FORTNIGHTLY WRITING COMPETITION - WINNER'S ANNOUNCED!

[Candall]

Heh, very dark, Candall, but in an... uplifting kind of way. What's it called?

I wanted all 350 words just for the story itself; in the past, it has been decreed that any words used for the title would have to count among the total.  In hindsight, I could have sacrificed a couple of those words without damaging anything.

For what it's worth, I probably would have called it: 

Spoiler

Dark Adrenaline

[close]

[Aljoho]

Its a bit long (900 words) ... i got a bit carried away, but heres my entry

Red And Blue

The cold air bit at his every inch and threatened to freeze his bones, but he pressed on over the sandy plain. A dim reflection of his predicament passed casually through his head, odd considering the odds resting on his shoulders. He, he thought he had a name but nothing came at the thought, had to cross the beach, futilely fighting the cold and walk across the frozen ocean towards the island. He wasn’t sure what he had to find there, he thought he’d known once, but his mind seemed shrouded in a layer of thick fog, His head aching with the sudden torrent of effort it took to think he resolved not to ponder again. The frosted field gave way to a sheer cliff.
Looking around for a path he saw none. Wondering what he’d do, he casually swung his rucksack of his shoulder, ignoring the dim pain thought brought. The icy straps were frozen and dipping his hand inside the case, he felt like he had been enveloped in ice, but with resolve he kept reaching. His hand clasped around something that made the air seem warm. Palely aware of shivering he clasped to small metal figure. The figure was of polished brass, and casually he swung back his arm and propelled the figure as high as he could. Ducking and diving, he lunged aside. He landed painfully on a rock, but he barely had time to feel the pain before a sound reached his ears.
   Thunder ringing in his ears he turned, the sheer cliff was gone and in its place stood a mass of rubble. He revelled in the warmth of the fire of a moment before, but rapidly it dissipated and he stepped in to the chill. Bloody Hell! There’s no way it was this cold before! The thought passed through his head followed by a momentary brain freeze. His head felt stuffed with wool but he stepped onwards
   It took him the best part of an hour to reach the island across the frozen sea. When it cam in sight, nearby in the shrouded fog, the dim shape of a mountain rearing out of the sea, a knife piercing the sky. As he neared it the enormity of it only greatened. Feeling as though the cold would freeze his blood he pulled his coat more firmly about him and pushed on, bracing the winds, his mind set on his task.
   What he thought was another hour of steady walking passed, and the air began to get warmer as he began to climb up the steep face. It struck him what he was about to do, and he let out a bitter laugh. His memory felt less clouded. It was warmer. The though was no longer a dim brain freezing reflection, his mind seemed to be working. As he climbed higher the snow and ice slowly became scarce, until he suddenly noticed there was none at all. Sweating he unzipped his coat, then his fleece, removed his shoes, till finally the summit came in sight and he reached for his bag. He felt in his bag for another small figure, this time of a gold like substance, though he knew it wasn’t gold. The figure was warm now, bringing out yet more sweat in his palms. As he reached the summit his mind rushed back and he remembered everything. His name was Matt Saunders, his father, the asshole who had gotten the world into this mess was the “world famous scientist” who had tried to toy with the worlds weather using a bunch of magnets and a huge contraption that produced the static electricity that had first wracked the world with torrential rains and thunder, the wreaked havoc with the seas, causing them to fizz due to a build up of chemicals, and finally freeze, killing tens of thousands, including his father. He reached the summit and felt hot tears on his cheeks. Not caring he pressed on, and looked down in to the roiling mass of red he took a deep breath and just as casually as before let the figure go, this time dropped into the mouth of the volcano. With an o so familiar roar, as though of thunder, the volcano seemed to give off a loud belch. Turning he ran. This time the beach rushed up to meet him quickly, and the large expanse of beach around the island was not covered in thick sheets of ice, but sat still as a calm lake. He felt the sand beneath his bare feet, each individual grain seeming to burn a mark into his soles, not looking round he stared out to sea. It seemed a fitting place to die, surrounded but serenity on one side, and chaos on the other, battling till one had to one, it seem ironic that one way would save him, should the sea win, but the other the world. Wading up to his waist in the water Matt ducked his head under and waited. After a few minutes he heard a hiss, and the water around him fizzed and bubbled. He had won, yet he had lost. It seemed strange the cost of victory, like a thorn covered rose, yet a thousand, a million times over. Ignoring the water bubbling around him, ignoring the pain, he waited

[Emerald]

Now that's hardly fair...

