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(let's not quote the wrong week lol) I'll co-judge if you'll have me. Idle Amalgam fucked around with this message at 06:25 on Sep 24, 2023 |
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Sep 24, 2023 06:11
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Flight Control 100 Words After weeks of pouring over operating manuals and technical specs, the day had finally come. “Don’t be so nervous, kid,” said his father. He didn’t reply. The hardest thing about joining the family business was enduring his father’s advice. True, the old man had clocked over 10,000 flight hours but the new Boeing 880 was significantly more complex than anything he’d dealt with in his day. He tried to ignore his father. He failed. “If all else fails,” his father continued. “Just stick something in the propeller.” Again, he bit his tongue. This time his needle sharp teeth drew blood. Fortune Favored 100 words Susan Townsend-Kilbride frowned. “What do you want bones for?” The Winter Prince’s displeasure did what his courtier’s swords could not and cut through her ironvine protections. “When you buy bread, does the baker account for your coin?” “Money is normal,” Susan countered. “Bones seems cruel.” The Prince’s smile was as cold and empty as his kingdom. “I say coin is crueller still.” She searched the Fae’s empty eyes. She found herself staring back. “Fine,” she sighed. “When you’re done with him, keep the bones.” Arguing was pointless. She didn’t care about her father’s body, all that mattered was her inheritance. Good Cop, Bad Cop 100 words “Soft touch didn’t work,” Tina Tonic paused to drain her thimble of coffee. “So get in there and give him the worst possible interpretation of what he done.” Hassan folded his muscular arms in displeasure. “I know you don’t like leaning into the stereotype but it’ll work.” Tina insisted. Hassan Al-ahmar knew they were a good team, they’d the best clearance rate in the precinct, yet he still found cause to regret his partnership with Tina. “FINE…” he sighed. “Great!” Tina grinned. “Now take off your shirt and get in the lamp. Need a dramatic entrance, really Djinn it up.”
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Sep 24, 2023 10:54
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Glamorous Futures 100 words Devin grinned. He had achieved the object of his desires. The seller had some strange stipulations about the exchange, but it was a steal by any measure. He looked at the image of the ape on his screen, its bored expression bracketed by gossamer wings. He had one, he was one of the elite. He began planning what he’d wear to his first yacht party. Talion, Earl of Midsummer, leaned back from his monitor and steepled his fingers. To grin would be unbecoming of his station. Still, he was satisfied. Faerie gold, he reflected, had to move with the times.
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Sep 24, 2023 16:38
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Peekaboo (100 words) You mustn’t watch for the witch in the woods. She slips between the trees, leaves crinkling underfoot. Her feet and fingers are long, knuckles knotted like branches. A bag of marbles hangs ‘round her neck. She fondles it, humming, stumbling through the dark. Simply look away and she’ll do you no harm. She needs to be invisible. Don’t we all, sometimes? Do her this kindness and avert your gaze. She may even leave a marble, a token of her grace. But should she look you in the eye, she’ll pluck them from your skull, and add them to her bag.
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Sep 24, 2023 17:39
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Was it a bird I saw that night, dancing in the dahlias beneath the starlight? But it sparkled, and it pulsed with a strange kind of hue, could an entourage of fireflies have lent their lucent bloom? Hummingbirds do fly at night, a rare bird that can do, and yes they also float that way, and move as quickly too. But they don’t have faces, don’t have hands, don’t have voices, don’t give commands, don’t pull me out into the dark with a shovel in a haze, don’t make me dig till past midnight and lay down in my grave.
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Sep 24, 2023 21:42
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Was it real? Wasn’t real, no. Except the hole I dug is there, and my hands are dirty and blistered, my clothes are smeared and wet. What happened as I lay there? And how long did I lay, as lights circled above me? They drew patterns in the dark, and I could almost understand the shapes that streaked across my eyes like sparklers on the fourth of July. Did they make a picture? Or spell a word? I draw what I can remember, I fill page after page with pencil slashes, curves and spirals, waiting for the meaning to appear.
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Sep 24, 2023 21:43
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Are you coming to dinner? In a minute. You’ve been sitting there for hours. Just a minute. She leaves the room, he sits at the window, fingers tap tap tapping. His eyes dart left, his eyes dart right. Flick, flick, a metronome, flick. The sun sets, the window darkens. He waits for the lights to return. Please talk to me. Just a minute. It’s been hours, you won’t talk to me. In a minute. Lights streak past the window, he stands, walks out the door into the dark. Frogs chirp, wind hisses, and he stands immobile staring into the night.
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Sep 24, 2023 21:44
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He sees lights at night, and he goes in the yard and stands there, sometimes for hours, tilting his head like he’s listening or watching for something. But there’s nothing there, just the chirping frogs and the stars. What can I do, doctor? Has he harmed himself or anyone else? No, nothing like that. But he dug a hole, and he won’t let me fill it, and he spends hours drawing meaningless spirals and circles, and he won’t talk to me. Could it be a tumor? I don’t know what to do... I’d like to refer you to a specialist...
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Sep 24, 2023 21:44
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They live behind my eyes, even in this clean white room they live on in the dark of each blink, and when the lights click off there they are, drawing spirals in the air, glowing circles, loops and whorls, and they whisper to me, and their bright glow streaks down to touch my face and the words appear, a breath in my ear, don’t take it, spit it out, don’t swallow, hide it away, don’t take it, and I nod and nod and I take the pill from beneath my tongue and push it under the mattress with the others.
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Sep 24, 2023 21:45
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September 24, Saint Damian’s Psychiatric Hospital, a patient, Leland Lothrop, 47, vanished during the night. No one saw him leave. His window was open, but it’s unlikely he climbed down from the second story. A search is in progress. The only notable item left in his room was a journal filled with intricate drawings of spirals, circles, and other shapes. In the final pages the shapes coalesced into insect wings, and eyes, and finally a face. We showed the face to the family, in case it was someone he might visit, but by then that page had been torn out.
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Sep 24, 2023 21:45
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shifting sands 100 words She comes to you, first, in a dream. Forgotten upon waking; remembered only in raindrops, birdsong, lees in a wine glass. How do you, flesh and bone, warrant her attention? How do you, soon ash and dust, hold the memory of her, while shifting sands swallow footprints? How do you forget her? Here is what you have forgotten: the scent of jasmine through parted curtains, the warmth of gossamer wings and nacreous silk, the things she offers for the gift of your name. Distant cloud; sharpened teeth. You wake with syllables on your tongue, grit that will form no pearl.
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Sep 24, 2023 22:05
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Passport (100 words) There’s a place downtown where a fairy ring grows. People sit inside it. They don’t wear clothes. Others laugh, disapprove; they call the police. When authorities arrive, it’s gone without a trace. The ones who sit have gone away too. Sometimes they leave messages. CAN YOU SEE WHAT WE DO? Spray-painted, carved, written in chalk, next to carefully folded clothes. It makes people talk. “Why do you do this?” I asked one day. “You can’t bring it with you,” was all he would say. There’s a new ring today. No one inside. I unbutton my shirt. What can this provide?
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Sep 24, 2023 23:06
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Listen Now, Dear Hearts, With Ears Like Elephants’ ‘Ware ye well, children, to the circles of stone Of fungus and chitin and scabberous bone Out in the dark forest A chittering chorus Of tenebrous, glamorous tone ‘Ware ye well wee-uns, when out you go walking Look well at the faces with whom you are talking For the Gentry disguise ‘Neath flattering eyes Their nature when they go a-stalking ‘Ware ye well, cautions, when far out you roam ‘Neath dapple tree shadows, o’er rich, black loam Remember well, you The stories I tell you Of the children that never came home.
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Sep 25, 2023 03:17
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The Changeling's Return 100 words The Summer Queen descends into the maze of steel and poison, hand in hand with Liam, brave and trembling. They face riddles and trials, some in places the Queen cannot abide, but at last they have an audience with a great sage: a stern, elder mortal in a white coat. They listen carefully to his pronouncements: "suspected astrocytoma," then "cancer" when the Queen's mask of comprehension fails, then "growing sickness." The Summer Queen does not understand sickness, but she squeezes Liam's hand. "I will do anything," she says. Even give her bright, beautiful, stolen boy back to this hateful world.
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Sep 25, 2023 03:57
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True Gold 100 words After the deal is done, she sits and watches the fairy gold for a day and an hour. The spools of electronics-grade wire will trade well to the bunker's engineers, but -- But trade is not what she sold it all for. At last, at midnight, the glamour fades. Where gold wire was is a pile of leaf litter, precious refuse from some fairy forest, and she sorts through it like a joyful child. Seeds of a dozen extinct species. Leaves and brush of two dozen more, ready to be sequenced, resurrected. She has sold her name to feed the future.
