55-Word Story Contest: Winners!!!

Thank you to all those who participated for their wonderful stories. Also, a big thanks to our enthusiastic readers and voters :)

The grand winner of our 55-word contest is….[DRUMROLL]…. Shemali (theshadowseeker)! *applause*

Aaaand, in second place we have Pubudu Sachithanandan (@atticus900)! *applause*

Here are the winning entries once again.

From Shemali (theshadowseeker):
A drop of sweat falls to the ground as he digs. Just a bit more. Thud. The sound of the shovel against the coffin. Well sealed, but he was used to this, the smell too. A week old maybe? Yes! His sources had been right. Mouth pried open, the false teeth with roots of gold.

Author and his cousin eating sausages stuck
on twigs and cooked in a fireplace in Hatton 
(Author has permission to use this photo.)

From Pubudu Sachithanandan (@atticus900): 
There’s old gold in them thar hills.
Under the tea bushes of Hatton
where I played as a boy.
On guava trees where we made tree houses.
In the smoky crackle of bonfire twigs.
The dull gleam of memories
half-hidden now
by a man’s burden
of mortgages, obligations, fears
and the velvet dust of years.



Note: We will be back with a new word tomorrow. Stay tuned!

55-Word Story Contest Entries: Gold

We are so very happy to present the stellar 55-word story entries using the word "gold", in order of submission!

How do I vote?

Please cast your vote for your favourite author by sending us an email at srilankastories@gmail.com or sending us a Direct Message on Twitter @SriLankaDiaries . Please DO NOT publicly tweet your votes or put them in the comments section. (Although general comments about multiple stories are welcome.)

One person, one vote. (And no, you cannot vote for yourself :p)

Voting is open all weekend, till Sunday midnight!

"GOLD" VIGNETTES:

From Shemali (theshadowseeker):
A drop of sweat falls to the ground as he digs. Just a bit more. Thud. The sound of the shovel against the coffin. Well sealed, but he was used to this, the smell too. A week old maybe? Yes! His sources had been right. Mouth pried open, the false teeth with roots of gold.

From Poomigal:
If only I saw that gold wedding ring on his finger. But why did he lie to me, leaving a part of him growing in me? Every Friday I sit at the same place I met him first hoping he will come by to say hi and tell me that it wasn’t lust but love.

Sonia
(Author has permission to use this photo.)

From Pavi Kulatunga:
Sonia glittered as she whirled the little black girl around the room to the infectious rhythm of the Afro-Cuban drum. Her name, “Gold”, matched her fiery personality. Her eyes danced; aligned with the girls fast swaying body. Her excitement was contagious- this little dollop of sun, a mother of two. She lit up the night.


From @sharasekaram:
It’s simple, round and gold. It’s not fancy, nor large. But it fits perfectly on the fourth finger of my left hand – telling the world that my heart has been taken. My world is no longer just me. I am entwined in another, creating a legacy and a life. I am part of a whole.

From @HalikAzeez:
"Yes putha, come with me, don't cry ah. I'll take you to dada."
Tiny, screwed up eyes looked up at him, suspicious. And he grinned, his teeth glinting flashes of gold.

From @TheRoundedCube:
“How much?”
“One kilo”
“One kilo of what?”
“Gold”
“What?!”
“Gold”
“Gold?!”
“Gold!!”
“Ok, I’ll get you”
“When?”
“Tomorrow – I'll get it somehow”
“Make it quick”

“I have the gold”
“Show me”
“I need to test it”

“Exactly 1 kilo, we shall accept it”
“Thank you”
“Wait here”

“Ok, you will be the next president”

Author and his cousin eating sausages stuck
on twigs and cooked in a fireplace in Hatton 
(Author has permission to use this photo.)

