Cracked Flash Y2W47: Results!

I had so much fun reading this week’s entries. I enjoyed the different takes on the prompt and had a hard time figuring out who the winners are. Well done everyone! I apologise for the late announcement, but I forgot what day it is… Blame my Grimm folktale retellings for that.

On to the results:

Honourable Mention

KM Zafari with “Fear and Loathing in Los Angeles”

I love the humour of this piece. A cat-underground filled with catnip thefts makes me think there’s much more to this story…

First Runner-Up

Nancy Beach with “Sanity’s Pull”

I enjoyed the description of what the mind does when it doesn’t get enough sleep and the MC’s interaction with her husband. The story pulled me in and kept my attention until the end.

 A few notes: you don’t need the quotation marks at the start of the story – unless I missed where the dialogue should end? “mosquito bite -this feels” Either do a double dash -- or allow your wordprocessor to automatically turn it into a longer dash – as it should be.

Winner Y2W47

Sara Codair with “Padded Walls”

I really like the premise of this story. And the twist is awesome!

A few notes: “it’s maw” should be “its maw” because it’s is a contraction for it is. Check the rest of the story for the right use and typos like turning one word into two, etc. “ran charged through them” Choose either ran or charged. (I fixed all this in the story below.)

Well done.

Padded Walls

“When this is over, I want my sanity back,” said Elena as matter-of-factly as one could say anything when wearing a straightjacket in a padded room.

The padded walls spread their crusty purple lips, revealing row upon row of pointy yellow teeth and laughed.

“I mean it.” She waggled her pointer finger at the ceiling.

“Who says it will ever be over?” The wall’s lips cracked as it spoke.

“Who said I was talking to you,” retorted Elena, tearing her eyes away from the ceiling so she could glare at the wall.

Black blood dripped out of the wall’s cracked lip, trickling down to the floor. “No one leaves here alive.”

Elena laughed. The sound was harsher, more maniacal than it had been two weeks ago.

“You do not believe?” asked the wall.

“You’re the reason I’m here.” She crouched down, wriggling in the straightjacket that was not nearly as tight as the orderlies thought, thankful for all the months she’d trained for prior to taking this assignment.

“You can’t do that,” said the wall.

Elena arched one eyebrow as she shrugged off the jacket and used it to wipe up the black blood.

The wall opened its mouth and screamed. Elena didn’t flinch. It inhaled, sucking in air so hard her hair blew towards its maw. She closed her eyes, cleared her mind of the all the drug-induced hallucinations she’d had during her stay Frommington Hospital, waiting for the wall to show its true face.

She whispered words of power in the ancient tongue. The blood soaked jacket caught fire. The wall screamed as it burned with the jacket. The door opened as orderlies rushed in to put out the fire. Elena charged through them and strolled out of the burning hospital like she owned the place. 

 

Thank you all 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 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 25: Results!

I don't have a lot of stuff to say this week,
so have a cat! I hope all of you lovelies are safe and sound c:

Honorable Mention

Ronel Janse van Vuuren's Idiocy

This piece makes me a little nostalgic, as its tone rather hearkens back to the early days of CFF, when it was just three writers writing little wacky, nonsensical things in ten or so minutes. I can actually envision these kind of wacky hijinks in comic format, and it's amusing me a lot. Piece-wise, the entire thing feels like a climax until the last few lines, though it kind of adds to the charm--it might be useful to experiment with some build-up to battling/escaping the chimera, however. Overall, thanks for making me smile. 

First Runner Up

Alva Holland's My Name is Damien

This piece got a chuckle out of me with the last two lines. I enjoyed the characterization through dialogue--particularly the unwritten dialogue of maybe-Damien's-Mom. Alice's exasperation, Damien's anxiety, and maybe-Damien's-Mom's "what in the world is going on" all come through clearly. I would suggest attempting to cut some words before the phone conversation--that is, tighten up the piece so the reader reaches the point of the story sooner; my attention started to waver around "Are you sure you haven't lost it already?" Either way, though, amusing piece. Nice job!

