MLK Writing Contest #5! [Voting]

[DGFone]

Two weeks rolled bye, and it's time to vote for the fourth writing contest. You have one week to vote on which story you think is the best out them all. Please don't vote for your own if you submitted. Have fun while you read the stories, and enjoy them all! Voting ends on April 22nd!

Submission 1:
[quote]With tensions that could no doubt be felt through the air itself, the figure lay in wait beside the watering hole. He would have to be still and quiet, or he might alert them to his presence.

Two giraffe, an elephant and a gazelle now stood at the watering hole...and had been standing there for some time. The warthog watching them snorted with frustration and worry.

Any other laying in wait for animals at a watering hole would no doubt love this situation and already be rushing forward to attempt catching a meal. But Pumbaa was waiting for the opposite.

Parched beyond belief, he longed to creep forward and take a drink, but...it would start up again.

Somehow, even while trying to hold it in, he would...let loose, and then there would be the scampering away and the words thrown out over the fleeing animal's shoulders, all of this soon translating into them running away the moment they saw him...all as it had been before.

Pumbaa's only consolation now, after having returned with Simba and watching with him and Timon as the land came back, was that enough time had passed that these animals specifically probably didn't recall him.

That would change soon enough though.

"And did I tell you about how well Little Junior is doing?" the elephant chatted with the gazelle next to her, clearly not about to leaving any time soon.

Pumbaa just couldn't take it anymore! He had to get a drink!

Standing, he made his way forward, slowly, from out behind the grass. The animals turned, reminding Pumbaa of that scene of before that was etched in his memory and had happen time and time again.

The warthog gave them all a shy smile and walked over to the water.

"Ah, you're that warthog friend of the king's" one of the giraffe's said, with a nod of greeting.

"Uh, yep, that's me..." Pumbaa nodded back.

"The one that helped to bring the land back?!" the elephant asked, stunned yet in an admiring way.

Pumbaa found himself actually paused by this. "Uh...yeah, but...Timon helped too" he felt he needed to stick up for his best buddy, "And...of course the lioness".

The gazelle laughed, "Oh of course, we know that, but still...to be in the presence of one of us 'normal grazers' who did such good. You have all of our thanks, Sir" the gazelle inclined her head.

The others nodded as well. Pumbaa glanced between their smiling faces, hardly able to believe they were aimed at him, and then, slowly, gave a small smile of his own. Everyone smiling back, like he was some kind of hero, was much nicer than last time.

"Well, I...uh..." he began, not proudly like Timon would, just trying to think of something to say. He then got a bad feeling. Oh no! Not now!

As the grass just behind Pumbaa wilted, the warthog lowered his head. The animals all started at the new smell now introduced, and the two giraffes took a step or so to the side.

"That...um, would be the hyena defeating power we...were told of before, I suppose" the second giraffe stated unsurely.

Glancing up, Pumbaa saw all four of the animals looking uncomfortable, but none were bolting.

"Yes...well um...that will take some getting use to..." the elephant gave a small smile.

Pumbaa made no mistake, they were all unsure of how to deal with his social mishap, but...they weren't running. That alone was miracle enough.

"Uh, I am...terribly sorry..." giving a sheepish grin, Pumbaa began trying to fan away the fumes with his tail. His antic was apparently semi-cute, because there were chuckles from the watering hole guests, small at first and then growing.

It was just then that Pumbaa spotted Timon come stumbling along. "Oh, Timon!" he bent to his friend, "I'm sorry, did you get caught...on the bad end again?".

There were more laughs, not at the warthog, but rather with him.

"You, are quite charming Mister...uh, Pumbaa wasn't it?" the first giraffe asked. The warthog nodded.

"So...much...digging" was all Timon could try and answer to his friend's question, "After so long of doing nothing it's...it's torture!". The meerkat slumped over Puma's tusks. Apparently this also was seen as sort of amusing, because chuckles graced Timon as well.

He still wasn't allowed to just bask in his fan club, as Pumbaa was.

