Year 2, Week 45: Results!

There’s not much to say this week… I enjoyed the entries a lot and the two winning stories are near to perfection. Well done everyone!

Runner Up

Angie with “Honor in dying”

I love the imagery.

I’d shorten the paragraphs to add to the tension, though.

Winner Y2W45

Bill Engleson with “The Art Class of War”

Excellent story. I love the twist!

The Art Class of War

Two thousand warriors drew their swords for a war they would not win.

It was downright embarrassing.

“Two thousand,” I explode. “TWO THOUSAND!”

“Shush, Moog,” someone says from a desk, three rows over. It’s Gorge the Hammer. I give Gorgie my best battle-weary finger and whisper, “You’re fine with this?”

“Shush, both of you,” someone further back chimes in. And then that shush-happy soldier adds, “Stick to the task at hand.”

“Frigging Pols,” I mutter, and return to my sketch, remembering how this all came about.

Was it only a month ago that General Scourge revealed the new policy from our superiors.

“Men,” he had said, in that deep gravelly voice that we all associated with the glory of attack, “We are in uncharted waters. Glimp the Younger, Prime Minister of Dampmania, has decreed that the glorious battles of yore, the ones once fought bravely, ferociously, and quite bloodily by our fathers and their fathers are no more. It is said that Glimp the Younger could not sleep one snowy night a few months ago. He went for a walk and upon reaching a small hill had an epiphany…”

“A what?” I blurted out.

“Moog. Is that you interrupting me?” the General demanded to know. The boar fat was in the fire now, I thought.

“Yes, my General. Two Thousand apologies.”

“You still have one serviceable ear, right Moog?”

“Yes, my General. Most of it.”

“Then use it. Listen and learn. Glimp saw the future. Our fighting men, all earless. All limbless. He saw that war would continue but perhaps Dampmania could profit by it, provision the armies of the world who continue to engage in pointless bloodshed.”

“Phooey,” I had said.

That was last month.

I refocus and continue drawing the Moog Blade.

It will be a masterful prototype. 

Thank you all for participating!

Until Saturday...

Year 2, Week 44: Results!

I had a great time reading this week’s entries. Lots of imagination among the lot of you. Well done everyone! Due to time-constraints and health (check my blog for more on that), I’m only going to tell the runner-up and winner what I thought about their stories.

Runner-upBill Engleson with “Once Upon a Time in The Dragonsong Mountains”

LOL! I really enjoyed this piece. Lucille is quite a character.

The semi-colon in the following sentence should be replaced by a colon. (A colon emphases what’s to come, while a semi-colon connects two related sentences.) So your sentence will look like this: “Which, I don’t need to remind most Aircraft enthusiasts, is what the classic Detwiller looks like: a giant dill pickle.” Check out the link below for a great article explaining the use of semi-colons.

Well done!

Winner Y2W44Neha Srivastava with “Warped Reality”

I really enjoyed the imagery in this piece. For a while I thought the main character was somehow able to split herself in two. Great twist!

A few notes: physics doesn’t need capitalisation (see below), the instances of semi-colon use must be replaced with either colons (:) or with commas (,) as shown in the piece below. Check out this article on the correct use of semi-colons. I also removed the extra comma in the fifth paragraph and the extra ones in the last. The words in bold I added – the sentences needed them to be complete. I also moved the last sentence to stand on its own for effect.

All-in-all a great flash fiction piece. Well done!

Warped Reality

"Why aren't you obeying the laws of physics?" I shouted at myself.

I clung to the roof like a ceiling fan with four arms, my four limbs transformed into those four arms, I looked like a creature from the netherworld. But I knew it was me.

A sudden jolt of electricity shook my core, like the motor of a fan when someone switches on the button. Hell, someone had switched on the button. The fan started rotating, first slowly and then at top speed.

Switching on a fan and it rotating is normal business, except this time the fan was me. As the speed increased, I began gasping for breath. My limbs were almost coming apart, my being screaming for help, for someone to switch off the fan, for the rotations to stop.

I wanted to come back to my gross body which lay in the bed below: the vantage point from where I was observing me. As my body on the ceiling rotated, my body on the bed went out of breath. In two places at the same time. Physics could not explain what was happening, but both my bodies wanted the fan to be turned off. Some external force prevented this.

Tired from trying to prevent my limbs from tearing or my heart from exploding, my bodies dozed off. I didn't realize when. Upon waking, I was no longer short of breath. However, my head was heavy and my body lethargic.

The cannabis drink was wearing off.

Thank you all for participating!

Until next Saturday…

Year 2, Week 41: Results!

I really do apologise over the time-zone glitches that sprung up this week – who knew that certain applications will ignore the time you tell them they should be in and decide to take your actual location? Rise of the machines…

Anyhow, thanks Anne and Bill for participating.

Here’s what I loved about your stories:

Bill, your tongue-in-the-cheek global warming take had me grinning from the start.

Anne, I like your portal-fantasy a lot and think there’s a lot of potential there for a longer piece (more about the problem, fleshing out of characters, etc.).

I can't pick a favourite, so let's call it a fun writing exercise.

Until next Saturday…

Year 2, Week 38: Results!

I loved the stories this week! Each one had its own unique twist on the prompt. I wish I could tell each writer what I loved about their story… Oh, well.

Here’s this week’s results.

Honourable Mention

Bill Engleson with Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay! Six Boomers in a Balloon, Away!

I really like the title – it immediately drew me in. Interesting story.

“Brave souls. Willing to risk the inevitable for the sheer experience.” Love this line.

