An Exploration of the Senses Contest

I am very excited to announce Helliex88 (author of 'The Tortoise and the Hare' and 'The Boy in the Cafeteria') and I are hosting a contest about the senses – sight, smell, touch, taste and hearing. Basically all entries will be one-shots examining one of the senses within the Twilight inspired world with whatever characters the author wishes.

Here are the specifics:

Must be a one shot

(And one that has not been used for another contest)

Must be centered on one of the senses

Any character(s), canon/non-canon

10,000 word limit

AH, Canon or AU

Can be crackfic

Smut is not necessary

Any rating, any genre

Deadline for entries is August 31st.

Voting will begin September 1st and end September 15th.

First Prize Winner will receive a shout-out on the Temptation Podcast, a specialized banner and a Twilight-inspired t-shirt.

Second Prize Winner will receive a shout-out on the Temptation Podcast and a specialized banner.

Third Prize Winner will receive a specialized banner.

You can PM either Helliex88 or myself if you would like more details, and to tell us you have an entry where we shall put it into a C2.

You must have the following header if you submit an entry:

Title:

Pen Name:

Sense:

Genre:

Characters:

Visit cdunbar or Helliex88's profile for contest details and how to enter.

Title: Such A Simple Thing

Pen Name: CDunbar

Sense: Touch

Genre: All-Human

Characters: Bella and Edward

Visit cdunbar or Helliex88's profile for contest details and how to enter.

A/N: This is my example of a contest entry. Helliex88 also wrote an example, which you can check out under her profile.

Such A Simple Thing

EPOV

A wise man once said, "Touch can connect you to an object in a very personal way, make it seem more real."

It was those words that crossed my mind when Bella touched me for the first time.

We had been partnered together on an English project that was worth a fourth of our final grade. I felt this was unjustly lop-sided and signified a rather lazy teacher who had grown stagnant in her tenure status.

Bella had merely nodded while I ranted about the inequality of it all one day in the library. It was a Saturday morning, so not many students were around and I couldn't keep my anger to myself anymore.

I mean, what did that kind of grading system teach us? That Shakespeare was worth ten times more than Marlowe? How could someone put that kind of number on both equally deserving authors who had survived the test of time?

Somehow I twisted my argument into a cry for anarchy.

"We should strike!" I said sternly, pounding my fist on the table.

Bella stared at me and then slowly raised one eyebrow. "Doesn't one have to be in a union to go on strike?"

"Details, Swan," I countered, waving my hand. "It's about the principle of the thing."

"The principle being that you don't want to do this assignment?" she asked quietly.

"Yes."

She sighed. "When you go down in flames, please don't take me with you. I actually need this class."

"Who says I'll go down in flames? I may triumph! Then where will you be? Still doing this assignment, that's what!" I argued.

"Look, Edward. I think it's very noble that you're trying to stand up for the oft overlooked and underappreciated sixteenth century writers of British Literature, but sometimes you need to know when to pick your battles. And this is not one of them."

"What are you talking about? Of course it is! You have to strike while the iron is hot, my friend. And the iron is blazing right now."

Bella shook her head, a small smile of amusement on her face. "You're not going to give up on this, are you?"

"No! It's imperative that I have a backer. One man cannot change the course of a tide, no matter how hard he tries," I said.

"That's not true. What about Jesus?" she asked playfully.

"Anyone can change the world if God is behind them, but I'm not the son of God, no matter how many people have told you otherwise." I winked at her and she grinned back in turn.

"Okay. What about Martin Luther King or… Gandhi… or Dalai Lama? They never claimed to be the son of God and look what they did!"

"But they had to start out somewhere," I pointed out. "They had to gain a following in order to get the people with the power to listen to them! And that's what you're going to be, Swan. You'll be my following."

Bella started chuckling, which soon became all out, gut busting laughter. She bent over the table, her arms crossed over her stomach, and just… laughed.

Not the reaction I was going for.

I was trying to be awe-inspiring here. It was hard to accomplish that when the person you're trying to "awe" starts laughing at you.

I bet Jesus never had to put up with this, I thought bitterly, frowning at the top of Bella's head as she began to quiet down.

I propped my head up with one hand and threw my arm on the table haphazardly in front of me, waiting for Bella to pull herself together.

She wiped away the tears from her eyes and smiled at me. "I'm sorry, but that was just too funny."

"I didn't see the humor in it," I stated, frowning deeply.

"Oh, don't be upset, Edward," she pleaded.

Then it happened.

Her hand reached out and gently gripped mine.

---

Touch is such a simple thing.

As humans, we touch a lot of things in a single day.

Wake up, turn off the alarm, use the bathroom, brush our teeth, take a shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, grab the car keys, and lock the front door.

We can't leave the house without touching at least a hundred things in the short span of time it takes us to wake and get out of the door.

But human contact is something entirely different.

We respect each other's space. We try to give people a wide breath in restaurants, movie theaters, queues, locker rooms, public transit, hallways, and stores.

It's considered a rude thing to bump into someone by accident.

It's faux pas to sit next to a stranger when there are plenty of available seats elsewhere.

So when I looked at Bella's touch in society's terms, I could reason away how I reacted to it.

But that didn't stop me from replaying it every time I let my mind wander.

I felt her warmth, the softness of her skin, and the subtle weight of her hand. The brief sweep of her thumb against the back of my hand. The tender way she squeezed my hand in reassurance.

And now I couldn't stop staring at her in class.

Or watching her as we sat across from each other in the library, preparing for our presentation.

I followed the line of her hand to where it met her wrist, then curved down her arm to the sensitive fold of her elbow. The way her fingers would grasp her wayward strands of hair and move them back behind her shoulder.

I imagined tracing her face with the tips of my fingertips, and then traveling down to her throat, feeling rather than seeing when she swallowed. Lifting the edge of her shirt to outline the curve of her waist and small of her back. Closing my eyes and breathing her in as I held her to me and soaked in her warmth.

What had happened?

She had been a friend, nothing more.

We had been able to enjoy an easy friendship based mostly on banter for almost the entire semester.

Because nothing more could come of it and I knew that before we had even become friends.

Now everything was different for me and nothing I did seemed to change that fact.

When had I become a masochist?

I looked up from the notes we had complied over the past week when someone stopped by our table. My heart felt like it was being squeezed when I saw who it was.

It was him.

"Hey, babe," he said to Bella. She glanced up and immediately smiled brightly.

"Hey," she replied sweetly. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I could coerce you into getting dinner with me." He turned to me and added, "If that's okay with you, that is."

"Sure, Jazz. I think we're done here," I tried my best to say calmly.

Bella smiled in gratitude toward me and gathered up her things. I watched her fingers skim the covers of books as she placed them into her backpack. Then she swung the bulging bag over her shoulder and gave me a small wave. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Yeah. Have a good time," I said, directing my eyes back down somehow.

But because I was a masochist, I glanced up again when she started walking away.

And saw her place her hand inside his.