Thursday, December 15, 2016

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 7th 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…
 
 

Saturday, December 10, 2016

Cracked Flash: Year 2, Week 20!


Welcome to another round of Cracked Flash Fiction Competition!
Announcement: This'll be the last competition of 2016! The Saturdays following are major holidays, so we'll be taking a hiatus and return for Week 20 on the 7th of January 2017! 
 

Beware the Rules that Lurk


Judge this week: Ronel

Word count: 300 words max

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

Deadline: Midnight tonight, PDT!

Results announced: Next Thursday 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:

Sometimes it was better to hide the unsightly with shiny things than to try and fix it.

Inspirational picture:

 

Thursday, December 8, 2016

Year 2, Week 19: Results!

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

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

Y2W19 WINNERS:

Alva Holland and Bill Engleson

with Drawing a Future and The Neighbors

Drawing a Future 
‘What do we do with them?’ 
Asu’s round black eyes widened when he saw the array of objects on the table. He thought ‘weapons’ but dreamt ‘art.’ Sharp spear-shapes usually meant pain. 
‘These are pencils, Asu. We draw. We make pictures.’ 
Asu picked up one of the pencils, held it in his fist, lead pointing down and he stabbed the page. The lead broke. Asu’s eyes filled with tears.  
'They don’t work. Nothing works for me.’ 
‘Asu, let me show you.’ 
Diane placed a green pencil in Asu’s tiny hand and coaxed his skinny fingers around it, loosening his tight grip as she spoke. 
‘Gently hold the pencil. Now press softly on the paper. Move your hand to the right, like this, and back. See! You’ve drawn green grass.’ 
Asu peered at the small circle of green in the centre of the pencil bottom. 
‘How does it get in there?’ he asked.  
‘I’ll explain that later,’ Diane said, smiling at the little inquisitive boy. ‘Let’s draw a house on the grass.’ 
‘What’s a house?’ asked Asu. 
‘A place to live, shelter for family.’ 
Diane held Asu’s hand again and started to draw a straight line for a wall. Asu dragged the pencil sideways. Diane let his hand go. He drew another sideways line joining the first.  
‘House!’ Asu exclaimed. 
‘Well, close enough, Asu, that’s a tent, but that’s also shelter for family. Good boy.’ 
Asu spotted a red pencil in the pile on the table. He grabbed it and scribbled all over the crudely-drawn tent. ‘No family now,’ he said, and his face crumpled. 
Diane held the little boy’s hand as he cried. Asu had a long way to go but Diane was determined the little mite would grow up knowing a better world than he had seen so far.


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

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 
The Neighbours 
“What do we do with them? My God, they’re multiplying like rabbits.” 
Georgina stares out the side window at Colin and Mary Hennessey’s house. I confess that Georgie does tend to exaggerate. Rabbits reproduce like…rabbits. Yes, they seem to want to have their fair share of baby bunnies, but to compare rabbits with the family oriented Hennessey’s next door is over the top even for her. And not a little unkind. 
“Sweetie, Marge Hennessey is pregnant with her third child.”  
I state this with assuredness. Colin told me so.  
“She’s almost thirty.” I say this as if procreation hits a wall at the big 3 0. “She’s not a giant, hormonally charged rabbit. She’s just having her third child.” 
“You idiot,” she fires back. “You think she’s going to stop?”  
Before I can formulate even an incredibly weak answer, Georgie blasts off with, “You better believe she’s not. That woman wants to repopulate the earth…WITH…” and this comes with a cheese-curdling shriek, “more of her own kind.”  
Don’t get me wrong. I love Georgie with all my energy. It takes quite a lot to love a woman of strong and awkward opinions. She has never been one to hold back her impulsive volleys of venom. I love her raw honesty. Some days, however, ever love and tolerance have their limits. Our neighbourhood can’t afford another War of Words.
“Georgie, I love you but you’d better curb your tongue.”
 
She gives me a skin-melting stare. It tells me…and the world…nobody messes with Georgina Tulip. And I have. I have drawn a line that she will cross at will. 
“I DON’T LIKE THEM. My life is quiet and you’d better be rid of them." 
Once again, I start the gossip.  
Gossip and neighbourly hate knives will drive them out. 
It’s worked before.