First Runner-Up

TipTim with Horns Enterprises

Great imagery! And the last line, very evocative.

Check for typos (e.g. “We we are offering”). Also, keep lines open between paragraphs to make it easier to read.

Great story.

Winner Y2W38

AJ Aguilar-van der Merwe

with Point of No Return

You built a great character here: from her hesitancy to her fierceness, she grew in a couple of sentences. I like the fantasy and magic elements – and that’s she’s going to rule!

Remember: dialogue should start in a new paragraph.

It’s not really necessary to tag every piece of dialogue, sometimes what the character is saying is enough to tell the reader what they’re thinking. E.g. “How?” He was unconvinced. (Drop the tag and we’ll still know that he is unconvinced.)

I’d add more about the bouncer’s scariness – just to show how scary the MC really is when she kills him.

Great story.

POINT OF NO RETURN

Most epic adventures don’t start out with an application and an insurance waiver. Or do they? I wasn’t sure. Establishments that provide dangerous sports make participants sign waivers. This one was certainly not prepared for possible lawsuits. I found that strange considering the kind of adventure on offer.

My younger brother didn’t agree with me. “There is no excitement in anything that involves paperwork,” he said.

“It may be so, brother, but something is fishy. Did you see the picture of where we’re going?”

“Yes! It’s perfect,” he beamed.

“Why? You want to ride dragons?” He nodded enthusiastically. “What if they’re magical? Or the place?”

“Magic doesn’t scare you.” He laughed.

“Not magic,” I whispered. “What if we’re powerless there?”

“How?” He was unconvinced. 

“I don’t know but equipped is better than not. I bought us insurance.”

“What kind of insurance?” he asked suspiciously.

“The kind that works in another realm, magic or not. Just hold my hand and softly chant the spell with me as we pass through the portal.” I looked at him gravely but he grinned widely.

I should have guessed he meant mischief. He pushed ahead of the crowd and was in no time on a dragon’s back. He probably didn’t hear the welcome greetings. Did the hostess say eternal? What was? The crowd was too noisy. I didn’t feel adventurous. I turned around.

A bouncer appeared from nowhere. “You can’t go back out.” 

“Pardon me?”

“You can’t leave.”

“Seriously? And what should I do?”

“Whatever you’re doing now.”

I thought of my brother and pushed back the tears. I gave the bouncer one piercing look which flung him to his death. “I don’t think so. If this is it, eternally, I might as well rule.” Then, I surveyed my new kingdom.

Thanks everyone for participating.

Until next Saturday…

Year 2, Week 30: Results!

I enjoyed the different takes on this week’s prompt.

 

First Runner Up:

Sara Codair with Solicitation

An interesting and fun read. Check for sneaky typos (interested instead of interest). Great use of dialogue.

Y2W30 Winner:

Bill Engleson 

with Dress Code

I enjoyed the stand-off over high heels.

Though, I was a bit confused as to who was telling the story. You can strengthen that by perhaps telling it from the no-nonsense Mavis’s point of view (adding her own beliefs as she watches Cleo remove her shoes and gradually revealing the information oddly left there in the middle about Mavis and the previous manager). And beware clichés – too many in a piece can cause a reader to skip over paragraphs.

“Damian grinned. Then glowered.” Loved this.

Dress Code

“Like pain? Try wearing high heels. In fact, I’m taking the damn things off.” With that, Cleo leaned against the pillar, back jacked her right foot, yanked off her patent leather discount refugee from hell, tossed it to the side, repeated the process for her left foot, heaved the offending instrument of torture, and then stood there fierce, proud, and securely flat-footed.

A calm look swept over her, a glow of gloriously attained abandon.

Damian Demeter, our new Manager, looked frazzled. Gran would have said he looked fit to be tied. For sure he was tongue tied.

Stonewall Consolidated Insurance Inc. had helicoptered him in a month ago to transform our district office. His pinstriped emergence had set the tone from the get go. Dark days were upon us.

Maybe things had become sartorially slack, at least by traditional business standards. His predecessor, Charlie Raible had been a charmer, efficient, direct, but an easy-going man to work for. Charlie believed that a modern workforce needed gestures of comfort and solicitude to induce stability. The company’s medieval dress code rankled every one except for Mavis Truett, who’d run the claims department since the release of Double Indemnity. Well, that was an old office joke, but Mavis was a lifer who bridled at Charlie’s compassionate approach and likely was the one who caused his downfall.

“Ms. Lambert,” Damian finally broke the stand-off, “If you don’t want to obey Stonewall’s dress code, you are free to depart.”

Damian had slapped Cleo with a stinging gauntlet.

You could have cut the tension with a knife if we were allowed to have them in the office.

Cleo was a smart cookie. I sensed her calculating the odds.

“I’m out of here,” she declared.

Damian grinned. Then glowered.

Maybe, just maybe, his dictatorial days were numbered.

That’s it for this week. Until Saturday… keep writing!

Year 2, Week 29: Results!

Okay okay I've got results up! Little late, so thanks for bearing with me, guys <3 See you all on Saturday! 

Honorable Mention

TipTim with A Mouthful More 

This is a pretty feel-good piece for me. In a world where kindness seems hard to find, stories like this, of people looking out for other people, especially children, bring happiness to me. The ambiguous ending confused me. One more line would have clarified Mah'moud's decision, and it would have completed the story. I can assume that it was something great, like adopting them or some such, and that's the way I prefer to think about the ending of this, since that makes me really happy. The line "He seemed to have mastered the commendable art of being able to talk and swallow food at the same time," made me laugh (since I speak fluent full-mouth-ese, by way of living with six siblings). Wonderful work. 

