Fox Tales WK#31 : Announcing contest winners and a new story image!

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If you love writing stories then this contest is for you! Write a one paragraph story about the image pictured above. Be creative, think outside of the box and follow the listed rules!

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Good evening writers!

I felt so much relief after seeing a couple last minute entries for week 29’s prompt. For a second there I was worried that I wouldn’t have enough entries to continue foxtales. Anyway, I encourage you all to please resteem this post along with stories written by your peers! Anything to get the word out! Once the contest has risen back to it’s former glory then I’ll roll out the spinoff series.

This week’s story image was inspired by all things strange and unusual. Recently I watched a documentary on H.P. Lovecraft titled, “Lovecraft: Fear of the Unknown” and I find myself still thinking about it. I’ve included the link to the full movie below.

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The progress...

_{All my drawings are original sketches drawn digitally by me on the Procreate App using the iPad Pro with Apple Pencil.}

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On a textured paper layer I began sketching a skull with a pencil tool.

Then I began to shade the skull with a blood orange color using a watercolor brush that I imported from a Procreate forum.

I layered yellow on top of the orange to diffuse the color.

Then a green hue for darker shadows.

Next, a sketchy inked hand.

The same warm toned palette to color in the palm and fingers.

Then a darker color for shadows before finishing with a cloud of grey to the background to tie the two images together.

I know this week’s prompt is pretty dark but I hope everyone still has fun with it!

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Prizes:

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1st // 5 STEEM
2nd // 3 STEEM
3rd // 1 STEEM

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Contest Rules:

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• Upvote & Resteem this post.
• Create a separate post with your one paragraph stories.
• Maximum length 300 words. (I’ll be monitoring this closely!)
• Use the #foxtales tag.
• Usage of the current story image in your post is optional.
• Submit your post in the comment section below. (I’ll sharing links to the stories submitted this way in the following Fox Tales announcement post!)
• Maximum of 3 entries (only one story per person will qualify for a portion of the prize pool each week.)
• Deadline is this post’s payout.

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WEEK #30 WINNERS & STORIES!

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1st place // @calluna “She Takes so Long to Dress.”

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_{The eyes she had caught in the mirror were gone. Once she was dressed, the hollows, ribboned in heartache, strands of lonely blue, would not look back at her. The puffy, worn skin, wiped clean of rough crystal tears, would remain, but the sore edges would crinkle in a smile. Her last alarm had gone off, and reluctantly raising her head from the damp pillow, she had dried her cheeks, telling herself she'd feel better if she just got dressed. She hadn't tempted fate with makeup, she could already feel the flimsiness of the resolve that needed to hold her up for the next sixteen hours. Cold air prickled the soft fuzz of her midriff, as she lingered a moment longer, pulling on her jumper. She let the velour fabric drop over her head, the shapeless form caressing her skin as it sank over her, trying to convince herself this was working. Faded gingham pyjama bottoms waited in a heap on the floor. She had to sit on the bed to put them on, barely trusting her legs to support her individually. The weakness had spread through her bones, eating away at her from the inside. She lay on her back, lifting her hips into the familiar comfort of well worn clothes. The small shreds of brave hope she had gathered together like autumn leaves, shifted. A stray thought turned inward sweeping into a gust, scattering the resolve from beneath her. She swallowed, the return of tears blurring her vision. The dark, swaddling embrace of the blanket called out to her. The urge to give in, to crumble back into bed, dug it's sharp hooks into her. Staring up at the ceiling, into the endless depth of white, she began to count down from ten, delaying facing the world precious moments longer.}

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2nd place // @oscarina “Una historia sin final feliz....”

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_{Ella era una joven inteligente, una de las estudiantes más sobresalientes de la escuela de letras. La clase de ese profesor le fascinaba: él sabía transmitir interés y pasión por el arte de escribir, de hecho, era un reconocido novelista; ella había leído todas sus obras… No se podía negar que a pesar de ser un hombre maduro, se conservaba muy bien, de aspecto atlético, alto, de cabello canoso, con un bronceado que hacía que sus ojos claros resaltaran más. Inicialmente era simple admiración por sus obras, ella estaba “enamorada” de cada protagonista masculino de sus novelas, los imaginaba con el físico y porte de su creador. Al enterarse que lo conocería personalmente no podía creerlo y cuando llegó el día actuó como tonta durante toda la clase; el hombre lo notó enseguida, era un seductor experimentado y sabia cuando despertaba admiración o “bajas pasiones” en las mujeres. Así saltó de un “amor platónico” por el autor de aquellas novelas cargadas de pasión, amor, desengaños y tantas otras emociones, a una “atracción fatal” por aquel hombre que podía ser su padre; y de repente se encontró envuelta en aquella enfermiza relación, a aquel sujeto no le interesaba para nada compartir su interés literario, aspiraciones o sueños, solo disfrutaba del sexo, no había nada más en común; él era el REY y ella se había convertido en su bufón, con el que se divertía y nada más... Estaba consciente de ello; su “protagonista de novela” no era sino un vil manipulador, un patán… Y mientras el dormía a su lado, ella reflexionaba sobre lo que estaba haciendo¿Tan poco se valoraba?¿Iba a continuar anulándose de esa manera?¿Permitiría que la siguiera usando? Se levantó abruptamente, se vistió y miró por última vez a aquel hombre y llorando salió corriendo de aquella habitación…}

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3rd place // @chinyerevivian “Holding On”

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_{It was only a routine. At least that was what it had become. Everyday she would wake, shower and dress. It was hard the first few weeks. She would cry herself to sleep after each episode. But as time passed, she had discovered there wasn’t a time for tears. She began to see it as a job. They had given her a room after her first month. She was lucky according to the other girls. They usually kept three or four girls in one room. The space was tiny and empty save for the narrow bed by the side and a mirror hung loosely on the wall. The peeling paint and the open ceiling were the only decorations. She never allowed herself to think about it. She didn’t own anything anyway. They provided a dress for her each day. Time after time, halfway through getting dressed, she would pause and think about choking herself to death with the clothes, or making a rope with it. The decaying woods of the ceiling would serve as a perfect executioner. She had stared hard at the tiny razor blade in her hands while she was shaving the other day, imagining how swift and dull the pain would be. But she had remembered, just like every other time, her three year old son, the reason she had agreed to this life in the first place, the one person she loved and had to keep providing for, and like every other time, the thought had stopped her as well. She would continue to provide physical satisfaction for both men and women alike, and moan in fake ecstasy for their pleasure, till her son became old enough to care for himself.}

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Thanks so much to all the writers who participated!

_{⬇️ Please take the time to visit the links to their stories below!⬇️}

_{Writers listed in alphabetical order.}

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“She Takes so Long to Dress.” “First. “ “Magic in the Stitches.” 

@calluna

“Holding On” 

@chinyerevivian

“Una historia sin final feliz...” 

@oscarina

“Stuck” 

@seesladen

“Noir or not?” 

@theironfelix

“SHOCK” 

@vasigo

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Thanks for stopping by and good luck to those who decide to participate!
Do you have any questions? 🦊

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Check out some of the previous #foxtales posts!

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_{Fox Tales #30} 

_{Fox Tales #29} 

_{Fox Tales #28} 

_{Fox Tales #27} 

_{Fox Tales #26}