Here's a riddle for you fine-minded scholars to solve: what's more entertaining than a marshmallow fight between two baby polar bears, more brilliant than Albus Dumbledore's diary, and more hilarious than me accidentally telling Chris Hemsworth that I often barf all over myself?
Why, your Writer Wars story submissions, OBVIOUSLY! (Ok, so that was a terrible riddle, but we can't all be Pulitzer Prize-winning authors, dammit.) Last week's prompt called for you to combine two of your favorite fictions, and man, were the results SPECTACULAR. We had everything from Pysch to Sherlock, Katniss to Captain Jack Sparrow. All of you told incredible tales, but only two of you could take home top honors. And this week's winners are...
Sparklers' Choice (with 22 votes): missmolly02481! Because we all secretly wanted to know what the Hunger Games would be like if Winnie the Pooh was involved:
Katniss fought back tears as she staggered through the underbrush. Blistered fingers wiped at her eyes- no room for tears in the hunger games, not now. A warm pink hue spread softly over the horizon and for a moment Katniss was struck by the thought that someone, somewhere, had programmed such a thing of beauty into her own personal hell. Sunrise, the flowers—the flowers.
Any attempt at tear-wiping was abandoned. Katniss began to run helplessly towards the rising sun, oblivious to all else. Unfortunately, her running was soon cut short by a jarring pain in her left ankle as the ground rose up to meet her.
Katniss readied her bow and shot to her knees in anticipation—only to find the gaze of a decidedly expressively faced Rabbit.
“Just what do you think you are doing?!” The rabbit spat at Katniss in an unfamiliar accent.
The girl, for once in her life, was completely astounded.
“Um,” was all she could manage to reply.
A crowd had formed around the pair; Katniss stole a glance to one side and almost laughed at the sight. A shivering piglet stood huddled beneath the rather round belly of what appeared to be a living teddy-bear. Even stranger was the small cloud hovering above an aptly colored blue donkey.
“You are STANDING in my PUMPKIN PATCH!” The rabbit’s voice reclaimed her attention.
It occurred to Katniss that she had probably been stung by a Tracker Jacker and that the whole situation was something from the dusty corners of her imagination.
It also occurred to her that, hallucination or not, she had found food.
“Well, er, Rabbit, seeing as I’ve damaged some of these pumpkins of yours…I would be happy to clear them out of the way for you.” Katniss tried to keep the desperation out of her voice.
“I-I don’t see much h-h-harm in g-giving her some p-p-umpkins.” A timid voice chimed in.
“Well, you would think that wouldn’t you, Piglet,” Rabbit’s eyes narrowed and held Katniss’s gaze, “But I’m not giving as much as a single seed away unless she..”
Rabbit paused thoughtfully.
“…Unless she can finish a pot of honey before Pooh!”
The audience gasped, clearly scandalized. Pots were retrieved and Katniss soon found herself staring into a pot of the most delicious looking honey she’d ever seen. Her mouth watered at the thought of its sickly sweetness. She slid both hands into the pot and began to eat.
Katniss ate, and ate, and ate. The honey soothed her aching stomach and within minutes her hands were scraping at an empty pot. A glance at Pooh told her that he was hardly halfway through his own portion.
Katniss struggled to her feet—feeling fuller than ever before—and strode over to the Pumpkins. Rabbit nodded in shocked assent when she gestured toward the ruined produce.
“Thank you.” Katniss couldn’t forget her manners, even in this strange dreamland.
The inhabitants of hundred-acre wood simply stared as she walked back into the woods.
Dagger's Choice (and 2nd-place winner with 21 votes): Lizadizdiz! Because it takes a hilarious genius to pair Sherlock Holmes with Harry Potter. I loved everything about her story, and it left me desperate to read the next chapter (and dying for Season 3 of BBC's Sherlock to come out).
Harry twirled his wand lazily between his fingers, trying to pay attention to Professor Snape’s cool drawling voice. He snuck a glance around the room, noting three new students. One was short, and had a hardened look, like he’d been through a battle, yet the boy seemed welcoming and kind. He sat next to a tall, thin man with a mane of curly brown hair. His eyes flicked around the room, sometimes pausing on certain students or objects, an annoying knowing look glued on his face. The third student was sitting slightly behind Draco Malfoy, his face obscured by shadow, Harry couldn’t quite make him out, but a cold menacing feeling radiated from the boy, and Harry instantly disliked him.
“Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter.” Snape said coolly gliding to a stop in front of Harry and his friend Ron. Harry tore his gaze away from the boy and met Snape’s black eyes.
“For what?” He asked levelly, keeping the annoyance out of his voice.
“For being an insufferable git,” Snape said gliding back to the front of the room, Harry’s neck prickled and he turned to see the tall boy’s eyes on him. “Now, as I was saying before Mr. Potter checked out, the Prime Potions Contest is today, and I’ve assigned you partners.” Ron swore under his breath and flashed Harry a look, then nodded to Malfoy, one of them would probably get stuck with the arrogant prick.
“Malfoy, you work with Moriarty.” The strange boy behind Malfoy stood up and nodded at Malfoy before walking over to a cauldron. “Weasley, Watson.” The small boy stood up, nodded at Ron and then followed him to a cauldron. “Potter, you can have the pleasure of working with Holmes, maybe you can manage not to melt your cauldron this time.” Harry glared at Snape before walking over to a cauldron, regarding his partner quizzically.
“You have twenty minutes to brew a satisfactory potion, you may chose any from the books on your table,” Harry picked up a small book and flipped through it absently, it was filled with different remedies for boils, “Your time begins, now.” All across the classroom chairs scrapped against the floor as students busied themselves.
“You’re Harry Potter.” The boy said thinly. Harry nodded, flicking through another book, looking for a fairly simple potion to brew. “How was your date?” the book dropped to the table, and Harry’s mouth flew open.
“D-date?” He spluttered, confused. Had Ginny told anyone?”
“Yes, obviously you’ve been on a date. You’re hair is a mess, your shirt has been recently tucked into your trousers, you’re lips are red and raw, and you smell faintly of perfume.” The boy said opening a book to a random page, glancing at it, and then nodding to himself swept off to the supply closet.
Harry looked after him, stunned. How’d he known? Ginny and he had snuck off to the Owlery after lunch, no one had seen them, he’d used the invisibility cloak.
“If you take the last newt I will burn the heart out of you!” Harry turned to see his strangely inquisitive partner arguing with Moriarty, Malfoy’s partner.
“I’d like to see you try.” Holmes responded coolly, clutching the newt to his chest.
“Sherlock, give him the newt.” Ron’s partner, Watson, said tiredly.
“No, I got here first, and he didn’t want it until he saw me take it. Unless he only wants it to see me fail, in which case I can assure him that I won’t, I never fail, at anything.” Sherlock said his eyes never leaving Moriarty’s.
“Just get the lamb’s eye, Jim!” Malfoy said, annoyance layered in his voice.
“Shut up or I’ll turn you into a shoe.” Moriarty shot back his eyes glued to Sherlock’s. Harry rolled his eyes, pointed his wand at Sherlock, and whispered Expeliarmus under his breath, the newt soared out of Sherlock’s hand and landed gracefully in Harry’s.
“Let’s get back to work.” He said turning to the table, placing the newt next to the book. Sherlock grudgingly appeared at his side a moment later, as did Moriarty, he leaned close to Harry.
“You owe me a newt. You. Owe. Me.” He whispered menacingly, before returning to his table. Harry’s fist curled around the newt, and before he knew what he was doing, he had thrown it across the room and at Moriarty, it hit him in the face and he fell backwards onto Malfoy, who swore darkly.
“50 points from Gryffindor, Potter.” Snape snapped helping Malfoy and Moriatry to their feet. “And detention.”
Glowering, Harry turned away from his new found enemy and looked up, his eyes meeting Sherlock’s.
“That was brilliant.” John said materializing at Sherlock’s shoulder, “Amazing, wonderful, really.”
“Shut up John, you’ll lower the IQ of the entire room if you keep complimenting him like that.” Sherlock said coolly.
Congrats to all of you! Let's hope JK Rowling sees this post and commissions some serious Harry Potter/Sherlock Holmes fan fiction, because dudes, I would pay good money to see that shizz hit the big screen. And now for this week's prompt: Write a short story or poem (MAX 500 words) in which the main character suddenly either loses or gains one of the 5 senses—so, for example, a blind person gains the sense of sight, or a hearing person becomes deaf. Just in case you need a refresher, here are the senses you have to work with:
Can't wait to see what you come up with!