First Runner Up

Sara Codair with Migratory Blues

I confess that I was running a little experiment with this prompt--I was wondering how many people would end up using 'they' as a gender-neutral pronoun. (The answer to that is 1/4 people, haha!) The piece gives us an interesting peek into the world built here--we get that Fuz is some kind of avian creature, and that they have migratory patterns, and probably sentience, and that this world is going through some kind of climate change. I appreciate the level of worldbuilding woven into this piece in such a short amount of words. I also liked the build up to the ending--the foreshadowing of Fuz' death(? probably could be less ambiguous). I enjoyed this piece!

Y2W29 Winner

Bill Engleson!

with Sheepish in the Round--The Flying Flock of Freedonia

There's something very whimsical about this piece, and I think that's what drew my attention. Usually stories at this level of whimsy aren't entirely coherent or don't contain a full plot arc, but this one is and does. I had some problems with the tenses in the piece--switching from past tense to even further in the past does require some change to give a fully chronological feel. The line I think demonstrates my point the most is "Perhaps in time, he thought, her meaning would be clear." Each time I read that, my brain insists there ought to be a 'had' before 'thought,' to keep the tenses in line. Those last lines make me smile every time I read them--I love the lighthearted feel of this piece and happy ending. 

Sheepish in the Round--The Flying Flock of Freedonia

They unfurled their wings. There were twenty of them, bulky, muddled, wary, but alive. 

Against winters frozen tableau, a strange sensation overtook the drove.

“Angus,” Esmeralda, who often was the member of the flock who couldn’t resist asking “why,” spoke from the outer loop, “What in the name of all things woolly is going on? What are these?”

Angus was not a natural leader. He’d spent most of his time in the field contemplating the past. More an historian, a teller of ancient tales, than a visionary, he understood that he was the best they had. 

His mother, before she took her final journey, had clarified for Angus what his role must be. “Darling, we are not a species who traditionally need to know where we are going. You are right to look back and wonder. However, however, my dear one, every so often, one of us must step up and point us in a new direction, or interpret events, or just say something comforting. I believe, in your lifetime, you are the chosen one.”

At the time, his mother’s words skimmed over his head like a heavy wind. Perhaps in time, he thought, her meaning would be clear.

As Esmeralda asked her question, he realized that that day had arrived.

He surveyed the drove. The growths had afflicted them all, sprouting from their shoulder blades, rising like trees, like flowers out of their bodies.

Angus could feel the weight on his back. He scrunched his shoulders and his two new appendages fluttered ever so briefly. His feet, rooted in tradition, briefly lifted him above the ground.

“Angus, what are you doing?” Esmeralda screamed. “You are flying.”

“Is that what this experience is?” he asked.

“My goodness, yes. Flying!”

“Then,” said Angus, “Let us all soar away.”

And they did. 

Thanks for participating (and putting up with me)! See you all Saturday :) 

Year 2, Week 19: Results!

Sorry again for the delay--been running very tight on time with finals coming up next week. 

ANNOUNCEMENT: This Saturday's competition will be judged by Ronel, and it'll be the last competition of 2016! The two Saturdays following that are major holidays, so we'll be taking a two-week hiatus and return for Week 20 on the 7th of January 2017! 

Y2W19 WINNERS:

Alva Holland and Bill Engleson

with Drawing a Future and The Neighbors

Drawing a Future 

‘What do we do with them?’ 

Asu’s round black eyes widened when he saw the array of objects on the table. He thought ‘weapons’ but dreamt ‘art.’ Sharp spear-shapes usually meant pain. 

‘These are pencils, Asu. We draw. We make pictures.’ 

Asu picked up one of the pencils, held it in his fist, lead pointing down and he stabbed the page. The lead broke. Asu’s eyes filled with tears.  

'They don’t work. Nothing works for me.’ 

‘Asu, let me show you.’ 

Diane placed a green pencil in Asu’s tiny hand and coaxed his skinny fingers around it, loosening his tight grip as she spoke. 

‘Gently hold the pencil. Now press softly on the paper. Move your hand to the right, like this, and back. See! You’ve drawn green grass.’ 

Asu peered at the small circle of green in the centre of the pencil bottom. 

‘How does it get in there?’ he asked.  

‘I’ll explain that later,’ Diane said, smiling at the little inquisitive boy. ‘Let’s draw a house on the grass.’ 

‘What’s a house?’ asked Asu. 

‘A place to live, shelter for family.’ 

Diane held Asu’s hand again and started to draw a straight line for a wall. Asu dragged the pencil sideways. Diane let his hand go. He drew another sideways line joining the first.  

‘House!’ Asu exclaimed. 

‘Well, close enough, Asu, that’s a tent, but that’s also shelter for family. Good boy.’ 

Asu spotted a red pencil in the pile on the table. He grabbed it and scribbled all over the crudely-drawn tent. ‘No family now,’ he said, and his face crumpled. 

Diane held the little boy’s hand as he cried. Asu had a long way to go but Diane was determined the little mite would grow up knowing a better world than he had seen so far.

He thought ‘weapons’ but dreamt ‘art.’ 

What a poetic line! That drew me into this piece right away. I've been writing a novel that has a few scenes like this, which I think probably kept me in (I must be feeling maternal of late for some reason)--particularly with lines like "'They don't work. Nothing works for me,'" and "'What's a house?'" The emotional depth behind the story is poignant and evokes a sense of grief and pity. Asu's characterization carries the piece, which works even though the plot arc is very subtle. Good job with this piece!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

The Neighbours 

“What do we do with them? My God, they’re multiplying like rabbits.” 