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Sep 25, 2023 04:09
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A Castle of Bark and Bone 100 words The king of mist and moss rules none. His halls are empty, save the chittering shadows that haunt him. Any day now, they will come. All he requires is one hapless fool to stumble into this bog and relinquish their name. One name is all he needs to reclaim power. When the mortal arrives, she beats down his doors, a strange iron device in hand. Her garb is bright and offensive, and fury blazes in her eyes. The king nearly forgets his words. “L-long have I-” “I’m Janet,” the woman shouts. “Now take me away; I loving hate it here.”
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Sep 25, 2023 04:45
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Rusalka 100 words She caught me on the shore. Hips, breasts, silky hair shamelessly swaying. A true woman, nothing like the mousey girl who'd cried on our wedding night. She straddled me; I swelled to her. My hands on her bare back; her fingers slipped into my hair. Our faces were a breath away when a rock hit her cheek. My wife pelted towards us, shrieking in alarm, another stone in her fist. Unbothered by the blood, the woman gazed at me with eyes like the deepest ocean. She whispered, "Her or me?" We fled to the water. I drowned between her legs.
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Sep 25, 2023 05:57
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Bloom 100 words All she wanted was a fairy to play with, but they said that fairies loved green spaces and none would come to the nearly barren, windswept mesa she lived on. Weren't invasive tumbleweeds as alive as any blooming sunflower, though? Weren't agave and ocotillo as green as clover? She believed in and hoped for them to arrive even as she grew too old to believe in such things. Until the day she came home to find a tiny woman in clothes as pink as the flowers on a cholla sitting on her doorstep. "Meet your new fairy godmother!" they sang.
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Sep 25, 2023 07:37
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Cuckoo 100 words I knew I was different. They all knew it too. I had the hair, the eyes, the skin, but those close to me could tell. The other children mocked my clumsiness, the dullness in my eyes. My sister Hannah once told me I smelled like wet leaves. One morning I awoke to find my skin rupturing, sloughing away painlessly. I brushed it from my limbs like damp cobwebs, finding jet-black bone and mottled bramble beneath. I fed, then slept, dreaming of retribution, my parents and the corpse I lay before them, its hair, its eyes, its skin.
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Sep 25, 2023 07:39
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Submissions are closed
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Sep 25, 2023 08:10
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Judgment There are two tricks to good drabble writing. The first is that, as with any short fiction, you really need two ideas. And the second is that you need it to read like you're not worried about the wordcount at all. Get a little baroque up in there. At the bottom end, there were quite a few one idea stories that didn't do anything more than play out or subvert a single faerie trope. None of them stood out as far below that mass, so there are no specific negative mentions this week. The successful stories did get fancy, did play with multiple ideas. Thus, HMs go to Yoruichi's Vale's Last Stand, derp's untitled 1 ("Was it a bird..."), Bad Seafood's Peekaboo, My Shark Waifuu's Rusalka, rivetz's Rêverie en Vert, and Antivehicular's True Gold. Chernobyl Princess's It's a Deal DQs for not being 100 words. And rohan's shifting sands is the winner. Welcome back to the blood throne!
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Sep 26, 2023 09:12
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Week 581 crits Blind crits in order according to Archive scrambler so find your story by title, I didn’t go through and fill out authors. If there was supposed to be cohesion and overarching plot, then by design and prompt, the reading order scrapped that. There were a lot of Celtic imaginings this week, so things that were out of that realm were refreshing. Some I liked, some I did not, but kudos for being different. When I crit I’m reading as a first reader that wants you to write a story for me. So if I’m off base, then hey man, that’s like your opinion. But I do like hearing what people meant vs.how my dingus head interpreted it. I always try to dig for references, and in a week where names were stolen frequently, I looked a lot at them I don’t know that there was that much play in people’s names, but I might have missed something significant. I never take my own advice, so you probably shouldn’t either. Top marks were pretty simple to run through, even coming sideways at a story Rohan took it without much discussion. There wasn’t really a consensus on lower marks, I kind of hated a few that others liked, and that’s the way it goes. Payment Rendered "Greg, how did your room get so clean?" Greg's mom looks around the room in wonder. Even under the bed is spotless. "The fairies helped me, Mom!" She looks in his backpack. "Is your homework done too?" Greg's math homework is written in a fine copperplate hand, all of his word problems finished. "The fairies helped me, Mom!" Slightly bewildered, she looks at her son standing there, beaming. "Well, if your chores are done, then I guess you can play Switch." After a few minutes, Greg's mom asks, "Have you seen your sister?" "The fairies don't work for free, Mom!" _____ Classic kid behavior, rule of three on the repetition of Mom. It’s crisp and pretty clean. Cute. Maybe the patter doesn’t quite fit with Greg’s mom line and a ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum punch, but it’s real close. It’s not original, but it’s a good telling of the joke. _____ Good Cop, Bad Cop “Soft touch didn’t work,” Tina Tonic paused to drain her thimble of coffee. “So get in there and give him the worst possible interpretation of what he done.” Hassan folded his muscular arms in displeasure. “I know you don’t like leaning into the stereotype but it’ll work.” Tina insisted. Hassan Al-ahmar knew they were a good team, they’d the best clearance rate in the precinct, yet he still found cause to regret his partnership with Tina. “FINE…” he sighed. “Great!” Tina grinned. “Now take off your shirt and get in the lamp. Need a dramatic entrance, really Djinn it up.” _____ Bad Cop, Bad Cop. Tiny female cop is ineffective, big scary man gets confessions. You even put a button on it being a stereotype, and that’s all this is, like out of Blue Bloods or something—the intimidator is reluctant, intended to generate reader sympathy, but doesn’t question that maybe the tactic is fash or innocent people are confessing out of fear. There’s not a good subversion of the boilerplate scene, really it’s just a name swap from a million similar cop show scenes. Not sure what the intended message here is. _____ Untitled 1 Was it a bird I saw that night, dancing in the dahlias beneath the starlight? But it sparkled, and it pulsed with a strange kind of hue, could an entourage of fireflies have lent their lucent bloom? Hummingbirds do fly at night, a rare bird that can do, and yes they also float that way, and move as quickly too. But they don’t have faces, don’t have hands, don’t have voices, don’t give commands, don’t pull me out into the dark with a shovel in a haze, don’t make me dig till past midnight and lay down in my grave. _____ Given enough motivation, any bird will fly at night, and fly their faces off. But this is darkly romantic. Interesting that a strange presence makes the narrator dig a hole, and they assume it is their grave. Could be miscommunication with an ethereal dowser. Yeah, it’s got style and a dreaming quality in, uh, spades. _____ Death Awaits She ran, her breathing ragged. Bare feet slap the wet earth. As she looks over her shoulder, she slips on fallen leaves and scrambles back to her feet, hopelessly pushing forward. Cloth is wrapped tightly around her, securing her infant child close to her chest. The little one whimpers and she tries to shush the babe before glancing back again. The figure looms behind her, casually trudging through the trees. Its long, scraggly hair hides its body. The mother pushes onward, trying desperately to get away. She hears a loud, rattling breath and goes pale. Too late. The banshee screams. _____ ‘She runs’ to fit the tense of the rest, but whatevs. Hopeless comes a little too early in the piece—and even at the end, the mother is still trying to escape. Doesn’t seem hopeless to me. Might be nice to have a more mirrored beginning and ending with the breathing of monster and victims. Still, it conjures a fairly vivid image of the action simply. _____ Rusalka She caught me on the shore. Hips, breasts, silky hair shamelessly swaying. A true woman, nothing like the mousey girl who'd cried on our wedding night. She straddled me; I swelled to her. My hands on her bare back; her fingers slipped into my hair. Our faces were a breath away when a rock hit her cheek. My wife pelted towards us, shrieking in alarm, another stone in her fist. Unbothered by the blood, the woman gazed at me with eyes like the deepest ocean. She whispered, "Her or me?" We fled to the water. I drowned between her legs. _____ Not in love with the ‘true woman’ protag, and the ending could be interpreted in an eros way, rather than a deadly comeuppance. I first imagined From Here to Eternity, rather than an actual drowning. “A breath away” is a nice phrase given the piece. ‘Pelted towards us’ sounds strange though. I suppose it’s grammatically accurate, but I’ve never heard it used like that. I think the POV of the mouse-wife would have been more interesting. _____ Restitution The fairies have insinuating fingers and I can feel them on my scalp. The hair-fine cracks on my skull where the fragments of my soft-formed baby's cranium met, their fingertips are in there now: gentle, insistent. "Where is it?" they ask. "Where did you put it?" I never meant to steal their gold and spend it on residential property, it was a momentary impulse. There are no courts