Year 2, Week 31: Results!

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!

Y2W31 Winner

Firdaus!

with Lies

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!

Lies

"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. 

Year 2, Week 26: Results!

I’ve been busy with an ambitious writing project last week and only saw that I was judging Cracked Flash Fiction Competition when I went online to participate… Never a dull moment! Now to see who took my monopoly on judging the third Saturday of the month. Right – we’ll wait until Saturday. *Cue villainous laughter.* 

Very well, we’ll proceed to this week’s results.

Honourable Mention

Sara Codair with Lying in the Dirt

Great job with the vivid descriptions that brought the garden to life. Check for typos sneaking in. I enjoyed the dystopian feel to the story. Well done.

First Runner Up

Benjamin Langley with A Fragile Innocence

There’s something visceral, gripping about this story. I was at first confused, had to read it a couple of times for it to make sense, yet it wouldn’t let go. What’s the scratching at the door…? Well done.

Y2W26 Winner

Storm Jarvis 

with A change of heart

I enjoyed this Young Adult fantasy of friends as close as sisters resolving their issues with a fight of magic going astray. Check the punctuation (sentences should end with a full stop or something similar and an ellipses is formed with three dots, not two, etc.) and for typos sneaking in. I would’ve placed the “That was until the ‘sleep’ spell…” part in a new paragraph for effect. Having the main character going from one set of emotions about her friend to another really showed the crazy spectrum of teenage emotions and thoughts. Well done.

Words: 299

Title: A change of heart



“You lied to me”

“You said you wanted peace but I want revenge”

“What did I ever..” Cora did not get to finish her sentence as a wave of magic forced her backwards. As she flew she used her powers to land safely, inches away from the razor sharp branches that were meant to kill her.


Valerie sighed in relief as her shock wave did nothing. Remy had pushed her, his plan had been simple. Promise peace and then kill her. Instead it looked like a battle was about to begin. Valerie had never wanted any of this. Her powers were starting to drain the little energy she had left.

Her father had taught her everything she knew about her powers. Cora however had been her best friend. They were destined to do great things or at least that is what her father believed. Cora had taught her the regular teenage spells. Change your hair colour, create fabulous dresses and Valerie had believed it was all innocent. That was until the ‘sleep’ spell. Cora had sworn it would put him in a deep sleep so they could attend the spring ball. Instead he had not woken up.

Valerie was snapped from her memories as a fireball flew at her. Cora was fighting to stay alive and Valerie to avenge her father.

“You killed him!“ Valerie hurled a lightning bolt.

“What?” Cora seemed confused as she deftly dodged the attack.

“HE WAS ALL I HAD!” The recognition hit Cora like a knife to the stomach.

“Valarie I …”Valerie cut her off with another wave spell

“Don’t say it”

“I never meant to hurt him. You know I loved him too.” Cora stopped attacking and sat on the forest floor.

“NO!” Valerie cried as the fireball landed right where Cora sat.

Thank you all for your participation! Until Saturday...

Year 2, Week 23: Results!

We had wonderful entries this week. Choosing the winners took a lot of re-reading of all the stories. Finally, these three were the ones that stuck with me.

Honourable Mention

Alva Holland with The Day of Reckoning

I really enjoyed this tongue-in-the-cheek piece. I liked how you used the prompt, making the protagonist dread her own creation. Well done.

Note:

orang-utans not orangutans.

Also, you could’ve kept it at “Oh, the horror!” instead of the longer sentence.

And check that your story is in the same tense (present, past, future) and point of view (omniscient, limited third person, first person) throughout.

First Runner-Up

Benjamin Langley with The Door, The Wall, The Stairs

Effective use of the prompt. Your protagonist had a good idea of what awaited her – even her past experiences were making it worse in her mind. So often people keep quiet instead of speaking up – great character growth in this piece. Well done.

Note:

Use complete sentences: “The first time…” “It was her third visit…” “Her face was going to be a calamity…” etc. – sentence fragments have their place, but using too many weakens the prose.

Decide what you’re going to call your protagonist: in such a short piece, it’s best to stick to one name, e.g. Dr Winters.

For effect, I would’ve placed the patient’s name in a new paragraph and her injuries in the next.

