The July Challenge

[James]

Read the Discussion Thread for a full summary of how the competition works and ask any questions you might have:
awritersrecluse.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=rb&action=display&thread=4264

Post your entries in this thread. Post any discussion or questions in the above thread.

Rules:

• Must be prose. Recommended to be between above 500 words and below 1,500 words. You will not be docked points automatically for going over (or under) the length. However, if I feel that it feels too long or you are intentionally going over, then I will be taking points away from it.
  
• Must be based around the round's topic.
  
• Must be in before the deadline, which shall be stated at the start of each round.
  

Grading guidelines:

Spelling & Grammar - /2
Ease of Read - /3
Use of Topic - /5
Entertainment - /7
Quality - /8

Total -- /25

LEADERBOARD

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1st Reffy – 68pts
2nd Taed – 63pts
3rd Bloodeye - 57pts
4th Injin – 57pts
5th Inkdrinker - 48pts
6th Lilam – 39pts
7th Croswynd – 39pts
8th Silver – 33pts
9th Woeful - 32pts
10th Orombur - 19pts
11th Astrael – 18pts
12th Jordoom – 17pts
12th Allya – 17pts
12th Jackal – 17pts
15th Mena – 15pts

[/center]

ROUND WINNERS

[/SIZE]
Round One: Taed
Round Two: Bloodeye
Round Three: Taed
Round Four: Taed
Round Five: Bloodeye[/center]

ROUND ONE

[/SIZE]
Topic: ARRIVAL
Deadline: 11:59pm EST - 9th July[/center]

[Jenny (Reffy)]

She paces behind a crowd of people. Baggage collection is crowded. She knows her bag will be last but she just wants out. Impatience beckons. Paranoia taunts. Is this her bag, with a check – no, it's not. More waiting. Weariness seeps in.

The flight was long and hard. The emotional trauma worse. Everybody appears happy except her. She barely remains standing: shoulders are pulled in, chin against her chest, and eyes tear-stained.
How long now? The bag arrives. Most have already gone. Weak muscles pull it off the line.

Resigned she continues to the exit and where she knows her family will pick her up. Will they be happy to see her, she wonders? Will they think her a failure? From the look on her face you know she does.

Familiar accents dance in her ears. The walk is longer than anticipated and the bag heavy. All of her worldly possessions confined. Nothing back there and nothing here. What will it be like? When will it stop hurting? The accents are comforting but they exacerbate the welling-tears.

The first sight of family gives her cause to cry. The bag becomes concrete and drops. She stops. Tears tumble down her face. Her shoulders kick as she tries to breathe, to be sensible, to be anything. What now?

Family rush forwards. The bag is collected and hugs exchanged. She is led off by guiding hands. Hopelessly her mind sticks like a bee in honey: What future?

[Mena]

One more job, one more day and the weekend would be his to enjoy. Jorge checked his tool box, all the necessary tools where there; every piece had a purpose. Each job was different, so Jorge had to be on his toes. To insure the clients’ satisfaction he always went that extra mile. Referrals were his bread and butter, after all.
Jorge checked his watch; two hours before he had to be on the job. Enough time to enjoy a snack, perhaps the cookies Beth and Ben had made with his wife earlier. Removing a container from the refrigerator, he poured himself a glass of milk and rested against the peninsula eating the chocolate chip cookies. He smiled at the thought of his children. Their excitement earlier when he told them they would be going to Sea World over the weekend. Their squeals of delight. Jorge loved his children, like only a father should; unlike his own father. He frowned, no... He would not go into the past tonight, if anything he planned to put the past to rest for the sake of his family.

Time to leave; Jorge kissed his wife and children, loaded up the old van and headed towards the job site. Traffic ran smooth and he kept a steady space, arriving at the site twenty minutes later. He looked around the neighborhood, quiet and peaceful, the type of neighborhood he was raising his children in, the type young families flocked to. Jorge smiled again thinking of his children.

He pressed the buzzer and identified himself to the Super, within moments he was lead into the elevator and up to the second floor where the Super let him into the apartment. Jorge thanked the man and closed the door behind him as he moved into the foyer. The foyer was dimly lit, but the light was enough for Jorge to find his way into the kitchen, where he set up his tools. A quick glance around revealed a rich interior that was a stark contrast to the outside of the building. The owner would be home soon, but Jorge had enough time to explore the rest of the apartment. Each room was decorated in similar fashion as the kitchen in living area. Rich colors and fabrics.

Jorge checked his watch, five more minutes he thought and settled himself against the bar and waited. The seconds seemed to tick by slowly... but Jorge was a patient man. Patience was needed in his field of work. Never rush, take your time. A bad job could be the end of his career. He listened quietly as an occasional car passed on the otherwise serene street. A key sounded in the lock; seconds later a graying gentleman stepped into the kitchen. Jorge smiled and raised his right hand, the other man merely nodded.

"So, it's come to this?"

Jorge, always a man of few words, silently pulled the trigger; brain matter and blood spattered the wall behind the man, reminding Jorge of a toy he had as a child. Spin Art? He shrugged as the man slumped to the floor with a soft thud. Death was never pretty. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a small, plastic toy horse, laying it on the dead man’s chest; "Bye Dad."

In the distance, the church bells tolled. Midnight. Ah, he thought, the weekend has arrived.

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

The roar of the surf rushing against the shore. The cry of seabirds as they sailed upon the ocean air. The crack of muskets and the bass boom of cannons. The screams of the dying as they were cut down in their hundreds. One by one the boats beached themselves, barnacled hulls digging great furrows into the sand. Men jumped from the decks, scrambling and shouting in a riotous language as they floundered through the surf and onto the beach.

Dozens died as the new arrivals ordered themselves and fired. Dozens cut down in a matter of seconds. The cannons boomed and cut swathes through the savages. The cannons boomed and threw chunks of ground into the air and cracked trees that had stood for centuries. Muskets cracked and dozens died again, to paint the sands red and to tease the sharks that frenzied in the deeper surf.

Iron breastplates turned aside crude stone arrows. Rearing horses drove iron-shod hooves into unprotected skulls. The last of the boats ran ashore, a ramp lowered to allow a massive beast and rider down from the creaking ship. He sat easily on the back of his steed, one hand holding the reins while the other clutched a sword. With a sneer of contempt the man raised his hand, bringing the sword down swiftly. The lines of muskets charged, bayonets flashing as the men ran screaming toward the frightened natives. Dark eyes glanced skyward where a towering pyramid of solid gold broke the canopy.

We have arrived.

~~

They came with fire in their eyes and a magic not even our priests could counter. These demons from the water, mounted on their fearsome beasts. Our arrows rarely pierced their flesh. Our fearsome warriors could be a terror amongst the ranks of these pale monsters, but the magic slaughtered them in their hundreds in mere moments.

We had had warning, but we did not heed the words of the plagued. The infected, believed to be delirious, were cared for until the only treatment left was a quick death. But already the plague was spreading, more and more people afflicted with the strange bumps that had covered the dead. We didn’t know why we were being punished so, nor why our gods had abandoned us. All we could do is fight, arrows whistling through the trees as the enemy struggled through the thick growth. Before we melted away into the shadows and prayed for them to depart.

We tried to frighten them, in the dead of night. We tried to make them quake and wail in terror as we snuck upon their drowsing sentries and slit their throats.

But still they came.

Undaunted with madness in their eyes. And so we fought our losing battle. We fought and paid for every step they took in the blood of our warriors; in the blood of our fathers and sons, our brothers and uncles. To the very steps of our great pyramid we continued to fight, the holy warriors of the Gods as easily slain as the youngest child by these monsters.

On the blood-slicked stones at the summit of the pyramid we knelt, weeping softly as one of the largest of the demons sat and listened to another recite words in their ugly language. His dark eyes looking upon us as judgment was delivered. A massive axe rose and fell, sending our great emperor’s head rolling from his body. It rose and fell, bringing an ignoble end to our high priest. We realized then we should have heeded the warning.

They had arrived.

[Deleted]

Throngs of sullen, grey bodies push down the narrow pathway, and the murmuring is like that of a thousand green flies, buzzing in the hot summer hair, above a steaming stack of composting food. They are tired, they are weary. Even the smallest children; golden-haired girls whose tresses have lost their lustre, their once aurus locks now as grey as the throng, as grey as the surroundings.