that would convict me. I lack mens rea, a guilty mind! Yet, anxious, I recall seeing a tree that grew right through a wall. Those first green shoots, so pale and soft. _____ Unsettling, and unsure if this is literal digging in a brain or psychic probing, but it works either way. The easy way out is to just tell them where the money is, either with a bank or someone else. Also, it makes me think of confusing the fairies by saying it’s in escrow and sending them on a wild goose (crow) chase. Could be an amusing out. Not really accurate on mens rea, baby head is aware of the fact they stole the gold, that’s enough. Feeling unrepentant doesn’t matter, even if obtaining housing was the goal. If there was maybe a breakdown in cognizance as the fairies dug deeper that would be neat. The ending I imagine is the fairie brain probes breaking into the mind palace, but I’m unsure why the shoots are pale and soft. If it ended with the single word “Unrelenting.” then maybe it would tie it together better, but an overarching theme of nature reclaiming structures (as the brain digging happens) could have paid off _____ Unseelie I wake before an empty throne, in the moment when twilight fades. The poor sun is shamed, chased away into ruin. “Make it bow!” rings the reedy chorus, their melody thick with sap and plucked with wormwood. The courtiers watch me with faces sharp and grinning, and I find not a friend among them. The unseen queen laughs cold like winter’s bite, and bends my spine to a supplicant’s gnarl. Blades of grass stretch up to cut my face. I must caper for their evening’s amusement. My fine green coat has torn away, and my hair is tangled with brambles. _____ P. cool. I don’t know that a reedy chorus would also be thick with sap, that makes me think of sludgy rumbles instead and plucking of strings, so maybe you were going for a full orchestra in one sentence, but maybe being clear with one tone or splitting it up for a more music themed piece would be more potent. Like the queen laughs like winter, and it’s not related to the other denizens’ voices. I like running an imagery theme into the ground, so I would have packed this with as much musical stuff as I could (and have done on several recent occasions) Wormwood has a lot of connotations and introduces some ambiguity on whether this is a fever dream or real, and that’s cool. The Unseelie Court acts on unpredictable whim so in that sense, it fits into the folklore. _____ Cuckoo I knew I was different. They all knew it too. I had the hair, the eyes, the skin, but those close to me could tell. The other children mocked my clumsiness, the dullness in my eyes. My sister Hannah once told me I smelled like wet leaves. One morning I awoke to find my skin rupturing, sloughing away painlessly. I brushed it from my limbs like damp cobwebs, finding jet-black bone and mottled bramble beneath. I fed, then slept, dreaming of retribution, my parents and the corpse I lay before them, its hair, its eyes, its skin. _____ If everyone knows, then you don’t need to differentiate between those close to you and the maddening crowd. Kind of a light jab from Hannah when a sister might be much more cruel. I don’t think Hannah is the dead body, it’s too vague, but it probably should have been. The cuckoo hatching in a nest of a different variety is a good theme for a monster story, though. _____ The Queen of Air and Shadow When I was a lass I met a Queen on the bog, a lady I could not see. She danced in the light of the no-shine moon, swept up by the wind that moaned off the peat. I curtsied as my Ma had taught me, standing on midnight moss. Out of a zephyr the darkness was woven, crafted of stars royal hands stitched away. It whispered to me of wisp and of gloaming. Come to the court, where we dine on fog and flower. Come see the place where the night does not die. _____ Feels like an epigraph to a novel. Dreamy and poetic, and light of the no-shine moon is a nice phrase. ‘Crafted of stars royal hands stitched away’ sounds a little awkward with away at the end. The pattern sort of goes “light, wind, light, wind, light, wind” then there’s eating (could stretch it to ‘light’ via fog) so to clean up some phrasing and enunciate the pattern and then either end with a windy metaphor or combine them for the last sentence would make it really cool. _____ Primrose Hag though some call me, I once held youth like you; it thrummed in my breast like a starling. My careless steps carried me among birch and rowan, farther than any would dare. I heeded neither old wives’ wisdom nor lateness of hour. One midnight I met a Shaded Queen, dancing above moonlit moss. Woe betide a stupid lass who knows not the proper cant! Thorned fingers took me as a plaything, whisking me away through air and darkness. Learn from my withered face, children. Mind your manners. The cost of your rudeness may be the bloom of your years. _____ The first two paragraphs feel out of order, otherwise kind of a straightforward cautionary tale about being alone in the dark wood. Pretty simple and not a lot to dig into, but could definitely see this in a book of auld faerie tales. Also, give us the proper cant. Don’t tease. _____ The Changeling’s Return The Summer Queen descends into the maze of steel and poison, hand in hand with Liam, brave and trembling. They face riddles and trials, some in places the Queen cannot abide, but at last they have an audience with a great sage: a stern, elder mortal in a white coat. They listen carefully to his pronouncements: "suspected astrocytoma," then "cancer" when the Queen's mask of comprehension fails, then "growing sickness." The Summer Queen does not understand sickness, but she squeezes Liam's hand. "I will do anything," she says. Even give her bright, beautiful, stolen boy back to this hateful world. _____ Could be read as completely mundane, even the last line as someone dying and releasing their romantic partner. In that frame of mind, it’s pretty good. But if you read it as a supernatural tale, then the last line is shoehorned in. Did the queen trade immortality for the love of a mortal? Is it simply the first day of fall and the Summer Queen experiences this every year? It’s also a little icky to call Liam a boy, and the connotations are not great. Navigating the cancer diagnosis is something a child wouldn’t understand either, so I’m left with the impression that Liam has been groomed and is now grown. My sympathy lies with him, not the Summer Queen. _____ Dear Imprudence “Hey homo! What’cha doin’, playin’ with yerself?” demanded Oscar. “Talking with a fairy,” said Morgan. “Talkin’ to yerself? Fuckin fairies. Where?” “Over there,” said Morgan, pointing to a nearby shock of dandelions.. “I don’t see nothin’.” “That’s because you have to believe in fairies in order to see them.” Oscar walked to the dandelions. “Right here? Yer friend right ‘bout here?” “Yes,” said Morgan. Oscar stomped the dandelions flat with a hi-top. “You shouldn’t have done that,” said Morgan. “What’re you gonna do about it?” said Oscar. “I’m not going to do anything about it,” said Morgan. “Ribbit,” said Oscar. _____ Um. OK. I think it’s coded, and maybe it’s like a pepe frog stomping the environment and human rights with an ineffectual left not doing anything to stop it? If that’s the case, it took a lot of thought to see that your meaning is antithetical to what you wrote. Tough sell with such a limited wordcount. _____ True Gold After the deal is done, she sits and watches the fairy gold for a day and an hour. The spools of electronics-grade wire will trade well to the bunker's engineers, but -- But trade is not what she sold it all for. At last, at midnight, the glamour fades. Where gold wire was is a pile of leaf litter, precious refuse from some fairy forest, and she sorts through it like a joyful child. Seeds of a dozen extinct species. Leaves and brush of two dozen more, ready to be sequenced, resurrected. She has sold her name to feed the future. _____ Sort of like cold iron, gold is important to the fairy tales, but isn’t as good as copper for bulk electronics. Flipping it to be bullion to trade with wastelanders or something might make it less “wait-a-minute”, or there’s a need for some specific medical equipment wiring, but we find out it’s not really that important anyway. And I’m thinking about the tricksy nature of faeries, and could have been neat to have the gold fade into a bunch of arsenic laced seeds while the fairies cackle at the poisoned deal, (but we all know them as simple appleseeds) _____ Untrue Name “Don’t be the next Rumpelstiltskin.” I sip on my latte, the taste of curdling milk on my tongue tells me Grunirhinge didn’t appreciate the reference. I press on. “Old names don’t work anymore. Spitalcrick, Pisselpop? Too unique, one Google search from disaster. But this?” I turn my screen to the Fae and hit him with the closer. “Don’t be a fish in sea, hide in the forest as one of the trees.” The twee bullshit always gets the traditionalists. Grunirhinge nods. “This wisdom is clear to me,” he says. “Let my son be named-” Grunirhinge squints at the screen. “Whatismyip.” _____ Funny idea, I’m hoping there’s a second story down the line where someone guesses the name ‘whatsmyip.’ It certainly looks like an impish name but for a standalone punchline I don’t know if it’s universal. Maybe “https://whatsmyip or something that even if you didn’t know what an IP was or seen the banner ads, then you’d still get the gist. Or ‘godaddy.com’ or whatever. Maybe it’s just me and TD crits, but I feel like people call out twee bullshit a lot. Probably could have a more original phrasing. It seems like the computer nerd isn’t mystical as Grun is referenced as the Fae, so I have questions about the background story. It’s a loose thread in an otherwise pretty solid setup. Also struck by their worry over googling now, and immediately thought that the imps’ plan was to create chatGPT to ruin the miller’s daughter’s chance of guessing the right name. _____ Listen Now, Dear Hearts, With Ears Like Elephants ‘Ware ye well, children, to the circles of stone Of fungus and chitin and scabberous bone Out in the dark forest A chittering chorus Of tenebrous, glamorous tone ‘Ware ye well wee-uns, when out you go walking Look well at the faces with whom you are talking For the Gentry disguise ‘Neath flattering eyes Their nature when they go a-stalking ‘Ware ye well, cautions, when far out you roam ‘Neath dapple tree shadows, o’er rich, black loam Remember well, you The stories I tell you Of the children that never came home. _____ Nice little cautionary tale poem, and interesting class distinctions. The first stanza flows really well, and I can sing-song it all day. The other two aren’t so clean. _____ Untitled 4 He sees lights at night, and he goes in the yard and stands there, sometimes for hours, tilting his head like he’s listening or watching for something. But there’s nothing there, just the chirping frogs and the stars. What can I do, doctor? Has he harmed himself or anyone else? No, nothing like that. But he dug a hole, and he won’t let me fill it, and he spends hours drawing meaningless spirals and circles, and he won’t talk to me. Could it be a tumor? I don’t know what to do... I’d like to refer you to a specialist… _____ But doctor … I am Pagliacci. I think it would be more eerie if the narrator starts to see the patterns at the end. There’s not a lot of immediacy in someone telling a story in a story, so I read it at a distance, just like the doctor. But I get the sense this is another derp joint, so you’ve at least developed a consistent and singular voice (beyond all the effing untitled entries). _____ UNTITLED TRANSCRIPT Thank you for calling Cleaning Fairies where a little help is a big help my name is Patricia in order for me to assist you may I please have the account number. Thank you one moment. Okay and who am I speaking with. Please slow down sir Sir I’m have trouble hearing you with the background Sir Sir the contract clearly references customer responsibility to provide fresh cr Well perhaps the date on the carton was wrong sir Sir please do not use offensive language Sir I’m hanging up sir. Thank you for calling Cleaning Fairies where a little help _____ It’s clear the intent is the nightmare of customer service, but I’m unsure on what exactly the problem is. One sided conversations can be neat if you can surmise what the other side of the phone is saying without much confusion. Maybe if it was upfront that this is Fairy Cleaning Billing department, and I suppose the customer was paying in saucers of cream but it was curdled? Likewise, instead of hanging up, transferring to a supervisor or making the call a loop from customer service to billing back to customer service would be punchier since you know the customer is going to call right back even angrier after getting hung up on. There’s no payoff to the background noise, either. Like a followup, “Yes sir, you’re speaking quite loudly, but please refrain from offensive language.” I get it, but it’s a little rough around the edges. _____ Untitled 3 Are you coming to dinner? In a minute. You’ve been sitting there for hours. Just a minute. She leaves the room, he sits at the window, fingers tap tap tapping. His eyes dart left, his eyes dart right. Flick, flick, a metronome, flick. The sun sets, the window darkens. He waits for the lights to return. Please talk to me. Just a minute. It’s been hours, you won’t talk to me. In a minute. Lights streak past the window, he stands, walks out the door into the dark. Frogs chirp, wind hisses, and he stands immobile staring into the night. _____ It’s like a mundane Lovecraft. I think the dinner partner would be a little more concerned if someone started being that strangely all of a sudden. It’s more disconcerting if it’s usual behavior. Like one time I slept on the living room couch for 48 hours straight and my roommates flitted around like it was nothing, but when I sat in the dark and they came in they were like “this is hosed up.” _____ Peekaboo You mustn’t watch for the witch in the woods. She slips between the trees, leaves crinkling underfoot. Her feet and fingers are long, knuckles knotted like branches. A bag of marbles hangs ‘round her neck. She fondles it, humming, stumbling through the dark. Simply look away and she’ll do you no harm. She needs to be invisible. Don’t we all, sometimes? Do her this kindness and avert your gaze. She may even leave a marble, a token of her grace. But should she look you in the eye, she’ll pluck them from your skull, and add them to her bag. _____ Ohh, I think this is the first one to give me a little chill. I was trying to figure out the marbles and if it’s some mythology thing and then it drops. And the sight metaphor is carried through. Yum _____ Technomalum "So wait, you're telling me I'm part... fey?" Ellen stops walking and stares pointedly at the person standing next to her. They're of indeterminate gender and are staggeringly beautiful. "That's right. Your father's a fairy." "But don't fairies have like... an allergy to metal?" "Cold Iron yes, but you're only part fey, so it manifests itself differently with you." "And that's why-" "Why your smartphones never work right, yes." Ellen reaches into her pocket and takes out her phone. The screen is spiderwebbed with cracks and as they both stare at it, the home screen blinks and it reboots itself. _____ The blocking is a little awkward on ‘Ellen stops walking and stares pointedly at the person standing next to her.’ Like it could be read as Ellen seeing someone on the street that was gorgeous and freezing in her tracks, rather than two walking down the street together. I don’t know if anyone finding out their father is fey would immediately followup q about metal allergies, unless Ellen’s mom told her a very specific story about her conception. It’s a bit abrupt. Cold iron is a specific choice, and you could make a groanworthy joke about it—meteoric iron is why Ellen’s Samsung Galaxy keeps exploding. But maybe silver would have been a better choice for an allergy, since that’s frequently a component in circuitboard solder. Could have been better with an ending about Ellen instead of the phone, maybe, like “Ellen felt she needed a reboot, too.” _____ Passport There’s a place downtown where a fairy ring grows. People sit inside it. They don’t wear clothes. Others laugh, disapprove; they call the police. When authorities arrive, it’s gone without a trace. The ones who sit have gone away too. Sometimes they leave messages. CAN YOU SEE WHAT WE DO? Spray-painted, carved, written in chalk, next to carefully folded clothes. It makes people talk. “Why do you do this?” I asked one day. “You can’t bring it with you,” was all he would say. There’s a new ring today. No one inside. I unbutton my shirt. What can this provide? _____ What can this provide is an odd capstone—where does it go might be more clear. If the people are finding meaning in the circle then why are the folded clothes so important. Like ascending to a higher plane means leaving the past behind, so I would expect rumpled piles dropped without care. The clothes don’t matter anymore. It sort of gives it away, calling it a fairy ring immediately. And to place it downtown, I imagine a ring of mushrooms growing right through the pavement in a dimly lit alley. That’s interesting but it doesn’t seem so to the narrator. That first paragraph is too matter of fact. _____ Conjunction The shaking stopped and the office plunged into power-cut darkness. Jane and Sara were the only early-birds there. No nervous laughter, just a synchronised grabbing of phones to call daycare, husbands. No signal. Outside, a scream. Sara was first out from under her desk. The light turned burnt-orange as the sun rose through clouds of dust. She blanched at the huge cracks in the floor-to-ceiling windows. Long-fingered hands squeaked against the glass. Outside, high-pitched laughter. Jane, ever practical, flipped open the civil defence bin. Water, glowsticks. A sledgehammer. Jane raised it and her eyebrows. Sara nodded, once. They were coming. _____ There’s nothing innately supernatural about the text, could pretty easily slot in raiders/looters after an earthquake, or even interpret it with the sun through the dust as a bomb and the fingers as irradiated victims. It’s good that way, though. Like The Mist, or any number of zombie things, or even Doctor Who (Sarah Jane), being trapped while strange and unknowable things are happening outside is tense and interesting. But Sara and Jane seem all too ready for whatever’s going on, and the impulse is to smash first rather than escape. They both have families, and there’s no earlier indication that there’s no way out. If the glass was shattered and the fingers were grasping the window sill to pull themselves inside, maybe. _____ Bespoke Bodies When I was seven, I didn’t know it would be impossible. So when my fairy godmother promised to buy me one thing from the goblin market when I turned sixteen, I asked for a skateboard. She chuckled, suggesting a gown to attract the handsome. When I turned sixteen, I needed the impossible. I detached from my godmother and sprinted from stall to stall, hunting for the mushroom or injection or trousers that would change my body to fit my soul. The gnome at “Bespoke Bodies” handed me the impossible wrapped in brown paper, my name written in green. I wept. _____ This is like a classic story in TD by now—trans supportive tales told succinctly. It’s one that should be told over and over again, so I’m mixed on how to judge it. It’s p. good with the play of impossible several times, and rebellion against the authority figure which is interesting since it’s a fairy godmother. Is it as easy as finding the right merchant in the Underdark? If only. _____ Untitled 5 They live behind my eyes, even in this clean white room they live on in the dark of each blink, and when the lights click off there they are, drawing spirals in the air, glowing circles, loops and whorls, and they whisper to me, and their bright glow streaks down to touch my face and the words appear, a breath in my ear, don’t take it, spit it out, don’t swallow, hide it away, don’t take it, and I nod and nod and I take the pill from beneath my tongue and push it under the mattress with the others. _____ If you don’t eat your seroquel you can’t have any pudding. Yeah, uh, I think places where you’re in a sterile white room would have more discerning pill wardens and mattress flippers, or maybe it’s the opposite where the dingier the place, the more likely the pharmacy is to put a rubber gloved finger under your tongue to check. It’s a good setup, but It feels like I’ve heard/seen it before. _____ A Castle of