Y2W25 Winner:

Sara Codair!

with Survival 101

"I used to be vegan," is the line that kept repeating in my head after I read this piece. I think that line really captures the tone of this clearly dystopian story. I can also empathize with the main character here--I don't like most fish, and I'm terrible at fishing. (Nature would probably kill me off.) This piece doesn't have an obvious climax and all, but that feels like a point of the tale. Nature happens as nature does, with or without humans' presences. I am very curious as to what caused the decline in the human population, though that's nonessential to the story. Poignant and thought-provoking. Good job!

Survival 101 

"Try a different one.” Joe frowned as the wriggling worm fell into the bucket of dirt.

I arched my eyebrows. “A worm is a worm.”

“The fat ones are juicier and slower. Easier to hook, more likely to attract fish.”

I sighed. “I don’t even like fish.”

“Would you rather eat the worm?”

“I’d rather eat nuts berries.” I gazed at the sun glistening on deep blue, vibrant leaves with orange-tinted tips and wispy seeds forming atop grass.

“Those’ll be hard to come by next month.” Joe dug weathered fingers into the bucket, pulling out a short worm barely able to wriggle, and handed it to me. “You want to survive, don’t you?"

“I used to be vegan.” My stomach wriggled like the obese worm, half-heartedly threatening to eject raspberries.

Joe’s laughter shook the remains of his shrunken belly. “Just hook the damned worm.” 

Despite its protest, my stomach knew food was hard to come by, and held the berries while I jabbed the rusty, barbed metal into the worm, scrunching it like I was forcing a new curtain onto an old rod.

“That’s the spirit. Plant your feet and cast like I showed you.”

I obeyed. My tortured worm plopped into the shimmery blue. I watched the ripples grow as they approached shore. “What now?”

“Now we wait.” Joe lowered his raisen-like body onto a silvery rock. “We wait and we pray.” 

I nodded, but remained standing. Winged-insects flittered across the water close to shore. A water-strider fell victim to a frog blending his body with a rotten log. A dragon fly landed on my nose, its wings tickling a smile out of my face. The last scientist I met said the human population might never recover. Nature, though, was doing just fine. 

Stay safe, everybody :) <3

Cracked Flash: Year 1, Week 47!

Hello Writers!

This is my first week Judging and Selecting/Posting a prompt, so I apologize if things look a little off! I'll be popping in from time to time over the summer as a guest-judge instead of a competitor. Come September, I will likely vanish beneath an avalanche of student essays, but since I am student-less for the summer, I have plenty of time to take a stab at judging flash fiction (which is way more fun to read than argument essays and research papers).

Aside from the fact that Si and Mars are taking a break this week, nothing else has changed about the competition. Below, you'll find a link to the rules, the prompt, and the inspiration photos. 

Enjoy the challenge!

Write on!

-Sara

                                             Beware the Rules that Lurk

Judge This Week: Sara

Word Count: 300 max

How: Submit your stories as a comment to this post, along with your name, word count, and title (and Twitter handle or blog if you've got 'em!). One entry per person.

Deadline: Midnight tonight, PDT!

Results announced: Next Wednesday afternoon.

Remember: Your entry must begin with the prompt! The prompt can be mutilated, but not beyond recognition. (Pictures do not need to be incorporated into your stories, they're for inspiration (and sometimes our amusement)).

                                                             Prompt

                                                        She dreamed in black and white.

                                                Inspirational Pictures

P.S. The photo's are mine. I didn't feel like scouring the web for memes and GIF's, so I went on a scavenger hut through my own photo library. The fuzzy feline in the bottom photo is my kitty, Goose. He'd probably bite me if I didn't tell  you that. ;-)

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 41: Results!