Start dialogue in a new paragraph.

Because you use the title as the name for the patient’s abuser, it has to be written in capital letters in the story, too. E.g. “…her view of Mary was the Door, the Wall and the Stairs.”

In the last paragraph, when she reflects on it later, you have to use past perfect tense: “that Mary had given Henrietta” – it’s the past and you’re already writing in the past tense.

Winner Y2W23

Firdaus 

with Alternate Reality

I really enjoyed this great piece of speculative fiction. Loved the twist ending. Well done.

Note:

I would’ve divided the long third paragraph in two to fit the look and feel of the rest of the story. (New paragraph: she shut the trapdoor…)

And remember spaces between paragraphs for easy reading (as shown below).

Alternate Reality

She pulled back the curtain, her eyes tightly shut. She felt the warmth of the sun on her face. Bracing herself for the horror that would come, she slowly opened her eyes. 

Nothing could have prepared her for the devastation before her. For as far as her eyes could travel, she only saw scattered bodies, some tangled in twisted metal of cars and lampposts and other debris. Buildings and houses had been flattened. They stood like jagged concrete stumps in the distance. 

Her breath came out in gasps. The stench of the rot nauseating her. She rushed back to the trapdoor in the corner of the room from where she had just crawled out; her safe haven for the past few weeks or months, she couldn't remember. She had been too scared to come out. Her meagre rations had almost depleted. The air underground had begun to get unbearable to breathe. She shut the trapdoor behind her and sat on the steps leading down. For a long time she sat there, she had run out of tears and ideas. Finally she gathered some courage and climbed back out. She had to find other survivors. 

As she stepped out of the house she heard a constant beeping sound. Then voices, a little muffled, but she could make out what they were saying. 

"She's coming back, she's coming back!"

"Check her vitals."

"Everything seems okay."

She heard someone calling her name. A familiar voice very far away. She felt her vision blur. She rubbed her eyes. When she opened them again she saw her husband leaning over her. 

"Welcome back," he smiled with tears in his eyes. 

"What the—" she tried to speak, her throat parched. 

"Shhh..." he cut her off, "it's okay, you've been asleep for a long time."

Thank you all for your participation! Until Saturday…

Year 2, Week 17: Results!

I loved this week’s prompt – it had me writing until late on my NaNoWriMo novel. As I read through the entries, I was amazed at the different takes on it.

 

First Runner Up

Angie with “Doomed Shipwreck”

I enjoyed this. Very vivid descriptions of this strange sea. I can even see it as a strange metaphor for bathing the dog. Great twist ending. Good job!

 

In terms of constructive criticism: dividing the story into shorter paragraphs will ease reading. Also, repeating “the ship” and “Pulga” so close together (ending a sentence with it and starting the next with the same) weakens the idea: either find another word that conveys the same meaning, or rewrite the sentences to make them shorter and more powerful.

 

E.g. “Swirls of copper and bronze, typical of this region, flowed steadily past the ship on her maiden voyage. Pulga, a wealthy sheik living three continents over on Croup, had commissioned our ship and crew to find out the whereabouts of the Psýllos inhabitants of an island somewhere in this region.”

 

See that? The flow is better and all the words that didn’t contribute to moving the story forward had been cut. Also, the numeral was replaced with the word (the way we write in fiction for the most part) and the word “colors” was cut because we already know that “copper” and “bronze” are colours – don’t overload on adjectives. Mark Twain wrote: “When you catch an adjective – kill it.” And Stephen King believes that the road to hell is paved with adjectives. We don’t have to go that far – adjectives have their place in fiction, we just need to know when they are unnecessary and when they can give startling intensity to a noun.

 

Your story is very imaginative. Remember the basics when you read over your stories, making sure it flows, and your writing will soar.

 

 

Y2W17 Winner

 Benjamin Langley

 

with “Pioneers”

Ooh, a creepy, yet fascinating, take on the prompt. Did the experiment kill them, turn them into weird ghosts or some form of medium? I like the way you use the repetition of “three days” to show the awful state they’re in.

 

In terms of constructive criticism: I would’ve placed each confession in its own line for effect; the last line too. Don’t jump from past to present tense (there’s a lot of reasons for that – check out the Writer’s Digest or similar publication), though I understand that you wanted to go for a sense of immediacy – rather use the different types of past tense.