"There you are!" the gray meerkat , Max, who had been hunting Timon suddenly scampered up and grabbed his great-nephew by the arm, "Come on Sonny Boy, you were going on about what a hero you were, that I expect to see a hero sized hole by the end of the day!" he began to drag the younger meerkat off.

"U-Uncle Max, please!" Timon grabbed at leaves and dirt; anything to try and stop his uncle from pulling him along, "L-Let's go back to the oasis, you liked it there, remember!".

"It was fine for a time" Max nodded, "but now it's time for work! That...'Hacking Spit of Nada' life of yours is over!".

Timon paused his struggle only to stare in bewilderment at his uncle, "Hack..." he brought his free hand up to his forehead, Uncle Max was just unbelievable. "I believe the words you are searching for are Hakuna Matata" he said, emphasizing each word.

"Words I'm searching for are, Come Lazy!" Max drug Timon off.

"Aw, well poor meerkat seems busy..." the gazelle said, then turned to Pumbaa, "Would you tell us, again, of how you and your friend helped the King save the Pride Lands?!".

Pumbaa scuffed the dirt with one hoof, "Well...sure!" he next brightened, and went into the tale.[/quote]

Submission 2:
[quote]Simba glanced behind, still running at a steady pace. He must have lost them. Not even a hyena with half a brain would dare to run through a field of cacti. He began to reduce his pace, almost coming to a complete stop as he realized he was no longer being hunted.

The silence of the evening sent chills down Simba's spine. Not a sound was heard save his paws sinking into the sand with every step. The realization of being alone embedded itself in his mind. If he returned home, surely he would be killed. No one would want to see him again; not after what happened hours ago. Not even his mother, or his best friend...

Nala. The thought echoed for several seconds. He never had the chance to tell her. Sure, she was his friend, but there was more to it than that. She was strong, brave, and could outwit even a legion of those stupid, slobbering, mangy hyenas. As a team, they were nearly unstoppable. In a way, she had almost become part of Simba. Almost as if... Zazu was right.

Simba collapsed into the sand. Despite his tearful eyes, he noticed the steadily decreasing luminosity of the evening sky. The sun began to set on Mufasa's time as king. He would rise to take his father's place, but prince Simba was dead; that was a different life. A life of great meaning, with great importance, all terminated swiftly by a simple unfortunate mistake.

Nothing remained in the cub's life. He lost his father, his family, his friends, his home, and even his identity, all in the same day. Why continue? Why awaken after dawn? A strange thought entered his mind. Maybe he should go back. Maybe he should be dead. Not that it would matter, anyway. He knew his chances of survival in the desert were low at best. Especially with such intense feelings of fatigue and thirst. How long could he live in the desert? Two days? Three days, at most?

Does it really matter? He felt exhausted. It had been a long day; the longest day of his life. It was time to rest. He laid his head down above his forepaws and closed his eyes, possibly for the last time. At least, that's what he hoped, as he cried himself to sleep.

The sound of his mother's voice roared through the air. "Why have you returned?"

Simba found himself barely able to speak. "I... I didn't..."

"You killed Mufasa! You killed your own father!"

"No!"

Sarabi pounced forward, talons extended and incisors exposed, directly at her grieving cub.

Simba instinctively braced himself for impact. Instead, he felt a gentle breeze across his face. It felt cold. He opened his eyes to find a clear night sky above him. He had probably been asleep for a few hours. It was only a dream, albeit a very agonizing one. He looked up to the stars in desperation, remembering what Mufasa had told him the day before.

"Dad?" The cub waited for a response.

"Can you hear me?" Simba asked, slightly louder.

"Please, help me. I need you," he pleaded slowly, his voice cracking. He paused for a minute, almost as if he were waiting for a miracle to happen.

"I'm sorry. I'm just so sorry, Dad," he whispered. "Do you forgive me?"

Yet another tear ran down Simba's face, even after spending the majority of his evening sobbing. "Do you still love me?"

Still, nothing but silence. "You said you would always be there for me..."

"Mohatu? Ahadi? Anyone? What should I do?" he yelled, as loud as he could.

"Please, I didn't mean it. It was an accident."