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

The last lines of the piece rather pull it together well, however (and might even be able to stand alone on their own as a whole piece).
“I DON’T LIKE THEM. My life is quiet and you’d better be rid of them."
Once again, I start the gossip.
Gossip and neighbourly hate knives will drive them out.
It’s worked before.
Good job with this!


See you all next week for the season finale!

Friday, December 2, 2016

Cracked Flash: Year 2, Week 19!

Welcome back to another round of Cracked Flash! Many thanks to those who participated last time around.

RULES

Judge This Week: Mars

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 Tuesday afternoon. (Well, I'm going to try for Tuesday)

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 

"What do we do with them?"

Year 2, Week 18: Results!

Gonna get it on time next week, guys. Let's try for Tuesday to make up for Friday 😂 Thank you all for participating! 

First Runner Up

Alva Holland's I Did it My Way

The conflict between these two characters comes out really strong, and makes, like Nicola pointed out, a very contentious atmosphere to work with. What makes this situation great is that it's not a "band aid" scenario--there's no easy fix for this problem between these two characters, and it makes the story compelling and strong. In light of this relationship, I felt like the deathbed monologue was a little long--it felt to me like the daughter would be interrupting a little bit (even if he is dying). The piece still hit home with those last few lines, though--nice job!

Y2W18 Winner

Kim Davis!

with The Understanding

I want to take a moment to appreciate the finesse that little details about the characters are dropped to build an image of them in the mind. Without ever saying outright that Mrs. Baker is a construction worker, we see that she's wearing a flannel shirt and a hardhat (and, presuming this is mostly from her POV, 'an outboard motor' sounds like something a construction worker would be able to recognize (I certainly wouldn't be able to)). There might have been a little more build-up to the climax, or the climax a little bigger--it felt like the story started at a mezzo-piano and only grew to a mezzo-forte or forte (sorry to bust out the music terminology out). I really like how much this piece of flash relies on extrapolating data--I had to reread it a couple of times to get all of the nuances. Good job with this!

The Understanding 
“I don’t require you to flatter me.” 
“But Mrs. Baker, the grace with which you handled the little incident this morning was nothing short of miraculous.” 
The flannel-shirted woman removed her hard-hat as she walked around her desk and sat down facing the suit. She waited until the door to her office snicked closed. “Mr. Morrison,” she began in a soft, measured tone. “I’d hardly call what happened here today a ‘little incident.’” 
The man made burbling noises, like an outboard motor trying to start. 
Clarissa Baker raised her hand and continued gathering force. “It was a peaceful protest that you turned into a full-blown riot. Lives could easily have been lost. How dare you call that a ‘little incident’!” 
“I merely meant . . .” 
“Trust me, Sir,” she said, her anger apparent, “I know what you meant. Some lives are more important than others.” She took a breath and lowered her voice again. “I have a gift for public speaking, but it is what I said rather than the way that I said it that did the trick. You see, the people here mean more to me than the people who want to shave half an hour off their daily commutes. Did you pay any attention to what I told that angry mob, Mr. Morrison?” 
“That’s neither here nor there.”  
“Is that right? Then there will be more violence. Your company will lose equipment for certain, and possibly lives. Those protesters live here, and you plan to destroy their homes.”  
“It’s not up to me.” 
“I think it is.” She pulled an amended contract and a loaded Glock from the desk and cocked the gun, leveling it at the businessman’s forehead. 
He tried to stare her down, but in the end, they understood one another.

Friday, November 25, 2016

Cracked Flash: Year 2, Week 18!

Welcome back to another round of Cracked Flash! Many thanks to those who participated last time around.

RULES

Judge This Week: Mars

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 Thursday 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 

"I don't require you to flatter me."

Thursday, November 24, 2016

Year 2, Week 17: Results!


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

 


First Runner Up


Angie with “Doomed Shipwreck”

I enjoyed this. Very vivid descriptions of this strange sea. I can even see it as a strange metaphor for bathing the dog. Great twist ending. Good job!
 
