Cracked Flash Y3W3: Results!

I enjoyed this week’s stories and even the spam had me LOL. Though the last can be attributed to spring being here ;-)

Without further ado, here’s this week’s winner:

Y3W3 Winner

Carin Marais 

with “A Crown of Grey and Red”

This dark tale had me from the moment the woman was described and had me shivering since the sentence where the girl’s fate was made clear until the end.

The only advice I have is to leave spaces between paragraphs to make it easier for readers to read.

Great work!


A Crown of Grey and Red

“If you could even begin to comprehend where I’ve come from, you would be terrified of me.”
I took in the grey-haired woman in front of me. All in greens and browns she was dressed, but wore a cloak of ox blood red. Her hair was entwined with holly berries; a crown of red above a wrinkled face. 
“You should go back to town,” she said to me. 
“They sent me to gather the water this year.”
“You?” she laughed. “You are too young.”
I drew myself up to my full height. But even so I was noticeably short for my sixteen years. 
“They said she would be here to lead me into the woods to the water. The last girl.”
“And what makes you think that I am not she?”
“Because that was five years ago and you’re too…”
“Old? The woods change you.” She stepped back into the shadows of the trees. “Are you coming or not?”
I looked back at the town for a moment and clenched my jaw before following the woman. 

“They lie when they say it holds the power to give eternal youth, you know,” she said when we reached a spring surrounded by dried and ashen vegetation.
“Then why do we come?”
“Because the years we lose, they gain,” she said with nonchalance as she filled the bucket I had brought with water and started walking away. 
“And you will leave me here, to your fate?”
She looked back. “If it means that I could see my son one more time before I die, yes.”

On the elected day I, too, entwined berries in my greying hair and ambled to the edge of the woods I would at last be permitted to leave. 
A young girl already stood waiting. 

Thank you all for participating.

Until next Saturday...

Year 2, Week 36 & 37: Results!

What a great prompt and turnout! Though I was still busy with the A-to-Z Challenge when the prompt went live, it made me want to cry when I realised I couldn’t write too. Oh well, at least I got to read excellent entries.

Now for the results.

Honourable Mention

AJ Aguilar-van der Merwe with DELIVERANCE

I really enjoyed this story.

I think it will benefit from being longer: more world-building, getting to know the MC better and building the tension of the monster hunting her. As it is, it feels like we’re rushing from them being friends to Evan wanting to take her powers.

First Runner-Up

Carin Marais with Beneath the Bed

Scary! I love the idea of a monster protecting against other monsters.

Note: spaces between paragraphs makes it easier to read. Also, it felt like we jumped from the little girl’s POV to Monster’s (where we should be, as it makes for a powerful story).

Winner Y2W37

Sian Brighal

with No One Else

Wow! Terrifying in a this-can-really-be-happening way. I love how the orderly knows what’s going on, yet keeps the patient’s secret.

Note: dialogue must start in a new paragraph. (I’ve fixed it in the piece.)

I’ve replaced the semi-colon in the paragraph about Scary Mary with a comma – it could’ve been replaced with a full stop if the sentence that follows is rewritten to be a full sentence. (That’s why I replaced the semi-colon: a semi-colon does the same job as a full-stop just without completely severing ideas, but both should be full sentences in their own right.)

The end of the story is brilliant: the doctor figures out what’s going on, then…

“She was,” hissed a voice in his ear as cold, invisible and inhumanly strong fingers wound around his throat. “I am and always will be her favourite...her only!”

No One Else

“You’re my favourite monster.” 

The doctor paused on the way out, feeling his neck muscles burn in protest as he kept his head facing forward. He’d been warned—and rightly so—not to react to such words: always maintain a professional distance. Only when the door closed and the lock clicked did he relax and turn. 

“Odd thing to say.” 

“She says that sometimes,” the orderly muttered in answer. 

“Why would she?” the doctor mused. 

“Trying to soothe ruffled feathers, I think.” 

“But why would she think I could be angry with her?” 

“Don’t rightly know,” he demurred, but the doctor saw something ghost across his face: fear, pity. “Spoke out of turn, sorry.” 

He would have questioned further, but a colleague left the room next door. 

“Hey, Barrows,” the newcomer called out before glancing across to the neighbouring room. 