Simba waited a few more minutes before he looked back down at the sand below him. What little hope remained had been washed away. He knew he was alone. More alone than he ever could have imagined.

The distressed cub attempted to return to sleep, but his efforts were met with limited success. How could he sleep during a time like this? Though he could barely gather the energy to move, his mind was hard at work attempting to take in all the information.

Even if his mind would rest, he still wouldn't be comfortable. It was too dark, too cold, and too dry. Normally, he would be sleeping with the pride back home.

Suddenly, the reality of his situation began to sink in. He felt like he was being kicked repeatedly in the stomach, with no end in sight. He was away from home. He could never return home. The thought made him sick.

If only he could change the past. If only there was something he could do. If only Mufasa would help him.

Simba stood up and began to pace around. Why would Mufasa have lied to him? The stars aren't the great kings of the past. He wouldn't be the next king. If he couldn't even believe his own father, then who could he believe?

Could he believe Scar? Could he believe that he had to run away? What if he would actually be welcomed back? The thought put his mind at ease, even though he would never willingly take the chance.

The cub lied down once again. Although he was more uncertain than ever, he tried not to think about it. Clearly, it wasn't helping. As he tried to drift back into sleep, he imagined his father beside him.

A thunderous, authoritative voice emanated from the sky. "I am very disappointed in you."

"Dad? Is that really you?" Simba asked.

"I would still be alive, if it wasn't for you!"

"But I... I didn't mean to!"

"You won't get away with this. Nobody messes with your dad," Mufasa replied, as an ominous thunderhead appeared in the sky. "Goodbye, Simba!"

Intense bursts of lightning set fire to the savannah below. Simba had nowhere to go; trapped by a deadly inferno on all sides. He began to panic as he considered his limited options. Nothing could prevent being engulfed in flames. It was inevitable.

Simba felt a refreshing splash of water on his head. It was cool, clean, and crisp. The cub awakened to find himself laying by a tree and a small pond, probably sometime around noon.

The strange voice of a meerkat from behind could be heard. "You okay, kid?"
[/quote]

Submission 3:
[quote]“I'm telling ya, birdie, Hakuna Matata is the way to go! No worries, no responsibilities, and most definitely no more being locked in a bone cage! Why, I wouldn't spend one moment in that dreadful pla-”

“If I recall correctly, the first time I ever saw you, you were running towards my cage as fast as you could.”

Timon just stared in shock at Zazu, who had just very rudely interrupted his speech on the wonders of the Hakuna Matata lifestyle. He slowly lowered his arms and tried to explain himself. “But there were hyenas and stuff!” he said, “hungry, mangy, drooling hyenas, all looking at me like I was their main course! Where else should I have gone otherwise?” Timon was so engaged in talking with Zazu that he didn't even realize that Simba had walked up to them until Pumbaa nudged him. He turned his head, “uh, what? Oh, hi Simba!”

Simba smiled at his friends, “What's going on?” he asked, clearly amused, “they're not giving you too much trouble, Zazu, are they?”

Zazu ruffled his feathers in annoyance, but shook his head. “No, sire,” he replied, “nothing to worry about.”

Timon had other opinions. “Nothing to worry about? Simba, this guy's refusing to even listen to Hakuna Matata! Why, I have never met anyone so-” he was interrupted again, this time by Simba, who couldn't help but laugh.

“I hardly think that Zazu needs Hakuna Matata,” he said in between laughs, much to Timon's horror. After a while, he stopped laughing and his face turned sober. “In fact, I think I will need to drop it as well, now that I am king,” he looked at Timon and Pumbaa, who looked hurt by this announcement, “it doesn't mean that I don't like you guys anymore,” he said hurriedly, “you are still my best friends, an you did save my life after all, and I can't let you guys just go. I won't even consider forcing you out.”

Pumbaa let out a sigh of relief before smiling at Simba. “Then what do you want us to do?” the warthog asked. Zazu decided that this would be a good opportunity to fly off and avoid any more trouble.