 

Using different punctuation marks will make some of your writing clearer: e.g. “… but on the third – as I said – shapes, no more than that: hazy and distant.” See how the dashes and colon changes the meaning slightly? The colon can even be replaced with ellipses for effect.

 

Remember to read through your writing to pick up on typos like “if” instead of “is” before the confessions start. Good job!

 

Pioneers

 
It took us three days before we started seeing shapes in the fog. Three days without sleep. Three days in the sole company of like-minded folk desperate enough to get involved in the kind of medical research that’s advertised on the dark web. Three days with nothing to eat but the meal-replacement bars laced with Dr Hoffmann’s experimental drug.

Pioneers. That’s what he called us every night before he sent us out into the graveyard. But he always remained on the other side of the door. Two dropped out immediately, refused to enter the graveyard. We lost five more over the next two nights, leaving only three of us: Tim with the lazy eye, a homeless woman called Mary, and me, who thought doing this would solve all my problems.

I thought this would be easy. On the first two nights, there was nothing but mind-crushing boredom, but on the third, as I said, shapes, no more than that, hazy and distant.

It’s day four.

“Pioneers,” Dr Hoffmann says. I’m not listening to the rest, because there’s another sound; it gets louder when he opens the door. Tim steps out first, cautiously, and I follow. I’m so exhausted it’s more of a shuffle than a step. I can hear Mary begging not to go, but then her voice if lost among others, a thousand people all talking at once: “I slept with my brother’s wife.” “I stole from the church.” “I slipped poison into my husband’s tea.”

The voices started to take on shape. People, long dead, confessing their sins, over and over. That’s when I realise where I am. Purgatory. I back away towards the sanctuary. I reach for the door, but my hand passes right through it. I want to call for help, but instead I confess.

 

 

Thank you all for your participation! Until Saturday…

 

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 1, Week 35: Results!

Welcome back to our weekly judging session!

Si was under time constraint and so the task fell to Mars
to find something to put here. She's not as
imaginative as Si, sadly.
But pyramids
are cool,
too.

We're delighted to bring you results from last week's competition! :)

Honorable Mention

Sarai Manning with 100% A Bad Plan

Si: I like how the reader has no idea what the “bad plan” is right up until the end. I thought that Brad was getting betrayed/blamed by his friend! My favorite line from this story was the very last (of course!): “Colin bragged afterwards that bad plans are 80% hope, 10% confidence, and 10% pity. It’s a pity I didn’t punch him first.” Funny and well written! The dialogue flows smoothly and feels natural. We really get a sense for Colin's and Brad's personalities in this short piece. Great job creating tension and giving the main character a choice—does he follow Colin or no? Great descriptions in this piece too! I particularly liked the description of Brad getting punched, and the image of the “blood-thirsty” shrubbery. I also thought it amusing that the guardsmen know that they are lying. One thing I would add is make the reason for ignoring the lie to be a bit stronger. Are they apathetic, resigned, impressed? Great writing!

Mars: The second paragraph stands out to me particularly for the use of language (it was both descriptive (to both location and how Brad feels about his situation! Two birds with one stone) and amusing), though the piece was fairly technically sound all around. I would have liked to know what the dare was; it's not crucial to the plot arc of the piece (and there are word restrictions, of course), but it feels like the reader is missing a little piece of background that could go a long way--what did they do that is causing the guardsmen to look for them? 

Humor is definitely a big part of this piece that I felt was pulled off well; the last two lines are hilarious, and I keep looking back at, "Adventure awaits, Brad!" and giggling (because I can only imagine Brad being like, "Ugh, nooo, I hate you so much right now," in his head as he reluctantly crawls after Colin). Good job!

