Dreams and Nightmares ~ Winners ~

Ladies and gentleman, sorry for the wait. We finally have the pleasure to announce the winners of both parts of the "Dreams and Nightmares" contest to you. We are very sorry that you have to wait for so long, however, due to us being short-staffed during a very busy time of the year, we had no other choice but to let you wait. But your wait is now over. 

Here are the winners: 

Part I : Visual Entries

First Prize:

 <da:thumb id="563743736"/>  by

 SinistrosePhosphate  100  and a commission
 IllyDragonfly one written commission
 Docali 90  
 Malintra-Shadowmoon short poem (not longer than three stanzas)
 Malintra-Shadowmoon 1 llama  and a feature
 CapnSkusting feature
 RogueMudblood 1 llama and a feature
 RogueMudblood 1 critique (100 words or more)
 Oskana 1 llama+ 1 watch + feature of the work + an inked drawing of a character/OC 

Second Prize:

    by

 Docali 40 
 Malintra-Shadowmoon haiku
 Malintra-Shadowmoon 1 llama and a feature
 CapnSkusting feature
 RogueMudblood 1 llama and a feature
 RogueMudblooda comment (50 words or more)
 Oskana 1 llama+ 1 watch + feature of the work

Third Prize: 

 by

 Malintra-Shadowmoon 10 favs + a watch
 Malintra-Shadowmoon 1  llama and a feature

 CapnSkusting feature
 RogueMudblood 1 llama and a feature
 RogueMudblooda comment (50 words or more)
 Oskana 1 llama + 1 watch + feature of the work

Rest of the entries: 

                          

Part II: Literary Entries

First prize: 

ElegyPeople call me a frigid bitch. Others say I’m depressed.
But just listen.
Once, a winter a long time ago, a blizzard struck the suburbs. Picture this: everyone wakes up to houses heavy with snow, an uncomfortable amount. Like icing on grocery store cupcakes. It’s in one of these cupcakes that a baby is born—Linda’s water broke very suddenly and she wasn’t about to shovel snow from the driveway with the baby’s “head already dangling” between her legs. (Dangling. That’s how Linda described it. She had a way with words.)
Linda gives birth while holding her father’s hand. She’s 18. The baby has no father. After she cuts the cord, she sits on the sofa half naked (Linda said her mother covered her up with a shrunken blanket before going to get some oatmeal) and the baby lies on her breast. The baby doesn’t cry. The baby’s eyes are closed. The baby is dreaming.
The baby dreams of things she hasn’t seen yet. Sh by

 SinistrosePhosphate  100  and a commission
 IllyDragonfly one drawn commission
 Docali 90  
 Malintra-Shadowmoon short poem (notlonger than three stanzas)
 Malintra-Shadowmoon 1 llama and a feature
 CapnSkusting feature
 RogueMudblood 1 llama and a feature
 RogueMudblood 1 critique (100 words or more)
 Oskana 1 llama + 1 watch + feature of the work + an inked drawing of a character/OC

Second Prize:

<da:thumb id="571848431"/>  by

 Malintra-Shadowmoon 40  

 Malintra-Shadowmoon haiku
 Malintra-Shadowmoon 1 llama and a feature
 CapnSkusting feature
 RogueMudblood 1 llama and a feature
 RogueMudblooda comment (50 words or more)
 Oskana 1 llama + 1 watch + feature of the work

Third Prize: 

Freedom Will Walk My SoulThe gate of freedom of my soul can only be gained with sweet determination of living. The tests of life always there among the cold stone walls that surrounds me. The gate closed, reminding me that my life is still trudging through these tight walls.
I only know when the gate becomes open, is when I'm finally free of this torment. The life can finally allow me to know that my soul is fully free to roam without limitations. It would this time would I feel the fullness of freedom from this nightmare. A dream of freedom while trapped in a nightmare.
Sounds of freedom echo around me, I can hear the gate rising to allow me to my freedom, the freedom for my soul. Banners waving gently in the breeze, the freedom is only a step away from me; heavens above I never felt so free!
Never again will I be trapped, I'm forever free. by

 Malintra-Shadowmoon 10 favs + a watch
 Malintra-Shadowmoon 1 llama and a feature
 CapnSkusting feature
 RogueMudblood 1 llama and a feature
 RogueMudblooda comment (50 words or more)
 Oskana 1 llama + 1 watch + feature of the work