Georgina stares out the side window at Colin and Mary Hennessey’s house. I confess that Georgie does tend to exaggerate. Rabbits reproduce like…rabbits. Yes, they seem to want to have their fair share of baby bunnies, but to compare rabbits with the family oriented Hennessey’s next door is over the top even for her. And not a little unkind. 

“Sweetie, Marge Hennessey is pregnant with her third child.”  

I state this with assuredness. Colin told me so.  

“She’s almost thirty.” I say this as if procreation hits a wall at the big 3 0. “She’s not a giant, hormonally charged rabbit. She’s just having her third child.” 

“You idiot,” she fires back. “You think she’s going to stop?”  

Before I can formulate even an incredibly weak answer, Georgie blasts off with, “You better believe she’s not. That woman wants to repopulate the earth…WITH…” and this comes with a cheese-curdling shriek, “more of her own kind.”  

Don’t get me wrong. I love Georgie with all my energy. It takes quite a lot to love a woman of strong and awkward opinions. She has never been one to hold back her impulsive volleys of venom. I love her raw honesty. Some days, however, ever love and tolerance have their limits. Our neighbourhood can’t afford another War of Words.
“Georgie, I love you but you’d better curb your tongue.” 

She gives me a skin-melting stare. It tells me…and the world…nobody messes with Georgina Tulip. And I have. I have drawn a line that she will cross at will. 

“I DON’T LIKE THEM. My life is quiet and you’d better be rid of them." 

Once again, I start the gossip.  

Gossip and neighbourly hate knives will drive them out. 

It’s worked before.

I actually wasn't enjoying this story until I hit the fourth-to-last line, and then I had an "OHHHH SNAP" reaction, since it puts the rest of the story into context and demonstrates the insidiousness of this relationship. The last line gives us a whole host of backstory--telling us the main character has buckled before to Georgina's demands and gives us an idea for what the War of Words was (it makes this neighborhood a whole lot more interesting). I believe what put me off of the story partially is the length. The piece could be tightened around the edges to give it a more powerful punch. Format and word amount can make the piece feel more pedantic than it really is. The rant, which probably should come off venomous and raging, instead feels like it's heavy and dragging. 

The last lines of the piece rather pull it together well, however (and might even be able to stand alone on their own as a whole piece).

“I DON’T LIKE THEM. My life is quiet and you’d better be rid of them."
Once again, I start the gossip.
Gossip and neighbourly hate knives will drive them out.
It’s worked before.

Good job with this!

See you all next week for the season finale!

Year 2, Week 13: Results!

Okay, guys, sorry for being a terribad person! I totally forgot about CFFC this week (I literally have no excuse today, other than I knew there was something I was supposed to be doing, but couldn't remember. I didn't have any homework due, after all...). 

Honorable Mention 

Cassandra Day (and friends) with Oh, Christmas Tree

This is kind of a frustrating piece for me, because it's intriguing and interesting, but it's not a piece of flash fiction as-is. It feels like the beginning of a longer story--the plot isn't contained, the backstory is hardly touched, and there's no resolution. We can assume that these Them abused her, she somehow escaped them, and now they're onto her tail; that's pretty much all we know from reading this. A resolution would be the greatest asset to this piece. There's a lot of potential here!

First Runner Up

Bill Engleson with Some Reflections of the Passing of the Poet, Walter Hammersley

Okay, I admit it: the poetry is what drew me to this piece. I also confess that I tend not to read titles before I read the pieces, so I was confused for the first couple read-throughs what in the world was going on in this piece (I had just thought Walter very reclusive and refusing to come out of some room); I didn't figure out that he was dead until I was pulling the title for the winning page (I can be dense, at times). So, this is mostly focusing on the poem, which I felt was strong enough to carry the piece (even if the characters didn't think it was all that great!).  The language captivated me ("shackled wings" and "pending avalanche" and such; the juxtaposition of light and dark also got me, since it generates a compelling mental image). The rest of the piece is fairly unremarkable--I felt it lacked conflict (it was, as the title suggested, more of a passive reflection to me than anything), but I really like the poem. Call me weird. 

Y2W13 Winner: 

Benjamin Langley!

with The Mađioničar

"Each of his footsteps left a print of light, that was snuffed out when I trod upon it." This piece was very alluring, I think, because of the imagery presented. I loved the character dynamic here between the brothers; they seem polar opposites of each other, and therefore excellent foils to introduce in a story. The eagerness of Nikola versus the trepidation of Senka; the light of the younger brother and the darkness of the older--it feels like this piece embodied light and darkness into two characters; youthful hope and exuberance, and aged fear and superstition. Good job!

The Mađioničar 

Bulbs of light hung from every tree branch as if tiny lamps had been lit inside upon one. Inspecting them closer, I realised that they were apples, the light bursting through their thin rose-red skins, no gaps with which to insert a match, no hint of a flame inside, only pure light.  

I gazed towards the house; they said that he was a mađioničar - a magician, and that’s why his house and garden were forbidden, and why my little brother was so keen to explore. 

Seeing his hand reach out, I cried, “Stop!” Though he withdrew, the contact with the branch was sufficient to disturb the illuminated fruit’s hold on the tree. 

After its disconnection from the branch, its light faded, only for a burst of sparks to spring from the ground upon impact and then shower down.  

He reached to pick it up. He turned to look at me, read the concern in my face, and dismissed it with a wave. “Relax, Senka.” 

He knew no fear, and, while not yet ten years old, he had always been pulled towards the light.  

