Ended Contest #4 Short Story Fiction Contest - 6th Annual BYC Easter Hatchalong

[nate1the1great1]

so the story you make is a fake story just for fun if sooo YAHHAHAHHAHZAHA i have a GREAT sense of humor

 

[nate1the1great1]

So my brother and I woke up on another Easter morning, as we walked down the stairs we heard my parents talking about something. Well we are VERY curious so we lurched down the stairs and glared at them holding in their hands something that we never have seen before. Giant eggs and we asked what that was and they said “you have to find all 500 eggs we hid around the house and property to see what’s in them.” So my brother and I set out on the adventure of finding the 500 eggs to see what was in the big eggs.
So after about 3 hours we found only 498 eggs and we kept looking and looking and looking. Well after about 8 hours we gave up and went inside and we were like WHERE ARE TH LAST 2 EGGS and then they handed us the 2 big eggs and we were like ARE YOU KIDDING ME WE SEARCHED FOR 8 HOURS. Then they said open the eggs so we opened them and inside was a little piece of paper from the local feedstore.
Finally, after about 10 minutes we arrived, and we kept asking what they were for, and of course they said just wait. We got inside and we could hear the little peeps in the back of the store. So the manager came up and said let me see those papers, he took them, went to the back, and came back with a box. He handed it to us and said open it so we did and inside was 12 chicks, 2 ducklings, 2 goslings, 2 peachicks, and 8 guinea fowl.
He then went back and grabbed a bag of chick feed, a heatlamp and bulb, a waterer, and a feeder. So we went home and got them snuggled in and we said to our parents “This was the best easter ever, thank you.”

 

[jessicaagross]

There once was a chick named, Blue.
blue chicks were few, and of those who looked like Blue, you would not find two.
Blue was surrounded by happiness and lived in a magical place,
But no matter how joyful was the happiest lady, with her treats and her laugh.
Or fun her happiest dog, who Blue would race, jump and follow around.
Blue wished for his mother, for his mother in the sky.

Early Easter morning, a star fell from above into the lady’s house,
The star looked like a glowing egg. It bounced on the rug, then pipped, stretched and hatched as quickly as a loon.
The First thing it saw was the beautiful face of a smiling moon.
“That must be my mother, but why is she so far?” He fretted and watched as she moved out of view. The moon smiled and winked, “Stay where you are, you are my littlest Blue star.”
In the came the lady, the lady and her dog, they brought with them the sun. She smiled so bright and promised him fun. “A chick such
as I've never seen, just look at that sheen. Your eyes, they seem to twinkle, but that can’t be true. I know what I’ll do, I’ll name you Blue.”

Every night He asked for his mother to come from afar, but she would just say, “Stay where you are, I love you, my littlest star.”
Since she wouldn’t leave the sky. Blue decided to go to her; he would just have to learn how to fly.
So practice he did, with the dog running next, the lady cheering him on, he would flap his small wings and he would do his best.
After much practice, one day He flew up into the sky, without even a goodbye.

The moon was startled to see him and frowned.
“It’s you,” said Blue “I love you moon Mother, I look like a chick, but I am your littlest star.”
The moon smiled but shook her head, and said, “But, littlest star, I sent you watch over the sad lady, the sad lady and her sad dog.”

“But the lady is happy!” cried Blue, “Happiest around…”

“Look, littlest star, look to the ground.”

Blue looked down, and was shocked. The lady was calling his name while making sad sounds. The dog had stopped running, laid his head on the ground. The lady and her dog, tears in their eyes, had been searching 'til dawn.

“I don’t understand, she’s always happy, the dog always fun.”

“Littlest star, the lady and her dog were very sad, I said stay where you are, though love you I do. Fore they were happy, happy because of you”

Blue returned to the ground, and there you’ll find Him still, standing his guard.
He’s no longer sad, as he crows goodbye to his mother at dawn
Welcoming the magical day, he stands in the fog, to watch over the happiest lady,
His lady and her dog.

