15 Stories for 15 Days: Day Three

The 15 for 15 contest is held about once every nine months or so. The way it works is that every day at 8:30 WDC time, a picture prompt is posted. You have 24 hours to post your story that the prompt inspires. Here is the interesting part: You only have 15 minutes to write your story. You can think about it all day but once you start writing, 15 minutes is what you get.

ID: 994771   (Rated: 18+) 15 for 15 Contest   Do you have 15 minutes? Come in and join this contest! by Legerdemain (221)

The contest is limited to 50 competitors. Each day, there are 5 winners. First place will get 1004 points, second place will get 1003 points etc. The person with the most total points at the end of the 15 day contest is the winner.

The prompt for this story is the following picture:

My Entry

“What’s with Mr. “Look at me. I’m Lord of the Jungle.” over there?

Sheeba looked over in the general direction Gwen had indicated. There was Stanley, lying under the same tree he’d been under all day.

“Every since that shiny flying rock landed over near that tree, he hasn’t moved. In fact, he hasn’t so much as taken his eyes off of the thing,” said Gwen.

Sheeba puffed her disgust through her nose. She knew that male lions were lazy, but Stanley had set a new high-water mark in that category. “What is it about that rock that he’s so interested in?” she asked.

Gwen rubber against a nearby tree and said, “Every few minutes, a little chunk of protein comes out and walks right up to him. He’s been gobbling those things up like Scooby Snacks.”

For Stanly’s part, he was only vaguely aware of the females talking about him. He was used to it. It seemed they never ran out of things to bitch about. That’s why he spent so much of his time wandering around on his own. They should be happy he found this new hobby. Now they wouldn’t have to share so much of their kill with him. In fact, he was so full that he wasn’t sure he could eat another two or three more of the flying-rock McNuggets.

And inside the rock…

“Sir, we have to find another, less diplomatic way of approaching the Earthling. Poor Elbert was the fifth emissary he’s eaten in the last half hour.”

God how the captain hated Number Two. That guy was always whining about something. The captain pretended to consider the suggestion before asking, “Who’s next?”

“Well sir, there is just you and I left.”

The captain hid a smile and said, “Let’s give it one more try. I have a good feeling about this.”