Bark and Bone The king of mist and moss rules none. His halls are empty, save the chittering shadows that haunt him. Any day now, they will come. All he requires is one hapless fool to stumble into this bog and relinquish their name. One name is all he needs to reclaim power. When the mortal arrives, she beats down his doors, a strange iron device in hand. Her garb is bright and offensive, and fury blazes in her eyes. The king nearly forgets his words. “L-long have I-” “I’m Janet,” the woman shouts. “Now take me away; I loving hate it here.” _____ Sounds more like a Karen to me. I think it would be better served to start with the mortal arriving and have more interaction with Janet. That’s the good bit. Sort of a weird interaction anyway, Who gets lost in a bog on foot, enters a castle and upon seeing a king on a throne announces “I’m Janet, now take me away.” It’s too contrived and very odd phrasing. _____ GroWing Up My wings, I want them, please give them to me Cried the fledgling fairy, Naeroji Not yet, my babe, but someday soon And her father hid them, behind the moon And now, father, perhaps you’ll find I’ve grown so, I’m wise and I’m kind Still no, my child, with wings you might fall And if something should happen, I couldn’t stand it at all Father, it’s time, you must know it’s true If you can’t give them to me, I’ll take them from you I won’t make you steal, but I cannot give in Snatch them from me, try and win. _____ Rhyming scheme isn’t anything special, and I’d like to see the hubris of the baby bird claiming they’re wise and kind and either fail or be proven. It’s like a bunch of braggadocio. I think you should continue this into the size of an epic poem and see where it goes. Simply, not enough happens in these hundo words, but I do get a sense of the daddy bird and the child trying to live up to an ideal, so it’s pretty good. _____ Rêverie en Vert I blinked, my eyes suddenly watery from the greenery that consumed my every sense. "What is this place?" I breathed. "It is your home, my mortal," she said, rising from the pond, her ivory arms outstretched, and my heart shattered at her beauty. "A place for forgetting time and troubles." The moss trembled, and the vines shivered and sang. I went with her into the wood, and knew her forever, and loved her forever, until I learned of her deceit and sought to leave her side. I blinked, my eyes suddenly watery from the greenery that consumed my every sense. _____ Suddenly watery from the greenery sounds hard to say. My mortal is also a weird thing. I never really understood that, immortals being fascinated with the lifespan of finite beings. Like I can totally understand how it would feel to be immortal, and there’s lots of literature pondering the subject, so unless you were an eternal concept, it should click on some level. One of the things that I, as a fresh immortal, would not want is to forget and zone out through eternity. What is the appeal there? It’s like waking up every day. You don’t truly know how long you’ve lived. And no one does. Are you really 36 or forty, or one hundred and ten? Just call them a pet, it’s basically the same thing in context. There is a betrayal, but there’s no why or how. What is the shift from love to hate? What did they want in the first place? That’s definitely not clear. There’s no established love for this mortal, and no reason why they’d be there, so the deceit falls flat. Why is this immortal doing what they’re doing? It’s not Lovecraftian unknowable enough to be nonsense. _____ Retro Sprite “Is this one for numbers too?” The tiny, luminous being alighted on Robert's computer. “I guess? It sends information back and forth with…” “What do you need with more numbers that you have on your fingers and toes? Useless! I'm putting it all back!” “No, wait!” Robert tried to brush the sprite away, but it flitted around the room like a hummingbird, landing on his clock, his phone, his PlayStation, and even his wallet, then darted out through the cracked window. Horrified, Robert watched as the plastic in his possessions devolved into a mass of squirming plankton and algae. _____ If you’re going for sprites, you probably could have played it up more. I don’t think necessarily of Playstation as sprite based, NES or Super or Sega would be more fitting. Sorry, I don’t know why the plastic is devolving. It’s a concern in physical media that DVDs and CDs will decay, and I’ve encountered that in some cheap media that I’ve burned so the concept is not foreign. lovely flaky CD-Rs that don’t play anymore are a nightmare. So maybe I do get it, but I don’t think that’s the supposed focus, so I can surmise a lot, but not be sure. _____ Untitled 6 September 24, Saint Damian’s Psychiatric Hospital, a patient, Leland Lothrop, 47, vanished during the night. No one saw him leave. His window was open, but it’s unlikely he climbed down from the second story. A search is in progress. The only notable item left in his room was a journal filled with intricate drawings of spirals, circles, and other shapes. In the final pages the shapes coalesced into insect wings, and eyes, and finally a face. We showed the face to the family, in case it was someone he might visit, but by then that page had been torn out. _____ Buh? Really Lovecraft-y, but the last sentence doesn’t make sense. Was the page torn out, but still loose leaf in the journal? The doctor should have tried to show the page, but it was gone. It’s a journal entry about a journal entry. That’s kind of cool, but detached and distant. It’s the vibe, but with such few words, and no indication of who the face belongs to, it falls a bit flat. Lothrop is almost portal or porthole backwards.St. Damien is the saint of lepers, so maybe a little more body horror if you’re choosing that name. Otherwise, it just seems like you’re relying on The Omen for creep factor. _____ Flight Control After weeks of pouring over operating manuals and technical specs, the day had finally come. “Don’t be so nervous, kid,” said his father. He didn’t reply. The hardest thing about joining the family business was enduring his father’s advice. True, the old man had clocked over 10,000 flight hours but the new Boeing 880 was significantly more complex than anything he’d dealt with in his day. He tried to ignore his father. He failed. “If all else fails,” his father continued. “Just stick something in the propeller.” Again, he bit his tongue. This time his needle sharp teeth drew blood. _____ I thought this was like goblin balloon brigade taken up a notch and was neutral, even trying to figure out how or why a family business would have an 880. but then judge chat explained that it was a gremlin in the plane and lol, I see it now. I would have enjoyed it more, maybe if they were having this convo at 30 thousand feet on the wing, revealed at the end as the peer inside the window. _____ Bloom All she wanted was a fairy to play with, but they said that fairies loved green spaces and none would come to the nearly barren, windswept mesa she lived on. Weren't invasive tumbleweeds as alive as any blooming sunflower, though? Weren't agave and ocotillo as green as clover? She believed in and hoped for them to arrive even as she grew too old to believe in such things. Until the day she came home to find a tiny woman in clothes as pink as the flowers on a cholla sitting on her doorstep. "Meet your new fairy godmother!" they sang. _____ I like rooting it in the southwest, that gives it a different feel to the Celtic dampness that most of the entries have. But the ending is generic. Should have thrown some indigenous mythology at us or just cut the last line entirely and added some more in the middle. That’s all pretty good. _____ shifting sands She comes to you, first, in a dream. Forgotten upon waking; remembered only in raindrops, birdsong, lees in a wine glass. How do you, flesh and bone, warrant her attention? How do you, soon ash and dust, hold the memory of her, while shifting sands swallow footprints? How do you forget her? Here is what you have forgotten: the scent of jasmine through parted curtains, the warmth of gossamer wings and nacreous silk, the things she offers for the gift of your name. Distant cloud; sharpened teeth. You wake with syllables on your tongue, grit that will form no pearl. _____ More stealing names mythos, but drat, it flows well, and it’s just on the right side of purple. I like it. _____ Glamorous Futures Devin grinned. He had achieved the object of his desires. The seller had some strange stipulations about the exchange, but it was a steal by any measure. He looked at the image of the ape on his screen, its bored expression bracketed by gossamer wings. He had one, he was one of the elite. He began planning what he’d wear to his first yacht party. Talion, Earl of Midsummer, leaned back from his monitor and steepled his fingers. To grin would be unbecoming of his station. Still, he was satisfied. Faerie gold, he reflected, had to move with the times. _____ I mean, you nail the image of NFT dipshits, except that there’s probably some Nazi memorabilia interspersed between the funkos. If it’s a plot by mischievous imps, then it should probably be more clear about why. You know there’s some perfectly mundane trader who calls himself Tallon, Earl of Midsummer. And a quick search on opensea says 259 accounts start with “Earl of …” lol _____ Sean Gloriosis Sean and Randy stumbled around the back 40 of the junkyard. It was only 10am, but Sean was more than a little buzzed. "I'm telling ya, it was right around heah!" Sean is gesturing wildly while Randy hangs back. "Look for a fuckin C10 panel van." "gently caress me, Sean. there ain't no such things as fairies or a portal to another world. You're just trying to get me to forget you pinching my cigs." Sean finds the van, and with a triumphant yell, wrenches the back doors open. Randy peers in and sees a verdant green forest inside the van. _____ I feel like this rides or dies on the Boston accent. The van could have been more explicit, we all had a neighbor in the eighties with that sort of thing. Pinching my cigs line sounds kind of artificial, but maybe people say that, I’ve only been to NE a couple times and saw Good Will Hunting a while ago. If it were more ambiguous about the verdant green forest being the shag carpet on the walls, or maybe a hint about forbidden Playboys it’d be