From Pubudu Sachithanandan (@atticus900):
There’s old gold in them thar hills.
Under the tea bushes of Hatton
where I played as a boy.
On guava trees where we made tree houses.
In the smoky crackle of bonfire twigs.
The dull gleam of memories
half-hidden now
by a man’s burden
of mortgages, obligations, fears
and the velvet dust of years.

From Priyanthie de Silva:
She’s worth her weight in gold!” my children used to say, for my culinary skills, my baby-sitting skills etc. Now I sit alone in a barren snow-field, awaiting to be the vultures dinner. It was the custom you see, to abandon old people who had outlived their usefulness thus. That’s the cycle of life!

From Saumya Fernando:
She hurriedly stuffed the contents into an old biscuit tin. Looking around the makeshift apartment, she quickly hid it under the soft white sand, covering it with a cooking pot. Hastily smudging the red smear on her receding hairline she realized with horror, the gold wedding band. Too late before the hyenas come for her.

(Author has permission to use this photo.)

From Tristan Kube:
From the bowels of desolate wastelands there emerged a sable gold – a gold that would eventually govern all nations and alter the lives of every Homo Sapien conceitedly parading on their hind legs. This baneful combination will ultimately determine the fate of every species in this precious global hub we all call home.



From @Mari_deSilva:
Day after day she silently laboured. Her toil long been taken for granted. Day after day he brought home the bacon. It was his rightful duty after all. They provided for their oblivious young, and watched them run in frantic pursuit of riches. If only the young had realized the gold they had left behind.

From @wikifreakz:
"Eureka!"
Mission Au-197, a top secret project of CERN succeeded at last.

The team was working on a cryptic alchemy manuscript:
'Gold Transmutation'

They invented a device that separates any substance into molecules.

Garner's happy tears rolled down on cheeks.
A drop fell on the device.

'BANG!'

Oops.. Sodium, Chlorine, Oxygen & Hydrogen were separated!

From @PennyKinned:
Laden down by her heavy sari and jewellery, she made her way slowly to the pandal. As she reached the sacred marriage tent, she saw her to-be-husband’s eyes light up, taking in her solid gold necklaces and bangles. “Not once did he look at my face,” she explained later, after the leaving-him-at-the-pandal confusion had subsided.

55-Word Story Contest, May 16-17: "gold"

Storytellers, we kick off our May 55-word story contest today!

The word: "gold".

The prize: a bookstore voucher worth LKR 1000 AND a state-of-the-art ego boost!
The restriction: you MUST use the word in the story.
Word limit: up till 55 words (hyphenated words will be counted as one word).
Photos: you are welcome to include an original, related photograph with your story.
Deadline: midnight of May 17 (Friday).
Voting type: secret ballot.

Voting will be open throughout May 18-19 (Saturday and Sunday). Please read all the entries and vote for your favourite by sending us a DM on Twitter or emailing us at srilankastories@gmail.com. Voting will be strictly confidential. (And no, you can't vote for yourself :p)

Do spread the word! The more entries and votes we get, the more exciting the competition!

Happy writing!

55-Word Story Contest Entries: Diplomatic

We are so very happy to present the stellar 55-word story entries using the word "diplomatic", in order of submission!

How do I vote?
Please cast your vote for your favourite author by sending us an email at srilankastories@gmail.com or sending us a Direct Message on Twitter @SriLankaDiaries . Please DO NOT publicly tweet your votes or put them in the comments section. (Alhough general comments about multiple stories are welcome.)

One person, one vote. (And no, you cannot vote for yourself :p)

Voting is open all weekend, till Sunday midnight!


"DIPLOMATIC" VIGNETTES

From @hayahz:
One brown eggshell in a sea of white eggshells, my diplomatic feet struggling to find a place to land. My brown skin bronzing in a room of white people talking about brown people. 

"Excuse me, but you're wrong!"

Eyes locked, voice firm. I feel the eggshells cracking beneath the tension of my toes.