First Runner Up

Benjamin Langley with The Plan

Si:  Excellent twist on the Romeo and Juliet story! I love how you show us what a scene between Juliet and the priest would have looked like—one we never get to see. I am amused that the friar acknowledges it's a horrible plan, and that the alternative—death!--is totally okay as a possibility. I was very amused by the line ““Yes” said the friar, looking sheepishly at the floor. “Probably.”” The addition of modern dialogue was funny in places: “the instructions are weirdly specific”--but I felt that the last line didn't quite fit with the rest of the story's tone. I really liked how you don't reveal that the girl is Juliet until the very last line. The dialogue really makes this piece. It's funny, fast, and has a lot of back-and-forth interaction which gives us a sketch of the characters' personalities and situation in an amusing way. A humorous take on a scene from a classic tale! Well done!

Mars: "What's the worst that can happen?" When will fictional characters learn to never utter that phrase? It worked to the advantage of the piece that Romeo & Juliet has been done so many times before, since everyone knows what the worst is, and that it does happen! Oh, irony, our good friend. 

Something that made me pause at the end of the piece is when the friar uses the word 'chill'. It's a very modern word ("no problem" is a fairly modern phrase, too, I believe), and made me wonder what time setting this is in, since, up until that point, I had been thinking that this was set a couple hundred years back (I think that's because I associate 'friar' with books/movies set in old ages (the most notable example in my mind being Friar Tuck)). 

Nevertheless, the voice of the friar and Juliet come through the dialogue well; I could hear Juliet's skepticism and the friar's insistence; it's a great example of characterization. 

Y1W35 Winner!

Sara Codair

with Her First Rodeo

Si:  I really liked this story! First of all, the description is great—we really get the atmosphere of the seedy, rather unpleasant bar. I like the interaction between the characters a lot—Joe's assurance, and Molly's more reluctant aquiescence. I loved how Joe's plan played out—the men's instant unfriendly reaction, the redirection to Molly, and the real plan of drawing the alien out of hiding. Very smooth inclusion of a scifi element in an otherwise-Our World-like story. It didn't feel jarring and adds an element of strangeness to the story—I want to know more about this world and the alien-hunting main characters. Molly's faint as a signal was very amusing—and I agree with that last line! By playing to their expectations, Joe and Molly con the crowd and achieve their goal, even if their plan includes every gun in the bar being pointed in their direction. I would like a little more background on why the name Joe asks for causes such an instant reaction. Great tension in keeping the plan from the reader, but including just enough forshadowing—Molly's comment about the guns—to give us the background we need to really “see” the critical scene. Excellent job!

Mars: I was duped. When Molly fainted, I thought she'd fainted for real! It was clever to keep the reader in the dark that it was all an act--it certainly made me question Joe's motives (I supposed that should have been my hint!). Turns out it wasn't such a bad plan after all!

There wasn't as much wordbuilding as there could have been; we only get a glimpse into the fact that this is actually a sci-fi story and not just a fiction one! Are they even on Earth? How many aliens are there on Earth? How many people know about them (is it common knowledge)? It's not integral to the plot, but the piece seems unsure of what genre it wants to be. 

The pacing between dialogue and description is tasteful; there were very little minced or wasted words in this piece. Everything used advances plot and characterization. Well done!

Her First Rodeo 

“It’s a bad plan, but if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s making bad plans work!” said Joe. 

The Cantina was dark place that reeked of stale beer. Horrid country was barely audible over the drunken shouts of ranchers--exactly the kind of place their quarry would hide.  

“We’re gonna get killed,” muttered Molly. She was rookie, fresh out of the academy. “Every man in here is carrying a gun.” 

Molly wasn’t wrong about the guns, but Joe was unconcerned. They were a crucial part of his plan. He walked straight to the the counter and order a shot of whisky before shouting, “I’m looking for Greggor Tams. First one to give me intel gets fifty bucks.” 

The men froze. Conversation ceased. The automated singer crooned about losing his wife, truck, and hamster while the click of safeties switching off improved the melody.  

“We ain’t snitches,” said a man whose face resembled a raisen.  

Joe grinned. No face matched his quarry’s, so he examined each gun and hand carefully, focusing on a gleaming silver pistol, held by a blue-tinted hand. Alien magic could create some good illusions, but the flaws always showed closest to objects from their home-worlds, especially laser-pistols.  

He knew Molly had spotted it when she fainted.  

“I ain’t askin nobody to snitch,” shouted Joe. “Just wanted to see how my apprentice held under pressure.” 

“She didn’t hold at all,” laughed raisin face, putting his gun away.  