 

[ronott1]

There once was a chick named, Blue.
blue chicks were few, and of those who looked like Blue, you would not find two.
Blue was surrounded by happiness and lived in a magical place,
But no matter how joyful was the happiest lady, with her treats and her laugh.
Or fun her happiest dog, who Blue would race, jump and follow around.
Blue wished for his mother, for his mother in the sky.

Early Easter morning, a star fell from above into the lady’s house,
The star looked like a glowing egg. It bounced on the rug, then pipped, stretched and hatched as quickly as a loon.
The First thing it saw was the beautiful face of a smiling moon.
“That must be my mother, but why is she so far?” He fretted and watched as she moved out of view. The moon smiled and winked, “Stay where you are, you are my littlest Blue star.”
In the came the lady, the lady and her dog, they brought with them the sun. She smiled so bright and promised him fun. “A chick such
as I've never seen, just look at that sheen. Your eyes, they seem to twinkle, but that can’t be true. I know what I’ll do, I’ll name you Blue.”

Every night He asked for his mother to come from afar, but she would just say, “Stay where you are, I love you, my littlest star.”
Since she wouldn’t leave the sky. Blue decided to go to her; he would just have to learn how to fly.
So practice he did, with the dog running next, the lady cheering him on, he would flap his small wings and he would do his best.
After much practice, one day He flew up into the sky, without even a goodbye.

The moon was startled to see him and frowned.
“It’s you,” said Blue “I love you moon Mother, I look like a chick, but I am your littlest star.”
The moon smiled but shook her head, and said, “But, littlest star, I sent you watch over the sad lady, the sad lady and her sad dog.”

“But the lady is happy!” cried Blue, “Happiest around…”

“Look, littlest star, look to the ground.”

Blue looked down, and was shocked. The lady was calling his name while making sad sounds. The dog had stopped running, laid his head on the ground. The lady and her dog, tears in their eyes, had been searching 'til dawn.

“I don’t understand, she’s always happy, the dog always fun.”

“Littlest star, the lady and her dog were very sad, I said stay where you are, though love you I do. Fore they were happy, happy because of you”

Blue returned to the ground, and there you’ll find Him still, standing his guard.
He’s no longer sad, as he crows goodbye to his mother at dawn
Welcoming the magical day, he stands in the fog, to watch over the happiest lady,
His lady and her dog.

Nice drawings!

I will read the story tomorrow.

 

[menmyboys]

Lucy was determined she was getting out of the pen. She was very lonely and in need of some love. Lucy waited until her owner open the door to her pen and ambushed her escaping at the last moment. Lucy went as quick as she could down the old dirt road to find a rowdy mate. She knew she would find what she was looking for near by. She could hear him cockle doodle do every morning. The sound of his sweet music was unforgettable. The sun was just coming up over the hill and the sound she was waiting to hear now filled her heart with joy. She knew she was getting closer as she made her way around the sharp turn in the road.She could not believe her eyes. There was different colored eggs all over the beautiful green field in front of her. She saw a little red barn. Setting on top of this little red barn was the most handsome rooster she had ever saw. As she got closer she could feel the stares of the hens that were attending to the colorful eggs. She made her way to her handsome rooster. It was love at first sight. Lucy became the queen of Easter Field where the Easter Bunny gets all of his beautiful eggs for all the children around the world.

 

[menmyboys]

Lucy was determined she was getting out of the pen. She was very lonely and in need of some love. Lucy waited until her owner open the door to her pen and ambushed her escaping at the last moment. Lucy went as quick as she could down the old dirt road to find a rowdy mate. She knew she would find what she was looking for near by. She could hear him cockle doodle do every morning. The sound of his sweet music was unforgettable. The sun was just coming up over the hill and the sound she was waiting to hear now filled her heart with joy. She knew she was getting closer as she made her way around the sharp turn in the road.She could not believe her eyes. There was different colored eggs all over the beautiful green field in front of her. She saw a little red barn. Setting on top of this little red barn was the most handsome rooster she had ever saw. As she got closer she could feel the stares of the hens that were attending to the colorful eggs. She made her way to her handsome rooster. It was love at first sight. Lucy became the queen of Easter Field where the Easter Bunny gets all of his beautiful eggs for all the children around the world.