From @cernoblog:
Look at that fat Buriyani fed Muslim you said. A muttered tirade followed - these Muslims etc.. Then: how’s the family doing? Stunned, I replied on diplomatic auto pilot. How could you of all people say such things? I wanted to plead. A hopeless  chill inside choked the words, hope and a lot more.

From @shamsmakkiya:
Miss. Menna sensed a terror stricken look in Yara's face who came accompanied by her parents to collect her annual report. Realizing the child's desperate situation, Miss. Menna convinced her parents using all her diplomatic ideas. Her heart sank in contentment and bliss as yara left in great joy and love for her.

From @LadyZahara:
His diplomatic aura made it impossible for her to refuse his proposal. After the betrothal, his real character unveiled. Nowhere close to diplomacy, his character was bitter crudeness. He had gotten all his priorities wrong with no care for his elders' advises. Long before people could realise it, the betrothal had come to an end...

From Priyanthie de Silva:
Being diplomatic was epitomised in him. Butter would not melt in his mouth! But I could see through him. He was rotten to the core, it was only a facade that he put on. My! how people hung on his every word! Like the 'pearls of wisdom' that Narayan spoke of. Master of guile! hmph!

From @yasirnasir
They knew he was dead man walking. He knew it too. They were being diplomatic. Nobody spoke about it. One by one, his duties were re-assigned to others. They always said it’d help him “gain expertise in other areas”. Soon, all he did was check-in and check-out. He couldn’t handle it anymore. He quit.

From @HalikAzeez:
"Human rights?" he snorted. “We’re not in the business of human rights my boy; we’re in the business of human wrong.”

I heard his words again as I watched him lowered into the ground. Rain splattered on umbrellas shielding grieving family; friends and colleagues from the UN and others who’d made their livings being diplomatic.

From @Marianne_David:
Bloody ties.

Knowing his country would need foreign ‘friends’ and funds in peace time, the President – diplomatic to the very end – encouraged his ambassadors to discuss peace. Everything hinged on timing. But he was dead certain his brother would ensure a bloody and complete conclusion and any calls for a ceasefire would come too late.

From @minzy34:
She cradled the dainty Dalia in her chubby baby palms. "Hello baba. How was your day? Did ammi water you enough? mwah!"

Her glance turned to the withering Barberton. "Why patiyo, are you feeling sad? Don't worry. I’ll press you in my pink book," and she placed a gentle, diplomatic kiss on the dying petals.

From @wikifreakz:
Mankind's first diplomatic visit to Delta. I felt goosebumps..
"Reporting from Delta.. Over!"
*
It's an honour to dine with Emperor Devgn IV. I'd read once:
'Deltans [déltünz], inhabitants of planet Delta', known for neutrium
fuel resources and 'Kandor' festival held every summer..'
*
'It's party time baby,' checked the menu:
'Kbat,
Tyal,
Kasipz,
Dessert: Diplomat..'
"Oh!"

From @bhagsy:
I am told to be diplomatic.
But how am I to find the balance in half-truths?
They say it's part of the job.
I reluctantly restrain my words.
I want to speak my mind; to give my opinion.
Alas, I’ve come to learn the art of diplomacy, in my thoughts, my words and my actions.

From Sachintha Peiris:
I stand on her doorstep, ready with my diplomatic guise, hoping my smile works. She looks really angry. Ea..sy, easy, I tell myself. Don’t panic. I have to find a way around her anger. Can't I come in? Smile. She opens the door a little wider but hugs herself a little tighter. Here we go.

From @Rabdizz:
Diplomatic /dɪpləˈmatɪk/ 
adj.
1. Of, relating to, involving, diplomacy or diplomats. 
2. Using or marked by tact and sensitivity in dealing with others.

Like father, like daughter - they say. Born in to it. Corps diplomatique. But they’ll never know I learnt it all at my mother’s skirt, keeping fists from reaching her face.

