Ended BYC Writing Prompts! A Short Story Contest

[Kingbobkingdom]

Entry 1:
Prompt: Ocean, Humorous
Title: The Adventures of a Crab: Octopus Attack and a Very Interesting Item

“Today is the day I venture out into the world!” A crab announced to his tide pool. Sea stars, urchins, and anemones waved in the rippling water. He stared at the silent creatures. Perhaps they are bidding me a safe journey… He thought. “Oh well, adieu, fellow creatures, adieu!” It was about time he scuttled out of this puddle.

The crab took a big breath and surfaced from the water. As long as his gills kept moist, he could stay up on land. He looked around him: the sun was shining brightly, no clouds in the sky, and a rocky beach dotted with tide pools. Perfect! I shall visit another tide pool first! He scampered across some small stones.

Shadows flitted above him. Pistachio shuddered and ran under a rock. Seagulls, must be careful…

He gently crawled out and scooted into the tidepool that he was heading towards. It was nice to be in the water again, where he could breathe freely. Suddenly, he saw movement by a rock wall.

What was that? Pistachio looked around him. His tiny eyes caught sight of an oddly shaped piece of coral. A very thin strand of coral. Coral in a tide pool? He followed the strand down where it widened… and widened. The coral melted into a huge colorful blob. Pistachio’s eyes narrowed.

A bubble popped from the side of the blob.

… That’s not a coral… that’s… that’s an… OCTOPUS!!! RUN!! OCTOPUS!!!

A swarm of bubbles erupted from Pistachio. He scrambled toward the edge of the tide pool. One eye twitched back. The blob had disappeared…

…The blob has disappeared... …THE BLOB HAS DISAPPEARED!! RUN!!!

The crab took a giant breath and scurried out of the water. He tripped over rocks and puddles in a frenzy. A long slimy arm smacked the stone next to him. He needn’t think more.

AHH! OCTOPUS!! OCTOPUS!!

With a burst of momentum from his jointed legs, Pistachio catapulted himself off the ledge of a high rock.

SPLASH! Foam exploded around him. He was in another tide pool.

“Pardon me! Pardon me!” He scuttled over clams and sea stars, which darted away at the approach of the octopus. Pistachio arrived at a field of urchins. “Ouch! Ow! Ah!” He sped over them with marvelous speed and dexterity. “Pardon me! Ouch!”

He rushed up through the water onto dry land. Looking around, he spotted the octopus lunging toward him, all eight legs tumbling around like soggy noodles. It had taken the short cut.

RUN PISTACHIO RUN!! His little crab mind roared. The crab dashed to and fro between the rocks, the octopus in close pursuit. His legs slipped and slid on splotches of moss. He tripped on loose rocks. The octopus slithered rapidly, following him. Before him, he saw a flash of blue. Yes, yes, yes!! Another tide pool!!!

Into the water he plunged and desperately swam toward the bottom. A shockwave behind him propelled him toward the other side of the pool, sending whirling eddies of sand everywhere. Pistachio heaved another breath and emerged from the water.

He scuttled with all his might across the beach. Into a tide pool he would go, and then he would surface from it. Again, he dove, while the persistent mass of fury constantly reminded him that he was a hunted little crab.

Humans also inhabited the shoreline. “Mama, look!” A child squealed. “A crab and an octopus are running in and out of the water!”

I CAN’T BREATHE!!! Pistachio’s mind squeaked. NEED WATER!!! AHHH!!

He scampered wildly around, searching for tidepool, puddle, ANYTHING!!!

His gills, rock dry, were going to burst!

Not looking at where he was going, Pistachio promptly tripped on a shell and plunged into water. He fled to the safety of the jagged sides of a boulder…

Nothing came.

… Nothing came!... PRAISE THE LORD, NOTHING CAME!!!

If crabs could cry, Pistachio would have done it. Nothing is more terrifying than a hungry octopus chasing you. Nothing’s coming! Nothing’s coming! He panted. Hallelujah!

“Ahoy, there, mate!” Someone thundered near Pistachio. “What are you doing?”

