sure that he wasn't rhyming either.

'It's white and frosty,
Blueish and pretty
If in the light
Oh I love snow
So useful in a snowball fight,
One can build a frosty fort,'​

Now he was getting the hang of it, things were starting to rhyme a little bit although he had lost most of the feeling in his fingers. The giant had been totally forgotten in the effort of thinking and writing the poem. Over from their hiding place Pot and Edgar nervously watched as Pan hurriedly wrote in the snow, the giant getting closer and closer but Pan seemed to be unaware of the danger that he was in. They were just about to call out to him when the giant stopped a little way from him and then leaned his club against leg and started to pat his frost pockets. It took him quit a while find what he was looking for but then he pulled out a big pair of glasses. Carefully he placed them on his nose and leaned forward to see what Pan was writing. Both Pot and Edgar were shocked to see the giant start to laughing. Great booming laughter filled the valley and bounced off of the mountains. Pan heard the laughter and it reminded him of were he was and why he was writing the poem, he started to write even faster that he had been, the last of the poem forming in his mind,

'Oh wonderful snow
how we love you in the winter
so sparkly and icy
we all love snow,
so please won't you let us go?'​

As he finished writing the last word Pan leapt up and made a dash for the woods and the hiding place under the boulder expecting to be flattened any moment. Breathless he dived under the boulder crashing into Edgar and Pot. They looked out into the clearing and watched the giant, ready and waiting to run if he came towards them. But the giant just stood there and chuckled to himself as he re-read the poem.

Pot nudged Pan who was shivering and trying to warm up his fingers, 'What exactly did you write Pan?'

Pan shrugged and recited the poem that he had written.

Edgar snorted with laughter and Pot couldn't help smiling, 'Well I hope that it likes it. He just might think that it is bad enough to be good.'

Pan made a face at him and said in a hurt tone,'Well I thought I didn't do to badly considering I don't know how to write poetry. I would like to see you do better.'

Pot was going to say something back but Edgar nudged them both and said, 'Look, he is leaving!'

And indeed the giant was, he took off his glasses and tucked them into a pocket and still chuckling to himself swung his club onto his shoulder and walked off through the forest. As soon as they couldn't see him any more they stood up and ran blindly down the mountain. After what felt like ages to them the forest became more familiar to them and they stumbled to a halt. They leaned against the trees billowing steam like kettles that were boiling over. Too winded to say anything they just waved their hands at each other in a away that none of them understood.

Edgar looked around and then saw a familiar sight, and still out of breath he said, 'Hey, that is the tree I hid the pecan nuts in!'

Pot and Pan looked at where he was pointing and together they all stumbled over to the tree. and sure enough, there sitting in the hollow truck was the pot of pecan nuts that Edgar had hidden.

Pan pulled it out and said to Edgar, 'I think that I will carry it this time. We don't want to lose it again.'

Edgar rolled his eyes and said, 'Well I just wanted them to be safe.'

'Well they were safe. Unfortunately they were safe from us as well.' And so they argued about the nuts and safety the whole way home.

THE END​
 
Meadow337 said:

Time slowed for a moment and then froze as he stared at her, until suddenly with an impatient push from behind, another student started time up again. .​
Click to expand...

​
I liked the story, especially the line I quoted. I always like stories with a twist and this one had the poor guy really twisted. Well done.
 
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