“Don’t tell me old Hoskins has got you working on Scary Mary,” he said with a sympathetic tone but smiling mouth. 

“Scary…?” 

“Oh, just some stupid mumbo-jumbo,” the man soothed. 

But Barrows had heard about ‘Scary Mary’, heard that she’d been linked in some superstitious way to the deaths of several doctors, orderlies and visitors, but he’d thought she was some story from the asylum’s deep and darker history. 

Later, at home, he spent a few minutes thinking about Mary, wondering why she’d single him out as a favourite; they'd never spoken before, but he couldn't deny that he'd seen some flicker of interest in her eyes. Was that it? But the more he thought, he couldn't help but feel that she'd been speaking not to him, but to her tattered bunny. 

“She was,” hissed a voice in his ear as cold, invisible and inhumanly strong fingers wound around his throat. “I am and always will be her favourite...her only!”

Well done, everyone.

Until next Saturday.

Super Late Week 36 Results!

*sneaks into Ronel's post* Okay, I finally found the time to get the reviews done (got a whole 9! hours! of sleep last night! and I felt better than I have in a week!). Sorry for leaving you all hanging for so long! You guys are great <3

First Runner Up

Stephen Shirres' Beware A Travelling Salesman's In Expensive Clothes

You couldn't have thought this would go well, my friend (@Main Character). Haven't you heard of Jack and the Beanstalk? Alas, some people. This story amused me, mainly with the glum attitude of the main character at bookends of the story. It just kinda reads to me as, "Welp, that happened."

The piece felt quickly written, with some missing words and odd phrases ("as if everyone knees there were thousands," "there was a space above my hearth needing filled," "A match head of flame," "too long i," etc.,.) This didn't detract much from my enjoyment of it, though each instance did give me pause. Nice job conveying the tone through the character, here!

Y2W36 Winner

Marj Crockett!

with Summoned!

LOL the dyslexia in this piece gave me a good laugh. The character dynamics here are pulled off very humorously; I've definitely been in both the mentor's and apprentice's shoes at some point in my life! (The "argggh you're doing it wrong can I pls help" and "I DON'T WANT ANY HELP TYVM" things.) I thought it would be interesting to have some more rules and background for the magic, though that's not required for this story as a flash fiction piece or stand-alone. The humor, I think, is the entire point of this piece, and it's done well. 

Summoned! 

He leaned against the tree with a sigh, his offer of help rejected.

Across the clearing, the apprentice mumbled as she marked a circle on the ground.

"Bone meal should do. It's quite stable." she muttered.

"Do you...?"

"No, I can manage."

"I want to help."

"NO! I said I can manage!"

He sighed again. This was not going well.

She started pacing again, criss-crossing the circle, and forming lines until the pentagram was complete.

Wiping her hands, she picked up her bag of magical artefacts. After rooting inside, she pulled out a stick with feathers on. Next came the wax figure that would be what she was going to summon.

From where he was standing, the model didn't look all that inspiring, but he knew not to interfere now. She would have to work it through to the end. Oh well, we'll see what she gets, he thought, another sigh escaping. His reward for this was a glare from the girl.

She chanted the summoning spell. She danced complicated steps, twisting and turning, moving round the pentagram. No real words reached his ears, only a string of sound that sawed into his brain. An awkward sound: something wasn't quite right.

"Shula..." he said. But it was too late.

Smoke filled circle, followed by popping and hissing. Which god she had summoned would not be clear for a moment or two. A breeze sprung up from nowhere, the smoke disappeared.

He heard a bark. A bark?

"Shula... which god have you summoned?" he asked.

"I don't know," Shula replied, "I thought I said the words right, but something... happened."

"Which god?"

"God? You wanted me to summon a god?" Shula gulped, "I thought you said dog!" 

The creature on the ground wagged its tail and barked again.

Thanks again for putting up with me. Ronel's got this next Saturday again! <3 

Year 2, Week 20: Results!

It wasn’t easy to judge this week’s fabulous entries. I read and reread, loving all the twists brought on by the prompt.

Finally, I knew which ones resonated with me. And why.

Announcement: Cracked Flash Fiction Competition is taking a hiatus for the holidays and will return for week 21 on the 7^th of January 2017.