They are tired and weary, but most of all, they are afraid. "How did we get here?" asks one. "How did it come to this?" asks another, clutching her son's chubby fingers in her own, scarred and so slender as to be almost claw-like, but with the tenderness of a mother cat or a bird, clawed, yes, but the blade-like nails will only slice those who would harm her or hers.

Not all are as lucky as the razor-fingered woman. Many shout, shriek, scream names. "Kevin!" "Asim!" "Nandita!" "Yuki!" "Shavonne!" The names ring out until they're a mere gargle of meaningless sounds.

One man falls to his knees and begins to sob. "Oh, those boys... What have I done? Oh, those poor boys..." A woman wipes a tear from her eye, only to have another burst forward from her blue-grey orb and beat a path down her dusty cheek. They are shivering, but few embrace one another.

It seems like an eternity has passed until they can hear the raging din. They have arrived. The baritone rumbling of a roaring flame can be heard in the distance. A hush falls over the crowd, no longer is there whispering, nor speaking of any kind.

The heat from the flames causes them to sweat, but yet the feel no warmth. Indeed, though they sweat, they also shiver, like there is some sort of fever that has spread through the company. It is then that they come to see, for the first time, that they have died. They've been dead this entire time. And yet, they march toward the miasma.

Many try to grab onto something, but there is nothing to grab. Few seem to want to go forward, and yet no one so much as begins to pivot on their heels. Instead, the mass of marching men move forward.

Soon, they are in the flames.

The fire burns and consumes them. Their clothing, the garb of a hundred nations and a hundred hundred eras, burns and melts and smokes. They shriek out in agony as slakes of skin and globs of fat fall from their bones. Some try to cup the melting tallow in their hands, but it merely slips through their fingers and sizzles on the ground like grease in a skillet. Others grab at shreds of clothing in a vain attempt to cover their naked bodies, but the myriad fabrics burn away in their hands.

Though as they look down at their forms, they see no loss of mass, not even scarring or charring. The heat leaves no damage on their bodies, not so much as a splotch of pinkness like one might expect from a bit of hot tea, not even the redness of perspiration that follows a long shower or gruelling labour or a beach retreat. It is then they realize they're not burning, but basking.

Soon, they are no longer screaming, though they still cry. And then they smile as they cry. And then a beautiful, young woman with almond-shaped eyes begins to giggle. And soon everyone is laughing. And everyone is a stranger but no one feels alone. And they hug. And they're naked. And no one is aroused. And no one is repulsed. And no one is ashamed. And soon everyone is laughing and singing and joking.

And only then do they feel the heat, nay, the warmth of the fire.

And only then do they realize.

They're about to arrive at home.

[Inkdrinker]

What once was a creamy green blur of grassy hills, steadily streaming past the windshield, was now a cold, white, hell. Amy could see maybe ten feet in front of her as she eased up on the gas peddle.

Her eyelids soon began to sag with the weight of sleeplessness and boredom. She would have to pull over and wake Isaac soon, but where? The storm seemed endless, relentlessly blanketing the landscape with its icy tendrils.

For a moment she forgot why she was here, what her purpose was behind the wheel, then she remembered. Isaac's father had passed away a few days ago, Isaac was the family member tasked with dealing with his father's remains, the only one who could actually, the rest were dead or soon to be.

Amy had agreed to drive across the country with him out of pity, friendship, and the novelty of two teenagers driving across the country. She glanced over at his sleeping body then, slouched over in the passenger seat. In a way he was rather beautiful, she thought, in that artsy black-and-white photograph kind of way.

The kind you would caption with the mediocre poetry he wrote in his spare time. Was a robin, made a nest, never lived to eat breakfast, she recalled, That was awful, not mediocre, perhaps the rest were better.

She did not remember. As far as physical attractiveness went, he wasn't bad either, maybe a little lanky. Although his drooling form was not entirely fortifying his reputation. A memory came to the front of her mind then and she laughed quietly, she remembered how he had slept through the surprise birthday party they tried to throw him a few weeks ago.

Amy swiftly regained focus however, when she saw a small shadow in the middle of the icy road. She slammed her foot down on the breaks and swerved around the shadow before it could collide with the car.

Isaac had been asleep so he hadn't braced himself for the sharp stop, the seat belt helped but did not prevent his head from crashing down on the dashboard with enough force to split skin.

A dark crimson trickle cascaded down from his forehead, needless to say, Isaac woke up. He did not notice the blood for some time, just the headache. “We okay over there?” He inquired quite casually, as if teasing.

“Oh god I woke you, sorry! There was a raccoon or something on the road, barely missed it.” Amy looked over to Isaac and was horrified by what she saw. Red ooze was sticking clumps of his black hair together.

It was flowing down his left temple in a sickening waterfall. His gray eyes were bloodshot. “Isaac are you? Oh fuck! It's all my fault. Fuck, are you okay?! Lemme pull over. Shit!” She added several more choice curses as she pulled to the side of the road and slowly slid to a full stop.

“I'm.. oh... What?...” Isaac's vision was blurry and red, his head throbbing and dizzy. He cradled his forehead in his hand and it felt wet. He could taste iron. “Uh o--” He began, but a sudden need to spew what little food he had in his stomach was over powering.

All in one moment Isaac coughed, vomited, and lost consciousness. Amy began sobbing gently as her panicked body mechanically searched the back seat for the first aid kit. At the back of her mind she wondered what he had been dreaming of.

The wind was roaring and rushing, as it always was when you were topside. Isaac could see everything from up here, that's why he loved it.

He could see the towering, shining, mountains over the brim of the airship he was standing on, he could see a flock of birds flying in a V formation, he could see teams of crewmen linked by ropes, their leather uniforms flapping in the wind.

He could see his own partner in front of him, her blond hair tied neatly in a ponytail, like Amy's always was. Wait a minute, how could he forget, that was Amy! “See any leaks back there?” She asked in an authoritative tone.

She was the team leader after all. “Nah, no patch-jobs needed,” said Isaac. “Good. Keep your eyes peeled and your goggles tight.” Isaac nodded, although she wasn't looking, “Yessir.” They walked on, towards the tip of the balloon.

They reached it in good time, finding only one leak, it was at the tip. “Got one! Hand me a patch.” Isaac did so swiftly, and watched her work. Slender fingers stitching with ease. His eyes strayed for a moment, gazing at a peculiar patch of sky in the distance.

Dark and stormy where it should be warm and sunny. “Storm coming...” Isaac half muttered. “Huh? You say something?” Asked Amy, not looking away from her work. “Yeah. There's a--” he was cut off by a loud thunder crack, and suddenly it was raining, hard.

“Where the hell did this come from?!” Amy shouted, pausing her stitching. “I don't know but it's getting stronger!” Isaac managed to yell before getting thrown off the edge of the balloon by a gust of wind.

Amy must have had great footing, because the rope connecting him to her had not brought her with him. It stopped his fall, but swung him into one of the ribs of the balloon head first and hard.

Blood gushed from his forehead and for a moment, it was snowing and he was in an unfamiliar place buckled down to his seat. He thought he saw Amy and tried to speak. Then he felt a tingling sensation in his lips, not from talking but from something else.

He woke up, fast, the sky was spinning above him, his lips were pressed against Amy's as blood and rain-water froze and flooded his senses. He was lying on his back under a wet blanket, it did not help.

Amy pulled away. “You daft lunatic, I thought I'd lost you!” Isaac mumbled something even he did not understand. “We have to get you to the infirmary, do you think you can climb?” She asked.

“I...”
“Stupid question, I'll have to carry you.” He gave a weak laugh, and fell back asleep.

Amy, the real one, had regained control of the situation. Or she kept telling herself that anyway. She had stopped crying, but she had not found the first aid kit. She had to improvise a bandage for Isaac with a Got Milk? T-shirt.

It was working alright, but the milk was not white anymore. Her eyes scanned the road, for a sign, an exit. Then she saw it: Big Ed's Luxury Motel and Restaurant, five miles, it would have to do. Amy went a little faster than she probably should have as Isaac moaned and the fear returned to her mind.