Pistachio whipped around, only to set his gaze upon a small hermit crab about the size of himself. “Uh, I was just… it’s a long story.”

“No problem, mate! My name’s Castor! I’m 5 years old!” He announced with some pride.

“Hi, my name is Pistachio. I’m a crab.” Said the crab.

“Can you help me, Pistachio, I need help identifying something?”

“Ok, sure.”

The hermit crab led Pistachio to another part of the tide pool, where a lanky tan featherless bird rested in the shallow water.

“Here it is, sonny! One day, I was just attaching a sea urchin to my shell, and this thing dropped down out of nowhere! I thought I was torpedoed!” Hollered the hermit crab.

Pistachio studied the thing. Its upper torso was pink, and half of its lower part was orange. The featherless bird had large brown eyes. On the top of its head was a giant, helmet-like mass of brown – but neither the crab nor hermit crab understood the concept of hair. Pistachio touched it. It was soft and plush. There was a large red circle on one of the limbs. The crab pushed it. “Hol... soy Dora…!!” The thing gargled and then the sound died out.

“I have no idea what it is!” Said Pistachio.

“No problem! Well, see you later, mate! The tide is coming up!” Bellowed the hermit crab; and with that, he scurried away.

Oh! The tide is coming up! The little crab thought. It’s about time I get back to my own tide pool.

And so, Pistachio the crab returned to his home, satisfied with adventure.

 

[Anime2lover]

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BYC Writing Prompts! A Short Story Contest
Ends May 28th, 2023
​

Have you ever envisioned a storyline, but never been able to write it down? Have you ever had the urge to put to words a plot scene or to give an awesome character the perfect backstory they deserve? Well, now you can!

The Process:

• Write your short story based on the genre of a prompt of your choosing. Here are some suggestions:
  • poultry, western, fantasy, mythology, adventure, comedy, mystery, thriller, nonfiction, fanfic, sci-fi, fairytale, recount, crime, historical, cyberpunk, utopia, dystopia, survival, pirate, drama, apocalyptic, robots, dragons animals, birds, medieval
• Write your short story based on the prompt of your choosing.
• You can use another site for writing, then copy and paste your story and post it as your first, second, third, or fourth entry here on this thread.
• Include the prompt & the title of your story at the top of your post.
• Limit your story to 1,000 words (we don’t want to tire out the judges).
• Make sure your story is clearly worded with proper spelling & grammar. Read your story carefully to ensure you haven’t made any errors.
• One member can post up to four Short Stories! One story per post, please.

Prizes

Place	Prize
1st	$30 BYC Store Gift Certificate, or a 6-month PFM ($35 value) for themselves or a friend.
2nd	$15 BYC Store Gift Certificate, or a 3-month PFM ($20 value) for themselves or a friend.
3rd	1-month PFM for themselves or a friend.

BYC Store Gift Certificates are available to winners that reside in the United States. If the winners are outside of the United States, they will be awarded a PFM instead.

Rules:

1. All stories must be written by you. NO copyrighted content or plagiarism is allowed!
2. Four entries per member. An entry is *one* story.
3. Proper spelling and grammar count.
4. Include the prompt & the title of your story at the top of your post.
5. All stories must have at least 200 words. We know we can get carried away with the stories too, so please keep the maximum amount of words at 1,000.
6. Illustrations and pictures are allowed as long as they were taken/made by you.
7. Please spell-check and grammar-check your stories. We won’t just be judging the quality of the story, but also the grammar.
8. Copying and pasting your writings from another site is allowed.
9. Your story doesn’t have to be a new work, as we know most stories would certainly exceed our set word count. Your entry can be a section or two from an already complete work of your own writing.
10. All content should be rated G and suitable for all ages.
11. ALL stories & pictures MUST be uploaded to BYC and not hosted on other image sites, personal websites, etc.
12. Prizes are limited to one per person per contest.
13. All BYC rules apply: Terms of Service (Rules)
14. Entries will be accepted until May 28th, 2023, at 11:59 PM Pacific Time.

