Judas Priest Ticket Giveway



We have had some very awesome and creative stories come through our email over the past couple weeks!

Thanks to all who submitted stories!  
Winner's submissions are listed below!




Winning Story Number One:  Courtney VanConey from Cannelton, IN
They call me the Night Crawler. I make the Halls of Valhalla my home. Sometimes, it feels as if I’ve been to Hell and Back, but this is only the beginning of my story. As I roam the empty halls, the same way I do every night, there is a distant knock on the door. I hesitantly tip toe to the large metal door and it creaks open, yet, no one is there. For a moment, I notice the skies are the colors of Diamonds and Rust. Such a beautiful sight. All of a sudden, I hear The Hellion let out a Scream For Vengeance. From the corner of my eye, I see him, Running Wild. I sprint after him as fast as my legs will carry me. I quickly turn the corner and yell, “I’ve been Dying To Meet You!” For it is him, The Green Manalishi, My Evening Star. I know he has come from Beyond The Realms of Death. For his visit only means one thing:  The Hero’s End. He will either accept me as the Devil’s Child or he will Eat Me Alive. As he approaches me, I feel like I’m Dead Meat, but suddenly I’m surrounded by The Metal Gods and the Defenders of Faith. I look up to Blood Red Skies and realize that I will lead the Metal Meltdown will All Guns Blazing. Moments later I am leading the Monsters of Rock, for with the Last Rose of Summer, and just Before the Dawn The Rage will begin. We descend on the human world with axes and swords that are Hard as Iron. With the Sword of Damocles in my hand we commence the March of The Damned. 
The Cathedral Spires are in the distance as the Battle Hymn begins. We march closer to those they call “The Abductors”, before long we are face to face. With one look, the Genocide begins. I become some sort of Killing Machine, this is not who I am. With my sword coming down on our opponents, I see only red. With the last clash of my sword I can see that Hell is Home. The gristly battle ends with the Hell Patrol cleaning the Blood Stained streets. The Abductors had been defeated and will now Burn in Hell with the rest of us. This was my One Shot at Glory, and I have succeeded. I have always been the Night Crawler, but I have since been Lost and Found. Since my glorious battle victory, in my new home, I am now the Metal Messiah, The Leather Rebel.
Years later, if you listen close, during the Calm of The Storm, you will hear my Battle Cry. If you look hard enough you will see the Shadows In The Flame. You will know this is the Beginning Of The End.
For I am Judas Rising.

