The Feckless Goblin Writing Competition: Hell in a Hand Cart

Haven’t had a writing competition for a while (purse strings in a bit of a knot) so thought I’d get one going to start off your newish year.

Okay doods and doodesses, and those in between, the competition is this:

Describe Hell in one sentence.

Your job, most excellent writer, is to give a chilling feel for Hell in ONE, yes ONE, sentence. Brownie points will be given for brevity but the winner will be the one who can instill a sense of dread and damnation in a just a few words. HINT: You don’t have to describe a physical place.

PLEASE NOTE: I got this idea whilst drinking scotch.

But how do I enter Ziggy?

Put your entry in the comments section below. You can enter as many times as you like. Entry is, as usual, FREE. All I ask is that you let your twitter/facebook/cult followers know about the competition and link them to it.

And what do I get Ziggy? For these six hundred and sixty six hours of blood, sweat and tears trying to think of just one sentence to describe the underlying essence of Hell and chill your dear readers to the bone?

The winner will get a £20 Amazon Voucher (or exchange rate equivalent), e-mailed to them the day the result is announced.

So, get writing doods and doodesses, before I renew my subscription to My Dog’s Dead Weekly.

The writing competition is open until the end of February. Whence I will call on Satan to judge your miserable attempts to describe his domain.

Now…back to me scotch…mmmmmmm…much nicer than fishcakes and rocket….hic…

48 thoughts on “The Feckless Goblin Writing Competition: Hell in a Hand Cart

  1. Each person’s hell was different, just like she’d always suspected; hers would be forever the step off the roof’s edge, the falling into a night deafening with her own screams, alone in the blackness.

  2. You will be separated from everything that you know is pleasant, good, just, pure and true for all of eternity with no further opportunity for pardon, acquittal, reprieve, relief or escape.

  3. For all of eternity, you are trapped in a nondescript room with no furniture or facilities and the music being piped into the room is an endless loop of “It’s a Small World After All.”

  4. Could there be any vision of hell more soul-destroying than attending a dinner party catered by McDonalds and Kraft, with Newt Gingrich, Sponge Bob Square Pants, Lindsay Lohan, and a resurrected (or not) Ronald Reagan as table mates?

  5. Hell = Sitting in a marriage counselor’s office, alongside your spouse of 15+ years, listening to them admit they never loved you, but married you anyway (aka, FRAUD).

  6. The girl whose glasses you mocked in third grade, the first lover you cheated on, the sickly grandmother you never visited, everyone you ever cut off in traffic, the homeless people you stepped over, the orphans who starved waiting for your call – they all remember, and they’re waiting.

  7. “Don’t wake up,” she begs, but already she’s fading, and I’m blinking, turning to see (finally) my real wife, who looks into my eyes and says “Please, don’t wake up.”

    1. (Taking John’s lead here in replying to my own post, this time with an actual working link – and BTW, thanks heaps, Twitter, love your work. Changing things without backporting? Awesome idea. Really.Okay, actual entry follows.)His body – gloriously healed and relaxed as ever – beckons, and his beautiful eyes flick frantically across us as we return to him, our scalpels gleaming.

  8. If I live to see my children suffer for my sins, then Hell will be the memory of a smile in a baby’s eyes, the feel of a tiny hand clutching my finger, and to avoid it I will burn.

  9. You sit, whilst they stand, staring at you, disappointed and mute, silently judging and in the background ‘Moves Like Jagger’ plays on a perpetual, horrifying loop.

  10. I live every mistake, every ill deed, every embarrassing moment, everything I ever wished I could change, over and over again in an endless loop, while outside of the loop is nothing but darkness and empty space.

  11. Finally at terms with the fact I’d be tortured for eternity, I crossed the threshold of the chamber, only to be handed a carving knife and pliers by a squat nosed demon who nodded me towards a table where my child laid strapped down and looking up at me with terrified eyes.

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