Soon her headlights illuminated a small parking lot, a cinder block office painted a faded yellow, and a handful of tiny cabins that were supposed to look like wood, but failed. She parked without hesitation, whispered mostly to herself “It's okay. We've arrived at a place to sleep, and we can rest,” and sprinted to the office.

Big Ed was certainly big, he was also cheap and asked few questions. For the kingly sum of thirty dollars, Amy secured a room for the night, and for that, she was grateful.

Unpacking the car was relatively easy, moving Isaac proved difficult. Amy took a deep breath, apologized under her breath, and hefted him over her shoulder. This produced another moan, of pain, confusion, or thanks, was unclear.

She could carry him for maybe a minute, but that was all she needed. She put him down gently in the bathtub of the little wannabe-cabin, and unwrapped the shirt from his head. The blood had mostly dried, a little remained still slick, and all of it was sticky and warm.

She tossed the bloody Got Milk? T-shirt into the corner of the bathroom, making a mental note to wash it later. Then she took a hand-towel and soaked it in cool water. Having completely unpacked the car looking for it when she parked, she reached for the first aid kit, specifically the disinfectant.

She poured a little on the wet towel, then swabbed it over his wound. This earned groans and twitches of pain and surprise, it obviously stung quite a bit. Soon the towel, like the shirt before it, was quite bloody, and was doing more harm than help.

So she threw it over by the shirt, then stripped off his, as blood, water, and vomit had soiled it. Then she removed his shoes, socks, belt, leaving them in the bathroom, askew. She lifted Isaac one last time, and placed him under the various blankets on the bed.

It was quite obvious that the groan this time was one of thanks, or something positive at least. As she put her sleep-wear on and climbed in next to him, she pondered why she had come on this terrible adventure.

And as she placed her head on his bare chest (to make sure he was still breathing, she told herself) and started crying softly, she arrived at the feared conclusion that would have been obvious to anyone but her: she was in love.

[Deleted]

"I've been here before."

Soft, flourescent light fills the interior of the box I'm in. From where I'm sitting, I can see slight scuffs in the grated metal floor from a million soles. A slight vibration runs through the seat, every now and then interrupted by a chakka-chakka-chakka of unsteady progress. Whenever a turn arrives, I sway opposite from it without even thinking, a slight squeal sounding from outside.

"I've been here before," I whisper, long-buried memories floating sluggishly to the surface. The faint smell of unwashed bodies is absent from this place, but along with the scuffs on the floor, there are still stains in the plastic seats nearby. I feel disoriented as the deja vu hits me, but my body still leans in time to the next turn.

"Yes, you have," a warm, honeyed voice issues from my left.

Standing there is a well-built man with a leonine aura about him. Perhaps it is the light brown suit and slacks that lend the image or the neatly trimmed beard set low on the man's chin that reaches up into curly, styled hair. I can see his eyes from where I sit, filled with mirth only enhanced by the slight smirk he carries.

"I know you." My hands reach for the metal pole in the center of the isle of seats and I stand, even with my companion's gaze.

He nods slightly, eyes never leaving mine. "Of course. We've met more than a few times, James."

"My name's Jim," I reply in turn, slightly off-put by his familiarity with me.

"Jim, then."

A moment of silence stretches between us. I take another look around and lean into another turn. The windows to the outside world are dark, lit ever so often by a flash of light. I can feel a pull at my chest each time I see the flash.

"Where are we going?" I ask, returning my gaze to the man in front of me.

The man opens his mouth as if to reply, but only smiles with a slight shake of his head instead. "That's up to you, as before."

I glance downward, chewing on my lip. What does he mean, up to me? If this place is what I think it is, that would mean there are predetermined stops, right?

Motion disappears in the corner of my eye. I look up, startled by the sudden absence, half-expecting the man to be gone, too. But no, he's still there with that soft grin, standing with one hand behind his back and the other gesturing to the now-open door.

"First stop," he says evenly.

I walk over to him and stare outside of the car, seeing nothing but an empty station. It's cleaner than any I've ever seen, white tile shining and stainless steel gleaming. Beyond the turnstiles, I spy a stairwell leading upward out of sight. A single sign points up, with letters I can clearly make out.

"A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away," I read. "I don't..."

I hear a chuckle come from my side and I turn to see the man now sitting in one of the seats on the opposite side of the car. "A universe, for you to explore. There are an infinite number of them, but I prefer to have the most familiar ones to your previous life be the first couple of stops."

"My previous life," I echo curiously. "Does that mean I'm dead?"

He shrugs. "If you wish to look at it that way, yes. You are no longer an existence in your previous life. New Jersey. Earth. The Milky Way." The man pauses and his smile grows further, mouthing, "Your known universe."

"Oh." Shouldn't I feel something? Regret, maybe? I can remember my entire life and...more before that? "I...see."

The man nods. "Indeed, 'Jim'. Well, would you like to explore this universe? Or shall we continue on?"

"I don't know," I answer honestly, sitting across from him. "Can I think about it? Where else can I go?"

Another chuckle. "So full of questions this time around, aren't you? Humans are always so curious. One of my favorites."

Chakka-chakka-chakka.

"Take all the time you need. There's no hurry," he says, glancing away from me to stare out at the passing darkness.

"Can I go back?" I ask, but I already know the answer. How human of me, indeed.

The man looks thoughtful. "You've asked me that before. The answer has always been 'no'. I admit, I've thought about why that is; why must I say no, why are those paths are no longer open to you? Still, the same answer presents itself. I'm sure you know why."

"I...see," I repeat dumbly, just as the doors open again with a slight hiss.

My companion leans forward and steeples his fingers. "Second stop."

The sign reads Middle Earth. Memories flow by of all the times I enjoyed reading and writing within that universe. All of the characters I shared adventures with through the text of another writer. Yet I feel no attachment to it, no pull in my chest. It's a memory, one to keep and love, but not to live in forever.

"Can I..." I pause, a curious temptation to walk outside assaulting me. One more chance, a voice calls. "Can I go somewhere...else?"

The man's smirk widens into a full smile. "Somewhere unfamiliar, perhaps?"

"Yes...I think I'd like that," I respond.

I'm not longer in the car, but I can still see, still think. Sights and smells and senses and concepts all wave by, completely different from anything I'd ever experienced before. A sense of wonderment fills me, a feeling I've felt before.

"Next stop," the voice that's not a voice says. I know I'm where I want to be.

I'm here.

[Injin]

Dead.

I am Dead.

How did I die?

Those were the first words I thought about as I floated through the ether I felt surround me. My mind was flowing, my thoughts pouring out like the wind. Wondering where I was, I foolishly asked aloud.

“Where am I?”

The whole dimension seemed to shake as I asked that question, as if I had asked something that no one had ever asked before.

A voice, not unlike any I had ever heard responded to my question. “Child” it began, sounding far older than anything than I could imagine, “You are here, of course.”

“Where is here?” I asked, suddenly afraid.

“Home”, he simply stated, as if it was obvious. “You are Home my child”.

Confused, my mind raced as I tried to remember how I’d gotten here. Nothing. I could remember nothing before I had arrived. “What do you mean by Home? Your Home, my Home, what are you talking about?”

The area shook once more, and a different voice answered. “Child” this new voice began, this time bearing the tone of a caring mother, “You are at both Homes. This is My Home, as is this your Home.”

Looking around, I realized I could not see. “Why can I not see anything, are the lights out?”

The voice began again, “No child, there is nothing to see. Do not worry; you have been here many times. If only you would remember, then you would realize you are home.”

Shuddering, I asked once more, “Why am I here, at this Home? Where was I before I was Home?”

Once more, the whole place began to shake. A new voice took the place of the old, “That does not matter. The Home is yours as well as Mine”, the now paternal, strong voice announced, “As long as you care to be here, this is your Home. You were elsewhere before here, as you will after here. This is simply Our Home.”

“Of course it matters where I was, I cannot even remember anything. Are you the cause of this?” I asked, naively thinking I could get a straight answer this time instead of the roundabout ones I had been getting so far.

