Okay, folks! Since the first edition was so successful, I am introducing another edition of the short short-story contest. A new rule has been added: The word limit has been increased to 250 words. Duel, that means your previous entry would be accepted, if you chose to re-enter it. The co-winners, NLY and Nex, have also chosen the two themes on which participants can base their short stories:

Death and http://www.boingboing.net/2009/08/04/what-is-the-meaning.html

I really can't explain NLY's theme in one word, so just translate as best you can. Two weeks is the time limit. Anybody can enter, and of course, I wish you all the best of luck.

Long have I thought about mortality. It's implications. It's gravity. I have discerned as much as what one can as far as meaning is concerned, yet what remains is enigma. A "why" that runs deeper than simple justification. Why are we here? Ha! Simplistic. Unimaginative! Why have consciousness!? What purpose does it serve to have consciousness if it is to be stripped away from you when you die? What cruel joke is that!? Sure, one can delude oneself into some notion of a hereafter, a "reward" for living ones life under the yolk of some arbitrary rules that purport to be the embodiment of "truth" or "justice," but the definition of those concepts from person to person are like snowflakes. Sentience is the object here. If we wish to find meaning in life or existence, then we must first answer why we perceive existence in the first place.

Do you know? Nether do I. I don't think any one can.

160 words

I can still remember her face. Spied from my love-painted spectacles, it was the most important and beautiful in the world by far. It may not have been everyone’s cup of tea, but I never was one for all the dolled-up dames in the papers. She had an earthly, genuine feel to her that piqued my interest, first and foremost. Ever so slightly, more and more, I started to experience the feeling that I did not want to be without her. I confessed my heart openly and was gifted hers in return. My body and lips greeted hers softly, passionately….

I can still remember her face. Spied from my anguish-painted spectacles, it was the most important and beautiful in the world by far. It may not have been anyone’s cup of tea, but it was my cup of tea. She had earthy aroma, her genuine feel piqued my interest. Ever so slightly, more and more, I started to experience the feeling that I did not want to be without her. I confessed my heart openly and was gifted with silence in return. My body and lips greeted hers delicately, solemnly…

I can still remember her face. I cannot see her picture, because I am not wearing my spectacles. I decided I wanted tea today. It was delicious.

As a young man enters his home with a slam of the door and then begins to stomp into the sitting room, the elderly man already in the room knows something is amiss.

“Why am I only able to see a vision of death as I look into the faces of the ones I love? Why do all of the people who truly mean something to me have to die?” asked the young man as he moved to the center of the room in front of the elderly man who was reading a newspaper. “What is it about me that curses those around me other than you?” the man continued his complaint. “How were you able to find someone who was not given death from you?” As the young man finished talking, he sat down in a chair a few feet away.

“There are only a certain few whom people like us may be allowed to love; people like your mother, who are immune to our curse. I suggest you get over your sadness, and if you can't already identify those who are immune, then you may have already failed in your search for love son.” replied the man's father.

Angry with his father's response the young man retreats to his room enraged.

“What's wrong with Grim Jr.?” comes a voice from the kitchen.
“Nothing honey, he just won't accept that he is a member of the Reaper family.”

245 words

There was once a woman named Haley Gaines. A complete outcast, everyone she encountered ignored her, whispering to their friends that the world would be much better without her.

She lived in an empty house on Faded Court, with the floor gathering dust from lack of cleaning. She often sat in a rocking chair in the living room and gazed through a cracked window.

One night, a man with a ski mask broke into her house with a gun and demanded all of her possessions.

“Sir,” Haley said softly. “I don’t have much, but take anything you want. I won’t scream for help or anything, but there is something you must do for me. Please kill me.”

The robber had never heard such a request before, but promptly decided to grant her wish. Within moments, he pulled the trigger and a body lay motionless on the floor.

15 minutes later, police arrived at Faded Court to find a pool of blood laying under the robber. Mere feet away sat Haley Gaines, still sitting in her rocking chair with an emotionless expression.

“Are you okay, miss?” One of the policeman said.

Several seconds went by before Haley said, “He was…the only one who talked to me.”

She then closed her eyes, let out a soft breath, and laid motionless in her chair.

221 words

"Too many Harlots! Too many HARLOTS!!" The man screamed. He wove a bull horn around as he moved his arms in great arcs in front of him. Filing past like a parade of something that sprung from union of a flamingo and and ostrich, five fancily dressed women scurried by.
"You all best be getting to make uuuUUUup!" He threatened them as they passed
He thought it funny that he wasn't the ringmaster what with the circus he had down here. In a corner, clowns practiced juggling routines; outside, animals passed by. Beads of sweat fill the mans brow. A twinge.

A dull throb

Numbness.

Then tight, so tight he can't draw breath.

Gasp!

A burst of pain...Burning like a fire in his chest, then empty still.

Breath brings no release...

Things fade away, a little around the edges, then a constant bland greyish beige. It fades to white. Then it fades to black. No time. No wheight.

Release of breath.

The man collapsed, and no one knew he was dead just yet.

"Oh, he's just a practical joker!" And "Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm so drunk look at me, BLEH! Ha Ha HA!" are heard, the rest all blend together as just a bunch of muttering. It slowly becomes apparent to those gathered that he has expired.

218 words

Holy crap, I forgot about this. Hopefully I'll be able to submit something before the day is over...

A high-pitched voice cried out, “I cannot believe you are going through with this war, David!”

A deep, manly voice rebutted, “I already told you, Elli! We don't know what they intend to do!”

“...and so we should just murder them!? Murder them because we do not understand them!?”, Elli shrieked, tears flowing down her cheeks.

“What would you have us do? Perhaps we should just sit around while they gather even more recruits? Even more weapons?”, David retorted, his voice growing stern.

Elli pleaded, “Talk to them, David. Give them the chance to explain themselves.”

“Not a chance!” David replied, barely giving her a chance to finish, “We'd lose our only advantage!”

The room stood still for a moment.

“Tonight they celebrate the harvest. We must use this opportunity or we will surely lose our way of life.”, explained David, calming his voice.

Elli fumed, “You are wrong! The only harm that will come to us will be wrought by your hands. You have become a madman... slowly perverting the things you know... never listening to me.”

Elli wiped the tears from her face and stated, “You no longer act like the man I married...”

David stared at Elli, paused in thought.

“Elli, my dear,” David uttered, drawing his sword, “I'm afraid I don't know who you are anymore.”

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I forgot about this too. 232 words.