He picked up the apple that I would never touch for fear of bewitchment. Without hesitation he took a bite.  

The last of the luminescence from the fruit passed into his mouth, and glowed through his cheeks.  

“Come on,” he said, moving towards the house. Each of his footsteps left a print of light, that was snuffed out when I trod upon it.  

He did not believe in good, or evil, only science, but I could follow him no longer.  

As he closed upon the house, light burst from every window. How could someone light all of the lamps in an instant?  

As the door opened I heard a voice. “Welcome! We have been expecting you, Nikola.”

Year 2, Week 12: Results!

I really enjoyed this week’s entries. Well done, everyone. I got a little carried away, wearing my editor’s hat (I’m currently editing a couple of my stories), but I finally found the top three.

I did get a jolt of surprise when I went to look for the names of the authors that go with the stories…

Please read the rules: the competition runs from midnight to midnight (24 hours). Any submissions made after the deadline will not be considered. Thank you.

Anyhow, here’s the results for Cracked Flash: Year 2, Week 12.

(If you're still interested in guest judging, send an email our way! crackedflash@gmail.com)

Honorable Mention

Firdaus with Witchcraft

I like the premise. You probably shouldn’t jump around in time as much as you did in this short story. Keep it to when she’s eight and show how she makes friends – and the end can be her hope of the future. Also, she can tell the witches why she fled from home. Keeping the story in one time, makes it more immediate and thus more compelling. I like the distinction between humans and witches. Mm, will she really turn her stepmother into a toad and keep her in a jar? Good job.

First Runner Up

Carin Marais with One Touch

I liked this, especially the end. Though the first paragraph is a little too long: divide it into shorter paragraphs to help with pacing. Your heroine is fleeing, after all. Fiancée is a woman, fiancé is a man. Shrivelled (two l’s). Should use a colon, not a semi-colon, in last paragraph, e.g. “Witches: healers who took on the wounds of those they healed with a single touch.” Perhaps show a little sadness earlier on that her fiancé is also hunting her: e.g. even the man I love. Interesting premise. How did she know that she could heal him? How did she know that the witches would take her in? Well done.

Y2W12 WINNER:

Bill Engleson

with Which Witch Did You Wind Up With?

The story immediately drew me in. Interesting descriptions. I liked how the witch the strange woman meets up with is the narrator’s neighbour. Personally, I would’ve used dashes instead of commas “…that even witches – especially witches – would have a website.” for effect. Excellent story.

Which Witch Did You Wind Up With? 

“I found sanctuary with the witches. I did, you know.”  

The wind was gently blowing from the west and I was intent on looking out at the ruffled water in the Sound. She had sidled up to me like a scrunched-up transit user with boundary issues might on a crowded bus. 

“Pardon,” I said, trying to be polite but hopefully giving a clear message that I enjoyed this quiet ten-minute ferry ride and didn’t really want to chat with a stranger. 

“I have found a haven with the witches.”  

I looked at her. Not young. Not old. Mid-forties, maybe. The wind had stirred up her thick dark hair and was whipping it around like fat brown leaves on the ground. She had all her teeth. They looked original.  

“That’s good,” I offered, hoping to put an end to the interruption. 

“I’ve never met them, you know? The witches,” she added. “They have a website.” 

I nodded. It seemed reasonable these days that even witches, especially witches, would have a website. Or a Facebook site. Something cyber, anyways. 

“Yup, it’s called A World of Witches Awaits.” 

“Catchy,” I said. I could feel myself being drawn into her natter. How difficult, I thought, would it be for her to wander away from me and let me enjoy the peace and quiet? And then I started feeling selfish. The poor woman was obviously thrilled with her journey. 

“So, it’s here on this Island? The Witch Sanctuary?” 

“Oh, yes. But you don’t have to actually be a witch to stay. I’m a Baptist.”  

“Ah. Well, so you’ll stay there a while?” 

“Yes. They’ll meet me at the wharf. And then whisk me away.”  

With that, the ferry docked, she walked ashore and shook hands with my neighbour, Charlotte.  

Son of a gun, I thought.

Thank you all for your participation! Until Saturday…

Year 1, Week 43: Results!

So here we are again!

I have the strangest urge to play Portal

This time around, it is I, Mars, who is your judge! There was a nice little handful of entries this Saturday :) Thanks to all who participated!

Honorable Mention

Bill Engleson's Work Related

My parents have always told me that if I have to rationalize something to make me feel okay about doing it, I'm probably doing something wrong. I kind of get the sense this character wouldn't care to know that he was being immoral, though! I am curious as to who he works for--or, barring actually knowing who his employer is, where he gets his contracts from. (Assassins are cool.) Probably the most ... what's the word? Creepy? Demented? Ill-making? line in the piece is "When I was younger, I did." How much younger is younger? When did he get into this business? Was his old man in the business? Enquiring minds wish to know. Good job!

First Runner Up

Sara Codair's Hope

Aww, I like it when things have a happy ending. It's too bad for her that no one thought of selling her to GiYu sooner, since his people are apparently way more accepting than humans! Speaking of, I felt like her personality felt incongruous with her backstory--for someone who was a pariah for most of their life, and probably both mentally and physically tormented and abused (generally what 'experimented on' stands for, since experiments tend to not be gentle things), she felt far too talkative and adventurous. It would be more believable to me if she was more timid and had a lot more nonverbal gestures; it might have been useful to write from a more limited third-person view from GiYu, where he observes her more closely, and we hear more of his thoughts. All in all, good story premise and excellent use of the theme of hope!