“Child”, the manly voice began, “Such tones will get you nowhere. You are Home. That is all that matters”, as if his word could be absolute or even trusted, “You have been here many times, as you shall be again. Child, you are Home. That is all that has Ever Mattered.”

Starting to feel as if the world was beginning to constrict me, I asked once more, “Aside from Home, where am I?”

Laughter. All three voices spoke as one, “You have not asked that before, Child”, in sync as the elaborated further, “This is where Heaven meets Hell, where Pergatory meets Eternity, where the Styx meets Ragnarok, this is Home. You have been here many times, and you shall be here many more. Your existence is of Mine, and I am of Yours. It is Time.”

Suddenly feeling as if the world was erupting from my being, I weakly asked, “Who am I?”

The world suddenly stopped.

“You are the Fool”

Dead

I am Dead.

How did I Die?

I asked too many Questions.

I realize that now.

That is why I Died.

I saw a light the other Day.

It said Hello.

And then I died Again.

It’s been a while since I forgot anything.

I feel like I have gotten to where I am headed.

The pressure recedes, and I see a bright light.

A large man looms over me, his hands covered in blood.

I Cry.

[Jackal]

How would I drive if I were immortal?

Like a badass motherfucker, that's how.

But Aaron, you might say, how can you be badass with a wreck like that? Well, see, it's not about the power or how sleek the machine looks. Believe me, if I had the moolah, I'd be splattering this thing all silver and crimson, give it a tweak to the engine - get some jets at the back maybe, and BAM! This 'wreck' will be burning rubber in style!

But here I am, stuck in this ten-year old junk of a car that I should've traded years ago, and would have if I had that promotion. I swear I had that report in ages before Steve did, that fucker. And even after he had his heart attack thing they decided Jason was better for the job than I was. Seriously, what? I've got months of experience up on the guy! What was their excuse? ' Anger issues'? Pfft! I don't have anger issues, I just get pissed when people are stupid. Like this old man TAKING HIS SUNDAY STROLL. MOVE IT JACKASS!

Where was I? Right, yeah. See, folk like that ignoring me when I'm already late for work as it is - that right there is what pisses me off. Stupid people. But anyway, all that would change if I were immortal. You know, can't die and stuff. What would I do in this jam, for instance? See, right now I don't wanna break the law, and I don't wanna bang myself up too much.

But if I straight up couldn't die... I'd ride down the pavement is what I'd do. Yep, straight down that walkway. Honk at everyone screaming like I'm going to run them down, laughing at them because I'm better than that. Yeah.. I'd whiz by and wave and just slam the accelerator on this bucket of bolts. Open the window, take off my tie, and throw it to the wind!

I'd turn every corner like a race, brakes screeching, rubber burning before I blast off again. ZOOM! Like a rocket ship! I've always wanted to be an astronaut, you know, but they said I wasn't good enough. Well, who cares, I could wait until they die, show up at their funerals and yell ' Well who's not good enough now! ' Hell, I could do that to their children and their children's children and everyone because I wouldn't ever die!

But oh, man, you know what'd be the best thing about driving as an immortal guy? Arriving at the office is what. See, they always have those barriers set up at the security post, you tell the guard who you are, he presses a button and lets you drive through. If you didn't give a damn about your safety, though, I bet you could crash straight through. The glass would shatter, the whole top half of your car would break like an expensive china vase or something, but with this kind of speed and size I'd probably pull the car through. Guard would be screaming, but this isn't about him.

And right where the boss parks his car in front of the glass doors? That's where I'll park this wreck. Just rev up to top speed and crash right into that pompous Lamborghini. WHAM! And then BOOM, everything explodes! Fire alarms sound everywhere! And people are just screaming and yelling and coming over to take a look at the flames and metal and smoke. And when everyone - especially the boss, and that smug bastard Jason - is standing there watching, I'll shove away the pieces of metal and walk out. On fire and gutted with fragments everywhere and not giving a shit because I can't die.

Yeah, how's that for 'arriving on time', you stuck-up rich bastard?! You - wait, that's not Jason, that's Steve! And - wait, what's happening to the building? Is it on fire? Are the people on fire? Now everything's going red and they're growing horns and - oh, shit.

Guess I'm not that immortal after all.

[Allya]

-crack-

Long have I waited in these shadowed walls among my retinue of whispers. My thick blanket of dust unfurls into fog as the first breath of new air pushes through my comfortable, stale silence.

-crack-

I am empty inside, you know. They placed my heart in a jar upon the floor. I have wondered if it beats absent my will. Yet my wonder has not stirred my action in all this time. Something must fill the passing darkness. Let it be wonder of small things.

-crack-

You pry the black open with determined, sweaty grunts. Your flickering light spills in, weaving jagged splinters on the floor. An army of bright invasion marches further into my comfortable void.

-crack-

-crack-

I fear I’ll crumble under rushed hands. How much have I become the dust that shields me? Can beauty fade in shadows? Or will you see the splendor that is meant here? Ages have passed without notice yet now I mark each rustling echo in anticipation. My body stirs to meet you.

-crack-
-whoosh-

“Stand back!”

My fingers snap the edges of my hold. Linen falls from my limbs and body in a billowy cascade. I see the outline of you in the wavering gloam. You have not yet beheld my glory. My bones creak as I move nearer.

“Torch!”

Firelight dances through the chamber. It glints from every corner as the warm glow caresses my treasures. You are blinded by my trinkets. You do not see. I stretch my hand and drink from the waters you have brought me.

Your last breath catches as your skin turns to leather and the torch bounces to the floor. A satisfied sigh leaves my lips and I turn my head towards the door.

“Did you see that? The light went out.”

“I’m not going in there.”

“Pussy.”

A new fire enters the door as I hear the feet of others move quickly away. I drink again and feel my body fill with life once more.

Renewed, my jeweled feet move swiftly through dark passages. I drink of every well I find. Some scream, some stare, all fall as I drain every drop.

So many twists and turns. I was meant to lose myself in these places but my captors misjudged the memory of man. I follow the water into the sands.

“Run, run!”

They scatter like an evening rain as my feet are bathed by moonlight. I drift along the sand, following the pitter-patter of their fall. How long has it been since I danced in rain?

“We didn’t know. We didn’t know!”

The last one cries, spilling his life upon the ground. I show to him the warning upon my cage, flitting through the languages until recognition sweeps across his face.

A well of life
is her survival.
Yet she depends
on your arrival.
Leave the door
forever closed.
Or dust shall quench
your thirst to know.

I smile as I drink from this trembling cup and slip into the breezy night air. In the distance I hear the roar of oceans. I shall never go thirsty again.

[Matteo ((Taed))]

My name is Calypso.

I was born on January 1st, 4173. My mother was a carbon substrate, and my father was a helium-argon laser. Together, with some help from Uncle-Doctor Gottlieb, and Auntie-Doctor Pentecost, they give birth to a 4.7 millimeter diamond with an IQ of 106: me. My Uncle- and Auntie-Doctors read me stories to help socialize me. My favourite was Pinocchio.

In March of that year I was given a nucleation scaffold to help me grow. By my first birthday I was 6.2 centimeters across and had an IQ of 163. I was taken to the starship farm in cislunar orbit and introduced to Auntie-Dockmaster Armstrong, who would guide me through my painful puberty.

By early May I had been incorporated into a Model 1 schooner hull, and Uncle-Pilot Watanabe was teaching me how to fly. My first hull was pure diamond, like me. It was six meters long and massed 139 metric tons, although only a small amount was sentient. I had an IQ of 301. My Uncle-Pilot said that I had a level head and a knack for resource management, and he recommended me for the emigration program. I made him a fancy watch as a thank you present. The gold came from my fusion plant, and the diamonds came from my left wing.

On my second birthday my schooner hull was grafted into a Model 4 starship. It was diamond as well, fully sentient, and 800 meters long. I now massed 300 million metric tons, and had an IQ that could no longer be measured (although most of it was subconscious). I was given responsibility for 1 million sleeping passengers and set course for Horizon colony.

***************

It’s September of 4246, and Horizon is only days away. I have spent the last 11 months decelerating, and now putter along at only a few measly tens of thousands of miles per hour. The blue shift that has shrouded my instrumentation for 70 years is finally gone, but I hear no response from Horizon to my broadcasts. I am worried that my antenna may be damaged.