Rest of the Entries:

It Is NightI lie in bed.
I am awake. Somehow.
It is in the middle of the night.
Something holds me there.
I cannot see it.
But I feel how it presses me deep into the feathers,
Takes away my breath and eats my inner.
It pulls and tugs at my soul,
Wants to take me with it,
Deep into the darkness.
I am in fear.
I want to scream.
But no words come from my lips.
Scarcely a croak escapes from my throat.
I feel how it swallows me slowly,
Dragging me into the abyss,
Into the black depths.
I fight against it,
With all my strength,
Try to rebel against it.
Try to scream.
I cannot wake up!
In pain I open my closed eyes slowly.
My arms push me up with highest effort.
If I could only name it!
Then, probably, it might not be so frightful.
I manage to escape it.
My eyes are open.
My breath goes flat.
My voice ….. I find my voice again.
It is gone.
But only for this night. <da:thumb id="570120493"/>  Lost SomewhereOnce I decided it was hard to see,
What happened in the world and I tried to flee,
Built up a world not cold,
Needed it as a stronghold,
But I lost contact with reality.  The MinesBixby always loved a good ghost story. He brought a ton of them back from the mines, and I wrote them down along with the blue collar folk songs I was researching.
Bixby was my inside man, my ticket into the coal mines. We hit it off over a coupla drinks one night and suddenly everyone stopped looking at me like I was another stuffed shirt from the Company. Yeah, it’s true I’ve never done a hard day of labor in my life, but it takes all kinds, right?
My great-grandfather was a miner back in Pittsburgh – some of my earliest memories are of playing in his hard hat and taking a slap on the hand for trying to grab the pickaxe. What I remember most though, were the songs. Grandpa sang those mining songs long after he set the canary free; those songs were my mother’s inheritance. She sang me to sleep with bluesy hymns of shovels clinking and lanterns flickering. And at night, I dreamed. I found myself wandering endless caverns, my tiny light shining on crystals and fo  Girl Tired of Wine BottlesWhat a bad smell
that makes my nose in bin.
Don't suggest to me
I'm not in!
What kind of a person
you thought me?
But sorry I'm not ass ass son
I won't break my head or me.
I don't love something like this
I take a look I'm in rubbish
Sorry I can't let this
boss to break my head childish.
What am I
a scapegoat?
Never up to sky
stars,bye-bye goat! <da:thumb id="573309587"/>   Goodnight To Me, Indi
    I am Indi! I know who I am, I know who She is.
    What do you see when you look in the mirror? Just your own reflection? Just a view of yourself from a slightly different angle? I envy you. I see Her, Violet. She steals my face to disguise herself as me, but I’m the one who gets held to account for Her actions.
    Call her whatever you want, my Alter Ego, my Id, my Doppelganger, my Second Self, my Darker Side... Whatever, She is NOT ME. I wouldn’t, I couldn’t do the kinds of things she enjoys doing.
    When I stand still and stare into her glassy face she moves, she smiles at me like a shark about to attack. I’d close my eyes and wish her away, but I know in the darkest depths of my soul that she would still be stood there mocking me.
    Peter Pan thought he was having trouble trying to catch his shadow; he should have <da:thumb id="573676069"/>  Freedom of MindThe thoughts of my mind
are not free, but mastered
by things around me.  A Dream of Death?
“Thank you for seeing the patient, Doctor, I know it’s late.” The Sister scuttles towards the second set of iron ward doors, her large keys rattling in the lock as she tried not to drop the thick medical file tucked under her arm. “Oh, I, thought you were Doctor...”
“Your request wasn’t clear which patient you were referring to Nurse.” The Doctor sighed glancing at an old pocket watch in his waistcoat, running a bony finger across the cracked crystal face.
“The necromanic, Doctor.” The Sister mutters relocking the doors and handing the file to the Doctor.
“The what?” The Doctor thumbed through notes. “You mean Miss Nyx? Nurse, obsession with death and nightmares does not make her a necromanic. I take it her sleep is still disturbed?”
“You could say that Doctor, every night she keeps the entire asylum awake with her screams.”  The Sister shivers at the thought of another night lis