THE GOLDEN COMPASS CONTEST #1!


Hello everyone!

As some of you may already know, I (fbi_woman) had the pleasure of attending the trailer premiere for The Golden Compass in New York City. After the screening, there were contests going on and the prizes included movie quiz books and mini Lyra posters. As luck would have it, I won 2 extra copies of each, and am now giving you the opportunity to win them!

These are the above mentioned prizes you will be vying for:


There are two different ways to enter the contest. You can choose to do one or both, but you may only make one submission of each type. Both methods are very simple.

Method 1 : Fanart
To enter via method one, all you have to do is make a piece of fanart featuring images from the film, The Golden Compass. It can be anything from an avatar to a wallpaper, whatever you feel best represents your talent. When the contest closes, I will select one winner from all of the submissions, and that person will receive one quiz book and one mini poster.

Method 2 : Creative Writing
To enter via method two, you must simply create a piece of creative writing related to The Golden Compass. You can write a poem, a fanfic, something about your own daemon, a fictitious article, anything you like as long as it is an original, creative work. There is no minimum or maximum word count. When the contest closes, I will select one winner from all of the submissions, and that person will receive one quiz book and one mini poster.


If you have any questions, feel free to e-mail me at queeque0925@hotmail.com.


Good luck!


DEADLINE: FRIDAY DECEMBER 7TH



THE RESULTS ARE IN!!
Thanks to everyone who entered, and congratulations to the winners!

Method 1 : Fanart
The winner is ... Moni! View her entry here.

Honourable mentions go to Arthur and Josie .


Method 2 : Creative Writing
The winner is ... Elyse, with the following entry ...