Sample Entry:

Prompt: Poultry
Title: The Rooster's Song

The rooster had always been criticized for his crowing. The other animals on the farm claimed that his voice was too loud, too shrill, and too obnoxious. They tried to ignore it or even drown it out with their own far quieter songs.

But the rooster refused to give up. Every morning, he woke up with the sun, standing on the highest perch he could find, and crowing as loudly as he could. His song was filled with passion and hope, joy and optimism. He sang of the new day that lay before them, the bountiful harvest that awaited them, and the endless possibilities they could achieve.

At first, the other animals tried to ignore him, but slowly, they began to listen. They heard the rooster's words, and they felt a sense of hope swell within their hearts. They realized that the rooster's song was not obnoxious, but rather inspiring.

And so, they began to join in. The cows lowed, the pigs grunted, and even the mice squeaked in tune with the rooster's song. They harmonized together, creating a beautiful melody that rang out through the farm.

And so, the rooster's crowing was no longer a source of criticism but rather a source of inspiration. It had united the animals and brought them together, and they knew that as long as they had the rooster's song, they could overcome any challenges that lay ahead.

I have an idea or two. Will write them down then get back to you.

 

[Boppo]

Prompt: Poultry
Title: Chicken Stories
The tree hums low and slow. It stretches up to the sun, and out through the soil. It lives on the scale of centuries.

The grass trills high and quick. It also stretches up to the sun and out through the soil. It lives at a faster pace, rising and dying in a single season.

While the tree has its head in the sky, waving its arms toward the clouds, the grass moves like a low wave, a colonial creature that ruffles with the wind. The grass does not know much about the tree – it is a shadow against the sky. The tree does not know much about the grass, either.

But in between the grass and the tree flit creatures that move much faster than either trees or grass. They know at least some about both the grass and the tree. The grass noticed them first. It took the trees much longer because they are just that way.

A robin flew down to the grass and flipped over a few dead leaves, looking for some tasty worms or beetles. The grass was so surprised to notice this creature that it was gone almost before the grass could take it in. The grass was used to the slow massage of earthworms and the tickles of the roly poly bugs. But it had never known there were creatures that could zip down, and then zip away again.

To the grass, and the worms and roly polies, the sky was just a myth, a blank brightness above that dimmed and brightened in mysterious patterns. Creatures that reached up into that brightness just seemed to disappear in a most mysterious fashion. It was as if they popped into being and then popped back out. Each time the robin came, it seemed to the grass like a new robin.

Then came three little hens. The grass really got to know them. The chickens were fond of the grass, and liked to take a little leaf now and then. They mostly liked to scratch around in the dirt and leaves to see if they could find worms or beetles – much like the robin. But the chickens stayed around the grass much longer, so the grass felt it got to know them much better, and it could see they were the same creatures all day long, and even day after day.

The chickens sometimes just enjoyed sitting on the grass, when the sun shone. They would just lie there and cluck gently or be silent. The grass was just amazed at how these beings came and went, and sometimes stayed a while. They didn’t pop up into that strange blankness of the sky, but would promenade in a little line off to a new section of grass or into their mysterious pen. Sometimes, one hen would choose a pebble and swallow it! Was the chicken becoming like the grass that swallowed stones in its own way? Once in a while, the hens would sort of flutter and scramble along at a much faster pace, but they stayed close to the grass, rather than disappearing. The grass appreciated this.

The chickens crooned and clucked and peeped stories all day long for the grass, which just loved hearing it all. News of a world the grass could never see! The chickens would tell the grass all about the sky, and the sun, and shade. They talked about their pen, which was very mysterious to the grass, and about the delicious food they got there.

The tree had not noticed the chickens yet. They so far had stayed down around the roots, and just didn’t stick around long enough for a tree to notice them. But one night, first one chicken, and then the others, flew up into the branches of the tree. They roosted there all night. The tree began to notice these large birds then. It had hosted robin and other bird nests before. But these birds did not build nests in the tree. They just came to sleep. How strange!