Y1W43 Winner

Carin Marais!

with Revenge

So if she's a lesser species, and the cat is even lower than her, what does that make the wizard who was killed by the cat? It's impressive that within a few sentences from this wizard, I was imbued for a deep hatred for him (of course, I did just read the Locke Lamora series, so that might be having residual effects on my judgement of mages . . .). There's a little lack of context here--we can infer that she's not an illiterate girl, and she's been reading the magic books, but why was she hired by the wizard in the first place (why can't he dust-proof his books magically)? What gave her a desire to kill him (other than him being a total jerk, that is--normally, people don't kill other people just because they're jack wagons (there would be a lot less people in the world today if that were so))? What does learning magic take--just memorizing spells, or having natural talent? Probably not all of these questions could have been answered within the word limit, but a little context goes a long way!

Ah, I love characters that can bluff their way deeper into out of a situation; it was clever of the girl to make the wizard think she was his brother--and it certainly would have taken a great deal of acting (might have helped if she knew a illusion spell that resembled his brother, come to think of it . . . I guess she didn't plan this out too thoroughly, did she? She'll do better next time)! Love the development of both characters in such a short amount of words. 

Revenge 

“Don’t feel bad. I’m pretty hard to kill.” 

The voice was inside her head, but it was the wizard’s voice nonetheless. The frog stared at her with the unmistakable prideful glare which the wizard had given her every day she had been working there. He had thought that she was just some illiterate girl who came to dust his books.  

In the corner of the book-filled room the dozing cat’s ears twitched.  

“You won’t kill me by just turning me into something else. I could still turn you into a fly in this form and kill you.” 

“A fly of all things? Would that be a predator killing a prey or cannibalism?” she asked. She had to stall him somehow while she thought what she could do next.  

“It would be a higher species killing something of no importance. And that is what you are, after all, no one of importance.” 

“You are not a great wizard if you cannot look beyond a simple cloaking spell, brother,” she said. She had heard somewhere that the wizard had had a brother.  

“But, but I killed you! I buried you and burned your bones just last summer!” 

“You only thought they were mine!” she said without blinking.  

“Then I shall kill you today!” the wizard shouted. 

The cat pounced, claws extended. The girl watched in horror as the cat bit into the frog, killing it. The wizard’s death screams echoed in her mind.  

The cat prodded the frog and, when it did not respond, he lost interest and padded back to his favourite sleeping place. Before the cat curled up, he looked at the girl and she swore he meant it to mean ‘Well, he did kick me sometimes’.  

“And good riddance,” she said.

Congratulations, all! See you this Saturday!

Year 1, Week 31: Results!

I was shocked when I came to check on the entries and was told there were twenty! Turns out that there were really only ten and the rest were responses from other participants. It would have been awesome to have twenty entries, but hey, we love to see interaction between y'all in the comments section too! Y'all are great!

Honorable Mention

Maggie Akhurst with Superhero

This was pure fun! Good tension all the way through, relieved in short bursts with their preoccupation on the questionable sparkliness of his suit. The character’s felt whole and the dialogue felt natural. My favorite line was “It appears the man responsible for the accident was found near his car, cuffed to a sign post. He told the police that a man in a sparkly blue suit had stopped the car with his bare hands.” It made me laugh and I like how it twisted around to him actually not pretending. Thanks for the amusing story!

First Runner Up

Nancy Chenier with Back on Track

There was so much I enjoyed about this story. All the little descriptions set us firmly in the setting and made it easy to visualize. The way the prompt was used. Every detail— the resemblance to the teaching assistant, the vertigo, the mentions of paradoxes and getting knifed twice before, etc— all pointing to what was going on, but keeping the reader guessing until the end to know who the characters were and what was really happening. The characters both felt distinct and I liked how it all felt awkward to the pov character, stepping back in time like that. My favorite line was ‘Screams— metal and human— settle with the concrete dust.’ I could just hear it! Very good description. Great job!

Y1W31 WINNER!

Bill Engleson

with 300 speculative words

This one was just so jam packed with tension. The dialogue was done excellently, full of authenticity that made the characters come alive and conflict that made the story engaging. The pace kept moving right along and the two characters were clearly distinct from one another. I can’t express how much I loved how the whole story is a behind-the-scene alternative twist(or is it?) on the real life Granville-Paris accident, including the name of the woman who’d been killed by it, which spurred me to look it up. I learned something new, which is always awesome. Very clever. Excellent job!

300 speculative words 

Excerpt of the official inquest into the death of Marie-Augustine Aguillard, the sole fatality in the tragic events of October 22nd, 1895

"You have about ten seconds to explain why you pretended to..."

“What, sir? Know what I’m talking about? Are you suggesting that I am speaking through my hat? Do you doubt my words?”

“Yes, after a fashion. This inquest doesn’t have time for obfuscation. We have here a tragedy of epic proportion. Mr. Westinghouse has categorically stood behind his air brakes. To suggest for even a moment that his mechanism was in some way responsible for this human–caused accident is scandalous, sir.”

“I was there that day, sir, at the Gare Montparnasse Terminal, waiting for my wife who had been visiting family. We had travelled, in point of fact, to France specifically for her to reunite with cousins from her mother’s side of the family. They live in Mont Saint-Michel Bay. She had extended her stay and I was most anxious to see her. We had never been apart.”

“This does not make you an expert in train catastrophes. Not by a long shot, sir. You told the examining magistrate that, from your vantage point, the express was clearly travelling at…and I believe these were your exact words…”an irresponsibly fast clip but not so fast as to render reliable airbrakes inoperable.”

