I WON A CONTEST!!!111!!!!!1!!1!!! (*feels so obnoxious and doesn't care*)

I wanted to post about this as soon as I found out, but I had to leave for work. I just got home, and I know many of you already follow Sarah at Falen Formulates Fiction http://falenformulatesfiction.blogspot.com/

...and already know BUT those of you who don't... I WON A WRITING CONTEST!!!1!!1! It's amazing. I never win anything. Even my Cracker Jack boxes are empty of prizes.

Here's my entry. Be sure and go to Sarah's page to read the other entries if you're not already following her.

We were to choose between six prompts:

•After 3 weeks, a lost dog returns home to its master carrying an unidentifiable bone in its mouth

•After waking from a coma, a woman discovers she can smell fear

•When a crackpot inventor is killed by one of his contraptions his brother - also an inventor - finds himself compelled to finish the work

•A man discovers a large sum of money in his wallet and can't remember where it came from

•Use the quote "I pray every day that it will stop, but it keeps getting worse."

•After a violent thunderstorm a man discovers a rain-soaked diary among the debris in his yard

.....and because I'm ME and can never decide on anything (it's torture for others to watch me choose a candy bar at the gas station) I was inspired to test myself and incorporate all of the prompts. My idecision has been labelled genius.

I'll take it.

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Untitled Because I Was Too Daft To Remember to Title It

The first crack of thunder of a Texas storm is a sure sign to unplug everything promptly. Lightning around here seems to aim for electrical poles instead of lonely trees in fields. One of Murphy's laws, whoever he is. I'm pretty sure he should be impeached or something, though. I hate his rules.

The storm that blew in at dusk raged until dawn, and when I left for work I found my dog had run off. Never a brave soul, I named him Spike to give him some confidence. So far it hadn't worked out so well. I called his name for several minutes, then gave up.

Next to my car's tire was a soaked book I'd never seen before. Curious, but running late, I tossed it onto the floorboard to scope out at a later time.

I'd no sooner closed my car door and started the engine when a rapid tapping on my window startled me. I rolled down the window and gave my neighbor a vague smile. He always unsettled me with his nervous fidgets and darting eyes. It did not help that he was gaunt with long black hair that always hung in his face, obscuring his features.

"Quoth the raven," I said with a smile.

"What?"

"A gentle tapping at my… nevermind." The man never understood my humor. "What d'you need, Ray?"

He arched a brow at me, seemingly annoyed. Perhaps he knew I thought explaining a joke would be futile in his case. "Did you see anything…odd last night?"

"I don’t watch American Idol."

Ray frowned deeply at me, so I tried again. "No, I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Why? Your dog run off, too?"

He didn't own a dog. I knew this, but it was my way of letting him know Spike'd gone missing and he should keep a lookout.

"Not yet," he replied, which I thought was odd. Perhaps he was trying to be as funny as me. He shouldn't do that. It's like trying to fly a plane after watching the pilot. Only not as dangerous.

He glanced down the street nervously, then scurried off without another word. Chocking it up to him just being the local crazy inventor, I rolled up my window and proceeded down my driveway.

As I checked to make sure the coast was clear to enter the street, I saw Ray at his truck with rope, tying something down in the bed. Curious to a fault, I pulled up at the curb and rolled down my passenger window.

"What's that thing?" It was a metal box with knobs and switches. It almost looked like a giant toaster that'd been steam punked.

"Nothing. Something my brother made."

Right. The dead one. I didn't want to bring up touchy subjects.

"Oh. Well, good luck with it." It was a lame dismissal, but I had to get to work.

I pulled into the nearest coffee drive thru and ordered a hot java, but when I whipped out my wallet to pay for it, all I had was one hundred dollar bills. These paper items did not belong in my wallet. In fact, it was at least three month's wages. I knew I'd had nothing to do with them materializing in my wallet. I paid for the coffee with my debit card.

I wanted to go home and back to bed. It was a strange day already, and I'd not gotten to work yet. When I got to the office, I took the wet book inside with me. I put it under my office fan to dry it out some.

"I pray every day that it will stop, but it keeps getting worse," said my boss behind me.

"I know I'm late again, but my dog ran off," I said. "I'll get better, promise."
She gave me a disbelieving look and walked away.

I peeled open the damp book to discover it was a diary.

Ever since I woke, I smell the fear of others. I wish I'd just slept until I died. I'm so tired of feeling like a freak…

Entry after entry was like that. A woman had developed the olfactory abilities of a canine upon waking from a coma. Weird. Or she was crazy.

Three weeks passed, and I'd given up on Spike. When he did come home, he had a long, strange bone in his mouth. I decided his name had given him confidence after all. I renamed him Spike the Buffy Slayer.

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Tahereh's also got a contest at: http://stiryourtea.blogspot.com/2010/03/contest-that-cracked-earth-in-two.html which rocks my socks and jams my brain. I can't rhyme for shit.