The chickens lived between the grass and the tree for a long time. It seemed to the grass that chickens had always been there. The tree remembered better, but enjoyed having the chickens for company. The chickens got used to the grass and the tree. They would tell the grass all about the tree. And at night they told the tree all about the grass, and the little creatures they had found there all during the day. The tree became very fond of these feathery visitors. They came all year long, not just when it was nesting time. They always had stories to tell, though they were mostly about tasty leaves, worms and roly polies. These birds did not peck holes in the tree looking for more bugs, which the tree appreciated.

One day, the grass noticed there were only 2 chickens visiting. The tree never did notice the difference. Trees are not very good at math.

After some time, though the missing chicken came back, bringing a bunch of little fuzzy fluffballs. These began to learn how to scratch and peck around the grass, and the grass slowly realized that these were also a kind of chicken. By the end of that summer, all the fluffballs were looking more like the other chickens, and suddenly, they began flying up into the tree.

The tree did not notice the difference. Trees are not very good at math. But it did enjoy the stories.

 

[Amer]

Prompt: Poultry
Title: Chicken Stories
The tree hums low and slow. It stretches up to the sun, and out through the soil. It lives on the scale of centuries.

The grass trills high and quick. It also stretches up to the sun and out through the soil. It lives at a faster pace, rising and dying in a single season.

While the tree has its head in the sky, waving its arms toward the clouds, the grass moves like a low wave, a colonial creature that ruffles with the wind. The grass does not know much about the tree – it is a shadow against the sky. The tree does not know much about the grass, either.

But in between the grass and the tree flit creatures that move much faster than either trees or grass. They know at least some about both the grass and the tree. The grass noticed them first. It took the trees much longer because they are just that way.

A robin flew down to the grass and flipped over a few dead leaves, looking for some tasty worms or beetles. The grass was so surprised to notice this creature that it was gone almost before the grass could take it in. The grass was used to the slow massage of earthworms and the tickles of the roly poly bugs. But it had never known there were creatures that could zip down, and then zip away again.

To the grass, and the worms and roly polies, the sky was just a myth, a blank brightness above that dimmed and brightened in mysterious patterns. Creatures that reached up into that brightness just seemed to disappear in a most mysterious fashion. It was as if they popped into being and then popped back out. Each time the robin came, it seemed to the grass like a new robin.

Then came three little hens. The grass really got to know them. The chickens were fond of the grass, and liked to take a little leaf now and then. They mostly liked to scratch around in the dirt and leaves to see if they could find worms or beetles – much like the robin. But the chickens stayed around the grass much longer, so the grass felt it got to know them much better, and it could see they were the same creatures all day long, and even day after day.

The chickens sometimes just enjoyed sitting on the grass, when the sun shone. They would just lie there and cluck gently or be silent. The grass was just amazed at how these beings came and went, and sometimes stayed a while. They didn’t pop up into that strange blankness of the sky, but would promenade in a little line off to a new section of grass or into their mysterious pen. Sometimes, one hen would choose a pebble and swallow it! Was the chicken becoming like the grass that swallowed stones in its own way? Once in a while, the hens would sort of flutter and scramble along at a much faster pace, but they stayed close to the grass, rather than disappearing. The grass appreciated this.

The chickens crooned and clucked and peeped stories all day long for the grass, which just loved hearing it all. News of a world the grass could never see! The chickens would tell the grass all about the sky, and the sun, and shade. They talked about their pen, which was very mysterious to the grass, and about the delicious food they got there.

The tree had not noticed the chickens yet. They so far had stayed down around the roots, and just didn’t stick around long enough for a tree to notice them. But one night, first one chicken, and then the others, flew up into the branches of the tree. They roosted there all night. The tree began to notice these large birds then. It had hosted robin and other bird nests before. But these birds did not build nests in the tree. They just came to sleep. How strange!

The chickens lived between the grass and the tree for a long time. It seemed to the grass that chickens had always been there. The tree remembered better, but enjoyed having the chickens for company. The chickens got used to the grass and the tree. They would tell the grass all about the tree. And at night they told the tree all about the grass, and the little creatures they had found there all during the day. The tree became very fond of these feathery visitors. They came all year long, not just when it was nesting time. They always had stories to tell, though they were mostly about tasty leaves, worms and roly polies. These birds did not peck holes in the tree looking for more bugs, which the tree appreciated.

