I did not win. This is ok. It means that badness has not yet seeped out of the overfilled bag of writing goo that is my brain. So I am posting the sins of my pen to the world to reveal those entries that did not make it into the slush pile of badness.
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She watched as her future, which had unfolded in her mind as an ordered and perfectly executed game plan, was shredded and cross-cut into a confetti which could never be reassembled and only then did she realize that her seemingly fruitless attempts to prevent the decimation of her species could still be harvested by fate.
As wise as he was ancient, as noble as he was generous, and as mad as a troupe of clowns emerging from its carpool, Professor Harlow Whitham was the world’s foremost authority on the coalescence of particles on shoe heels.
Despite considering him endearingly geeky, Maria was concerned that her interest in Jack occurred only out of a desire to complicate her life with technology--a desire she would likely not recall once the robots had removed her brain and replaced it with a sleek, new cyborg model.
The voices of a thousand angels rang out, a riotous chorus of belief and serenity wrapped in a puffy-clouded package of wings and halos, heralding the birth of the new savior: Maurice.
His hands deftly maneuvered the rear thrusters into place and engaged the redundant melacortz-ramistat 14-kiloquad interface modules as his brain attempted to vaguely hash out a plan in which the aliens would not manage to take over the world and force their disgusting cuisine onto an unsuspecting planet.
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