"She’s slumped against a building, her back pressed to the ancient stone, her feet shuffling back and forth on the snow covered ground. Its blistering cold and her parka offers little relief. She pulls its floppy hood over her eyes and shoves her hands into her pockets. Darkness.“What are you doing?” She doesn’t need to see to tell it’s him. She knows every tone and dip in his aptly boyish voice. She can tell when he’s near. He’s currently a snow hare, curled up, hiding in a tiny snow bank by her feet.“I’m hiding,” she replies.“From what?”“The cold,” she says simply. She buries her hands further into the fur lined pockets of the parka. Once the parka was new, pure white like the snow, with its hood and pockets lined with fur. There were snow white boots and gloves to match. Now the jacket is brown and the fur is flaking off. The boots are torn and soot-colored and the gloves have long been missing. “You can’t hide from the cold,” he says. “Of course I can, Octavian.” A gust of wind whips around her face. It rubs her cheeks raw, makes her eyes water. Octavian is right again. Octavian is always right. She pulls back her hood slightly, enough to see her daemon by her feet, shivering. “Let’s go,” she says. Octavian looks up at her with his watery blue eyes and paws his way up her pant leg to her shoulder. He snuggles into her hood and rests his face against hers. Octavian is soft, and warm. She walks forward.The streets are quiet in Oxford this winter, a quiet like there’s never been before. The toy shop on the corner of the street is closed. The usually elaborate window display is bare and no light emits from the once cheerful place of business. She presses her face against the glass and looks into the dark store. All she sees are empty boxes, bare shelves, wind-up toys collecting dust on the counter, and Octavian’s blinking eyes reflecting in the window. There are no toys because there are no children. Or less of them, at least. Before, all of Oxford was a playground for her and her friends. There were mud wars and games of tag that lasted days. Every alley was a fort and every rooftop was a wonderland. This time last year she and her ragtag group of friends huddled around this store every day, pressing their lips against the glass and looking in at all the marvelous toys. She would always point to her favorite excitedly, and she would always receive it as a present from her parents. But one by one, her friends disappeared. Tony, George, Jack, Rodger, and their ring leader, Lyra. All the Gyptian children were gone as well. And her parents were no longer there to buy her jackets and mittens and toys. They were victims of a silent war, a war that would soon envelope not only Oxford, but the entire world as she and Octavian knew it. The silent war had consumed everyone she knew. Everyone had left or had decided all of a sudden that they weren’t so friendly after all. There was no place for her and Octavian to go. No where but Jordan College. The campus was huge and sprawling and each building was warm and inviting. No one seemed to notice if her and Octavian took a nap in a quiet corner or snuck an apple from the kitchen. No one seemed to even notice their existence. Just to keep safe, though, they chose a different spot to stay every night. That was Octavian’s idea. “Pick one, ‘Tavian,” she says as they approach the sprawling campus. Octavian comes out from the comfort of her hood and peers around. Nudging his pink nose forward he proclaims “that one.” She’s not very familiar with the campus of Jordon College, but she does know that this one, this tall brick structure that looms above most others, is one of the main buildings. There are a few amber lights leaking from the frosted windows onto the blanket of snow. “Excellent choice,” she says to him, and she grabs him, tucks him under her arm, and springs forward until her frozen hands are pressed against the wooden door. She pushes into it with all the might in her shivering body. The door doesn’t budge. She tries it again. Nothing.“I think it’s locked,” she proclaims.“Great observation,” remarks Octavian. “Let’s see if there’s a back door, shall we?”She springs forward again, rounds the corner, lunges herself down a set of ice covered steps, and finds a slit of light shining onto the snow from a cracked open door. There are voices coming from inside. They’re saying words like “daemons” and “severing” and she doesn’t notice. “Wait,” Octavian whispers harshly into her ear. “We shouldn’t go in there.”But nothing will stop her from the promise of warmth, and light, and sleep. This time last year she would have been safely tucked into bed, looking out onto the Oxford twilight and wishing she was elsewhere. Today she would give anything to be in that warm house with that warm bed and that window overlooking all of Oxford. She pushes the door open.Expecting it to lead into a crowded corridor, she is surprised to find herself in a small room with several official-looking adults crowded around a circular table. There’s a fireplace blazing in the corner, and the snow starts to drip off her parka onto the plush, golden carpet. A dozen eyes are blaring into her and Octavian. A dozen unfriendly looking eyes.“Who are you?” asks a sharp, female voice. Her eyes are a soft blue, her golden hair in ringlets that frame her pale, delicate face. She’s wearing a long, flowing dress in a stunning shade of white, like the parka used to be. On her lap is a golden monkey, her daemon. His eyes bore into Octavian’s. Scared, her scuttles out from the hood into the girl’s arms. She hugs him tightly to her, too scared to answer. The woman pushes her chair back, stands up. She’s terribly tall, and she looms over the girl and Octavian. Her furrows her brow at the girl, dressed in rags, and her frail looking daemon and then softens. She walks closer, bends down so she’s at the eye-level of the girl, and asks, sweetly, “What’s your name?”“Julia,” the girl forces out. She pushes back her hood with her free hand. Her red hair is in a matted mess around her face and her green eyes are watery. “My name is Julia and my daemon’s name is Octavian.”“Well, Julia,” The woman’s voice is silky and smooth and eloquent. Her eyelids are brushed with golden eye shadow. Her lips are bright red. Dangling from her ears are a pair of gold hoops. Julia is sure her mother once had the same pair. “What brings you here?”Julia looks up at the woman while she places Octavian on the floor. Basking in the warmth, Octavian morphs into a pure white tom cat and lies down on the floor, rubbing his face into the carpet. The woman’s golden monkey glares at him fiercely. “I sleep here,” says Julia. “We’ve been kind of living in Jordon College since my parents died, ‘Tavian and I. We’ve got no where else to go.” The woman nods, crosses over to the table where eleven angry-looking old men sit impatiently, and grabs an empty teacup. She fills it with steaming water and places a teabag in it. She hands it to Julia. “I think I have a solution to your problem,” the woman says, with a smile. There’s something about her. Julia can’t look away. The woman is just so pure and clean. Julia feels inadequate standing next to her. Octavian, however, isn’t concerned with the woman. He’s sat up and perched himself next to Julia’s leg, glaring back at the woman’s monkey. Julia sips the tea and the red returns to her pale cheeks. “I think you’re going to come with me.”“With you?” Julia asks, mouth half full of steaming hot tea. “With me. You see, I take in children just like you. How would you like to have a home, Julia? With lots of children to play with and people who care about you?”Julia takes a large sip of her tea and thinks. She thinks about the sprawling mud wars with the towns children and the Gyptians, a warm place to live and a bed to sleep in, the warm embrace of her mother, her beautiful mother dressed in a flowing white gown wearing her dangling hoop earrings. Octavian swiftly changes into a mouse and clambers up her parka onto her shoulder once more. Barely audible, he whispers “What’s the catch, Julia?”Julia doesn’t listen to Octavian, but rather to the warm hum of the room, the sound of teacups clinking on their saucers and quiet chatter. She looks up at the smiling, perfect woman, a woman she doesn’t know but who feels so familiar. Like a mother, almost. Like someone who cares. Julia gulps her tea, looks up at the woman, and nods. The woman’s golden monkey sprints over to stand by her side. Octavian burrows himself into Julia’s hood and glares.The woman smiles, bends down again, and extends her hand. “Excellent. You may call me Mrs. Coulter.” "


A honourable mention goes to Ellie with the following entry ...

"The cold white curtain, It hides and holds her heart,She's like china, can be broken,A dark fragile piece of art, Her eyes show desire,But they don't show her sores,She's a tiger, softly purring,About to run, then she roars,Behind the wax mask,She's secreted a ghost,Holds a longing, ornate desire,To which her body stays host,But in the evil,There's the key to her pain,Just release it, fill the empty,And the hunger starts again."




THE GOLDEN COMPASS is in cinemas from December 5th (UK)!
Look out for more exclusive Golden Compass contests here at Nicole's Magic in the coming weeks!