One day, the grass noticed there were only 2 chickens visiting. The tree never did notice the difference. Trees are not very good at math.

After some time, though the missing chicken came back, bringing a bunch of little fuzzy fluffballs. These began to learn how to scratch and peck around the grass, and the grass slowly realized that these were also a kind of chicken. By the end of that summer, all the fluffballs were looking more like the other chickens, and suddenly, they began flying up into the tree.

The tree did not notice the difference. Trees are not very good at math. But it did enjoy the stories.

I never thought I would be so interested in a story about grass.

 

[TwoCrows]

Entry 1:
Prompt: Ocean, Humorous
Title: The Adventures of a Crab: Octopus Attack and a Very Interesting Item

“Today is the day I venture out into the world!” A crab announced to his tide pool. Sea stars, urchins, and anemones waved in the rippling water. He stared at the silent creatures. Perhaps they are bidding me a safe journey… He thought. “Oh well, adieu, fellow creatures, adieu!” It was about time he scuttled out of this puddle.

The crab took a big breath and surfaced from the water. As long as his gills kept moist, he could stay up on land. He looked around him: the sun was shining brightly, no clouds in the sky, and a rocky beach dotted with tide pools. Perfect! I shall visit another tide pool first! He scampered across some small stones.

Shadows flitted above him. Pistachio shuddered and ran under a rock. Seagulls, must be careful…

He gently crawled out and scooted into the tidepool that he was heading towards. It was nice to be in the water again, where he could breathe freely. Suddenly, he saw movement by a rock wall.

What was that? Pistachio looked around him. His tiny eyes caught sight of an oddly shaped piece of coral. A very thin strand of coral. Coral in a tide pool? He followed the strand down where it widened… and widened. The coral melted into a huge colorful blob. Pistachio’s eyes narrowed.

A bubble popped from the side of the blob.

… That’s not a coral… that’s… that’s an… OCTOPUS!!! RUN!! OCTOPUS!!!

A swarm of bubbles erupted from Pistachio. He scrambled toward the edge of the tide pool. One eye twitched back. The blob had disappeared…

…The blob has disappeared... …THE BLOB HAS DISAPPEARED!! RUN!!!

The crab took a giant breath and scurried out of the water. He tripped over rocks and puddles in a frenzy. A long slimy arm smacked the stone next to him. He needn’t think more.

AHH! OCTOPUS!! OCTOPUS!!

With a burst of momentum from his jointed legs, Pistachio catapulted himself off the ledge of a high rock.

SPLASH! Foam exploded around him. He was in another tide pool.

“Pardon me! Pardon me!” He scuttled over clams and sea stars, which darted away at the approach of the octopus. Pistachio arrived at a field of urchins. “Ouch! Ow! Ah!” He sped over them with marvelous speed and dexterity. “Pardon me! Ouch!”

He rushed up through the water onto dry land. Looking around, he spotted the octopus lunging toward him, all eight legs tumbling around like soggy noodles. It had taken the short cut.

RUN PISTACHIO RUN!! His little crab mind roared. The crab dashed to and fro between the rocks, the octopus in close pursuit. His legs slipped and slid on splotches of moss. He tripped on loose rocks. The octopus slithered rapidly, following him. Before him, he saw a flash of blue. Yes, yes, yes!! Another tide pool!!!

Into the water he plunged and desperately swam toward the bottom. A shockwave behind him propelled him toward the other side of the pool, sending whirling eddies of sand everywhere. Pistachio heaved another breath and emerged from the water.

He scuttled with all his might across the beach. Into a tide pool he would go, and then he would surface from it. Again, he dove, while the persistent mass of fury constantly reminded him that he was a hunted little crab.

Humans also inhabited the shoreline. “Mama, look!” A child squealed. “A crab and an octopus are running in and out of the water!”

I CAN’T BREATHE!!! Pistachio’s mind squeaked. NEED WATER!!! AHHH!!