 

[menmyboys]

 

[LadyCluck77]

The grownups called Uncle Marc "eccentric". We'd also heard he was a Vietnam Vet, which I thought at the time must be someone who worked with animals.
Most of my relatives liked Christmas. You knew exactly what to expect from Christmas and it always fell on December 25th every year.
Uncle Marc's favorite holiday was Easter. Easter was wilder, rebellious enough to fall sometimes in March, sometimes in April. Easter was a lot like Uncle Marc.
Rumor had it that he'd once had a broken engagement, with the lady involved becoming so angry with him, she’d tossed the ring into my grandparent's cow pasture.
Uncle Marc had no taste for the grownup table, with stuffy relatives passing around pots of coffee and dollops of gossip. He seemed tolerant of us kids, though.
His greatest talent was putting on an elaborate egg hunt every year at Easter.
Our parents might try to hover, but when it was time for the hunt, Uncle Marc would ease into the background and let the children find their own way.
My sisters began the race by shoving me. As I tumbled into the hydrangeas, I discovered a teal egg at the base of the bush.

"Found One!" I cried in my six-year-old voice. "I found the first egg".
The others scrambled across the giant farm yard of my grandparent's old home. I looked on in horror. Much running and pushing ensued. I trotted over to the others, each greedily snatching the rainbow of eggs I so coveted.
I couldn't believe how quickly my family could find a hundred colored eggs. Every time I ran toward one, someone else beat me to it.
The hunt was almost over. My eyes began to water.

I looked around, and saw a sparkle.

There! It was not an egg, but a ring, with a stone that sparkled.
I brought it close to my face.
Uncle Marc smiled "Picking up bugs again, Kiddo?"
He examined the treasure I'd found, emotions working across his face as he came to realize what I was holding.

He slowly took it from me, the diamond shone brilliantly as if twenty years hadn’t passed.
Then, Uncle Marc put the ring back into my hand "You keep it, kiddo, you found it."


Later, around my grandmother's kitchen table, Cousin Ben was declared the winner.

I realized that what Uncle Marc had let me keep was far more valuable than any of the eggs. It was a symbol of who he was, before he had retreated from the world into his own shell.
Uncle Marc had hidden parts of himself from the world. He shared what he could of himself with his Easter egg hunts.
Before we left, Cousin Ben handed me a delicious Cream Egg, with a wink.
Better than candy, Uncle Marc was my favorite part of Easter.

I'm in my thirties now. Every year that goes by, I still miss Uncle Marc and his egg hunts.

 

[ronott1]