punchier. _____ It’s Just Seasonal OK, circle up. It’s our busy season so we can’t have a long meeting about this. OK. That’s everyone. I know the State of Florida, the scientific community, and probably many people in this room do not recognize the existence of faerie creatures – or pixies or leprechauns or ghosts. I can’t have an argument right now. We have them – something – in the office. I’ve seen them. They’re tiny people, but, I think, as entities, they’re much larger. One lit my trashcan on fire. I can’t take you off your audits, but I need you to keep an eye out. Please. _____ Of course, Florida is the vanguard of regression—it feels a little disingenuous to put this on them too. I think it’s one place that would be all in on office fairies. I also think a manager calling an all hands to scout for fairies would have a plan that could have turned into an amusing office nightmare. Doing something or laying out a fae-fighting plan would have been better than just using all the words to have the manager speculate that something is in the building. _____ Fortune Favored Susan Townsend-Kilbride frowned. “What do you want bones for?” The Winter Prince’s displeasure did what his courtier’s swords could not and cut through her ironvine protections. “When you buy bread, does the baker account for your coin?” “Money is normal,” Susan countered. “Bones seems cruel.” The Prince’s smile was as cold and empty as his kingdom. “I say coin is crueller still.” She searched the Fae’s empty eyes. She found herself staring back. “Fine,” she sighed. “When you’re done with him, keep the bones.” Arguing was pointless. She didn’t care about her father’s body, all that mattered was her inheritance. _____ I suppose Towns End, Kill Bride would be obsessed with the material, though it’s such a specific name choice that there’s got to be more to it. Is there? Doesn’t seem like it. Just a funny double-barrel name to conjure a big inheritance, I suppose. But really, Susan is not concerned at all with the supernatural Winter King, which suggests that this is normal. If the fae are body thieves and do things with bones or bodies, they probably have more clever deals, or don’t make deals at all. There isn’t really a deal at all, and it seems like Susan could get the body if she wanted. She just relents like dealing with a petulant teen. Or if she’s selling the body through some devilish contract, it’s really obtuse. And someone who doesn’t care about the body is asking a lot of questions that don’t matter to her, thus don’t matter to us. The prince is right, though, so not sure why their eyes are empty. I once sent an uncle into apoplexy by saying that money isn’t real and the US is a fiat country based on a fiat currency, so a few simple words can conjure interesting things in a reader. Money is cruel. _____ T-minus FAIRY CONTROL OFFICER: "Announce go/no go for cobbling. Repeat. Announce go/no go for cobbling." TRANSIT: "We are go." TOOLS: "Go. SUPPORT: "Go!" SUPPLIES: "Go." SKILLS: "Go." FORWARD ADVANCE: "No Go! We are No Go! Cold Iron detected in workshop. Repeat. No Go!" FCO: "No Go received and confirmed. Abort Cobbling. Abort Cobbling. Abort Cobbling." GROANS AND SIGHS HEARD OVER TRANSMISSION TOOLS: "What? Why is there Cold Iron in the workshop?" FA: "Looks like the cobbler called a plumber and he left some iron behind." FCA: "This is a recorded line. Quit the chatter. We'll try it again tomorrow." _____ I mean it’s cute, but doing a space launch parallel with cobbler elves and not a Levy-Shoemaker gag? C’mon. _____ Llama Drama Greg was a professional, but this was the worst case of carpet llamas he’d ever seen. Interdimensional bastards. Eat pile, poo poo portals. Trouble was, Greg’s brother had fallen in. No. Climbed. David was trying to crack open space-time with his fingers. Greg put a hand on a trembling shoulder. Their first touch in a long time. “I’m going. Please, Greg, come--” Greg’s mind was carefully barricaded against the truth. He climbed from the hole in David’s living room floor. The house was gone. Gigantic camelids occluded the sun and spat stars. Greg sighed, and fetched his tools from his van. _____ Lol, ‘you haven’t touched me in so long. please, climb in my hole and come, brother’ It’s cool, but I feel like the ‘all in a days work, lemme get my toolbox and deal with a pending apocalypse’ is pretty stock, even if it is llamas pooping shag that breaks spacetime. _____ Vale’s Last Stand Lieutenant Vale landed split-squat and raygunned the fresh-risen daisies into a corona of purple ash. Jet-booted two metres up as scythes sliced for her legs, their fey wielders evil of claw and intent. A fresh circle, the scent of violets. In its abyssal centre Vale saw her lost Captain’s face. She sobbed; fumbled her landing. With one, two backflips she dodged the advancing fey. But not her broken heart. A scythe at her back. Again, Vale jetted straight up. The thrice-cursed land spread out beneath her. Row upon row of fairy circles, and in them all her Captain’s eyes, calling. _____ Smells like violets cuz the ash is purple? Probably could have played with that more, it’s not real clear what the fairy circles have to do with the aliens or jet pack space marine. I guess it’s how the baddies teleport in or grow, but you’d think Vale would want to destroy them. Maybe she can’t because she keeps seeing the captain. I mean, still doing backflips whilst sobbing in despair is something. The fumble doesn’t really mean anything; Vale’s immediately backflipping without a problem.Have Vale lament the captain’s loss while being trapped in the circle. I dunno. There’s no real tension. You know there’s a loss, but that happened outside the story, and fine, but Vale is just an asskicker who cries. _____ It’s a Deal Threads flow from ancient wrist: red as war, thin as hope. Each one a debt owed, aged like fine wine in the gnarled body of the Godmother. A task needs doing. The Godmother examines her ledger, plucks a string, calls forth a godchild. If they are wise and clever they may escape with their soul unmarred. A broken promise will wound both ways: Godmother’s arms are laced with old scars. Her hut is surrounded by empty skulls. The Godmother’s smile is iron. She makes her request, and waits to hear wisdom or weakness. _____ I am curious about the last phrase, wisdom or weakness, since this really feels like a suicide metaphor and I don’t know that those words should play into it. I think It’s one of the more evocative pieces of the week so far. _____ Untitled 2 Was it real? Wasn’t real, no. Except the hole I dug is there, and my hands are dirty and blistered, my clothes are smeared and wet. What happened as I lay there? And how long did I lay, as lights circled above me? They drew patterns in the dark, and I could almost understand the shapes that streaked across my eyes like sparklers on the fourth of July. Did they make a picture? Or spell a word? I draw what I can remember, I fill page after page with pencil slashes, curves and spirals, waiting for the meaning to appear. _____ Does this work out of context with the rest? It’s a UFO/abduction story, and the obsessive behavior is right out of Close Encounters of the Third Kind. _____ Fairy Ring How long have I been crouched here? It feels like it's been ages. Humans normally come through here more often. When was the last one, a week ago? The little goblin grumbles to himself about debts owed and how stupid humans don't walk through the woods like they used to. A few minutes later, a jogger pauses on the footpath for a drink of water, checking their heartrate. The goblin sneaks up from behind and scares them. The jogger stumbles off the path, right into the fairy ring, disappearing in a flash. Only forty-three more people to go! he cackles. _____ Why would the goblin be that enthused about making a bank payment? Also curious about what the debt is for, that’s more interesting than the actual capture of humans. How is the goblin scaring people? I don’t think someone would jump into the bushes if Dobby came up to them, they’d be more curious. So does Dobby manifest their fears a la It? I think this dances around all the interesting stuff and just says this happened, then this, then this. _____ The Forest A forest full of plants of every shape and size, impossibly green and vibrant. The leaves shift in the breeze while streams of sunlight pour through the canopy, creating pools of light and glowing plants below. He could almost hear the babbling of a nearby brook, birdsong, and the orchestra of crickets. This beautiful sight would be his last. And to think, this world glimpsed in the eyes of a small, murderous fairy. Her pointy teeth are sharp and dripping with his blood as she stands on his face, peering into his eyes to see if he is still alive. _____ Bucolic scene juxtaposed with the grim. But these pint-sized fairies must be strong to stand on someone’s face, and yet still be able to take out a full grown human. If the fairy is already eating what does it care if the guy is still alive? The detachment of a hunter in their demesne would be an interesting take–fairy isn’t murderous, just an apex predator. _____ The Black Beast The Morsel was quiet again, and its horrible mother had left to cook her foul "stew”. Peering from a crack in the wall, Snatchfast could see the Morsel had grown even plumper since their last attempt. His mouth watered in anticipation. He gestured to his kin, and they all rushed to the legs of the great table. A terrible sound rang through the room. The cries of the black beast. Snatchfast signaled retreat, but it was too late. The beast snatched his robe in its snapping jaws and pinned him with one rough paw, canine teeth closing on his head. _____ Calling the kid Morsel is real good. Snatchfast is maybe too on-the-nose of a name since they get snapped up by the dog. A more ironic name like Freelegg or whatever and they get caught by hubris rather than hunger. Is there any other survival option for the little goblins? Once I imagined cooking foul stew as a bad poop, I couldn’t unthink it. _____
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Sep 26, 2023 09:21
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wut nah, this can't be right, I woulda shidded out ten hundos derp and crab brawl, I'm calling you out. I know GP lives in c-spam, but if you wanna get in then cool.