Simba frowned. “That's the problem... As much as I hate to say it, but I won't be able to spend the entire day with you guys anymore... I am back with my family, and I need to rule the Pride, and these lands need to be repaired,” he motioned at the charred and dead Pridelands around them, “I can't live with Hakuna Mata anymore.”

Timon climbed onto Pumbaa's head, the place where he always thought the best. “I think it is time for us to live a proper life as well,” he said after a while, “with you. You will always be out kid, Simba, and I can't walk away from you.” From under him, he felt Pumbaa nod in agreement.

Simba smiled at his two friends. “Thanks, guys,” he said, “so what do you want to do? It will mean so much to me if you stay here with us. You are my family too.”

“What if we joined your pride?” Pumbaa asked.

Simba hesitated. “I' love for you to do that, but I don't know if the others-”

“We took you in easy enough, didn't we?” Pumbaa asked, taking his opportunity to interrupt someone else. “Surely your family can do the same?” At this, Simba visibly got more relaxed.

Timon froze at the idea of living with an entire group of large predators. “What? No, Pumbaa! We can't do that!” he shouted, ignoring the hurt look Simba flashed at him. “They would never take us in! They are lions! Lions don't take in guys like us! They eat us! They...” he stopped, thinking, “... they can take us in!” he finally realized. “What do you say, old pal?” he asked Pumbaa, “what if we live with Simba and his... err...” he looked at Simba, eying for help at what to call a group of lions.

“Pride,” Simba finished for Timon, “and no, I don't think they will have too much trouble accepting you guys.” He reached out and brought his two friends into a tight hug. “This really means so much to me,” he whispered to them, “what would I ever do without you two?”

Timon patted Simba's ear, the only patch of skin he can reach that was not thick mane. “You would do just fine with us, buddy,” he replied, grinning, “not that we want you to find that out.”

Eventually, Simba pulled back from the embrace. “thanks, guys, it really is... I appreciate it.” He really couldn't form anything he thought was fitting for the gratefulness he felt towards his to friends. “But, if anyone looks at you funny, because it will happen, I can assure you that, just run straight to me,” he said, “don't try to reason with them... everyone are hungry right now, so they won't necessarily think straight. Let me take care of any trouble.” He smiled again, “With that aside, what do you say to meeting your extended family properly?” he asked, “I am sure that mom will be delighted to finally get a chance to talk to you.”

Timon again flinched. Try as he might at explaining that his instincts don't work, he still found the idea of walking towards a fully grown lioness frightening, if only temporarily.

Simba laughed. “Come on, she won't bite!” he reassured. “She's my mom! What can go wrong?” [/quote]


Good luck to all of the writers!
If there are any errors in the story, I will gladly fix them. All I did was copy and paste the text, and then went along and applied any necessary formatting changes.

[wolfishgirl]

well, If i could still vote I would've done the first one. Loved how Pumbaa got the good end of the deal while Timon didn't... Never like the meerkat... almost as much as I hated Zazu...

[Azdgari]

Two votes for three stories? This contest needs a jumpstart.

[Regulus]

[quote="Azdgari"]Two votes for three stories? This contest needs a jumpstart.[/quote]

I agree.

[FlipMode]

[quote="Azdgari"]Two votes for three stories? This contest needs a jumpstart.[/quote]

IKR, I remember when this first started and like the whole forum got involved...
Also DGFone is banned now as far as I know so it definitely needs something.

[cleargreenwater]

^ Yeah, I didn't know if it was continuing or not in DGFone's absence, so I just left it. Now that the voting is over, who'se going to be posting the next stage of the contest? It's a tie anyway, maybe re-open voting on all 3?

[wolfishgirl]

yeah, let's hope it keeps going. I enjoy reading these. And I wish that there would've been like a mass email sent out to tell people about the voting. would've made me see it sooner.

[DGFone]

I'm back!

Considering wolfishgirl's post, it will be a 3 way tie. I can extend the voting time for another week? What do you guys say to that?

[DGFone]

I increased the voting so that it will last until May 3, but I will end the voting period on April 22. This will give you guys just over a week to submit votes again!

[Azdgari]

We don't need voting time. The contest needs to get everyone involved and interested the way it did originally...