Easters and Uncle Marc

Uncle Marc was something the grownups called "eccentric". They called him lots of things I didn't understand. Us kids knew he was as tall as an apple tree and about as thick in the middle. We'd also heard he was a Vietnam Vet, which I thought at the time must be someone who worked with animals. Most of my relatives liked Christmas. It was a decent, indoor sort of holiday. You always knew exactly what to expect from Christmas and it always fell on December 25th every year.
Uncle Marc's favorite holiday, everyone knew, was Easter. Easter was a little wilder- a little unexpected, rebellious enough to fall on very different dates, sometimes in March, sometimes in April. Easter was a lot like Uncle Marc.
Uncle Marc didn't exactly like to be around people. Rumor had it that he'd once had a tragic love affair, with the lady involved becoming so angry with him at one point that during her rage, she tossed the engagement ring into my grandparent's cow pasture.
Uncle Marc always wore jeans, which was rare at the time. He had no taste for the grownup table, with formally attired parents and aunties passing around strong pots of coffee and dollops of gossip. He seemed tolerant of us kids, though, provided we didn't pester him with too many questions. It was hard not to ask at least a few though, because he knew so much. He knew about animals, and forests, and far away places. When he was in a fair mood he would show us where to find wild raspberries, or a hidden nest of baby birds. When he was in a good mood he would make homemade marshmallow fudge with us. But his greatest talent was his annual Easter egg hunts. It was always the highlight of the Spring Season- and it was always different and unexpected. He would take three days to set up elaborate platforms, nests made of sticks carefully tucked into the arms of pine trees, and a hidden cache of candy so glorious to behold that the winner would always be swarmed with begging cousins as soon as she had picked up her prize.
Uncle Marc always drew us our own maps. He had an uncanny talent for drawing maps- massive things in done up in color, with rhyming clues about each hiding spot. He kept careful details about the location of each egg, lest one or two had escaped detection, they could be retrieved by an easy means. His approach to children was laisez-faire. Our parents might try to hover, but the tender age wants independence. When it was time for the Easter egg hunt, Uncle Marc would just ease into the background and let the children find their own way.
So it was that I, in my frilly little homemade dress, and pushed aside by two older sisters, found the first egg that year by accident. As I tumbled into the hydrangea bushes, the sunlight hit a sparkly surface. A gorgeous green-teal hand dyed egg had been gently stowed at the base of the bush.
"Found One!" I cried in my six-year-old voice as I placed it in my basket."I found the first egg".
The others scrambled to run faster across the giant farm yard of my grandparent's old home. Even in "church clothes" they were shoving and pushing the smaller ones into the fresh cool spring mud. Clumps of grass stuck to my sister's knees, and she didn't care. I looked on in horror from the hydrangea. Cousin Ben, who would later earn his college tuition on a football scholarship, was in the lead- and managed to stuff six eggs in his basket before the others caught up to him. I brushed myself off and trotted over to the others, each greedily snatching those gorgeous pink and lavender and yellow eggs I so coveted. I looked down, in my basket I had just the one egg to my name.
I couldn't believe how quickly my family could find a hundred colored eggs. Every time I ran toward one, someone else beat me to it. Again and again I tried.
The hunt was almost over, and my brute cousins had severely beaten me. My eyes began to water up even as I struggled against the envy surging in my little body.
I looked around, and saw a sparkle out of the corner of my eye. Aha! No one else had yet seen it. I tried to casually ease over to a spot near a fence-post. Perhaps I could reach this one extra sparkly egg before those cousins noticed me.
A few early violets had sprung from the damp ground, newly freed from their blanket of snow. I glanced up and down the grasses near the fence. I was certain I had seen a sparkle.
Just then, glinting in the sunlight, I saw it. It was not an egg, but a ring. A ring with a shiny round stone that sparkled like the colors of the rainbow.
My little chubby fingers picked it up, and brought it close to my face as I examined it.
"What have you found, kiddo?" Uncle Marc gave me a smile "Not picking up more bugs again?"
I showed him the treasure I'd just found, and puzzled at the mix of emotions I saw working across his face as he came to realize what I was holding.
He said nothing for a while.
He slowly took it from me, turned it over, letting the light shine on it, the diamond reflected brilliantly as if it hadn't been out in this muddy field for nearly twenty years.
Then, pausing a moment, with his prematurely gray head bowed, looking far away as if saying goodbye to someone I couldn't see, Uncle Marc put the ring back into my hand and said "You keep it, kiddo, you found it."
Later, around my grandmother's kitchen table, Cousin Ben was declared the winner, with forty-one total eggs, and the stash of candy.
I looked at my pitiful little wicker basket and the one teal colored egg I had found amid the chaos of the hunt. I wouldn't lower myself to beg for a single Cream Egg. Even if Cream Eggs were my favorite, I would not be reduced to begging. But then, I looked into my other hand and realized that what Uncle Marc had let me keep was far more valuable than any of the eggs. It was a symbol of who he was, who he was before he had retreated from the world into his own sort of shell.
Like the eggs on the table, my Uncle Marc was afraid of breaking and had hidden parts of himself from the world. He shared what he could of himself with his family by doing these things for us, Easter egg hunts, stories of far away, and marshmallow fudge. This ring, however, possibly the most precious thing he'd ever owned, he'd entrusted to me. I came to realize that on that day, I'd discovered the greatest treasure of all. It was the simple bond of love and trust that family holds- despite age or knowledge.
Before we left that day, Cousin Ben handed me a Cream Egg, with a wink. I ate it slowly during the car ride home, letting the filling drip down my fingers, and licking them delectably.
My mother wanted to know what our favorite part of Easter was. My sisters answered with chimes about candy and bunnies.
When it was my turn I thought for a moment and answered "Uncle Marc is my favorite part of Easter".
I'm in my thirties now. And every year that goes by, I still miss him.