He scampered wildly around, searching for tidepool, puddle, ANYTHING!!!

His gills, rock dry, were going to burst!

Not looking at where he was going, Pistachio promptly tripped on a shell and plunged into water. He fled to the safety of the jagged sides of a boulder…

Nothing came.

… Nothing came!... PRAISE THE LORD, NOTHING CAME!!!

If crabs could cry, Pistachio would have done it. Nothing is more terrifying than a hungry octopus chasing you. Nothing’s coming! Nothing’s coming! He panted. Hallelujah!

“Ahoy, there, mate!” Someone thundered near Pistachio. “What are you doing?”

Pistachio whipped around, only to set his gaze upon a small hermit crab about the size of himself. “Uh, I was just… it’s a long story.”

“No problem, mate! My name’s Castor! I’m 5 years old!” He announced with some pride.

“Hi, my name is Pistachio. I’m a crab.” Said the crab.

“Can you help me, Pistachio, I need help identifying something?”

“Ok, sure.”

The hermit crab led Pistachio to another part of the tide pool, where a lanky tan featherless bird rested in the shallow water.

“Here it is, sonny! One day, I was just attaching a sea urchin to my shell, and this thing dropped down out of nowhere! I thought I was torpedoed!” Hollered the hermit crab. Pistachio studied the thing. Its upper torso was pink, and half of its lower part was orange. The featherless bird had large brown eyes. On the top of its head was a giant, helmet-like mass of brown – but neither the crab nor hermit crab understood the concept of hair. Pistachio touched it. It was soft and plush. There was a large red circle on one of the limbs. The crab pushed it. “Hol… is Dor…!!” The thing gargled and then the sound died out.

“I have no idea what it is!” Said Pistachio.

“No problem! Well, see you later, mate! The tide is coming up!” Bellowed the hermit crab; and with that, he scurried away.

Oh! The tide is coming up! The little crab thought. It’s about time I get back to my own tide pool.

And so, Pistachio the crab returned to his home, satisfied with adventure.

Love this, I was on the edge of my seat!

 

[TwoCrows]

Prompt: Poultry
Title: Chicken Stories
The tree hums low and slow. It stretches up to the sun, and out through the soil. It lives on the scale of centuries.

The grass trills high and quick. It also stretches up to the sun and out through the soil. It lives at a faster pace, rising and dying in a single season.

While the tree has its head in the sky, waving its arms toward the clouds, the grass moves like a low wave, a colonial creature that ruffles with the wind. The grass does not know much about the tree – it is a shadow against the sky. The tree does not know much about the grass, either.

But in between the grass and the tree flit creatures that move much faster than either trees or grass. They know at least some about both the grass and the tree. The grass noticed them first. It took the trees much longer because they are just that way.

A robin flew down to the grass and flipped over a few dead leaves, looking for some tasty worms or beetles. The grass was so surprised to notice this creature that it was gone almost before the grass could take it in. The grass was used to the slow massage of earthworms and the tickles of the roly poly bugs. But it had never known there were creatures that could zip down, and then zip away again.

To the grass, and the worms and roly polies, the sky was just a myth, a blank brightness above that dimmed and brightened in mysterious patterns. Creatures that reached up into that brightness just seemed to disappear in a most mysterious fashion. It was as if they popped into being and then popped back out. Each time the robin came, it seemed to the grass like a new robin.

Then came three little hens. The grass really got to know them. The chickens were fond of the grass, and liked to take a little leaf now and then. They mostly liked to scratch around in the dirt and leaves to see if they could find worms or beetles – much like the robin. But the chickens stayed around the grass much longer, so the grass felt it got to know them much better, and it could see they were the same creatures all day long, and even day after day.

The chickens sometimes just enjoyed sitting on the grass, when the sun shone. They would just lie there and cluck gently or be silent. The grass was just amazed at how these beings came and went, and sometimes stayed a while. They didn’t pop up into that strange blankness of the sky, but would promenade in a little line off to a new section of grass or into their mysterious pen. Sometimes, one hen would choose a pebble and swallow it! Was the chicken becoming like the grass that swallowed stones in its own way? Once in a while, the hens would sort of flutter and scramble along at a much faster pace, but they stayed close to the grass, rather than disappearing. The grass appreciated this.