 

Honourable Mention

Carin Marais with “The Sewer Rat”

The revenge-element along with facades – obvious and metaphorical – made this a great read. I grinned with glee at the end. Note: either indent paragraphs or leave a line open. Also, “gold leaf” and “voice box”.

First Runner Up

Angie with "My Abuse Kit"

So often the abuse on women is overlooked or brushed off as nothing. Loved the ending where the character had left her abuser and went on with her life.
 
Note: use paragraphs; start a new idea in a new paragraph; leave lines open between paragraphs. Use a colon after “ultimate truth” to emphasise that he didn’t like what he’d created. And a semi-colon between the sentences “I never lied about it; I simply omitted…” to bind those thoughts closer together. Also, don’t use capital letters after colons. Great read. 

Y2W20 Winner

Kelly Griffiths with "The Prettiest"

Dressing up corpses? Awesome! Loved the dark take on glittering things. Note: I removed the extraneous inverted commas in paragraph six.

 

      “Sometimes it’s better to hide the unsightly with shiny things than to try to fix it,” said the mother. “Grab that box of Christmas tinsel from the attic. And a fork.”

The child’s noisy rifling through the silver drawer induced a clamorous tune, followed by staccato thudding on the attic stairs. She returned breathless, holding a fork in one hand, a dusty red box in the other.

“This?” She asked, fingering the wayward silver strands.

The mother took the bright silver lengths and held them to the light. The tinsels flashed and shimmered, squirming in her arms like a lightning strike. She gravely handed the tinsel to the child. “You do the honors. It’s your first time.”

The child wrapped the silver noodles around her fork and jammed it in an eye socket.

“Yes, that’s it,” counseled the mother, “Now hold the tinsel down with your fingers and gently slide the fork out. Now the next one. We can stuff her mouth with dryer sheets soaked in cinnamon oil, so she doesn’t stink. Grab the red sequins and we’ll sew her mouth closed, but we’ll leave slits like a sachet. See?” The mother beamed with pride as her daughter bent to the work, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“Yes, like that. Sew her mouth into a smile. You just have to pull hard on the thread. She can’t feel anything.”

“I think I hear her crying,” the child protested. See, where she’s coming apart?”

“Just use more tinsel. Wrap it like a necklace and no one will know her throat is cut.”

The child obeyed, her eyes widening at the transformation. A slight smile played at the corners of her tiny mouth.

“This is the prettiest Christmas doll ever, Mommy.”

“Almost as pretty as you,” murmured the zombie.

 

 

Thank you all for your participation! Until January…

 

 

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 45: Results!

#Dashcat
Are you tired of kitten pictures yet
I'm not
Say hi to Xena!

Welcome back, everyone. Some extremely unfortunate events occurred over the weekend and we hope our dorky and irreverent competition takes your mind off of it for a bit. Please be safe, everybody <3

(It's Mars over here as the judge this week, btw (if you couldn't tell from the kitten))

Honorable Mention

Ronel Janse van Vuuren's Misty Knives

Knives, princes, assassins, mystery! Everything a good assassin tale needs. This piece is a cute and amusing read; very lighthearted. I was a little confused about the characters and their development--their actions didn't seem to line up with what they are. Assassin: generally cold-blooded killer. Dauphin: royalty who should have a healthy suspicion of cold-blooded killers. Maybe with more context on their backgrounds (particularly hers), it would have flowed together better (we only got the one line about her past at the end there). What was her "life of iniquity"? What kind of person was she before she started killing? Why's she fallen for the dauphin? Intriguing piece. 

First Runner Up

Sian Brighal's Avid Collector

So, the first time I skimmed through this, I totally thought it was a sex scene (oops). Then I read it again a little closer and saw what it was really about. The thing I actually like the most about the piece is the structure of the writing--it's very appealing, the way the paragraphs are almost the same size, yet the sentences are varied in length and formation. There's not a lot of conflict to the piece--more reminiscing and reflecting on the past in that monologing sort of fashion--which I felt detracted a little from it, but I thought the characters were well-developed (or, at least, the POV character and how s/he describes 'you'). It's a nice little piece (I suppose I shouldn't say that about torture and killing; ah, irony). Well done!