In terms of constructive criticism: dividing the story into shorter paragraphs will ease reading. Also, repeating “the ship” and “Pulga” so close together (ending a sentence with it and starting the next with the same) weakens the idea: either find another word that conveys the same meaning, or rewrite the sentences to make them shorter and more powerful.
 
E.g. “Swirls of copper and bronze, typical of this region, flowed steadily past the ship on her maiden voyage. Pulga, a wealthy sheik living three continents over on Croup, had commissioned our ship and crew to find out the whereabouts of the Psýllos inhabitants of an island somewhere in this region.”
 
See that? The flow is better and all the words that didn’t contribute to moving the story forward had been cut. Also, the numeral was replaced with the word (the way we write in fiction for the most part) and the word “colors” was cut because we already know that “copper” and “bronze” are colours – don’t overload on adjectives. Mark Twain wrote: “When you catch an adjective – kill it.” And Stephen King believes that the road to hell is paved with adjectives. We don’t have to go that far – adjectives have their place in fiction, we just need to know when they are unnecessary and when they can give startling intensity to a noun.
 
Your story is very imaginative. Remember the basics when you read over your stories, making sure it flows, and your writing will soar.

 

 

Y2W17 Winner

 Benjamin Langley

 

with “Pioneers”


Ooh, a creepy, yet fascinating, take on the prompt. Did the experiment kill them, turn them into weird ghosts or some form of medium? I like the way you use the repetition of “three days” to show the awful state they’re in.
 
In terms of constructive criticism: I would’ve placed each confession in its own line for effect; the last line too. Don’t jump from past to present tense (there’s a lot of reasons for that – check out the Writer’s Digest or similar publication), though I understand that you wanted to go for a sense of immediacy – rather use the different types of past tense.
 
Using different punctuation marks will make some of your writing clearer: e.g. “… but on the third – as I said – shapes, no more than that: hazy and distant.” See how the dashes and colon changes the meaning slightly? The colon can even be replaced with ellipses for effect.
 
Remember to read through your writing to pick up on typos like “if” instead of “is” before the confessions start. Good job!

 

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

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

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

It’s day four.

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

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


 

 

Thank you all for your participation! Until Saturday…

 

Saturday, November 19, 2016

Cracked Flash: Year 2, Week 17!


 Welcome back to another round of Cracked Flash. Enjoy the challenge. And when in doubt: just keep writing!

Beware the Rules that Lurk


Judge this week: Ronel

Word count: 300 words max

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

Deadline: Midnight tonight, PDT!

Results announced: Next Thursday 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:
It took us three days before we started seeing shapes in the fog.

Thursday, November 17, 2016

Y2W16: Results!

Sorry about the single winner today, y'all--been struggling with time lately. Hope you all come back for this Saturday anyways ;) 

Y2W16 WINNER:

Marj Crockett! 

with Gotcha!

This is a scenario most people can imagine or relate to pretty easily, and the officer's character felt very realistic to me. 

However, the piece felt like it lacked a strong arc, due to the impersonal way the POV character is written; there's a lot of the policeman says "Do X," and the characters do X with very little reaction. Because of this--because we don't see inside the character's head--the climax (which I'd say is passing the driver's license--where the plan has the most chances of falling apart under scrutiny) came off very flatly. There's nothing up close, gritty, and personal; no sweating, no holding of the breath (or focusing on the breath to keep it natural), no internal thoughts of, "Will he find out?" or anything of the like. 

What really intrigues me about this piece, though, is the idea of the Enhanceds; it leaves me with a lot of questions (most of which probably couldn't be answered within the word constraint). Are the Enhanceds really robots? What are the laws concerning them? Are they dangerous? What are the goals of these main characters? What little I know about this concept is very interesting, and I'd have loved to see more. Good job!