“My exact words. As for the accuracy of my statements, I have a brother who lives in Wilmerding, who once worked at Mr. Westinghouse’s Air Brake Factory, and who once let slip that a socialist contingent within the factory workforce were systematically sabotaging the product.”

“Slanderous gossip. Utter nonsense. We all regret the death of poor Mrs. Aguillard but it was an Act of God, if it was anything. To suggest that hard-working Americans had anything to do with the peculiarities of fate is shameful.” 

“I know what I know, sir.”

“Which, I submit, is next to nothing.”

Join us again next week, as we welcome back the third member of our trio, Si, and bring back our two-judge format! Hope to see y'all then!

Year 1, Week 25: Results!

Wow, there were quite a few entries this week! It's great to see so many participants. I have to say, it was tough choosing favorites from them. Thank you all for sharing your stories. Now on to the winners!

Honorable Mention

Stephen Shirres' Corridor of Doors

I love modern retellings of fairy tales and this one reminded me in a way of one of my favorites, Rumplestiltskin, so it pulled me into the story immediately. The tone had an interesting classic grim fairy tale meets gritty western feel to me and the quick pace matched it well. My biggest criticism for the story was that dialogue didn't flow as well as it could have, feeling a bit clipped in places to me. My favorite line was 'His laughter echoed off the walls. A sound that would make dead men shiver.' It gives chills just to imagine it! The way that the main character tricked the fairy made me laugh, and I liked the twist on the usual iron-sensitivity that I'm used to seeing being given to fairies. Good job on this one!

First Runner Up

Bill Engleson's The Session

This story's little details made it easy to see the inside of the institution and I like how the pov character seems to embody the cold, sterile feeling of an institution like that, even more so that we can't blame her for her treatment of Maxine. This brought the character to life for me, making her simultaneously believable and relateable as she doles out her harsh justice. Because of that, my favorite line was 'I have betrayed her.' I enjoyed the description of Maxine, building on the truth that many killers don't appear like dangerous people. The pace was good, but was slowed down a bit with the telling of the teen's death and I wish that we'd discovered why Maxine killed her daughter. All in all, this was a good story. Well done!

Winner of Y1W24!

AndyLvndr

with No Illumination

I loved, loved, loved the tension in this one! It drew me in easily with all that delicious tension, right from the get go. The dialogue has a natural flow to it and the description gave me just enough details to easily envision the setting without bogging anything down or slowing down the pace. The husband and wife were well developed, with voices that were clearly distinct from one another and a realistic conflict of goals. My favorite line was definitely 'She was right. They could afford it. At least, they could if he didn’t have another family. Another wife. Children.' Not only was it an unexpected twist, it made me feel for the wife's situation and deepened the already well developed conflict between their goals. Congrats!

No Illumination

“Don’t open that door,” said the wife. She sat up in bed and pushed the purple duvet down. “We need to discuss this.”

The husband’s hand slipped from the brass lever handle, his feet cold on the wooden floor. “Can’t we do this another time?”

“When? You’re in the city Monday to Friday. This isn’t something to discuss over Skype in five minutes stolen from the trading floor.”

The husband stared at the way her black hair knelt on her shoulders. He smiled at how her nose wrinkled when she was annoyed and smelt the perfume she wore in bed. He loved her. However, this wasn’t a discussable issue. It was black or white. There was no gray area in having a baby. “You know how I feel. My job is all-consuming and with the economy on the slip again, we’ll be busy. This house isn’t big enough, plus you’re alone all week one. It’s just not right.”

“My mother will help, and the baby will be fine in our room at first. You make good money,” the wife said. “In fact, I don’t know where it all goes”.

“I work hard, damn hard. I deserve to spend a little money how I want,” said the husband, nostrils flaring. “I give you enough to buy food, run the house and yoga lessons. Don’t I? Well don’t I?” 

“I was just saying we can afford a baby.”

She was right. They could afford it. At least, they could if he didn’t have another family. Another wife. Children.

“I said another time.”

The wife lay down and pulled the duvet up to her chin. “Turn the light off.”

The husband flicked the light switch. In the darkness, he reached for the brass handle.

 Thanks again to everyone who participated and we hope to see you back next week!

Year 1, Week 21: Results!

Attention: Due to the holiday madness, we will not be hosting CFFC this Saturday! We will see you (hopefully) back in 2016, on the 2nd! (Note: Make a New Year's resolution to write more flash fiction!) 

I couldn't resist. It's a classic. I only wish I could find it in gif format.

But before you go! Be sure to read the results for Week 21! :D

Honorable Mention

Steph Ellis' Reunited

Mars: I like the eerie tone of this piece, only complemented by the theme of karma--he buried his wife, and ended up getting buried by himself. Very poetic. His descent into madness over his sin is clear, only emphasized by the haunting image of his wife returning to whisper in his ear or appear to drive him to insanity. 

Although the characterization is well done in this piece, I didn't have a large attachment to this character. When his death scene was upon him, I didn't find myself cheering, "Yes! He totally got what he deserved!" (even though I suspect he did), nor did I really feel sorry for him. 

I really like the line, "And now he could clearly see her face, framed by the moon's spotlight." It brings a vibrant image to mind amidst the literal and figurative darkness in the narrative and tone of the piece. Overall, excellent little flash. 

Rin: Oooh, this was a nice, creepy twist on the prompt! Lots of good imagery in this, making it easy to envision it, but I wish there had been a bit more explanation as to why he’d killed her to begin with. The fast pace of it fit well with the chilling tone of the piece and the one-sided dialogue built up the tension nicely. I think my favorite line in this one was ‘By rights, there should be snow, a dusting of purification to absolve his sins, keep his crime from prying eyes but instead she was coming back, reappearing.’ Shiver-inducing. Very nice!