The story is 1286 words.

Darn those rules!( See the first post for rules)

 

[Sambi89]

Are you ready for a Short Story Fiction Contest!


Give us your best Easter or Hatching fiction story!

1st Prize: $25 Amazon Gift Card donated by JDchicks
2nd Prize: Rooster Light switch cover donated by Cynthia12

The top 10 entries will be chosen by judges
A poll will determine the winners

CONTEST RULES
1. The contest is open to ALL BYC U.S. resident members only (void where prohibited).
2. Limit of one entry per person.
3. Your story must be 500 words or fewer, NO EXCEPTIONS.
4. The Story must be Easter or hatching themed.
5. Your entry must include at least one photo or drawing.
6. Entries may NOT have been previously published or used in other contests.
7. Author's name should NOT appear anywhere on pages of story.
8. The deadline is March 25th, 2015 Midnight PST
9. Finally, because it’s your story be as funny, poignant, witty, and educated as you wish!
ENTRY DEADLINE
March 25th, 2015 Midnight PST Post your short story on this thread!

​

If you have not joined in the Easter Hatch-a-long, join us here:​

https://www.backyardchickens.com/t/949763/the-6th-annual-byc-easter-hatch-a-long/0_50​

Easters and Uncle Marc

Uncle Marc was something the grownups called "eccentric". They called him lots of things I didn't understand. Us kids knew he was as tall as an apple tree and about as thick in the middle. We'd also heard he was a Vietnam Vet, which I thought at the time must be someone who worked with animals. Most of my relatives liked Christmas. It was a decent, indoor sort of holiday. You always knew exactly what to expect from Christmas and it always fell on December 25th every year.
Uncle Marc's favorite holiday, everyone knew, was Easter. Easter was a little wilder- a little unexpected, rebellious enough to fall on very different dates, sometimes in March, sometimes in April. Easter was a lot like Uncle Marc.
Uncle Marc didn't exactly like to be around people. Rumor had it that he'd once had a tragic love affair, with the lady involved becoming so angry with him at one point that during her rage, she tossed the engagement ring into my grandparent's cow pasture.
Uncle Marc always wore jeans, which was rare at the time. He had no taste for the grownup table, with formally attired parents and aunties passing around strong pots of coffee and dollops of gossip. He seemed tolerant of us kids, though, provided we didn't pester him with too many questions. It was hard not to ask at least a few though, because he knew so much. He knew about animals, and forests, and far away places. When he was in a fair mood he would show us where to find wild raspberries, or a hidden nest of baby birds. When he was in a good mood he would make homemade marshmallow fudge with us. But his greatest talent was his annual Easter egg hunts. It was always the highlight of the Spring Season- and it was always different and unexpected. He would take three days to set up elaborate platforms, nests made of sticks carefully tucked into the arms of pine trees, and a hidden cache of candy so glorious to behold that the winner would always be swarmed with begging cousins as soon as she had picked up her prize.
Uncle Marc always drew us our own maps. He had an uncanny talent for drawing maps- massive things in done up in color, with rhyming clues about each hiding spot. He kept careful details about the location of each egg, lest one or two had escaped detection, they could be retrieved by an easy means. His approach to children was laisez-faire. Our parents might try to hover, but the tender age wants independence. When it was time for the Easter egg hunt, Uncle Marc would just ease into the background and let the children find their own way.
So it was that I, in my frilly little homemade dress, and pushed aside by two older sisters, found the first egg that year by accident. As I tumbled into the hydrangea bushes, the sunlight hit a sparkly surface. A gorgeous green-teal hand dyed egg had been gently stowed at the base of the bush.
"Found One!" I cried in my six-year-old voice as I placed it in my basket."I found the first egg".