Y1W25 Winner

Carin Marais!

with Passing the Time

One of my friends recently found an exorcist book (with legit exorcism rituals in them (that sometimes include defenestrating priests, curiously)) in her library, and this piece reminded me of that; I'm very amused by this new hobby that Hilda has, and I certainly feel sorry for Gerhardt! (I mean, the only thing worse than a randomly-summoned demon could be a randomly-summoned demon covered in glitter. Speaking of randomly-summoned demons, I would have loved to see how that situation played out! How do they handle that, one wonders?) I like the bits of description dropped throughout the piece about the setting and characters--I can imagine Hilda with her curly, messy bun (and glasses?), excitedly covering every surface of the house with candles (almost like the Dixie-cup prank), and Gerhardt being this sort of put- and worn-out aging gentleman. Excellent job!

Passing the Time 

“I think I preferred your old hobby,” Gerhardt called over his shoulder as he signed for yet another package addressed to Mrs Hilda Faustus. 

He tried to read the label as he turned and closed the front door with his foot. But Hilda was already rushing towards him, clapping her hands with glee at the newest addition to her collection.  

“What is it this time?” 

“Candles!” 

“More candles?” He looked around the crowded living room. Pillar candles of all sizes stood on every flat surface not covered by trinkets bought off late night shopping shows.
Hilda tore into the black cardboard box like it was a Christmas present and showed him a grimy black candle.  

“See? Pre-dribbled, even,” she grinned. “Doesn’t it look just beautiful?” 

“Very,” Gerhardt sighed. “I still prefer the scrapbooking.” 

“You always went on about the glitter that got everywhere.” 

“I prefer glitter to random summoned demons.” 

“It just takes practice to get the spells right.” 

“The neighbours are talking. Jeff found me in the front yard the other day and--” 

“O! Look at that! They now have monthly surprise boxes! O darling, can I sign up for those?” 

Gerhardt shrugged. He should have known this would happen. It always did in his family. One moment everyone is happy to scrapbook,crochet, or even make a bit of liquor in the backyard. The next moment they find a grimoire and it’s all blood and souls and getting dragged off to hell.  

“Of course darling,” he sighed. “Just read the fine print first, alright?” 

She bustled off to her workroom and he stared at the pile of scrapbooking supplies forgotten in the corner of the room.  

“Whatever makes you happy, darling,” he whispered.

 Congratulations, winners!

Hope to see you all back this 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 37: Results!

Thanks to everyone that participated in this week's competition! We had an excellent set of stories to choose from, and are pleased to announce the winners!

I wanted a gif, so there is a gif. So there.

Honorable Mention

Shae Moloney's Not Without Risk

Mars: Both Peter and Dr. Mattson feel developed in this piece; the doctor's nervous drumming, Peter's claustrophobia(? as well as his internal remarks), and their dialogue between each other all lent to building images of these characters in my mind. I was disappointed by the ending, since it didn't really feel like an ending--well, that is to say, it felt like the end line to a story, but I don't feel like I got all the information that I should have. Why's Dr. Mattson terrified of what Peter came out as? Is he a monster, or is he way older, or is he way younger, or what? I do like how her earlier statement of, "I'd be more concerned about what would happen if it does [work]," makes one think about how this kind of technology would affect the world as we know it. Nice piece!

Rin: This story had good description, in both the setting and in Peter’s physical reactions to what was happening. Made it all believable, easy to envision and experience from the main char’s pov. The pace was smooth and the dialogue felt natural. Peter’s apprehension gave it a nice tension and his doubts in the project was a good conflict. My favorite bit was the wrap up. The wrap up was a perfect cliff-hanger, making me want to know what had happened to him and wish that there were more. Nicely done!

First Runner Up

Carin Marais The Garden Where the Gnomes Are Alive

Mars: I was pleasantly surprised by the ending of this piece (mostly because I missed the line, "but they still needed a bogey monster hunter" the first time I read it through); I was expecting the witch to turn out evil or something, instead of actually being the nightmare police. (And the gnomes amuse me.) I was really curious as to how the toys attract nightmares, and would have liked a small explanation on that (it's a really interesting idea, though). The story was very cute, and brought a smile to my face!

