I (Mars) honestly did mean to have these up earlier today, but then some things got in the way! Nearly passed out yesterday after my blood draw at the doctor's (just to check my vitamin levels, nothing horribad going on), and today I got sucked into a girl's night out/family reunion type deal a ways away from my house, and then my sister accidentally left her phone at the restaurant so we had to go back (*sobs quietly in corner*) but the results! are up! Yay!
(The good news is our other judges are gonna handle the next few weeks, so hopefully they'll be better at this game than I've been the last few weeks, lol (*more sobbing in corner*).) Thank you to all you lovely people that join & support our competition <3
First Runner Up
Benjamin Langley's Turn the Other Cheek
This one amused me, both with "hehe you're not the chosen one," and with the use of second-person; it felt a lot like one of those Choose Your Own Adventures (which are hysterical). I was certain from the title that this was going to be some kind of religious story, but the actual result is far more entertaining. I felt like I was missing some information about the amulet and this other set of cheeks, but overall, I liked the piece. The open-endedness of the piece doesn't bother me, either, as it does with many stories that seem to end without a finish; this reads to me as an emotional plot arc for the main character; overcoming Lygor's taunts and coming back at the end with renewed determination. Love it!
HAHA oh no. Around "I had nowhere else to go," was around when I started figuring out how this story was really going to end, but oops, I really liked it. The piece had me going when the main character noted the "wife" figedting with discomfort--I really thought she was his wife, but I should have known better! It got me because I wasn't quite expecting that kind of ending. The ending line--which brought the entire piece in a circle--was A+. A truly horrifying tale. Great job!
"By the way, I lied," I said nervously, nibbling the styrofoam cup. The tea was cold.
He frowned, "Which part?"
"Most of it," I took the last sip, gulping down the tepid liquid, dreading what was to come.
He put down his cup, his eyes as hard as the iron table in front of us.
The sound of honking and general chaos of a bus stand filtered in through the window of the small room which served as a canteen.
"I don't have an alcoholic father who beats me up," I shifted uncomfortably in the plastic chair.
"And your mother?"
"Probably dead," I shrugged, "I ran away from an orphanage."
He leaned back in his chair watching me with hooded eyes.
This stranger had been kind. Bought me breakfast when he had found me crying outside the bus stand, and I had blurted those lies.
His wife had been impatient and a little peeved when he had suggested tea and something to eat. Now she sat at the edge of her chair fidgeting.
"You remind me of my sister," he'd said, "she's ten too."
Somehow he had made me feel safe and I had followed him to the canteen.
"Come to my place," he offered, "my sister would love the company."
I had nowhere else to go.
An auto-rickshaw took us to the edge of town. His wife didn't get off with us.
We took the stairs up to his room in a dilapidated building. I didn't see anyone around.
"Where did your wife go?" I asked, uncomfortable.
We entered a small damp room with a cot in the middle.
Shutting the door behind us he said, "She's not my wife."
"And your sister..." my voice faded away as I looked into his eyes.
"I lied too," he whispered menacingly.