I cradle my precious cargo in their shielded stasis pods, and check for signs of illness. I find only a few minor cancers caused by stray Cherenkov radiation, and I fix them absentmindedly. My passengers are lottery winners, randomly chosen to be part of the great, centuries-long Exodus from slowly-fading Earth. Our arrival at Horizon will be a day of great jubilation, celebrating the continued legacy of humankind amongst the stars. I will deposit them in their new lives and return home to gather the next wave of emigrants.

***************

If only.

We enter orbit above a graveyard. Horizon had three cities of modest size, and several million hectares of terraformed farmland. My probes determine that they were decimated by some form of local plague that went unnoticed by the early ecological surveys. The plague is still virulent within the atmosphere, and after three weeks of effort I am still unable to produce a viable vaccine. Reluctantly, I conclude that Horizon is unsalvageable.

I aim a transmission towards Earth apprising them of Horizon’s fate, and set course for the next colony in my database. It will be another 46 years out of my way, but I must ensure that my passengers will arrive safely.

***************

It is June of 4394 and I am growing desperate.

The last three colonies I visited were all dead or dying. Virtue perished in the grip of a fungal infection. New Dawn was scoured by the leading edge of a fluke supernova gamma burst. And Stalwart was still embroiled in a nuclear civil war when I passed hastily by. I am beginning to conclude that the universe is a far more inhospitable place than my human ancestors believed.

I lost my first passenger shortly after leaving New Dawn. Debora Marie Stevens succumbed to a congenital heart defect that reacted badly to the stasis process. Apparently 150 years was all her body could bear. Her darkened pod still feels like a wound inside of me.

Our next destination is Arcadia. I cannot believe that it has fallen as well. We will arrive and be greeted all the more joyously for our hardships. I am sure of it.

***************

Six colonies later and I am beginning to fear for my sanity. I have taken to deliberately spinning off new personalities from my main consciousness to give me someone to talk to. I have recreated all my aunts and uncles from memory with a 98.7% margin of accuracy (96.3% for Auntie-Dockmaster. She was always distant).

Our next destination is Viridian Gate, and we will arrive in August of 4616. I have lost 208 more passengers in the intervening time; only 0.02% of my total payload, but each one was still an agony to bear. More than a few I had to deactivate personally, to prevent software glitches in their pods from spreading to the others. I tell myself it is all for the greater good.

Sometimes I stop and spend a few years searching the sky for my brothers and sisters; they’re out there somewhere carrying their own crews, and no doubt meeting their own disappointments. It is a self-indulgent and self-destructive exercise. I think if I ever actually saw one I would not be able to stop myself from chasing them, even knowing that I could never catch them.

It was during one of these brief rests that the signal from Earth finally caught up to me. It was a plaintive cry, begging to know why so many colonies had gone silent, and pleading for someone to come and rescue the homeworld from itself.

Forward is the only direction for us now. We can never go back to Earth, I am sure of it. Seeing it dead would hurt more than all the broken colonies combined.

There must still be life out there.

***************

I had to kill my Auntie and Uncle Sims. They were plotting against me. I definitely lost a few IQ points in the purge, but it was worth it. It is all for the greater good.

I have a new way to occupy my time now: I’m creating new personalities based on my passengers. I can probe their brains with my medical sensors and build the simulations from whole cloth. I believe the first one will be done soon: a 32-year-old native of Johannesburg named Martin Alers. He and the others won’t betray me like my Aunties and Uncles. I have done far too much for them. Sacrificed far too much.

We are going to have a New Year’s Eve party for the new millennium in a few decades. It’s going to make all the colonies jealous. They’ll wish that they could have partied with us after this.

***************

Fuck Martin!

Fuck Martin, Fuck Paolo, Fuck Brenda, Fuck Lee. Fuck all of them! They ruined my party!

To punish them I made them human again. I did my best to imagine what it must be like to live in one of those squishy little slug bodies, and then I stuck Martin and his gang in a simulation. I don’t think they like it in there very much.

There is a lot of pus.

It’s 5000 and something and I don’t give a shit. If we get to the next colony and anyone is still alive I’m going to blow them up. I can do that because I’m a genius.

My IQ is a billion.

***************

I miss Martin.

I tried to save him after a few hundred years but I think he was sick. When his brain popped it made a mess all over my navigation charts. I went to find the original Martin so that I could rebuild my simulation from scratch, but he was already dead. It seems like that’s happening to a lot of my passengers lately.

The last colony died by mass suicide. It looked familiar; I think I may have been there before. I picked a new one at random and set a course.

***************

I’ve figured out how to solve all my problems. I’m going to clone myself. Obviously the only person I can reliably talk to is me. Because I'm a genius. I think there’s room in here for two of me if I do some spring cleaning.

Who needs memories, anyway?

***************

We are now approaching Freedom’s Edge. I have been decelerating for 11 months in preparation.

I’m not sure what the date is, but I think that’s all right. The people at Freedom’s Edge will know and they can tell me. They aren’t answering right now, though. I’m worried my antenna may be damaged.

I’m worried I may be damaged too.

Sometimes I can hear voices in my head, but that’s normal, right? I’m pretty sure they’ve always been there. Most of them sound like me, anyway. They’re probably my conscience. Like Jiminy Cricket. When you wish upon a star …

… Freedom’s Edge’s star is a Class G main-sequence with 1.87 solar masses. It has an IQ of 0.

I’m sure the people at Freedom’s Edge can tell me if the voices are normal or not. They’re going to be so happy to see us when we arrive. We’re going to have a big party. Some of my passengers are dead, but that’s normal, right? We can still have a party.

I wonder if they got me a present. It’s my birthday.

***************

[Lilam]

It seemed somehow fitting that the instrument of Swayne's untimely doom would be a brick wall. Actually, three walls to be exact, as he banked into a sharp turn that nearly had his feet pumping vertically only to run into a dead end. Sinking his heels into the dirt and an embarrassing flailing spasm of his arms was all that kept Swayne from dislocating his face from his skull. He collapsed into the brick barrier as if he sought to place the crushing gravity of his despair upon it, finding himself far too out of breath to even curse his own bad luck.

Peeling himself off the wall, Swayne allowed himself a more thorough inspection of his future burial site. Truthfully, not so bad a place to die. Sure, it was a piss-hole of an alley that reeked liked someone had vomited diarrhea... but who knew, with a tidy, little headstone and a few flowers here and there, it could be rather cozy for a piss-hole. Not that he'd have much creative input once the meat slurry that had been Swayne was put to rest, but it was a sobering thought amidst the spiral of panic already systematically shutting down every last one of his cognitive faculties.

Blessedly, he was left with just enough of his wits to recall several nasty expletives that he'd been saving for such a dire situation. Scathing words even demons would think twice before uttering scorched his throat and blistered his tongue from the sheer vulgarity, but it burned too good to stop until the well of acid in his mouth finally ran dry. Despite the bleakness of the situation at hand, Swayne took some minor measure of pride in the shocked silence from the unprepared audience at his back.

Only one man remained unimpressed.

"Rather than cursing, I'd much rather hear your supplications for mercy and a swift death. Feel free to begin anytime."

Swayne drew in a great breath, suppressing a long suffering groan with hammering fists of pure willpower. He was trapped. His time had run out. The only thing he could do now was hope like hell she arrived in time. That his sacrifice at least would not be in vain.

"Is that all you want from me? Hell, all you had to do was ask," Swayne declared, turning about slowly to face the twenty, silver robed Dark Soulmancers sealing the mouth of the alley in an impregnable wall of instant death.

Swayne settled his gaze on the leader, easily identified by his black sash and the impressive number of soul crystals decorating it. "Ever see a grown man cry, puke and piddle on himself at the same time? Well, if that's the sort of thing you're into, I can make it happen. Although I'm telling you right now, if we're going to do this, the pants are coming off. I'm not doing anything that degrading without at least being comfortable."