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Sep 26, 2023 10:59
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Idle's Week DLXXXI Judge Notes General Review Notes
If they submitted multiple stories:
In order of First Submissions Author: Yoruichi Stories: Llama Drama - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?noseen=1&threadid=4021140&perpage=40&pagenumber=37#post534683542 Vale’s Last Stand - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=38#post534705296 Conjuction - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=38#post534791457 Yes, these stories fit the prompt. Yes, a passable stories are told within the 100 words, but I feel like some readability was lost in editing to get to that 100 in the first story. The second story has good action. The situations that the characters find themselves in is clear. The third might be the best of the three. The drawback of the first story is that the emotional underpinnings of the characters come across stilted at the suggestion of their strained relationship from the touch or the pleading of the other brother. The second story manages to solidify the emotional connection a lot more neatly without it needing to be substantiated any further beyond the loss, and imminent demise. The third story is apocalyptic, but what I like about it is that the characters in this story seem capable from what little we’re given. There seems to be a determination and conveyance of character that sets this one apart. The second story is probably the best in terms of a fulfilling story, but this one is my favorite for its matter-of-fact characters and their seemingly unflinching demeanors. The first story was a story, but the second was a good story (and I’m glad these weren’t directly connected, the sci-fi/fae is a good vibe). The last is also a good story. The second read the best to me, but the third has the most fun implications in my opinion. poo poo’s hitting the fan, but these individuals are unperturbed in away that shows more characterthan it conceals. Author: beep-beep car is go Stories: Technomalum - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?noseen=1&threadid=4021140&perpage=40&pagenumber=37#post534690435 Sean Gloriosis - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?noseen=1&threadid=4021140&perpage=40&pagenumber=37#post534690578 Payment Rendered - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=38#post534705802 T-Minus - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=38#post534758990 Yes, they fit the prompt. There is a common connective theme of human’s interacting with a magical world that exists around them. Enough is given in each story that explains the world and makes them fit well together with satisfactory delivery. The second story seems the least clear of them all, but I think the alluded inebriation and suggested manner of the characters accounts for this. The third story had fairly mundane opening, clear and straight-forward, I did not expect the ending and had a sly grin at my face instantly. The fourth story is organized so neatly as to almost be perfect in my opinion, but without the preceding stories it would feel less so, but by that point in reading your submissions it seemed as if you had imagined out a universe with its own rules and understandings. As such, all of your stories end up feeling very complete. These were good stories given the format. Author: rivetz Stories: Dear Imprudence - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=38#post534703087 UNTITLED TRANSCRIPT - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=38#post534728137 Rêverie en Vert - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=38#post534769811 Cuckoo - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&pagenumber=39#post534815088 First story fits the prompt, the second doesn’t convey it as much. A passable story is told in “Dear Imprudence,” and while I get what you’re going for in “UNTITLED TRANSCRIPT,” it does seem to fall a bit flat for me. Your third story however, picks back up some of strength of the first with more ethereal and supernatural qualities that feel right at home within the prompt. Dear Imprudence was a bit of a delight to read. The personalities of the characters are made clear. There is an antagonist, a protagonist(or at least, the antagonized), and otherworldly retribution neatly packed into the prompt constraints. UNTITLED TRANSCRIPT is too much like an actual transcript that doesn’t solidify the Fae experience beyond name, but your effort is noted. The third submission feels like your strongest work this week. There’s just enough of all the presented pieces to make it feel like it has more weight to it than the 100 words allow. Intrigue & Deception, a good angle to work here. Cuckoo manages to pack alienation, body horror, and otherness into the word count decently, but it feels less concrete than Dear Imprudence was a good story. UNTITLED TRANSCRIPT isn’t really a story. Rêverie en Vert is a good story. Cuckoo is cool, but I feel it lacks the strength of of the third story. Might be second best of your submissions this week though. Some of these were good stories, others were stories. Author: sebmojo Story: Restitution - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=38#post534703391 Yes, this fits the prompt. Yes, a passable story is told within the wordcount. This is sinister and fae in all the right ways. A very strong opening. The ending is one of mystery, that I feel suggests the protagonist may in fact have a guilty mind, but it seems to end on a note of their awe at some forbidden place instead of cementing that the protagonist knew better in the first place. Maybe it’s better that it’s implied? This is a good story. Author: Vinny Possum Stories: The Black Beast - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=38#post534749186 Retro Spite - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=38#post534789003 Yes, these fit the prompt. Yes, passable stories were told within the wordcount. The first is another sinister fae story, but it’s more them living in the world of humans which translates in an effectively terrifying way. Another story read with a grin. Thank goodness, they’ve got the best beast around. May it chomp down many more malicious fairies! The second story hones in on mischief associated with fae folk, but I don’t feel it’s as strong a story as the first. Both were stories however, the first was a good story. The first was a good story, the second was a story. Author: Dicere Story: It’s Just Seasonal - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=38#post534751553 Yes, it fits the prompt. Yes, a passable story is told. This struck me at first as kind of bland, but the more I thought about it, the more I can appreciate the humor of a completely indifferent supervisor who is just trying to meet quotas. The universe has literally revealed itself as supernatural, and they’re just like… “buckle down folks… numbers, business, buzz, buzz.” I can’t help but feel like it’s lacking something, but it’s not without its charm. This was a story. Author: Chernobyl Princess Story: It’s a Deal - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=38#post534761800 Yes, it fits the prompt. Yes, a passable story is told (but apparently wordcount! womp-womp) This take on a fairy godmother is poignant and dark. All of the words are used for describing the entity and how they interact with the world which is fitting here given the limitation on the wordcount, but as a standalone entry I feel that it lacks something. This was a story. Author: TheMackening Stories: Fairy Ring - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=38#post534762485 The Forest - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=38#post534762848 Death Awaits - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=38#post534763298 Yes, they fit the prompt. There is a cohesive malevolence between your stories, and yes, they all manage to tell a story of demise. This is another set of stories that fit well together. While there may be thematically direct connections, each tale seems like the penultimate highlight on someone’s impending doom (which is a total vibe, and one that works well with this week.) These were good stories. Author: Popeston Stories: Untrue Name - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=38#post534766889 Flight Control, Fortune Favored & Good Cop, Bad Cop - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=39#post534794055 Yes, these fit the prompt within the word count. These are passable stories. The first has all the joy of a human servicing a fae creature, or even better, a fae creature providing some new-age baby naming service for a fellow fae. In either case, it’s relevant to the prompt and it has a whimsical, satiric charm to it. The second, “Flight Control” effectively subverts expectations and does so neatly within the word count. My favorite of the 4. Fortune Favored is a close second. This monkey’s paw-esque nature of dealing with fae that you and other writers this week honed in on is very satisfying. Many end with a malicious reveal, but in my opinion, they each manage to do so in a way that seems unique or fitting to the story so it doesn’t feel unfresh. The fantastic and beautiful are lined with underlying rot, and/or unexpected horror. Good Cop, Bad Cop fits but kind of hones in more on the whimsical side of things. Not bad, but I don’t think it’s as effective as your second and third stories. These were all stories, and some of these stories were good. Author: a friendly penguin Story: Bespoke Bodies - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=38#post534767992 Yes, this fits the prompt within the word count. Yes, it’s a passable story, but either symbolism is lost on me, or there’s not enough here. What is there is good, but I need more (and it could just be me, I am admittedly, donkey brained.) Kind of pretty much touched on it in point 2, but there’s just not enough here for me to really sink my teeth in. The flavor is nice, and you manage to create a sense of urgency/panic between the initial interaction with the godmother and the frenzy at the fae market, but again, either some greater symbolism is lost on me, or there’s not enough here to make this feel complete. This was a story, but… (My fellow judge pointed out that yes, there may have been elements to this story going over my head, and I think that lends it more credit than I initially gave.) Author: Chili Story: GroWing Up - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=38#post534771986 (womp, womp - disqualified - youplayedyourself.gif) However… Yes, this is fits the prompt. Yes, it is a passable story within the word count. It feels very much like a fairy tale or parable in the