The others scrambled to run faster across the giant farm yard of my grandparent's old home. Even in "church clothes" they were shoving and pushing the smaller ones into the fresh cool spring mud. Clumps of grass stuck to my sister's knees, and she didn't care. I looked on in horror from the hydrangea. Cousin Ben, who would later earn his college tuition on a football scholarship, was in the lead- and managed to stuff six eggs in his basket before the others caught up to him. I brushed myself off and trotted over to the others, each greedily snatching those gorgeous pink and lavender and yellow eggs I so coveted. I looked down, in my basket I had just the one egg to my name.
I couldn't believe how quickly my family could find a hundred colored eggs. Every time I ran toward one, someone else beat me to it. Again and again I tried.
The hunt was almost over, and my brute cousins had severely beaten me. My eyes began to water up even as I struggled against the envy surging in my little body.
I looked around, and saw a sparkle out of the corner of my eye. Aha! No one else had yet seen it. I tried to casually ease over to a spot near a fence-post. Perhaps I could reach this one extra sparkly egg before those cousins noticed me.
A few early violets had sprung from the damp ground, newly freed from their blanket of snow. I glanced up and down the grasses near the fence. I was certain I had seen a sparkle.
Just then, glinting in the sunlight, I saw it. It was not an egg, but a ring. A ring with a shiny round stone that sparkled like the colors of the rainbow.
My little chubby fingers picked it up, and brought it close to my face as I examined it.
"What have you found, kiddo?" Uncle Marc gave me a smile "Not picking up more bugs again?"
I showed him the treasure I'd just found, and puzzled at the mix of emotions I saw working across his face as he came to realize what I was holding.
He said nothing for a while.
He slowly took it from me, turned it over, letting the light shine on it, the diamond reflected brilliantly as if it hadn't been out in this muddy field for nearly twenty years.
Then, pausing a moment, with his prematurely gray head bowed, looking far away as if saying goodbye to someone I couldn't see, Uncle Marc put the ring back into my hand and said "You keep it, kiddo, you found it."
Later, around my grandmother's kitchen table, Cousin Ben was declared the winner, with forty-one total eggs, and the stash of candy.
I looked at my pitiful little wicker basket and the one teal colored egg I had found amid the chaos of the hunt. I wouldn't lower myself to beg for a single Cream Egg. Even if Cream Eggs were my favorite, I would not be reduced to begging. But then, I looked into my other hand and realized that what Uncle Marc had let me keep was far more valuable than any of the eggs. It was a symbol of who he was, who he was before he had retreated from the world into his own sort of shell.
Like the eggs on the table, my Uncle Marc was afraid of breaking and had hidden parts of himself from the world. He shared what he could of himself with his family by doing these things for us, Easter egg hunts, stories of far away, and marshmallow fudge. This ring, however, possibly the most precious thing he'd ever owned, he'd entrusted to me. I came to realize that on that day, I'd discovered the greatest treasure of all. It was the simple bond of love and trust that family holds- despite age or knowledge.
Before we left that day, Cousin Ben handed me a Cream Egg, with a wink. I ate it slowly during the car ride home, letting the filling drip down my fingers, and licking them delectably.
My mother wanted to know what our favorite part of Easter was. My sisters answered with chimes about candy and bunnies.
When it was my turn I thought for a moment and answered "Uncle Marc is my favorite part of Easter".
I'm in my thirties now. And every year that goes by, I still miss him.

I just wanted to let you know that story is amazing I absolutely loved it and I would hate for it to be disqualified because of length. I'm not sure if you even care but it was so cute and even a little sad it should be able to win. But rule #3 says no more than 500 words and yours is over 1000. Also it has to have a picture of some sort. Hopefully I helped instead of hindered. PS did I mention that you are a great writer, and oh ya I loved this story!