Rin: This was a fun story! I loved the idea of an elderly woman playing the role of the hero and a monster hunter at that. The boys were fun little characters and they all felt distinct from one another. The dialogue was good too. I liked how people were afraid of her because of her appearance and that what she did went unknown and therefore unappreciated, which I felt added to her character that she’d still do it despite being feared and unacknowledged. The end was cute and a nice touch, but I felt that it stretched just a bit too long. Over all, great story! Well done!

Y1W36 WINNER!

Sam Malkowski

with Problem Solving

Mars: Ohh, I just got the title (lightbulb: *flickers on*). She's solving the problem of not having her mother's attention by getting into trouble, ahh (yeeaah, I'm slow sometimes, but that makes this story all the better now, haha). This tale certainly evoked pity within me as I read it; it's terrible that she would actually have to cry out for attention by committing reckless acts. I do wonder what her father's role in all of this is. Are they close at all? The story only focuses on the daughter and mother, but is the father a support at all? 

I thought the dialogue could use more emphasis (not necessarily actual rich text (I know some commentators know how to do that, but I forget after about 30 seconds of being told how)). For example, "Not when I am this pissed," sounded stilted (it's amazing how much a contraction can change the sound of someone's voice) (and/or, if there was italicization/caps on a certain word:  "Not when I'm this pissed.")

I do like the details dropped into the piece that indicate the family's lifestyle (I get the feeling that they're at least on the upper-end of the middle class, if not an upper class (I mean, I don't have a maid)). (Also, can you get suspended for dyeing your hair in the girl's locker room? (I've never heard of someone trying to do this, mind you, so there's that--it just sounds like the kind of thing only a private school might get uppity about, but I don't know, lol!)) Good job with this piece!

Rin: I loved this story. I loved the way that the mother’s words were contrasted to dust catching in curtains and the mental imagery that it brought up. It was all easy to envision and the dialogue was done well. I liked the little hints dropped in here and there, like the house description and the maid, to tell us they’re well to do. The dialogue was good and the characters all felt distinct and whole, though realistically broken people. It all makes me wonder why their relationship is so strained and the way that the daughter does outrageous things trying to get her mother’s attention was so true to life. I loved how every little thing built upon the last until it formed a clear picture of their situation. My favorite line was ‘I was starting to miss her’. It was so small, but so important for the story, a tiny bit tucked in that spoke volumes and that last line was an excellent, heartbreaking wrap up. Fantastic story! Congrats!

Problem Solving 

"Seriously? You expect me to go in there?" 

Maybe my mother thought her voice would not carry into my hospital room. Maybe she thought her words would cling to the billowy cotton door between us like dust did on the curtains at home. Each syllable could cling to its own newborn-blue fiber, thickening until the room darkened with grime. Then the maid could shake them out onto the balcony and we would pretend they never existed at all. That our house was always pristine, spotless. Happy. 

"You're not going to see your daughter?" That's typical. My father is always some shade of bewildered when mother and I fight. Sometimes confused, sometimes annoyed. Never in the room long. 

"Not when I am this pissed. What would I say to her?" 

Mother and I say very little to each other on a regular basis. We have our daily school and weather updates but I would not call that talking. The last time we discussed anything real was when I got suspended for dyeing my hair in the girls' locker room. I was starting to miss her. 

"Something comforting." 

"Fine."  

Mother made it around the curtain and stood at the front of the bed. Her gaze was as cold as a compress and just as satisfying. It soothed the bruises seatbelted across my chest, eased the swelling around my broken bones. Her eyes found mine and for a while she stared at me. When she spoke, it was too loud for a hospital. 

"You stole our car. What were you thinking?" Mother went on and on, reminding me that I don't know how to drive. I grinned and she yelled at me for mocking her. I didn't tell her it was genuine.  

This is as close to her as I can get.

 See you all next Saturday! :D

Year 1, Week 30: Results!

I (Mars, your judge this week!) have excellent news! Sie is almost finished with her collegey interviews (which means we can get back to a 2-judge format again soon)! 

I hate beans. (Sie loves them.)
Also, I'm dying of laughter from looking up "Yay gifs"
I mean, look at this one

Anywho, onward and upwards!

