So, today marks the Second Kid's Choice Kidlit Writing Contest.
Last year, I won first place in the Middle Grade category with 200 words from a new MG Fantasy The Secret of Scaremere Forest. Here are the 200 words that won!
Genre – MG Fantasy
Unearthly screams echo through Scaremere Forest.
“Grab my hand, Rollo.” Amara whisks her younger brother under the snow-covered brush along the frozen banks of Raven Lake. “The Shadowmen are close. I smell their stench.”
Moonbeams light the frosted forest as Rollo waits for his body to tingle. He peeks at the moon. “Come on, strike the witching hour, he whispers. I must save Amara.” No sooner does he call upon the moon, familiar pain shoots through his limbs. His body twists, growing larger than his lanky frame. Rippling muscles transform his thin shoulders. His skin itches, and white fur erupts from every pore. His fingers become claws and his night vision is precise.
One minute after midnight, as his transition is complete, Amara jumps on her brother’s back. She wraps her arms around his neck, and Rollo charges through the forest.
Brittle branches snag Amara’s black hair and ice-covered roots magically curl in front of Rollo’s paws, so she’ll fall, making it easier for the Shadowmen to seize her.
If they capture Amara, she’ll bring them gold, not with her magical powers, but for the bounty the Dark Fairy Queen has placed on her head for stealing the obsidian opal.
Today, I entered in the YA category with a YA suspense titled
Dead Boys Tell No Secrets.
Here are this year's 200 words.
Title: DEAD BOYS TELL NO SECRETS
Word Count: 196
Twilight cloaks the winding road with a mile to go in the last training run before the NY State Mountain Bike race. Head down and feet pounding the pedals, I rounded the bend—a quick downhill shot to town.
Glancing up, I wrench back at a dark shadow in the road ahead. Too late! A muffled thud flips the bike and me high into the air. Asphalt and pine trees blur as I spin and slam into the ground. “What the hell was that?” I peel myself off the stony grit and burning pain rips across my shoulder. "Shit!"
I yank off my cracked helmet and rake scraped fingers through my hair, so wet and dark it doesn't look blonde anymore. My eyes flash to my bike twenty feet away and my laidback attitude explodes like the bombs in Dad’s war stories.
Great, Jules. Now, how are you going to race tomorrow?
I shuffle forward, ignoring the gash on my arm and yank my mangled bike off the jumbled mess. “Oh… my… God!” I freeze. A limp hand falls, palm up, on the rural highway, deserted except for me and the dead guy at my feet.
Wish me luck! The judges are the kids/teens in the age categories. I'll keep you posted as the finalists are announced.
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