delivery that all at once feels very “fae” natured. However, the unintentional edit sinks you. Otherwise, this was a good story. Author: Ouzo Maki Stories: The Queen of Air and Shadow, Unseelie & Primrose - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=38#post534775870 Hell yes, this all fit the prompt. There is a connective thread between the stories, and the 3-in-1 does not feel like an abuse of the 100 word drabble. With your entries, you manage to carve out a timeline, and it might be one of the more effective uses of a completely connected story this week. Innocent intrigue, cursed tradition, and a cautionary tale all-in-one. This was a good story. Author: Slightly Lions Stories: Glamorous Futures - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=150280 Listen Now, Dear Hearts, With Ears Like Elephants’ - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=39#post534811935 First, it fits the prompt, but semi-loosely. Second very much hits the mark. There are passable stories within their wordcounts. The delivery of the first story’s set up and humor is well done. The fae association seems mostly in name, and what you tell the reader almost directly, but I’m fine with it. The second story is another poetic, fable/parable/nursery rhyme-esque story that seems fairly clever The first was a story. The second was a good story. Author: Bad Seafood Stories: Peekaboo - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=39#post534798076 Passport - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=39#post534806810 Yes, these fit the prompt. They also tell a story within the wordcount. First, another seemingly sinister creature feature and I’m with it. You went the route of the descriptive and poetic which gives your story the tone of a fable which works well with the prompt. Second, a pattern of desperate persons seeking some fae intervention in their lives. Seems very human, I think it only suffered from trying to fit the words into the 100 word limit, but I enjoyed both of these and ultimately thing they had good execution. These are good stories. Author: derp Stories: Untitled 1 - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=39#post534804716 Untitled 2 - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=39#post534804726 Untitled 3 - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=39#post534804752 Untitled 4 - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=39#post534804772 Untitled 5 - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=39#post534804784 Untitled 6 - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=39#post534804795 Yes, these fit the prompt. Yes, each drabble is a continuation, and most importantly, they don’t feel like an abuse of the limit. I don't know if they each have the power to stand alone, and that does make it seem more like a segmented singular piece, but I enjoyed them nonetheless. These were organized well. The last line of the 6th untitled piece confused me a bit, “We showed the face to the family — but by then that page had been torn out,” These were good stories. Author: Rohan Story: shifting sands - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=39#post534805306 Yes, very much fits the prompt. Yes, a complete story is told within the word count. This is higher up for me. Well-written with the otherworldly and awe-inspiring becoming unpleasantly lurid with the more sorrowful or horrifying elements like forgeting an ethereal love or noticing the sharp teeth (a common trend at this point, but makes sense). In any case, impossible longing is not an angle I think had been touched on so far this week, and it’s a very good angle to wok given the prompt. This was a good story. Author: Antivehicular Stories: The Changeling’s Return - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=39#post534812710 True Gold - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=39#post534812933 Yes, these fit the prompt. Yes, stories are told within the word limit. I am not entirely sure these two are linked, if they are, it may be my own gaps that fail to make the connection. The first story is the better of the two in my opinion, and only because it’s easier to grasp on first pass. The second story, however, seems the more inventive of the two, and it leaves some of it up to interpretation in a compelling way. I’d say the first story is a good story, and the second is a story. Author: Beezus Story: A Castle of Bark and Bone - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=39#post534813589 Yes, this fits the prompt. Yes, it tells a story within the wordcount. This is fun. It seems straightforward. The stakes seem in place with a code of rules that the king of mist and moss believes are in place. He, like the reader(maybe), doesn’t expect the hapless fool to be someone clearly fed up and ready for an extravagant exit. It’s a good note to end on for the character. It leaves the protagonist with their own bumbling and hapless qualities. This was a story. Author: My Shark Waifuu Story: Rusalka - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=39#post534814346 Yes, this fits the theme. Yes, a story is told within the wordcount. At first, I was like “where is this going?” but the title and content were actually very satisfying when all parts of these 100 words are considered. I am a fan. This is a good story. Author: Lord Zedd-Repulsa Story: Bloom - https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=4021140&pagenumber=39#post534815079 Yes, this fits the theme. Yes, a story is told within the word count. A story that has a clear setting, a character with clear qualities, and the reward of those qualities. I’d say this is a fair story on par thematically, and in delivery, with several others this week. This is a story.
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Sep 26, 2023 13:51
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Thunderdome Week 582: Hyper-Local Obscurities Bonjour from Bordeaux! I’ve been kept busy these past few weeks visiting cities and towns across France, and discovering what industries and traditions are unique to each region. Lyon is the culinary capital, using every part of the animal to often confronting effect. Limoges is known for fine porcelain. Bordeaux, obviously, is red wine country. This week, I’d like stories about unique and esoteric specialities, and / or the communities that thrive alongside them. These can be real or fictitious; stories about the politics of local beekeeping, or the cottage industries that serve wizarding universities. Usual rules apply: no fanfic, google docs, political screeds, or erotica. Wordcount: 1200 words Signup deadline: Friday 11:59PM PST Submission deadline: Sunday 11:59PM PST Judges rohan rivetz Bad Seafood Entrants 1. Kuiperdolin 2. Idle Amalgam 3. derp 4. Vinny Possum 5. The Cut of Your Jib 6. BabyRyoga 7. Thranguy rohan fucked around with this message at 15:56 on Sep 29, 2023 |
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Sep 26, 2023 15:20
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Lol, in. Bordeaux's not just wine, eat some cannelés from a good shop.
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Sep 26, 2023 15:32
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In
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Sep 26, 2023 15:37
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in but i need some kind of flash rule
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Sep 26, 2023 17:11
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derp posted:in but i need some kind of flash rule
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Sep 26, 2023 17:23
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In, also down for a flash if you're offering.
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Sep 26, 2023 17:37
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Vinny Possum posted:In, also down for a flash if you're offering.
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Sep 26, 2023 18:20
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sparklINg wine
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Sep 26, 2023 18:29
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Hey, my brain remembered this is a thing that exists, can I get in with some kind of flash rule?
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Sep 26, 2023 18:40
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The Cut of Your Jib posted:wut nah, this can't be right, I woulda shidded out ten hundos how DARE you question the integrity of the FART rating, it is fair, and real, it says so right in the name. i accept your challenge whatever it may be. i will defend the honor of the FART
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Sep 26, 2023 19:02
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derp posted:how DARE you question the integrity of the FART rating, it is fair, and real, it says so right in the name. i accept your challenge whatever it may be. i will defend the honor of the FART easy to say that in the fresh air so high up on your pedestal. been in the fart mine so long I don't remember the sun 
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Sep 26, 2023 19:26
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derp posted:how DARE you question the integrity of the FART rating, it is fair, and real, it says so right in the name. i accept your challenge whatever it may be. i will defend the honor of the FART Cut of your derp Brawl I would like to see some parody, please. If you want, I'll give you a popular short story to parody. What "parody" means is up to you. No word limit, but don't get cute with that, I'll be mad if you make it hyperbolically long as a bit. Due two Wednesdays from now
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Sep 26, 2023 20:18
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Albatrossy_Rodent posted:What "parody" means is up to you.
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Sep 26, 2023 21:34
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BabyRyoga posted:Hey, my brain remembered this is a thing that exists, can I get in with some kind of flash rule?
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Sep 26, 2023 21:52
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rivetz posted:**Grawwk! Poor Yorick! Knew him well! Grawwwk! Life's a stage! Give us a biscuit! Grawwwk! look at this chump banging on the bars of the cage. get in
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Sep 26, 2023 23:46
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| # ? Oct 8, 2024 20:27 |
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In
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Sep 27, 2023 04:49
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