Honorable Mention

R Matt Lashley with The Linoleum Floor

Normally, I hate stories like this. It's depressing and nothing really happens other than reflection on the main character's parents and history. But the main character is very compelling, and the writing excellent. Using the linoleum floor as a theme to tie everything in the story together also gives the piece a very cohesive sense. I love the details dropped here and there ("Mom wouldn't let him smoke in the house."), and the way the character randomly goes off on tangents ("The giant flower pattern with its big loops reminds me of a circus clown's big, loopy bow tie.") (that reminds me of myself). 

"Then mom left. I mean, she was there, but she wasn't. You get the idea," is another fabulous(ly terrible) line. This piece is filled with flowing imagery and emotion. 

First Runner Up

Carin Marais with Rain From a Clear Sky

The concept of the three sisters has been done before, but I enjoy the idea (and paradox) of three sisters of time, those being Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow. Their personalities, too, are distinctive--Yesterday is motherly ("Listen to your sister"; you can practically hear the hands on her hips), Today is young and naive ("He will become immortal?"), and Tomorrow is the pragmatic ("Not immortal"). Dealing with the paradox of time shifting and today eventually becoming yesterday and tomorrow becoming today, one wonders at how the three sisters remain the same (or do they? Today ought to know the consequences for not weaving someone's thread in, right? Was Today Tomorrow Yesterday (that sentence!)?)

I'm curious as to why Today loved him. How long has she been observing him, and how? (We see that Tomorrow has the ability to look into the future--was Today Tomorrow and watching Ansgar?) 

"But I love him," Today whispered. Tears pooled in her eyes.
"Then do right by him."

This was my favorite exchange in the piece, since we all know what's coming after it, but we wish it didn't have to be so, but we know it does. It punches the feels right in the gut. 

Y1W30 WINNER!

Sara Codair

with Metamorphosis 

I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I was surprised and pleased by the sudden happy ending (or, at least, I interpreted it as such, since "light" + "wings" indicates "Angel" to me, which is a more fitting end for someone who saved a mere mortal than to die or become a demon!). It certainly made me wonder about the type of immortals in this story, and what the deal is with demons (are they immortals), and if the Earth-bound immortals know about angelic immortals. What's the infrastructure of this world? Do mortals know about immortals (or are they just thought to be myths)? What are animals perceptions of immortals?

For some reason, I find it highly amusing the way the main character just sits among the animals, moping. I imagine s/he's sitting on a stump, dejected and all "Woe is me" (except not, because s/he has no regrets!), just waiting for death to come. The character is strong enough that the visual is painted in my eye without it having to be described!

Metamorphosis 

"I'm just getting worse and worse," I say looking down at the black veins slowly creeping towards my heart. 

“You shouldn’t have let the demon bite you,” replies Raquel. Her dark eyes show no sympathy. 

“Was I supposed to just let it eat that kid?” 

She shrugs. “The ‘kid’ is a mortal.” 

“He’s only ten. He might have 90 years ahead of him.” 

“Nine decades pass in the blink of an eye. We endure when we are smart. Your decision wasn’t smart. You gave up eternity to allow some mortal a few decades. For all you know, he will get hit by a bus on his way home and perish in spite of you sacrifice.” 

Raquel picks of her bag and walks away. 

I sit down on a tree stump, watching her body move away with serpentine grace. However, even a being as cold as she cannot hide all emotion. Her fingers quiver, and her heels dig deep into the earth.


As the sun goes down, the woods come alive. Owls hoot and hunt, competing with the bobcats and foxes for the small mice and voles scurrying across the forest floor. 

The poison continues to rise in me, turning my veins black. It doesn’t hurt. In fact, I can’t really feel much at all.  

“This will be a good death,” I say to the critters. 

It’s not right to endure forever. Here, my body will fade back to earth, feeding the never-ending cycle of life and death. I have no regret about my decision to save the boy. 

The crickets are singing by the time my chest goes numb and my heart stops beating. I’m prepared to cease when pain tears through my back. A blinding light consumes me as wings sprout from my spine.

 Congratulations, everybody!

See y'all this 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.

Year 1, Week 26: Results!

You know what's really exciting? Cracked Flash Fiction is growing. It's awesome and amazing, since Rin, Si, and I never thought anyone would have too much interest in this competition. It's also fabulous that we've been getting so many entries lately! 

9, 10, 7 <== the amount of entries in the last three weeks.