Gotcha! 
"You'd think I'd notice if my best friend were a robot." 
Jan smiled at the policeman who had pulled her over. He did not smile back at her. 
“Ma’am, you know the rules. Anyone who looks like they’re Enhanced needs checked out. And your passenger sure looks like one of them to me. Please step out of the car... Both of you.” 
Slowly, Jan undid her seatbelt. She knew that the slightest misstep could make the policeman angry and dangerous. I undid my seatbelt too. I didn’t want to jeopardise or compromise her in any way.  
“Place your hands on the car please. Both of you.” 
We did what he asked. Truth was, in the pouring rain, we all wanted to get this over and done with and be on our way.  
The policeman pushed my legs apart a bit further as I leaned on the car. 
“Papers?” he asked, frisking me from head to toe. 
I passed him my driver’s license. He glanced at it, then at me, then back at the photo. The flashlight illuminated my face, making me blink. His eyebrows rose. 
“Oh sorry Congressman. I didn’t see your face,” he stammered, “I’m just…” 
I stopped him from making himself more of a fool than he already had. 
“Officer, you’re just doing your duty. I am pleased that you are upholding the laws about Enhanceds so competently. I commend you on your diligence.” 
He coughed and handed the license back to me, obviously wishing he was elsewhere. 
“That’s all. Sorry to have bothered you. Have a good evening.” 
That was it. The police car left, red lights fading in the distance. 
Jan and I waited until he had gone, then slipped off our masks. 
“Well that worked!” she/it said.

Friday, November 11, 2016

Cracked Flash: Year 2, Week 16!

Welcome back to another round of Cracked Flash!

RULES

Judge This Week: Mars

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 Thursday 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 

"You'd think I'd notice if my best friend were a robot."

Year 2, Week 15: Results!

First Runner Up
Benjamin Langley's In Sickness and In Health

The hope and optimism the last paragraph gives was a breath of fresh air here. This piece leaves us with a few unanswered questions, though that's okay (if not frustrating, haha) because the comprehensive, self-contained plot is still there. Some things that would be cool to address: What ails Poppy? What is the Black Wood? (Could they build a lovely summer home there?) 

The very last part of the last line kept drawing me back to this piece ("[He] placed his crown at his father's feet"). I can respect the King's position on doing what's right for the kingdom, but a king should be bold in what he believes is right and good; Amin's peaceful refusal to obey and determination and hope for the future are aspects that anyone can admire. 

Y2W15 Winner

Sam Lauren

with Nothing

This reminds me of (I think it was) a Twilight Zone episode (where the dude writes people into existence and burns paper to get rid of 'em. I can't remember if he was a character or not, though). I'm not sure why stories like this resonate with me--maybe it's because we can go our entire lives believing we're one thing, and then we're violently proved to be another. Part of this also reminds me somewhat of my little sister (good job with the character dynamics!); when we were younger, I always felt like she was trying to steal everything I was good at! So, I can empathize rather deeply with the main character. I'm curious to know more about this witch that  made and gave this skull--it took me a few read-overs to understand what the second paragraph meant in relation to the rest of the story (since I couldn't figure out for the life of me why crushing this skull would do anything). I would have liked to see a little more after the last line (though I choose to interpret this as the main character fading out of existence and perceiving no more) for firm confirmation on what happened. The plot and conflict was intriguing and the character dynamics were real. Good job with this!
Nothing

“You will have nothing!” My sister flinched under my words. 

I held up the tiny skull the witch gave me. She'd stuffed it with ground herbs from dirty jars, the shed of a snake, and a burnt scrap with Claire’s name on it. 

All I had to do was crush it, the way Claire had crushed me. 

Her music struck more hearts than mine. Claire’s art took risks I would never dare, her hand was steady. These were my passions she took, because she could not think of any on her own. 

The latest thing was ballet. Claire would spend the next year dancing under a scholarship that should have been mine.

“You’ve taken everything from me,” I said. I shook the skull at her. “This will take everything you love.”

Claire cowered behind raised palms. “Please Eleanor, calm down.” 

“No. It’s my turn to talk.”

I dashed the skull against the ground. Bits of bone spiraled across the hardwood floor. A pale smoke bloomed from the top like a mushroom cloud, lingering when it should have dispersed. Claire began to cry. “No, no…” she murmured, and sank to her knees. 

My body tingled with the magic.