Honorable Mention

Sara Codair's Dragon's Bane

Ah, classic hunter becomes prey! This is certainly an unexpected role reversal--a cat ending up murderizing a dragon. This short piece is packed with a lot of questions and not too many answers; a line or two of context on how this situation came about for the unfortunate dragon would go a long way. The image here, however, is very poignant and reminds everyone that the cat is not to be trifled with. 

First Runner Up

Daisy Warwick's How to Tranquilize a Dragon

It's really nice here that the dragon is not impervious to leading to its own demise--a welcome turn from dragons being traditionally killed by humans (sucks for him that dragons are able to be affected adversely by fire in this story!). I also wonder what else the dragon has been doing in these last one hundred years other than terrorizing--it seems awfully foolish to burn down something that has properties you have no idea about!

I really like the writing of this piece--it's very fluid and steady, consistent until the end where there's the reveal to what's going on. The pacing is nice, and the internal beffudlement is done well. 

Y1W41 Winner

Ronel Janse van Vuuren

with Dragon Flight

I enjoy the thought of mythical species all getting together to play games, and it intrigues me as to how the rules of these games work. Do they dictate who gets to rule over the humans until the next while? Who can win what prizes? How did this gaming tradition come about, with different species and everything? It's definitely a brilliant spectacle to imagine this all in my head. 

I like the formatting of the piece--the relatively short paragraphs with even shorter lines to punctuate the action. The line that bothered me the most out of this piece, however, was "And then..." The punctuation here seems incongruous with the action of the story; an ellipse (...) indicates a pause or hesitation. Here, an em-dash (--) seems more appropriate for a more "jarring" sensation. (I have a thing about punctuation >.>) 

The ending line amused me; it reminds me fondly of a game I like to play (Choice of the Dragon). The way this piece is written has a light-hearted tone to it, which is apt for the game. Good job!

(P.S. Your name is fun to type)

Dragon Flight 

The dragon was too slow. The wyvern had already intercepted the flaming pearl and was heading to the goal post. If the blue team won again, he wasn’t going to hear the end of it. Flapping for all he’s worth, he raced after the wyvern. 

Down below, the crowd was roaring and blasting illegal flames toward the players. The phoenix on the dragon’s team took a quick fire-bath to rid himself of parasites. The dragon closed his eyes briefly as the amphithere laughed so hard that he shook from his feathery frill to his sparkling goldish tail. The Asian Lung hadn’t closed its eyes and was momentarily blinded by his teammate’s glitter. 

The dragon swerved. As captain of his team, it seemed that everyone else had it out for him. Especially the fire-crazy crowd. Another fireball barely missed him and crashed into the wyvern; who dropped the flaming pearl. The dragon swooped down, caught it and flew back towards the opposite goal post. 

This was it. 

The crowd cheered and jeered. His team protected him against fireballs and opponents. Dragons crashed to the ground. The flaming pearl was burning his paw. 

And then… 

Score! 

The crowd went wild. The Lung fell out of the air in shock. The phoenix flashed through all the fireballs and caught fire. 

And the dragon finally prevailed. As team captain he won the pearl. And he finally acquired his fire. Now he could be a real dragon: he could have a lair, treasure and terrified humans.

 Congratulations, winners!

Thank you all who participated!

(Mars promises to be more punctual and on-top of the game next time, now that she's mostly moved into her new home!) 

See you next Saturday for a round with Si!

Year 1, Week 39: Results!

I regret nothing.

Mars apologizes for her tardiness in beginning to write the reviews (working two jobs seems to suck the time out of everything (and she's gonna move from her parent's house to her aunt's house (which is really only about 15 minutes away, but packing is still a thing))). 

She thanks you all for participating last Saturday (and putting up with varying schedules)! (As to any questions as to why there's only one judge this week: Rin might not be joining us as a judge again, so Si and Mars will alternate weeks).

And, without further ado, here are your results for Y1W39! 