We're always excited when we get more than three entries, so this is a-ma-zing. 

Tl;dr: You guys are great. 

Also, in case you forgot: it's-a me, Mars, judging today! :D

Honorable Mention 

Carin Marais with All That is Left

The imagery and choice of words in this piece is excellent; a vivid picture is painted by sparkling phrases like "storm's memory", "faltering flame", "damp rocks between the dunes", and "the colour of the sea on a calm day". The attention to the description of the setting, scattered between the women's hope, gives the story a lot of lovely depth. 

However, I did think some of the sentences could be shortened; I found my eyes wandering after two or three very long sentences in a row--punctuation gives an anchor for your eyes to keep track of words. I also was unclear on who said the opening line--the prompt, that is. Was it the women, or somebody with Christiaan? I couldn't tell if the ambiguation was on purpose or not. 

I love that Annalene is knitting a sweater. It's a clear sign that she hasn't given up on Christiaan, and it's even more powerful than her prayer; she's not sitting around just staring at the sea; she's actively preparing for his return--she's trusting that he will come back. 

First Runner Up

Asgardana with Small and Mighty

The last few lines of this piece definitely amused me and I could empathize with the main character--I have been the one that forgot a key piece for a project before, and it sucks! Poor soldier! The sense of utter, "Oh no," is distinct in the line, "I hang my head." 

Something I would have liked to see more of was the main character's reaction to this battle they've just fought--the only bit we really get of it is "My boots are marred with blood and bone, shrapnel bites into my side but the heavy weight of the bag across my shoulder grounds me to this cliff" (which also happens to be my favorite line). The sense of determination--to reach the highest point and stake the flag--is evident, but there's no emotional whiplash from seeing hundreds or thousands of people die, and being the winner and one of the ones to survive. I can still empathize with the character, but there's a lot that goes unsaid!

Y1W26 Winner!

Firdaus

with Being Death

This reminded me of whenever I'm downloading something on Windows--it strongly amuses me to think that Death's clock can change depending on the variables present, and Death is actually not entirely aware of when people are going to die. Those lines, "Five minutes left. // Five minutes? Five minutes!" made me laugh. Death was just all, "One minute. Five minute--wait what?! Ugh."

Between the 'new recruits', consuming a soul (but being irritated with people killing for no reason), and the variables changing the time of death, I have to wonder what is going on behind the scenes in this story. Though not entirely pertinent to the overall plot, and keeping in mind the 300-word limit, it makes me extremely curious what's Death's day has looked like, and what her job looks like on a day-to-day basis.

Death is definitely a relatable character, and I enjoyed how much I instantly thought, "Girl, I feel you," when she knew she was going to be late. That feeling of, "UGH, you're telling me I was wasting my time?" is terrible! 

Being Death 

"Raise the flag!"

The girl was shouting at a skinny boy, who was struggling with the rope of the flagpole as the speedboat cut across the turquoise waters towards shore.

"Raise the distress flag! The red one you idiot!" she screamed.

Then she went to work on the young boy lying on his back, turning slightly blue.

Death stood at a distance, waiting for the minutes to tick by. She brought out an ancient watch from the folds of the midnight blue gown that draped gracefully down her slender frame, and glanced at it.

Five minutes left. 

She was getting impatient. It had been a long, hard day, what with all the bombs exploding and people killing for no reason. Even with all the new recruits her job was grueling.

Three minutes left. 

Huffing with impatience, she watched the girl desperately give the boy mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and then pump his chest. He was quite blue by now. 

"Please God!" the girl wailed looking up to the sky. 

One minute left. 

Death's eyes burned red with excitement. Her skin pale, as pale as death can be, quivered from the anticipation of consuming a soul. 

Five minutes left.

Five minutes? Five minutes! 

She looked up to the sky and groaned.

Make up your mind! 

The speedboat had reached shore and a team of paramedics were attending to the boy.

One hour left.

She was going to be late for her date. Damn. 

Death sat impatiently in the ambulance. The girl was holding the boys hand, crying.

Seventy four years, six months and twenty three hours left.
Death wanted to cry in frustration.

With a sigh, she dissolved into an invisible mist, heading straight for her date.

She had a lot of explaining to do to the Devil.

 

Congratulations, everybody! See you all on Saturday!