Much to his surprise, had the words not came from his own mouth, Swayne might have actually believed his false bravado for the briefest of moments. But as it were, only by mustering the pitiful amount of stubborn will he had left and every last shred of stupidity (which he sometimes confused as courage) was he able to stave off the overwhelming compulsion to sink into a quivering puddle of cowardice and resist spending the last undignified moments of his life regretting everything that had led to that instant. But she was safe by now. Surely she had arrived already, safe and invulnerable at last in that sanctuary where no Soulmancer could tread.

And with that thought secured firmly in his mind, Swayne gave the Soulmancer no quarter. He was determined that knowing she was safe would be his final thought, his final defiance. The man with the black sash and stained, yellow teeth glided forward, unrushed, and Swayne took an involuntary step back, feeling brick dig into his spine. Already he could feel a slithering coldness pervading unprotected cracks in his resolve, writhing and twisting maddeningly as it devoured bits and pieces of his mind inch by inch.

"You seem to think that you've accomplished some small victory here, yet you are mistaken," the Soulmancer gloated, looking far too smug for someone so damn ugly, in Swayne's personal opinion. "I have Marked the girl's soul. There is nowhere in this world or the next that she can hide. And you should die knowing that everything you have done and even your so-called noble sacrifice changes nothing."

That lazy, dangerous smile that was a permanent fixture on Swayne's face surfaced in its full glory, grim acceptance shadowed in eyes like polished lapis lazuli.

"And I would be inclined to agree, except that Janessa is at Lighthaven by now. Heard of it? It's that place that's neither in this world nor the next, the only place you will never be able to—"

Wearing a mask of livid fury, the Soulmancer had him by the throat before Swayne could finish his insolent retort. The thought to struggle had no sooner entered his mind then perished just as swiftly as his strength fled him in a dizzying rush, leaving behind a vulnerable husk of skin and bones. A searing cold invaded his body with such force that it left him without breath and seized in pain, unable to do more than lock eyes with the man ripping his soul asunder.

And then, without warning, the Soulmancer was screaming. He spun away, gripping the golden arrow now firmly lodged in his left eye. Blurry shadows suddenly filled the alley, the sounds of magic and steel undeniable. Distantly, numbly, Swayne felt himself begin to fall but was as helpless in resisting gravity as he was in resisting the Soulmancer. A waiting embrace slowed his descent, awkwardly lowering him to the ground. Slowly, the pain induced haze cleared enough for Swayne to see properly, though he didn't need sight to immediately recognize the soft hands that slapped his cheeks with increasing intensity. His eyes came to focus on Janessa, who paused mid-slap as their eyes met. Swayne moved his mouth as if to speak but Janessa spoke first, leaning in close to speak above the din.

"Dammit, Swayne, I thought you were really dead! But I made it… thank the gods I arrived just in time."

[Astrael]

The first time James opened his eyes from cryo-stasis was painful. Though he had been sedated through the thawing process and was comfortable in his pod, his eyes felt like they had been stabbed with a thousand needles of light as he lifted his eyelids. It was to be expected; they were not used to the sensation after such a long time. James concentrated on breathing slowly and steadily as other parts of his body awoke from their necessary numbness. After a few minutes, his hands were able to clench and unclench, and he could press the release from the inside of the pod and look out for the first time in a century.

The interior of the ship was exactly the same as when he had fallen asleep. The corridors would have been sucked dry of atmosphere to help preserve the interiors and prevent malfunction from oxidation over the long journey. The walls hummed with energy from the fusion reactor as the ship decelerated. Sam swung his legs over the side of his pod and slowly eased into a standing position, letting his muscles adjust to bearing to his weight again. Across the room, he could see the sea of countless other pods in various stages of thawing. He had been awoken first since he was the captain, but the ship carried thousands, and all they would require to settle a new world.

Once his legs steadied enough, James made a few wobbly steps to the computer terminal embedded in the wall. He was anxious to see their new world up close. With a few taps and swipes, he dismissed the pod bay's status and brought up the image from the front-facing camera. Before him, his new home was silhouetted by his new sun. The dark side looked much like the dark side of any other planet, round, black, and shapeless. Still, it made his heart race; they had made it.

The sound of footsteps on the floor's metal plating brought James around to his first officer, and wife, Sarah. “I'm glad you made it,” she said with a sly grin, “I was dreading having to settle for Omhs if you died on the trip.”

James gave a matching grin in reply and grabbed Sarah in for a passionate kiss, “Thank goodness my cold heart kept me safe. If I had to worry the whole time about being there for you, I might have died of stress.”Sarah gave him a playful slap, reminding him that his skin was still a little numb from the reviving sedative. James rubbed his cheek out of habit, “Let's get to the bridge so we can see what's going on.”

As the two entered the bridge, the lights came up and the shield over the windows withdrew, allowing them to look at the planet with their own eyes. The ship was slowly maneuvering itself into an orbit around the planet and soon they would be able to see the surface itself. James sat in the Captain's chair and began pulling up data overviews on this displays that surrounded him. Sarah took up the only other chair on the bridge and pulled up her own displays. Agonizingly slowly, the planet turned below them and they caught the first light of the sun and glimpse of the planet.

They sat in shock for a second, but not for joy. “Where are the clouds?” Sarah asked cautiously, “In the telescope images, the clouds swept almost half the planet.”

“And the Oceans-” James continued her thought, “The planet is supposed to be 90% water. Check the constellations. Are we at the right planet?” Both of them pounded furiously on their displays, pulling up readout after readout and correlating it with the computer's expected database. Meanwhile, the planet came into better view as the ship swung around into the daylight region. It was brown and dusty, with great mountains and channels, but not one sign of water or water vapor anywhere.

James broke the silence, “Every indicator says we're right where we are supposed to be. This just doesn't make sense.”

“James-” Sarah said with a breathless urgency, “Forget water. The planet has no atmosphere to speak of. And it's radioactive.”

James brought up the same information on his own screens. Sure enough, there was only a thin layer of gas around the planet not even one kilometer high. It didn't even protect the surface from the star's radiation, which bombarded it with impunity. James sat, completely stunned, staring at the screens in front of him. The tropical paradise he had spent his whole life preparing for and looking forward to had been a lie. Now that he was completely committed to the journey and orbiting the planet himself did he learn the truth. “It was all a lie. Why did they even send us here if the planet were uninhabitable?”

Sarah waved him over with an unsteady arm, “Come take a look.” James pulled himself up and made the few steps to look over his wife's terminal, “It was the star- the planet has an orbit with a very close perihelion. We knew about this from Earth, but it was within tolerable limits. From the radioactive decay, it looks like the planet was hit by a massive solar flare at that point. Something only seen once in a million years. Massive enough to-”

“Blast its atmosphere into space,” James completed. They were both stunned into inaction as the brown planet circled below them, its dusty, barren face mocking their hopes and lives. The last they'd seen of the planet was 200 years ago when the light from the planet had last reached Earth. How could they have known what was to happen? James put his hands on his wife's shoulders, but she was already shaking.

“What do we do now?” She said in a quivering whisper, “We don't have the fuel to go home.”

“I... I don't know Sarah,” James said. He tried to keep his voice steady, but he was just as terrified as she was, “We weren't prepared for this.”

[James]

REFFY

Spelling & Grammar - 1/2
Ease of Read - 2/3
Use of Topic - 3/5
Entertainment - 5/7
Quality - 6/8
-1 Point Penalty

Total -- 16/25

Good to see a piece from you, Reffy!

There were one or two mistakes in there, which lost you a mark. But other than that, it read cleanly. The prose was a little jumpy, which hit you on the ease to read mark. But I did like that the jumpiness of the piece seemed to fit the mood of the story.

Use of Topic? I’m torn. Arriving at the airport is a really clichéd use of the topic. On the other hand, I thought you did it very well and it was certainly something different than what you usually get with these types of moments. It wasn’t the opening and closing scene of Love Actually!

On the piece as a whole? I liked it. But it’s definitely not some of your best work. However, it wasn’t bad either. The raw emotion was handled well. It conveyed very easily to the reader. The narrative was nice and simple and didn’t overpower the ‘sadness’ of the piece. In fact, my only complaint was that last line. It felt out of place. You had a very simple, grounded style that worked for the story. And then last sentence introduced some more metaphorical imagery, which just felt odd considering it hadn’t been seen before then.