Winning Story Number Two:  Sydney Hoffman from Darmstadt, IN
Marcelle did not sleep. Since she had been young, even the nocturnal shifting of the ice maker could rupture her peace. Awakening on this particular night to the murmur of an upstairs tenant's television, she went out back. Civilian curfew was still in effect, so she stood in the yard behind the apartments and watched the nearby cathedral spires lure pigeons. Her fingertips wandered to the puckered tissue on the back of her neck, still healing from the recent city ordinance. 
It was found, after a string of antisocial incidents and self-destructive behaviors, that their general population had been overstimulated. A shut-in on Steeler Street, after more than five years of solitude, emerged one afternoon to smile upon her neighbors from behind the cyclopean glower of a 12-gauge shotgun. A man who called himself “The Green Manalishi” left dollar bills folded lovingly into origami cranes on each of his seven victim's tongues. 
Experts from distant lands were brought into the city to examine this abrupt flourish of violence. The first culprit traced his impulses back to music--metal meltdown music, with rapid fire drums and shrill guitars wailing in sinister harmony. But the lyrics, he claimed, were what truly motivated him to gnaw off the ear of that other guy at the ATM.
When his explanation was publicly released, the others followed suit: the steak with a pink center eaten the night before had piqued their bloodlust. The water spots on the silverware had moved them to vehicular manslaughter.
The city officials, unable to ensure properly-cooked steaks and more efficient dishwashers at a municipal level, commissioned  a device that would camouflage all negative sensations, visual, aural, or whatever else. Mineral deposits on glassware would appear invisible to the device-wearer. Rare meat would taste bloodless, just as heavy metal music would sound stifled and warm.
The device was surgically grafted onto the spine of most every citizen by March 18th of that year. Marcelle had signed up early; her brain, even in its sleep, was often driven to distraction. In fact many complied, relieved to be rid of the rage aroused by pointless irritants. They filed into hospitals and medical tents and emerged no longer as victims of change but as truly rational beings. Those that refused or continued to exhibit criminal behavior were executed. Some escaped death and exiled themselves to the desert plains surrounding the city. Out there, they united into a faction, a pack of dissident aggressors touting free will and speech. The city officials then commissioned a wall, a concrete partition to keep out the Exciters. So the demonstrations and the riots were all ended, and everyone could sleep again.
Except for Marcelle.  She suspected that her regulator was broken. She didn't know how or why. It must have functioned properly at first. For a short time, she was no longer living after midnight but mired in a seamless sleep. Then, after four comatose nights, the far-off shudder of the bullet train had peeled back her eyelids, and here she was again. Not only that, but things were beginning to reclaim their original forms. The regulators rewired perception; they smoothed out the irregular edges in everyday objects or at least made them easier to overlook. But day by day, more cracks reappeared in the sidewalks below her feet. The last rose of summer, so pert and vermillion in her neighbor's flower bed, now bared its shriveled maw at her.  
Marcelle approached a small garden and sat, relaxing her spine against the short brick enclosure. The ragged rose, riding on the wind, nodded in her direction. Its thorns were becoming plainer.
“It's beginning to come back to you, isn't it?”
Sudden noises did not alarm her in waking life as much as they did in her brittle sleep. She turned, heart softly pummeling  her chest, to acknowledge the invader, this night crawler. A slouched figure was crowded into the garden with her, an arm slung over the top of one knee.
“...You shouldn't be here.” A puzzling glint of territorality entered her voice now. “This is private property—you're trespassing, you know.” How many times before the dawn had she wished for another human voice, a presence to relieve her of her solitude?
“Relax,” he said. “I'm just admiring the garden, same as you--only, from that look in your eyes, you aren't admiring. And from the sound of your voice, you still get triggered.  Mad.”
“I'm not mad.” 
“Sure you're not.” A pause. “...Is it broken?” 
“What's broken? ...Who are you?” 
“Answer my question, then I'll answer yours.” 
Back against a wall, locked in by plants climbing far above her head, Marcelle found she could not will her skeleton off the ground.
“I've been watching you watch everything else,” he said. She looked up sharply. “Everything's getting realer.  Uglier.  Well, isn't it? I see you out when night comes down, giving it all the once over, yeah.  Fess up, kid, it's broke as a joke.”
“I don't know what you want,” She lifted her head, looking into the one electric eye illuminated by someone's kitchen light.  “I'm not out after curfew; I'm not breaking the law. I'm just sitting here after dark-—that's not illegal.” 
“Sure, but how much time we got before it is? And anyway, you're still behaving criminally, failing to report that bug you've got in your hardware. People are bound to notice sometime.” 
“Sure, it's broken.” Fear solidified in her throat, tightening her bottom jaw. “Look, I don't want trouble. I won't get triggered, alright, I'm not a violent person. ...I just want to go back to bed.” 
He sat watching her for a moment. Then, his gaunt face breached the shadows, eyes hard as iron and gunmetal teeth glinting in the artificial light. He said, “...To answer your question, I'm what your 'elected officials' call a stained class of human being. You know, a savage, a sinner—-the whole nine yards, I guess.” 
“You aren't secret police?” 
“Hell no.  Look here.” He approached her now, and still she could not move.  Fingers forming a pincer, he clamped the pressure point in her left wrist. They sat like this for a few beats. She watched his face, then let her eyes wander to the branches of a small citrus tree, to the fibrous knuckles on the twigs and the stunted fruit. At last, here was the garden as it truly was, every detail bristling into her eyes.
She said, “You're an Exciter.”
“That's true. And I'm here to make sure you still feel this.” He tapped his thumb and pointer finger on her pulse. “Pain and pleasure, your blood turning circles. You know, they say the longer you wear one of those, the fainter it all sounds.” He rose to his feet then, fingertips leaving a white heat, red hot.  His gaze arced over the wall behind her, fixing on some point she couldn't ascertain from down there on the ground.  “All I'm saying is, there's more of us, out beyond that wall they're building? You should leave while you still can.”  
She remained down in the mulch even after his wordless departure, rubbing circles into the scar on her neck, watching the brightening gradient of the sky.  When she could stand again, she looked out over the brick wall to a second wall—a growing wall, already bleeding a great shadow over the streets.  No, it wouldn't be long at all.