“Ellie--your skin--”

My arms were hazy. It was hard to focus on any one of my fingers, even when I tried to flex them. If I succeeded, I didn’t feel it. 

“What’s happening?” I asked, desperate. 

Claire wasn’t listening. She was trying to sweep stems and powders back into the base of the remaining skull. 

I could see her frantic motions through my fading limbs. “It’s not working.”

She sobbed. “I just wanted you to like me.”

Claire raised her delicate fists, and brought them down through the smoke with a force that would crush the skull completely.

Results Tonight

Friends, I hope this day sees you all well.

This week has been (and continues to be) pretty stressful, both on a personal and nation-wide level, and I couldn't find the time until yesterday evening to start writing the reviews. I sprained my ankle right before I was going to, and couldn't keep my eyes open long after that in order to work! 

Long story short: Apologies for the postponement, but I injured myself! The results will be coming up tonight.



Though we usually try not to bring the world's events into this space, I feel I need to make a note about the tensions rising in America. Things are getting violent between everybody. People are getting harassed and assaulted. People are terrified. I have a friend whose family is scared to leave their house, and another who needs to walk with her friends to school to keep them safe. Please read this post on how to help someone who's being harassed and share it with everyone you know. Please be kind to people, and encourage others to be kind. Please speak up or step in when you see violence, harassment, and hate; do whatever you can to keep yourself and those you know--and even those you don't know--safe. Please educate yourself on what's going on in this nation. We need good, educated people more than ever. 

Dare to be a force for good. 
Dare to stand alone. 
Dare to have a purpose firm. 
Dare to make it known.

Stay safe, everybody. 

Saturday, November 5, 2016

Cracked Flash: Year 2, Week 15!

Welcome back to another round of Cracked Flash!

RULES

Judge This Week: Mars

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: 1 AM 11/6/2016 PDT (We were an hour late posting)

Results announced: Next Thursday 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 

"You will have nothing!"

Thursday, November 3, 2016

Year 2, Week 14: Results!

Apologies for the late post! Experiments are like cats. They like knocking your careful plans off tables.

Honorable Mention 

Carin Marais with The Sky at Noon
 
I liked the way you cast a very old, traditional story of the Sun and Moon's romance here. My favorite part was the description of the Stars--I loved the idea of the Moon who did not--or could not--listen to their song. I also liked that you reversed the traditional genders for this kind of story--it puts an interesting spin on the bright Sun and shy/dimmer Moon.  In the second half of the piece I would have liked more tension. While the resolution is impressive for such a short story, the tension falls away with the ease of the tower's collapse. I liked the final image of the Sun and Moon together in the sky, and how that ties in to the title. Great story!

First Runner Up

Sian Brighal with Lunacy

Great imagery here! I love how you don't outright state the main character's plight at the beginning, but it is obvious what has happened to her. I love the way you describe her slow return to sensation--where even pain is welcomed because it is more than the nothing she's endured. I liked the way she's aware that each attempt she makes is small, but she's determined to go on--frantically determined. I was a little confused by the last sentence--while beautiful and poetic, I'm not sure what it's hinting at. Perhaps ending with more of a bang would be beneficial. Well done!

Y2W13 Winner: 

Bill Engleson!

with Moon Watch

I'll admit I'm not usually one for romantic stories or scenes. Nevertheless, this was a beautiful piece. I loved how you wove the prompt in with a larger tale of Catherine's amnesia--yet without any infodumps. Great transition from the subject of the moon to memories. I like the quiet contemplation of the characters, the hope and disappointment. This was a well-executed interaction, very polished and adds tension to an otherwise very calm piece. I LOVE the last line. It perfectly shows how much Catherine still has to regain, and Ethan's unconscious assumptions & hope. Deliciously poignant ending. Excellent job!

Moon Watch
She watched the moon from the cracks in the wall. Full! Distant! A mellow-appearing cloud, cumulus, seemed to caress the edge of the rich, yellow globe.

A flutter of wind flitted in the crack. A speck of wind-dust lodged in her eye.

“Damn,” she muttered.

“What?” Ethan asked.

“Nothing. Something is in my eye.”

“I’ll take a look.”