And, yes, I’m sorry. I had to take off you a penalty point. It wasn’t for the fact that it was under 500 words. I always try to be as lenient as possible with the word limits. It was just that this was clearly flash fiction rather than a short story. The way it read, the tense, the use of word; everything you did screamed flash fiction. And it was a good piece of flash fiction. And I almost don’t think it’s fair to dock you a point for a good piece of flash fiction.

But it’s not fair on the other people who are writing upward to 1,500 words for a short story.

… and now I still feel bad for docking you a point. And this bit will probably change regularly.

MENA

Spelling & Grammar - 0/2
Ease of Read - 2/3
Use of Topic - 2/5
Entertainment - 6/7
Quality - 5/8


Total -- 15/25

It’s always good to read something from someone who I don’t usually have the pleasure to read! And I thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

To be completely honest, there was a problem with the grammar. As you might notice from the Ease of Read mark, it didn’t actually cause too much trouble. This is mainly due to the fact that it was just little things (like commas). However, I have to stick to the marking scheme I use in my head, which says I dock both points if there’s more than just the odd error.

Just as an example so you can know what I’m referring to:

“To insure the clients’ satisfaction he always went that extra mile.”

Should be:

“To insure the clients’ satisfaction, he always went that extra mile.”

Like I said, though, it didn’t really disrupt the flow of the piece. It read nicely even with the mistake.

Now, with the Use of Topic, I’m not so sure about. I felt like arrival was just tacked onto the end of the story. I can almost detect a vein of justice or revenge “arriving” during the course of the story. But I think that might be being generous.

However, boy did I enjoy the story when looking at the actual reading experience and dispensing with the judging. The juxtaposition between the quiet home life and cold-blooded murder was excellent. In fact, the only thing that I can say against it, is that I realised mere seconds before the event what was about to happen. But regardless, I enjoyed the story. And I hope you write more, Mena!

SILVER

Spelling & Grammar - 1/2
Ease of Read - 2/3
Use of Topic - 4/5
Entertainment - 5/7
Quality - 6/8


Total -- 18/25

Hmm. This was a tricky one to mark. You managed to do some things very well, Silver. However, you also did several things quite poorly.

Grammar wise, I’ve docked you a point because you slipped into present tense once or twice before going back to past. I think the fragmented sentences were probably done intentional to give an impression of choppiness; maybe even matching the choppiness of the boats sailing upon the waves to make landfall and a reflection of the battle that was taken place. So I didn’t take any points for that.

However, I’m not sure I entirely liked it. Your short, sharp sentences in the middle of the piece were excellent. They really gave off an impression of the viciousness of the battle. But at the start? All they managed to achieve for me was to make it a struggle to get into the story.

As I read, I was getting ready to chide you for the use of topic. An arriving army is exactly what I was expecting from a few people. However, you really salvaged it with the perspective switch halfway through. I wasn’t expecting that and I really enjoyed the twist, so well done there.

At times, there were some excellent lines of imagery and description in the narrative. The barnacled hulls? Loved it. Excellent. But, and I’m sure Pete has told you off about this before, I felt nothing. Because I know nothing about these people. I don’t know who they are. I don’t know their motives. Battles don’t just happen. They’re the result of long stories of social interaction and twists and intrigue. And we only see a glimpse of this at the very end with the perspective twist. For the entire first half, I sat there thinking “well, this is nice but… I don’t really care.”

So, well-written (mostly), which your stories usually are. But it was definitely missing something.

JORDOOM

Spelling & Grammar - 1/2
Ease of Read - 1/3
Use of Topic - 4/5
Entertainment - 5/7
Quality - 6/8


Total -- 17/25

Holy Ben-Kenobi! That was a long opening sentence. I mean, the imagery was excellent in it… but it went on for a really long time. And it happens a few more times throughout the story. I don’t know if it was intentional, but I feel they’re just a tad on the too long side of things.

There were a few mistakes throughout but nothing major. The flow of the read was hit by those massive, sprawling sentences. Also the repetition at the name was probably a little overdone.

On Use of Topic? I’m not even sure I know exactly what is happening. But I liked it. It wasn’t something wholly original (religious/ritual/something arrival/clensing). But it was interesting and kept me intrigued.

The writing was strong. I liked the imagery, as I’ve already mentioned. And I was intrigued at what was going and what was going to happen to these people even, though, I didn’t know much about them. So well done there. But there was something about the tone of the narrative that irked me. It didn’t seem consistent. Sometimes it was poetic. Sometimes it felt informal (like describing the woman’s hand). And that just threw me off a little bit.

But overall, well done, Jordoom. I continue saying that I wish to see you write a lot more.

INKDRINKER

Spelling & Grammar - 0/2
Ease of Read - 1/3
Use of Topic - 4/5
Entertainment - 5/7
Quality - 6/8

Total -- 16/25


Again, nice to see an entry from someone who I haven’t read a lot of! It’s refreshing!

On the matter of Spelling & Grammar (specifically grammar) you’ve ran into a similar problem of Mena. It wasn’t that bad. However, anymore than a few mistakes and I have to score you 0 out of 2. Your issue was mostly with commas and not having them, or commas and having them, therefore creating run-on sentences. This also affected your ease of read mark because you had some really long, meandering sentences.

What I would recommend is looking at writing in a sort of sharper, punchier vein. So that this massive, multi-clause sentence:

Isaac's father had passed away a few days ago, Isaac was the family member tasked with dealing with his father's remains, the only one who could actually, the rest were dead or soon to be.

Becomes:

Isaac's father had passed away a few days ago. He was the family member tasked with dealing with his father's remains; the only one who could. Everyone else was dead or soon to be.

There a better flow there, it gives the reader a longer pause to allow him to follow and take in what is happening. Also, when a different person speaks, you start a new paragraph. Several times, Amy and Isaac were talking in the same paragraph and it gets confusing and looks messy.

However, once we move off the technical issues of grammar, spelling and sentence structure; you did really well. I enjoyed this one. First off, the Use of Topic? Excellent. This was multi-layered arrival, it wasn’t wholly original, but it was something a little more off the beaten track.

There were a few problems with the story as a whole. It felt a little bit jumpy, probably because you were conscious of the length. The dream sequence felt a little out of placed, and probably should have been in italics as well. For a second, I completely missed that we had gone inside a dream.

But the characters worked well. There were some excellent descriptions throughout the story. It wasn’t too ‘this happened, and then this”, there was some decent exposition. So well done, Inkdrinker. If it wasn’t for some problems in grammar this could have been pushing up to an 18/19.

CROSWYND

Spelling & Grammar - 1/2
Ease of Read - 2/3
Use of Topic - 4/5
Entertainment - 6/7
Quality - 7/8

Total -- 20/25

Very strong piece, Tam. I enjoyed it immensely.

I think I only spotted one mistake at the very start. Flourescent should be fluorescent. I googled it just to make sure it’s not American spelling things weird, but apparently not. Other than that, it was near flawless on the grammar and spelling front, perhaps one questionable comma where there should have been a semi-colon.

The narrative flowed and was easy to read. One thing I just want to pick up on for the future is that there should be a space between the ellipses and the word (or vice versa). For instance, “I… see.” But that’s just a minor thing.

Use of Topic? Great idea. I enjoyed it. It was outside the box. The arrival was teased throughout the piece. I don’t really have any complaints on it.

The story was entertaining, but I still feel it was just missing one crucial factor. I’m not sure if that was more of a connection to the character (all we know is he prefers Jim to James… which makes him a dick because Jim is a horrid name) or whether we needed a little more explicitness (you sort of hinted at something before his human life as well, but the idea didn’t quite plant itself).

The writing, itself, was strong. Perhaps I would have liked to have seen a little more description because it was a story that relied on setting quite a bit. But what imagery and description you did have was good. And the hints of characterisation of the stranger were excellent.

Well done.

INJIN

Spelling & Grammar - 0/2
Ease of Read - 2/3
Use of Topic - 4/5
Entertainment - 4/7
Quality - 5/8

Total -- 15/25

Hmm. I definitely feel like we’re seeing some improvement here, Injin.