From Saumya Fernando:
I tried to focus on anything but your beautiful eyes, while I mumbled the excuse I rehearsed all day. You knew I would not agree yet, you persisted. I tried to be diplomatic but obviously I was not skilled enough then to make you understand. I could handle it better now. Fifteen years too late.

From @road2digital:
His hungry eyes absorb my every being, is it a manifestation of love or lust? Emotions that tug at the heartstrings seem to elude him. Our chemistry a harsh, dessert terrain devoid of lush sentiments.  He escaped a head on collision with my heart once again, his justifications for reprieve clinical yet diplomatic.

From @Mari_deSilva:
“A stronger UN for a better world.” Stronger for saying fighting terror with terror ends nothing but more lives. For protecting victims not perpetrators, just because it’s the right thing to do. For spending more on those who need it, and by “those” I don’t mean your staff. But, you’re too busy being diplomatic, right?

From Raisa:
The clothes lie crumpled, like discarded sweet-wrappers. ‘Stop it!’ I shout, in fear.

And in reply: stones, some thrown by men in saffron robes. A little girl runs out to look. A young boy sees her and stays his hand.

‘This is no time to be diplomatic!” the monk shouts, and sends his stone whizzing.

From @sharon_thulasi:
While walking with his 6 year old grandson he asked him “why do you like walking with me?”. Grandson replied “Grampa I’m being diplomatic, I heard mom saying that she didn’t get time to spend with you when she was small, so this’ll make her happy plus I get more time to spend with you.”

From @gajenmahen:
“Bala, sending two of my chaps with kokkis. Amma says you like them.”
“Ok machang. I’ll let the boys know”.
“Have you any of the mangoes left?”

 A diplomatic coup.

One was a Captain of the Sinha regiment and the other, a rebel spokesman- both friends from school.

The occasion? Sinhala- Tamil New Year, Jaffna,1986.

From @Dili:
She tried to be diplomatic about it. But she should’ve known better than to ask when he’d be reeking of booze. As fists pounded on the door, and demonic screams asking if she didn’t know how tight money was, she choked back tears.

All she dared ask for was new school books for their child.

From @idrinkblueblood:
"DIPLOMATIC!", my aunt said, looking at my painting. I was confused. I knew what diplomatic meant, but I just didn't know how the skill of dealing with people could be applied to my drawing. Ah, my Lankan Aunt, I thought, she just wanted to use a high-flown word. I smiled. My country and it's people!

From @gehan99:
She traipsed out of the changing room and eagerly asked me, “Do I look sexy?”

I looked at her and said with all the love I could muster, “No.”

Stooping down, I gathered my surprised little 8 year old in my arms and said, “Not sexy, but beautiful, princess.”

No point being diplomatic about that.

From Tristan Kube:
Being polite was inherently in his nature. The following gives testimony to what extent; when asked what he thought about the newly passed bill. He simply smiled and said he thought it was “bovine excrement”. He was so indestructibly diplomatic even when he was rude.

From @S_Zee_U:
“So that`s him?”
“Yes"
“Striped tie?”
“Yes” She nodded again.
Cheeks colored when she glanced at the coffee table behind us.
I scrutinized the guy while I sipped my tea, deep in conversation with our chief editor.
“Diplomatic correspondent from BBC You say?”
“Yes”
I knew she wanted me to say something like WOW!!

From @himalkk: 
“Does this dress make me look fat?”
“Is there ever a right answer to that question?”
“There is, always. Come now; tell me. And, for once, try not to give me your usual diplomatic bull crap.”
“Fine – if I must – it highlights your hourglass figure and also compliments your lovely curves.”
“What a fucking copout.”

From @PennyKinned:
She forced her blood-sticky eyes open. Right hand dangling uselessly, she used the left to hike her torn skirt down and drag herself out the alley.

He was getting into a black sedan. Wait, was that a blue license plate?

He glanced back, blew her a kiss, closed the door.

Diplomatic immunity, she realised wretchedly.