“That’s not necessary. It’ll tear out.”

“Maybe. Let me look, anyways.”

“Okay,” she relented, pleased that he had insisted.

Ethan touched her cheek in the muted light, asked, “Which eye?” and she said,” The left eye.”

He took a piece of tissue from his pocket, moistened it lightly and gently swabbed her left eye.

“Well?” he then asked.

She blinked, said, “Yes, I think so. Thank you.”

He then kissed her and stepped back into the dark reaches of the old Inn.

They were silent for a time. She again looked through the cracks, skyward, towards the moon.

“Look out the window,” he suggested. “It’s a much fuller view.”

“I know,” she said. “But this way, I see streaks, no, slivers of the moon, of the sky. I know it is all there but this way, well, it’s like the way memory often is, you know, when we recall splinters of our life, moments that flash to mind.”

Ethan stepped again into the pale glow of moonlight slicing through the collapsing way-station. “Are you having flashes of memory?” he asked, hoping that some shard of her past was inching up from the depths.

“No,” she sighed. “I know you thought it would help…bringing me to this place.”

“Woods Raven Inn. You grew up here. Until the crash.”

“And then?”

“Yes, he said, “Years of recovery.”

“And still, no memory?”

“It’ll come, Catherine. It’s just taking longer than expected…”

“Catherine?” she whispered.

Wednesday, November 2, 2016

Results TBA

Due to time constraints, Si's been unable to get to the reviews as of yet. They will be up tomorrow! Sorry, and stay tuned!

Friday, October 28, 2016

Cracked Flash: Year 2, Week 14

Welcome back to another round of Cracked Flash!

RULES

Judge This Week: Si

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 watched the moon from the cracks in the wall.

Year 2, Week 13: Results!

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

Honorable Mention 

Cassandra Day (and friends) with Oh, Christmas Tree

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

First Runner Up

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

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


Y2W13 Winner: 

Benjamin Langley!

with The Mađioničar

"Each of his footsteps left a print of light, that was snuffed out when I trod upon it." This piece was very alluring, I think, because of the imagery presented. I loved the character dynamic here between the brothers; they seem polar opposites of each other, and therefore excellent foils to introduce in a story. The eagerness of Nikola versus the trepidation of Senka; the light of the younger brother and the darkness of the older--it feels like this piece embodied light and darkness into two characters; youthful hope and exuberance, and aged fear and superstition. Good job!
The Mađioničar 
Bulbs of light hung from every tree branch as if tiny lamps had been lit inside upon one. Inspecting them closer, I realised that they were apples, the light bursting through their thin rose-red skins, no gaps with which to insert a match, no hint of a flame inside, only pure light.  

I gazed towards the house; they said that he was a mađioničar - a magician, and that’s why his house and garden were forbidden, and why my little brother was so keen to explore. 
Seeing his hand reach out, I cried, “Stop!” Though he withdrew, the contact with the branch was sufficient to disturb the illuminated fruit’s hold on the tree. 
After its disconnection from the branch, its light faded, only for a burst of sparks to spring from the ground upon impact and then shower down.  
He reached to pick it up. He turned to look at me, read the concern in my face, and dismissed it with a wave. “Relax, Senka.” 
He knew no fear, and, while not yet ten years old, he had always been pulled towards the light.  
He picked up the apple that I would never touch for fear of bewitchment. Without hesitation he took a bite.  
The last of the luminescence from the fruit passed into his mouth, and glowed through his cheeks.  
“Come on,” he said, moving towards the house. Each of his footsteps left a print of light, that was snuffed out when I trod upon it.  
He did not believe in good, or evil, only science, but I could follow him no longer.  
As he closed upon the house, light burst from every window. How could someone light all of the lamps in an instant?  
As the door opened I heard a voice. “Welcome! We have been expecting you, Nikola.”

Friday, October 21, 2016

Cracked Flash: Year 2, Week 13!

It was really exciting to have so many entries last week for our new judge! Thanks for making that happen, everybody!

RULES

Judge This Week: Mars

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 Thursday 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 

Bulbs of light hung from every tree branch.

Thursday, October 20, 2016

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…