Well, it's that time of the year when the Shorty Awards pop in and dominate the tweeting boards. I'm nominated in two categories, though I really just need Literature to get picked up and sent to the Official Categories. So really what I'm asking is for votes, I suppose.
It doesn't take long; all you need is a Twitter account!
In return, I'll be tweeting a sentence or two of The Magical Emporium of Magical Things for every nomination. Every ten will see a poem being posted here, and at 100, something special will happen. I don't expect to get to 100, but I think I'll let the suspense tell the story. Also, every day a new chapter of Geneticide will be posted at: http://geneticidebook.blogspot.com until the end of the book. (the competition will be over by then, of course).
Now, for your reading pleasure (I hope), here's today's instalment of The Magical Emporium of Magical Things.
There existed, in the world, a time after the dying festival of Christmas when all manner of sheets, cloths, rags and other such things were held out of windows on poles and ropes; this time was known as the Sails. No one could quite remember the origin of the Sails, only knowing that so long as they were up, the prices were subsequently down. This pleased all the Hugh Mans, and every other person too, and during times of Economic Downturn (the term coined by Acting Directors to encourage people to buy home produce) people were able to save the money they apparently didn't have in the first place.
In The Magical Emporium of Magical Things, the world's first magic shop not burned down by the acient peolple all knwon as Chris Tea Ans, the Sails were being raised by a clever trick knwon as Man Power. This ancient magic was no long knwon to the world, after it discovered that magic and machines did in fact work well together, and laziness was rather fun indeed. The owner of the Emporium, one Rich Dave, observed (his second favourite pasttime, next to exploding objects of varying size, value and sentimental importance) the clever system of levers, wheels and ropes, all turned and pulled by a single crank, wind the Sails into place. With some difficultly, the one and only Sails Assistant in the Emporium, Middle Class Rodney, would the crank, panting and sweating, perhaps for dramatic effect. Finally he locked the device into place.
Geneticide has already been uploaded, so if you're still up for a read, check out the above link! Also... the voting link! http://shortyawards.com/writeranonymous Vote Literature! ^_^