Winning Story Number Three:  Mike VanWinkle of Evansville
In a land far from earth and beyond the Evening Star, there is an unknown race compelled to Take on the World. This race has been named the Dawn of Creation; bred by the hands of Metal Gods to be raised as Killing Machines, Tyrants, and Dissident Aggressors. Some are referred to as the Devil’s Child. For centuries, they have crushed nonbelievers with their Hard as Iron fist’s and have created Blood Red Skies around the planets and stars; with all Guns Blazing. Others have unsuccessfully tried to defend their homes, because dealing with A Touch of Evil, forces a Metal Meltdown, which destroys the Future of Mankind.  All life is Worth Fighting For, but it is the Defenders of Faith that decide who lives and who dies. For thousands of years, Earth has had a Lost Love for New Beginnings and a defiance of truth.  
Alone to embrace the Beginning of the End, the Calm Before the Storm, people of the Earth will accept the truth and begin to fight One on One, Screaming for Vengeance, and Delivering the Goods to defend against the Dawn of Creation. Earth will grow silent to respect Peace and Death, to worship the Prophecy, and feel the devastation from War.  The last light of the sun will diminish and hope will leave the people of Earth.  Let Us Pray and Call for the Priest the people will say exclaiming, “We are the March of the Damned!  We shall go Down in Flames and to Hell and Back for your help.  WE BEG YOU JUDAS PRIEST, the jawbreaker of War, let us use your Electric Eye and your Solar Angels to defeat the Dawn of Creation”. No response will be heard.  A dark cloud will cover the earth and fade the sky lit moon.  The people of earth will know the Dawn of Creation is still amongst them. 
Between the Hammer and the Anvil, they will continue to fight without hope, until a glow of light, like Wheels of Fire will illuminate Shadows in the Flame; the shadow of Judas Rising, the Redeemer of Souls will bless them. In the Crossfire of Visions and Revelations there will be One Shot for Glory. This chance will depend on the people of Earth and their acceptance that Earth will be governed by Judas Priest as his Private Property in order to keep the Freewheel Burning.  Those who are Breaking the Law will be punished, and for that reason, Some Heads are Going to Roll. Like an atomic bomb in the sky, the Angel of Retribution will appear with The Four Horse Men on earth. With the power invested to them by Judas, they will sentence the Dawn of Creation to Death Row.  This Hell Patrol will be banished forever and shall be reminded to never return, for if they do they will know… You’ve Got Another Thing Coming! 

