originally posted in:The Black Garden
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Ladies and gentlemen, the time has come for us writers to take center stage for a time. The Black Garden as well as our friends over in Arts and Stuff are going to host a contest that is solely devoted to writers. The rules are simple.
For any who wish to enter, you are tasked with writing a short little anecdote that is to have a maximum of 300 words. The location for this piece of work is to be located in the picture provided above. The deadline for entering is this Sunday(14th) at midnight. For any who wish to enter, please submit your stories by placing them in the comments.
Judging will be done in two phases. The first phase will consist of a Panel of both groups reading over each story and deciding which seven are the best of the best. Once the first stage is complete, we shall hand it over to you, the audience, to decide who is ranked number one as lore master. The Winner of this contest shall receive a print of the Buried City signed by the Destiny writing team.
Good luck and Be Brave.
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She told me to make sure it wasn't all for nothing. That I had to push on through desolate and unforgiving dunes. I'm the last of the Traveler's chosen, I am Vanguard and I am alone. Lost to the sands and memories, like so many other things since the fall. Like all Vanguard my place in this world is too protect humanity, but when all I think of is my brothers in arms and how I lost them. How I lost her. I ask why... When Earth will crumble like the city buried in front of me... Wait. A city. "What is this place?", I asked myself. This is my salvation and how I will keep my promise to her. It won't be for nothing because I have found a way to continue the path. My Vanguard brothers' deaths won't be in vain because the lost city is found. As I walk up the ancient steps I take in the surroundings. Giant buildings, degraded by sand storms, tower over me; the husk like buildings more ambient than one would expect. The wind whistled through windowless panes, metal creaked, and shuffling sounds ever so slight but not unheard. I'm being hunted, I look up at the decaying lettering, "Station". This is where my journey will begin. I draw my weapon as I vow to make the deaths of my comrades worth more than a sacrifice. As I walk into the darkness of the "Station", I tell myself, "It wasn't all for nothing."