The chickens crooned and clucked and peeped stories all day long for the grass, which just loved hearing it all. News of a world the grass could never see! The chickens would tell the grass all about the sky, and the sun, and shade. They talked about their pen, which was very mysterious to the grass, and about the delicious food they got there.

The tree had not noticed the chickens yet. They so far had stayed down around the roots, and just didn’t stick around long enough for a tree to notice them. But one night, first one chicken, and then the others, flew up into the branches of the tree. They roosted there all night. The tree began to notice these large birds then. It had hosted robin and other bird nests before. But these birds did not build nests in the tree. They just came to sleep. How strange!

The chickens lived between the grass and the tree for a long time. It seemed to the grass that chickens had always been there. The tree remembered better, but enjoyed having the chickens for company. The chickens got used to the grass and the tree. They would tell the grass all about the tree. And at night they told the tree all about the grass, and the little creatures they had found there all during the day. The tree became very fond of these feathery visitors. They came all year long, not just when it was nesting time. They always had stories to tell, though they were mostly about tasty leaves, worms and roly polies. These birds did not peck holes in the tree looking for more bugs, which the tree appreciated.

One day, the grass noticed there were only 2 chickens visiting. The tree never did notice the difference. Trees are not very good at math.

After some time, though the missing chicken came back, bringing a bunch of little fuzzy fluffballs. These began to learn how to scratch and peck around the grass, and the grass slowly realized that these were also a kind of chicken. By the end of that summer, all the fluffballs were looking more like the other chickens, and suddenly, they began flying up into the tree.

The tree did not notice the difference. Trees are not very good at math. But it did enjoy the stories.

I would give this 2 s if I could!

 

[LhickenChicken]

I would give this 2 s if I could!

I second that!
I never knew I would be so interested in a story about grass, trees, robins, chickens, and math.

 

[LhickenChicken]

Entry 1:
Prompt: Ocean, Humorous
Title: The Adventures of a Crab: Octopus Attack and a Very Interesting Item

“Today is the day I venture out into the world!” A crab announced to his tide pool. Sea stars, urchins, and anemones waved in the rippling water. He stared at the silent creatures. Perhaps they are bidding me a safe journey… He thought. “Oh well, adieu, fellow creatures, adieu!” It was about time he scuttled out of this puddle.

The crab took a big breath and surfaced from the water. As long as his gills kept moist, he could stay up on land. He looked around him: the sun was shining brightly, no clouds in the sky, and a rocky beach dotted with tide pools. Perfect! I shall visit another tide pool first! He scampered across some small stones.

Shadows flitted above him. Pistachio shuddered and ran under a rock. Seagulls, must be careful…

He gently crawled out and scooted into the tidepool that he was heading towards. It was nice to be in the water again, where he could breathe freely. Suddenly, he saw movement by a rock wall.

What was that? Pistachio looked around him. His tiny eyes caught sight of an oddly shaped piece of coral. A very thin strand of coral. Coral in a tide pool? He followed the strand down where it widened… and widened. The coral melted into a huge colorful blob. Pistachio’s eyes narrowed.

A bubble popped from the side of the blob.

… That’s not a coral… that’s… that’s an… OCTOPUS!!! RUN!! OCTOPUS!!!

A swarm of bubbles erupted from Pistachio. He scrambled toward the edge of the tide pool. One eye twitched back. The blob had disappeared…

…The blob has disappeared... …THE BLOB HAS DISAPPEARED!! RUN!!!

The crab took a giant breath and scurried out of the water. He tripped over rocks and puddles in a frenzy. A long slimy arm smacked the stone next to him. He needn’t think more.

AHH! OCTOPUS!! OCTOPUS!!

With a burst of momentum from his jointed legs, Pistachio catapulted himself off the ledge of a high rock.

SPLASH! Foam exploded around him. He was in another tide pool.