Winning Story Number Four (top vote getter):  Alan King of Owensboro
        One morning, at the McClane’s Winter Retreat, Bill was trying to save the Future of Mankind from certain Death while playing the Island of Domination video game. “Take that you Cold Blooded commie Tyrant. Think you can Take on the World and live Beyond the Realms of Death? NO SIR, not with Bill McClane…. , The Ripper…., The Cheater…., The Dreamer Deceiver, kicking your Rocka Rolla butt, all over the place” BOO-HAhaha came an evil laugh from the couch. “Oh. Aaron, look at Mr. Jawbreaker now. Uh-huh, now Here Come the Tears.” Aaron Bone, looking for some Peace and Solitude, had dropped by Bill’s house on Desert Plains street, and was shaking his head at Bills comments. Just like Jekyll and Hyde. “I thought you were into those Secrets of the Dead game, or that March of the Damned or whatever it is.” Just then Aaron’s phone rang. 
        Aaron answered as Pat Ballard was screaming like he was on Death Row. “Zombie?” Aaron asked “As in a Brain Dead Zombie?” Bill didn’t even look up, as he was still Locked In his Conquest. “Bill!!!” Aaron called. “Bill, the stations been taking over by a Zombie!!!” Bill spun around quickly as Visions of the station appeared in his mind. “The Station? Why that’s Private Property!” “Yeah it is. We have to do something Bill. Pat is hiding from the Savage Invader like a Night Crawler. He told me he was watching the Electric Eye of the security camera for Bob and can’t find him. Soon Kevin will be in the Crossfire also.” 
        Bill stood up and took an Evil Fantasies pose between Superman and Captain Morgan and shouted out, “I may have to make a Deal with the Devil to save WKTG and the guys, but they’re Worth Fighting For and you can bet your behind, Before the Dawn this Killing Machine will show them a thing or two. Let’s go.” Aaron, listening to the Leather Rebel. “Bill, did you take another Painkiller?” 
        Soon Bill’s wife enters the room as she was Awakening from his loco speech. She sees the two running wild needing some Parental Guidance. “Whoa, guys Don’t Go running through the house?” Bill runs into the kitchen despite the warning. “Angel, you Turbo Lover, I Love You to Death but we are Heading Out to the Highway. We have a Metal Meltdown at the station and we have to go on Hell Patrol. Sorry Love, sometimes Love Bites” Bill takes one more sip of coffee, stating “One for the Road”.  As Bill and Aaron run out the door, Bill’s wife, a tad annoyed, yells to Bill “Well I hope you’re not Hot for Love when you get back, because the blockade just went up on this Love Zone. 
        As Aaron and the Metal Messiah jump in the car, they find it won’t start. Aaron listens under the hood and informs Bill he’s not getting any Rapid Fire from his distributor. An aggravated Bill spoke. “Nothings gonna fire in this Deep Freeze.” Aaron then replied, “Bill I told you stealing parts from the Lost and Found as a bad idea. Your so called Wheels of Fire are going Down in Flames quick.” “What a Raw Deal, …..okay, I got a backup plan that’s sure to get us All the Way there.” 
        Back at the station, Pat calls Aaron. “Hey, this Devil Digger thing’s still Running Wild in here and it’s gonna Eat Me Alive if you don’t hurry. You think it’s gone and the Reckless thing is back.” Aaron gave Pat some reassurance as Machine Man Bill got things going, and telling his self over and over to control The Rage. 
        “Here we go, quick get on.” Bill had pushed a scooter outside. Aaron rolling his eyes answered “It’s Winter out here. We have to ride this thing built from the Dawn of Creation?”  “We’re not trying to catch a Hot Rockin’ chick on this thing. Your Never Satisfied with anything are you Bone Man? I ain’t riding this Bullet Train to Hell & Back all Alone. Now get on and you better have a darn good Battle Cry before we get there Mister.” As the Defenders of Faith duo speed off towards the station, Bill with a fist in the air yells “Rock Hard Ride Free”. 