First Runner Up

Bill Engleson's The Hills of Forever

Mars: The strong point of this piece is the overall tone and the voice of the characters; in the way of conflict, the story wasn't very compelling, since it's just a little screenshot of a thing, but from a pure tonality standpoint, the lack of conflict only adds to the desolate tone of the piece. 

I thought a better justification might have been in order for headed towards the hills--I'd say the evil you know (returning to the highway even if it's 60-75 miles away; about 15 hours away at 5 mph) is better than the one you don't (the hills). I was curious why they didn't know how far away their destination was? Unless this is written in the days before google maps or gps (or road signs?) one would assume distances were something travellers would have a vague idea of. 

I appreciate the last three lines, and the very last line certainly leaves you wondering what kind of life he led; they certainly amplify his voice, as well. Intriguing and thoughtful. 

Rin: The prompt was used well in this piece, giving us a good feel for the desert setting right from the very first sentence. The characters were distinct and I like how there wasn’t a whole lot of dialogue, but what there was felt natural and had good flow. There were a lot of good lines in this piece, but my favorite line in this piece was ‘In the chimera of the heat, the hills had looked closer.’ I love that mental imagery. I only wish that I’d been given a little more reason to care about these characters, aside from them just being stranded in the desert. A worthy goal to root for them for or a reason to be disappointed when they failed to make it. That last line was a good wrap up, letting us have a taste of his despair and failure. Of when his hope was finally lost. Great job!

Y1W21 WINNER!

Carin Marais

with Dust Red As Blood

Mars: Arek's emotions come off as raw and roiling, which is excellent; the grief, anger, and barganing was worked in there very nicely. He felt like a three-dimensional character, which can be hard to do in 300 words!

The beginning and ending of the story seem formatted oddly to me. The first paragraph is bulky; it addresses at least two different topics, and could be broken up in two or three paragraphs for clarity and/or emphasis. Observe: 

Arek dug his fingers into the dry ground. Red dust caked beneath the priest’s fingernails and clung to the blood staining his wrinkled hands. Tears turned the world to a blurred, red puddle even as he pushed more of the dirt from the quickly dug grave. He wiped his face, leaving it painted in streaks of red dust, tears, and blood.  

Some way from him, standing close to the Veil usually hidden from mortals, was one of the Guardians of the Veil. Her light blue cloak stood in stark contrast to the deep brown of the leather armour she wore. Her face was veiled and her right hand hand was clenched around a spear. She stared out over the flat plain dotted with small settlements. 

Behind her the shrine of the Khalne Alima stood broken and burnt.

This way feels is easier to read, clarifies different topics, and gives emphasis to an important line.  

Similarly, at the end, I felt the last line was very abrupt formatted as it is; it feels as though it should either be followed up by a second concluding line, or be on its own line; there's no pause between thoughts, and so it feels unfinished.

Another thing I love about this piece: the enigma of the guardian. There's kind of an intense level of worldbuilding going on in this little flash fiction. We see that there's a clergy for this religion, there are shrines for a holy figure(s), we get a glimpse into the afterlife of this world, we can infer that the guardian doesn't normally talk to people, and we got a description of the guardian. There's probably other stuff I could find to list here, but wow. It definitely got my attention. 

Rin: The description in this piece immediately transported me into the story. I became Arek. My favorite line was ‘Red dust caked beneath the priest’s fingernails and clung to the blood staining his wrinkled hands.’ I could feel the dirt under his nails, the way it caked on his wrinkled skin, telling me he was an older man. All the little details showed instead of told, bringing the setting to life without bogging it down and letting it keep a good pace. Arek and the Guardian came across as a fully developed characters and I liked the description of the Guardian’s speech, giving an ethereal feel to her. The twist at the end was good, I was not expecting him to be dead. And since he couldn’t see the boy in his afterlife form, it left me wondering if the boy was dead at all or just unconscious. A good ending, to a great piece! Congrats!

Dust Red As Blood

Arek dug his fingers into the dry ground. Red dust caked beneath the priest’s fingernails and clung to the blood staining his wrinkled hands. Tears turned the world to a blurred, red puddle even as he pushed more of the dirt from the quickly dug grave. He wiped his face, leaving it painted in streaks of red dust, tears, and blood. Some way from him, standing close to the Veil usually hidden from mortals, was one of the Guardians of the Veil. Her light blue cloak stood in stark contrast to the deep brown of the leather armour she wore. Her face was veiled and her right hand hand was clenched around a spear. She stared out over the flat plain dotted with small settlements. Behind her the shrine of the Khalne Alima stood broken and burnt.  

“Why did you not take me?” he shouted at her. She turned a solemn face towards him. A frown pulled at her brow. 

“I was the one who should have guarded the shrine today. You should have taken me!” Arek shouted. 

She did not move and kept on staring at him. Behind her the Veil glimmered as if it, too, was seen through tears.  

Arek got up and staggered towards her.  

“Please, let us trade places,” he pleaded. “Galeun is too young. He was never supposed to have been here.” 

“You came as soon as you saw the fire at the shrine. You did not think of your own wellbeing,” she said. The Guardian’s words were clipped as if she was unused to talking. 

“You are asking something of me which I cannot give.” The Guardian pointed over his shoulder and the man turned around. On the ground, next to the boy, was his own body, disfigured from the wounds dealt to him. 

GREAT JOB

See you in 2016!