“Pardon me! Pardon me!” He scuttled over clams and sea stars, which darted away at the approach of the octopus. Pistachio arrived at a field of urchins. “Ouch! Ow! Ah!” He sped over them with marvelous speed and dexterity. “Pardon me! Ouch!”

He rushed up through the water onto dry land. Looking around, he spotted the octopus lunging toward him, all eight legs tumbling around like soggy noodles. It had taken the short cut.

RUN PISTACHIO RUN!! His little crab mind roared. The crab dashed to and fro between the rocks, the octopus in close pursuit. His legs slipped and slid on splotches of moss. He tripped on loose rocks. The octopus slithered rapidly, following him. Before him, he saw a flash of blue. Yes, yes, yes!! Another tide pool!!!

Into the water he plunged and desperately swam toward the bottom. A shockwave behind him propelled him toward the other side of the pool, sending whirling eddies of sand everywhere. Pistachio heaved another breath and emerged from the water.

He scuttled with all his might across the beach. Into a tide pool he would go, and then he would surface from it. Again, he dove, while the persistent mass of fury constantly reminded him that he was a hunted little crab.

Humans also inhabited the shoreline. “Mama, look!” A child squealed. “A crab and an octopus are running in and out of the water!”

I CAN’T BREATHE!!! Pistachio’s mind squeaked. NEED WATER!!! AHHH!!

He scampered wildly around, searching for tidepool, puddle, ANYTHING!!!

His gills, rock dry, were going to burst!

Not looking at where he was going, Pistachio promptly tripped on a shell and plunged into water. He fled to the safety of the jagged sides of a boulder…

Nothing came.

… Nothing came!... PRAISE THE LORD, NOTHING CAME!!!

If crabs could cry, Pistachio would have done it. Nothing is more terrifying than a hungry octopus chasing you. Nothing’s coming! Nothing’s coming! He panted. Hallelujah!

“Ahoy, there, mate!” Someone thundered near Pistachio. “What are you doing?”

Pistachio whipped around, only to set his gaze upon a small hermit crab about the size of himself. “Uh, I was just… it’s a long story.”

“No problem, mate! My name’s Castor! I’m 5 years old!” He announced with some pride.

“Hi, my name is Pistachio. I’m a crab.” Said the crab.

“Can you help me, Pistachio, I need help identifying something?”

“Ok, sure.”

The hermit crab led Pistachio to another part of the tide pool, where a lanky tan featherless bird rested in the shallow water.

“Here it is, sonny! One day, I was just attaching a sea urchin to my shell, and this thing dropped down out of nowhere! I thought I was torpedoed!” Hollered the hermit crab. Pistachio studied the thing. Its upper torso was pink, and half of its lower part was orange. The featherless bird had large brown eyes. On the top of its head was a giant, helmet-like mass of brown – but neither the crab nor hermit crab understood the concept of hair. Pistachio touched it. It was soft and plush. There was a large red circle on one of the limbs. The crab pushed it. “Hol… is Dor…!!” The thing gargled and then the sound died out.

“I have no idea what it is!” Said Pistachio.

“No problem! Well, see you later, mate! The tide is coming up!” Bellowed the hermit crab; and with that, he scurried away.

Oh! The tide is coming up! The little crab thought. It’s about time I get back to my own tide pool.

And so, Pistachio the crab returned to his home, satisfied with adventure.

I like Pistachio's name! I have a rabbit called Half-A-Pistachio, instead of Half-A-Moustachio, because he has only half of a moustache.
I am working on mine and will try (but most likely fail) to stay under the word limit. Y'all have to give it a raise!

 

[Kingbobkingdom]

I like Pistachio's name! I have a rabbit called Half-A-Pistachio, instead of Half-A-Moustachio, because he has only half of a moustache.
I am working on mine and will try (but most likely fail) to stay under the word limit. Y'all have to give it a raise!

your rabbit's name is so cute!

 

[LhickenChicken]

“Hol... soy Dor…!!” The thing gargled and then the sound died out.

What is that supposed to mean? I know that it was a human, but what was he trying to say?