“Next round’s on me.” Joe slipped three bills to the bartender, picked Molly up and carried her to his truck, careful to bump his quarry on the way out and plant a tracking device. 

Molly sat up as the pulled onto the road. “I can’t believe that worked. The fainting act is the oldest trick in the book.”

Congratulations, all!

See you back next Saturday! :D

Year 1, Week 29: Results!

Rin here! Just wanted to give a shout out to everyone who participated in this week's competition. Y'all are awesome! Several creative tales and a nice variety in them. Alas, only a few winners can be chosen. Now, on to what you're here for: the announcements!

Honorable Mention

Carin Marais with Dust to Dust to Life

The descriptions were vivid and beautifully done, pulling me into the magical, otherworldly setting of the library. I could easily picture the ripples in the dust, the way it behaved like water, and how it all disintegrated. Speaking of time, I like how it was used as the antagonistic force in this piece. I do wish that we’d found out why, after all that time, the library’s outer wall was finally breached. What I liked most was the very last sentence, that sense of unconquered hope of a new beginning in the face of inevitable destruction. Great job!

First Runner Up

Maggie Akhurst with Lost City

The plot concept of searching for a lost city of riches felt nostalgic, reminding me of The Mummy, one of my favorite movies from my childhood. The descriptions, like the failing light and the weathered carving of the hero, were chosen well, easily transporting me into a fantastical place with magical, hidden cities, tomes, and ancient maps. The tome’s passage was enjoyable, in both word choice and the way it rhymes. I loved the mental image of glowing mist, but I felt the tension was lost when the city randomly showed up. I wish that she’d done something that proved how she was worthy-hearted or found something more to trigger the appearance of the city. All in all, a good, fun story. Well done! 

Y1W29 WINNER

Benjamin Langley

with Mother Knows Best

The possibility of this story being a glimpse into someone’s reality makes it a real gut-wrencher. How many of us out there have had grandmothers and mothers who can fruits and veggies? Or ones that are critical or believe they’re incapable of fault? Simone and her mother were clearly distinct from one another, through both the small bit of dialogue and in their responses to Jason’s illness; the mother blaming Simone and Simone blaming herself. I can hear the grandmother’s judgmental, know-it-all voice in my head and just see the critical lift of her chin without it even being described. I loved how the scientific name for botulism was used and real symptoms of it were given, because I’m a nerd like that. I appreciated how well the prompt was used, woven into the story’s conflict rather than being just the beginning sentence. The guilt and pain that Simone is going through is well shown through her actions and numbness of emotion. The last line wrapped up this grim story well, giving the feeling of curtains closing on a scene that will continue on in the character’s life for some time. Fantastic job!

Mother Knows Best

Dust. All around her is dust. So Simone scrubs the floor with a homemade solution of borax, white vinegar and lemon juice, using a brand new toothbrush. She rinses it under hot running water, before dipping it back into her cleaning fluid. But her cupboard full of hydrochloric acid, ammonia, Tri-Sodium Phosphate, peroxide and a host of solvents, detergents and enzymes and all of the scrubbing, cleaning and dusting; all of the calluses and sores; they don’t change a thing.

Once, the rings on the cooker were islands in a brown sea of hardened spills. The sink was full of dishes in murky water, which were wiped only with a filthy rag before being put back into grubby cupboards. But that wasn’t all that was different. Once, it was noisy. Now the house is clean, but quiet. But it’s all too late. Jason’s dead, aged six.

“No wonder he always got a stomach upset,” her mother would say as she trailed a finger along a dusty shelf. But when Jason was struggling for breath, and her mother cried out that the filthy house had made him ill, she was wrong. When Jason’s nervous system was attacked by clostridium botulinum she blamed the unhygienic kitchen. She was wrong. 

Her mother, who’d canned her own produce all of her adult life, didn’t know what lurked in those bulging cans in her cellar. Her mother didn’t need to be told how to can in a hygienic manner, she’d done it all her life. 

So Simone scrubs and she cleans to punish herself, thinking mother knows best. She dusts and she polishes unaware that it would have made no difference at all. And whilst she holds herself to blame for the death of her son the sores and calluses weep, because she cannot.