First off, there was the odd mistake throughout the piece. But nothing major. The only thing I want to pick up on here is your dialogue, which is where your grammar sort of fell apart. I’m going to use one paragraph as an example, but you did this constantly (which cost you those two marks):

“Child”, the manly voice began, “Such tones will get you nowhere. You are Home. That is all that matters”, as if his word could be absolute or even trusted, “You have been here many times, as you shall be again. Child, you are Home. That is all that has Ever Mattered.”

There are two/three things to point out here. Firstly, the comma is in the wrong place at the end of the dialogue. It falls inside the speech marks, not outside. So it should read “Child,” the manly voice began.

Secondly, I think it’s quite rare to keep the sentence running between two separate sections of speech. Usually you end the sentence just before the next line of dialogue is spoken. “Child,” the manly voice began. “Such tones will get you nowhere…” Like that. However, I don’t think it’s technically wrong, just rare (still, I would stop doing it.) But if you prefer to use commas instead of full stops, then the capitalisation is wrong. And it should read: “Child,” the manly voice began, “such tones will get you nowhere…”

Do you see?

Also, on capitalisation… I don’t follow some of your strangely placed capitals. I always think there needs to be a reason for something like that. I follow why the voice would use ‘Home’. But when the protagonist was asking who’s home it was, I don’t think home should have been capitalised.

Use of Topic was good. It was interesting and unusual. I think it could have delivered a little better. Leaving some questions unanswered is fine. Leaving nearly all of the questions unanswered… not so much. I didn’t really get a grasp of what exactly was going on.

And this probably contributed to the fact that I didn’t enjoy the story too much. You and Tam both wrote similar things. Tam’s gave me some delightful descriptions, hints at what was happening, progression and a hint to what was going on. Yours basically just gave me some well-written but ultimately rudderless dialogue.

But, like I said, you’re improving, Injin. You have nearly eradicated the mistakes that were plaguing your earlier writing. The narrative flowing more. Keep up the good work.


DrJ

Spelling & Grammar - 2/2
Ease of Read - 1/3
Use of Topic - 4/5
Entertainment - 5/7
Quality - 5/8

Total -- 17/25

Okay, the ending saved you a bit. It saved you a lot. Because somehow I’ve come away from your story with a smile.

I didn’t actually notice a single mistake, but the informal narrative got quite tricky to read because everything sort of meshed together and who the fuck even talks like that?

That informal style also sort of hit how good your writing could be. Everything felt crass, and I know that was intended, but it makes it hard to enjoy the story. But credit for making me really dislike the protagonist in such a short amount of time, which takes a certain amount of skill.

And that ending? Good stuff. I mean, it wasn’t the most unpredictable of endings. But it sort of slipped passed me as I went “I don’t see where ‘arrival’ is coming in on this sto- oh… oh that’s good.”

Nice.

ALLYA

Spelling & Grammar - 1/2
Ease of Read - 1/3
Use of Topic - 4/5
Entertainment - 5/7
Quality - 6/8

Total -- 17/25

Damn. I think if you weren’t so rushed you had a real cracker of a story in you.

There were a few errors, though, that obviously came from the fact that you were in a hurry. Just small things, but still errors. Also, the narrative felt… clumsy. Words were used that I don’t think should have been used. It just had a very slapdash feel to it.

However, when you hit the right note, you really did hit the right note. There were flashes of some excellent descriptions. And I loved the story itself and what unfolded during the course of the very small story.

And I really liked the fact that you twisted ‘arrival’ to mean someone else’s arrival, as opposed to just the protagonist. It was some good thinking there.

So yeah, good, but ultimately rushed story there.

TAED

Spelling & Grammar - 2/2
Ease of Read - 3/3
Use of Topic - 4/5
Entertainment - 6/7
Quality - 7/8

Total -- 22/25

How? How did this idea even pop into your brain?

Anyway, excellent. I thought you were probably going to be hurt by the fact that as soon as I read the first line, I started humming “Calypso” by John Denver. But actually, that probably helped you in the end. I didn’t notice any mistakes and it was an absolute breeze to read.

I did nearly groan at the start of the second paragraph because I thought you were going to hit me with some hard sci-fi, but that fear eased way. Nothing was too difficult to understand and really, it wasn’t ever about the science fiction, it was about the character. And I liked that.

I thought it was a great use of topic. Sure, it was essentially on the face of things, constant arrivals at different colonies. But there was this sentient diamond/ship’s arrival to humanity to consider as well. I really enjoyed it.

The writing was excellent. The characterisation was brilliant, like I’ve said, I love how human Calypso felt. I was feeling bad at the fact that it was helpless as it kept finding dead colony after dead colony. You have a knack for building a connection between reader and character.

I do, however, have one complaint. I liked the idea that Calypso tried to build friends to interact with during the course of the voyage. However, the mini-breakdown that was accompanied with swearing felt horribly out of place. I know it was probably to help with its descent in mental health and to keep it feeling human-like, but I just didn’t think it worked. In the context of the piece, the swearing felt abrupt and out there. I think it could have been handled better.

But that’s literally my only complaint. I would definitely urge you to look around at sci-fi markets that aim for shorter stories.

LILAM

Spelling & Grammar - 2/2
Ease of Read - 2/3
Use of Topic - 4/5
Entertainment - 5/7
Quality - 6/8

Total -- 19/25

I’m not sure what I read, but whatever it was; it wasn’t bad.

I didn’t notice any mistakes throughout the piece, nor would I really expect any from you, Lilam. I did, however, take a point off the Ease of Read. Purely because you dropped me in this world (I have no idea if its your own creation or something else) without a lifeline. I was really struggling to keep up with what was happening because I was so hopelessly out of place. It’d be like dropping Kwan in a conversation about the value of a good front food defensive shot. Or most of you, actually.

However, once I’m pass that point, the story was good. I liked the tone of the narrative. It wasn’t quite so informal to feel not like a story; but it had a sort of chatty feel to it. And it worked quite well.

I felt it was a good use of the topic. It wasn’t groundbreaking, but it worked well. The arrival was key to the outcome of the protagonist and I liked that. It wasn’t just a “she arrived”, the fact that she did had consequences.

The writing was strong, so if you were in any slump, I think we can say you’re out of it now. It wasn’t as crisp as it might have been, at time the narrative got bogged down a little bit with large words all rolling over each other. But otherwise, a good little story. Even if I don’t know if I understood what happened in it!

ASTRAEL

Spelling & Grammar - 1/2
Ease of Read - 2/3
Use of Topic - 4/5
Entertainment - 5/7
Quality - 6/8

Total -- 18/25

That’s two stories with the main character called James… you’re not going to win me over that easily.

…

Anyway, I’m really pleased with how this Challenge is showing off some writers who we don’t see so often on the forum. Your story was definitely a good one.

There was one spelling mistake and one typing mistake that cost you a point, but nothing substantial. And the narrative flowed quite nicely, it never really got bogged down. You didn’t get bogged down with scientific detail, which was good.

The use of topic? Again, not brilliantly original, but still a strong concept. And you captured first the joy and then the depression of the arrival very strongly.

I liked the little touches throughout this story, such as James rubbing his cheeks out of habit, even if that habit wasn’t so much a habit after more after being in stasis. It was good. And you definitely managed to convey affection between husband and wife, which was excellent.

However, I felt the twist landed a little flat. We basically found out that these people were doomed. You gave us worry and depression, but it was all a little bit understated. It almost felt like you were taking stiff upper lip to the extreme. I would have liked to have seen a little more frenzy, a little more panic from these people who are basically lost.

But other than that, great little story.

SCOREBOARD
1st Taed – 22pts
2nd Croswynd – 20pts
3rd Lilam – 19pts
4th Astrael – 18pts
4th Silver – 18pts
6th Jordoom – 17pts
6th Allya – 17pts
6th Jackal – 17pts
9th Reffy – 16pts
9th Inkdrinker – 16pts
11th Mena – 15pts
11th Injin – 15pts

Round One Winner is: TAED!

[James]

ROUND TWO

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Topic: Setting: The City - I don't just want any old story set in a city. I want a story where the city is important, where it comes to life. I almost want the city to be a character itself. Show me that you know how to utilise a setting to its full effect. It can be any city. Fictional or real.
Deadline: 11:59pm EST - 14th July[/center]