Honorable Mention

Sara Codair's Deceit in the Dark

The rivalry here between pixies and vampires intrigues me and raises a number of questions: Why does the rivalry exist? Are they all out to murder one another? Are vampires or pixies evil in this story? It's a nice little hook (and the eyebrow raise amuses me). The use of the prompt in this piece fell a little flat for me; I keep re-reading the story and not understanding how the first few lines fit into the story; I feel like it begins as Victoria hisses. I do like the character emotions here, however (the pixie being all elfin and fantastical and Victoria just being shocked at being murdered and falling to pieces (can you imagine that? Terrifying)). Good job!

First Runner Up

Daisy Warwick's Needs Must

I've been there. Those days where I forgot to eat breakfast and forgot to pack a lunch. Soon enough, the only thing I can think about is food (and the rumbling stomach doesn't help), and it's impossible to not fixate on the thought or mention of food. I can sympathize with the vampire in this piece (though I probably would give a second thought about nomming a human . . . ), and I was amused by the main character's nonchalant demeanor. I wondered why s/he couldn't find a graveyard shift job, since it seems like that would be perfect kind of job for a vampire (work during the night, sleep during the day?) and hardly anyone wants to work that shift. I like the image I get of Edward Banks; I'm actually a little sad he got nommed because he seemed like an okay guy. Nice work.

Y1W39 WINNER!

Timothy Davis

with The Orchard

So, usually when I read the pieces, the title is the last thing I look at (if I do look at them, oops). I was pleasantly surprised to find that the title of this piece is "The Orchard", since my favorite line of the piece seems to be exactly what the title was referencing: "The bottles were beginning to form a row like an orchard of brown glass." The imagery here is very sharp and I get a feeling of dusty light filtering into this crapsack of a room and over this depressed man, hitting the glass and throwing pale brown, glass shadows everywhere. It's a very sentimental line for a very sentimental piece. 

I, too, wonder where Sally is, and what happened to make them divorce. The bittersweet reflection on the past tugs at the heartstrings, but also instills a deep curiosity for what occurred in between then and now to have brought Jared to this low point in his life. From the last uttered line, "What have I done?" the reader might infer that it was Jared's fault (he said or did something to Sally that caused her to leave), and the guilt that seeps into the darkness is poignant. The skull is another curiosity (it reminds me of Wilson from Castaway, and turns this piece into a psychological puzzle for me), and everything about this piece is such stark emotion and imagery (I can envision Jared sitting on his couch and despondently staring down at this skull, as if he wants it to explain why life is so crappy, but that answer won't ever come, because it's just a skull). (I didn't realize how much I like this piece until just now, by the way, as I write this review. Well done, Sir, well done.)

The Orchard

“But the nights belong to me,” he whispered to the skull on the center of Sally’s, his ex-wife, coffee table. They had picked it out together before they were married, before they were dating, and in that innocent-just-friends-awkward stage of development where holding hands seemed better than sex. It was one of those stories they told their friends, whom they had over for wine or dinner; a joke, really, because the salesperson thought they were a couple, which was always the punchline: "We were destined to be together," and then the room would erupt with laughter.

Now Jared was watching The Fifth Element on TBS and conversing with a novelty skull he had acquired via an online auction. He wondered where she was, took a swig of beer, and washed the thought away. He watched Bruce Willis over the round hilltop of his belly and sat the empty bottle next to the skull. The bottles were beginning to form a row like an orchard of brown glass. Jared pushed himself up from the cushions and brushed off his shirt. Sally would be more than livid if she saw the house like this. He leaned back, turned off the TV, and let the darkness sink on him. He could hear the neighborhood as if it were a singular organism, each kid’s squeal or dog’s bark or car’s horn a breath that seemed to have more gravity than the darkness of his living room. Even the chitter of katydids made him feel less alive, as though Sally were an essential part of his existence. 

“What have I done?” Jared asked the darkness, but there was nothing to reply.

Congratulations, all! 

See you this Saturday :)

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 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