        “Bill, we darn sure won’t be Breaking the Law on this thing. It’s going to take Forever to get there.” Stated a bear hugging Aaron. As the two were nearing top speed a vibration occurred. “What’s that funny feeling, I feel on the back of my leg?” Bill asked.  Aaron not sure what Bill was referring to told him, “HOLD ON, Mr. Exciter, if you think it’s what I think you’re thinking, You’ve Got Another Thing Coming”. Soon, Aaron realized it was his phone giving a text message. “Oh, Sorry, it’s my phone. KTG just sent a song alert text. They are going to play the live Heavy Metal version of Johnny B Goode from the Monsters of Rock tour.” Bill screamed out “I love that song, it gets me All Fired Up. Bone man, when I find those Dead Meat Zombies Some Heads are Gonna Roll.” 
        After a few minutes they arrive on scene. “We made it before Kevin. I was expecting the place to look like the Beginning of the End” remarked Aaron.  Bill had grabbed something Hard as Iron so he could Ram it Down the Zombies throat while Aaron called back into the station “Pat??? Hey, Bill and I just got here and were Out in the Cold. Can we get into the station? Oh…. I see…..okay….sure will. Thanks. Okay Bill, Pat says this is not your Run of the Mill zombie, this thing is Hell Bent for Leather.” Bill, puzzled asked “What in the hell is a Run of the Mill Zombie? Is he doing Random Facts again? This isn’t funny, this is War? I’m going in with All Guns Blazing so I can Decapitate Pat and Bob’s Abductors. But I have a gun so that won’t work.” Aaron held up his hand in protest, “And I don’t want a room full of Blood Stained CD’s.” 
        “I’m a Rocker Aaron, and I gotta fight this Zombie Revolution head on.  Besides You Don’t Have to Be Old to Be Wise, I know the Metal Gods will help me think of something.” Aaron mumbled to himself, “Bill, you ARE old and you can’t Rock Forever, hell, you can hardly move now.” Bill hearing the mumble asked what was said. Aaron quickly replied, “I said I don’t want to be Close to You when you start Screaming for Vengeance  and body parts start flying In Between you and me.” 
        They opened the Heavy Duty front door, and slide into the station hallways. Soon they heard something. It was The Hellion, Bob Kelly reading todays Evening Star. “Guys! Did you know that Jack Lemmon’s Epitaph says IN”? Aaron grabs Bob and pulls him behind the counter to ask about the Zombie. “ZOMBIE!!!, What Zombie? He replied. 
         “So Mr. Redeemer of Souls. What now?” Aaron asked.  Bill held up his hand, “Listen we have One Shot at Glory. Are you ready to take down this Demonizer? Before You Say Yes look around.  It’s quiet now, and I Hope it stays that way, but it’s just the Calm Before the Storm like in Revelations with The Four Horsemen and the Saints in Hell and all that. United we can take down this Deceiver”. Aaron nods with a confused look. “Bill is that some Nostradamus crap?” “Dumbass, it’s in the Prophecy. Didn’t you see those Blood Red Skies outside? I tell ya, someone better write his Eulogy because this Zombie’s gonna Burn in Hell. 
        “Let’s wait until Night Comes Down so we have a chance of Persecution. Zombie’s can’t be Living After Midnight you know.” Remarked Bob. “Wait?? I’m Burnin’ Up in here and IT’S A ZOMBIE. IT AIN’T LIVING BEFORE OR AFTER MIDNIGHT. You both better start singing the Battle Hymn. This Cyberface junkie’s going down”. Soon a shadow was moving towards them. As the 3 hid behind the counter, Bill was ready to face the Zombie One on One quietly saying “Come and Get It, you Devil’s Child.” 
        The Exiled Zombie was upon them and no longer On the Run, waiting to pounce, when the front door opened. Bob yelled. “RUN!!!!” Kevin, carrying a Grinder from a sandwich place, thought it was a joke. “Hey Bill, Aaron, Bob, Paul.” The three mouthing the word Paul, jumped up to be face to face with the Zombie, finding only the Devil’s Child himself, Paul Shaffer. “Hey guys, Wild Night, Hot & Crazy Days, huh? I just did a promo for my Day in Rock, see you Sinner’s tomorrow.” Pat walks out recording his three co-workers on his phone.  Laughing as he turned stating “OMG, I got my Geniuses of the day.” 

Winners will be selected by a panel made up of radio station personnel.  Once a story is submitted you are granting us permission to read it on-air and/or publishing it on any of our social media sites.  Staff may edit spelling or wording to make appropriate for air-play or on social media sites.
 
 

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