[Pet Terry]

Pure

Nancy waited.

She waited for the morning to come.

She waited for the mist to disappear, for the sun to rise.

Her dress, once white and sparkly as pearls from the deepest ocean, was now wet and dirty of sea water and sand.

In front of her, Nancy saw the turbulent sea. Everywhere else, nothing but sand. Heavy mist muffled everything around its curly arms. Occasional dark shapes moved in the distance. Nancy didn't hear a thing from the rumble of the sea, but she knew that they called for her.

”Come here, little child, come here”, they called.

The voices, they were enthralling. The fascinating tones hinted of a better place, of a place where Nancy could have been herself. Nancy felt confident. She knew she had only one choice. She knew what she had to do.

Nancy took a step forward. Somewhere in the distance someone was calling her name. Nancy knew it wasn't one of them. This voice was boring and scared, it lacked the tone. Why would Nancy want to be with someone whose voice lacked the tone? Why would she want to be with people who didn't know better? Nancy was right, everyone else was wrong.

Nancy took another step forward. The boring voice was getting closer but Nancy didn't notice it anymore. She heard something else, something better. She heard only one thing.

The water was cold but Nancy didn't care. She didn't feel the cold. Instead, she felt all warm and soft inside. They were getting closer. Nancy felt them moving around her feet. She felt the warm and the soft grabbing her legs and slowly pulling her under water.

”I'm home”, Nancy said and smiled. Her voice had the tone.

[rock_chick]

As I strolled along the shore I could fell the swell of the water hitting my bare feet, it was a relief from the more than tepid sand beneath my feet. I was watching the ebb and flow of the ocean but my mind was filled with other things. This was the first place I met Jordan, I had told myself to stay away from here until bittersweet memories of us were less predominant but I felt myself urged to return. I can still remember how he first caught my attention, he had this strong, powerful physique, it was hard not to notice it as he jogged past me like a surfer concentrating on riding a wave. I was not one to approach strangers but he had this magnetic attraction that drew me to him. I decided to abruptly stop him and ask some mundane question, a rather lame line about whether he frequented this beach often. He could sense I was nervous but smiled and to my surprise and delight he began a conversation. Little did I know that that day would forever change my life.

My memories were disrupted by the realisation that the water was making my feet almost feel numb with cold, for as I was reminiscing I had stopped strolling. I edged back to dry land and as I turned around to leave I saw Jordan, but he was not jogging. He was embracing what I assumed to be his new honey. I was torn between feelings of sadness and anger; I was clearly still in love with him and felt how dare he take this woman to our place? I manoeuvred my way back to my car, careful to avoid him noticing me, for that would have been too much torment. As I was about to drive away I realised that it was never our spot, it was where we met but it was never ours and the anger dissipated but the sadness stayed with me for months to come.

The reason for the edit was just to make a grammar correction.

[rock_chick]

Now that's hardly fair...

I agree, it's clearly way too long to be a viable entry, no offence but it's the rules of this contest.

[TwinMoon]

'Murder your Darlings', Arthur Quiller-Couch said in his now famous lecture from 1916.
All creative people will recognize having a good idea which doesn't really fit, but you want to put it in there anyway. Sometimes you can manage to pull it off, most of the times you end up with a really obvious wig.

The 350 word limit is not just a rule telling you to remove adjectives, it's also a way to force you to think about the structure of your writing and be creative and economical with your words.

You probably know where this is going: your entry can't be allowed, Aljoho.
There's a lot that could be trimmed, the first paragraph, the references to his amnesia, etc. I can tell you like writing as much as I do, but it's also important to know how to tell a story within a word limit. I'll turn a blind eye at 360 words, but 880+ words is too much.

I wanted all 350 words just for the story itself; in the past, it has been decreed that any words used for the title would have to count among the total.  In hindsight, I could have sacrificed a couple of those words without damaging anything.

Um, yes. Titles count towards the total, I thought that went without saying?   (ok, ok, I forgot to put that into the rules)

[Twirlly]

Like Red Wine

With sand caressed toes, they walked along the shore, and the autumn night air caused her hair to sway in a seductive rhythm, making his heart race. He had thought about this moment a million times and how perfect they would be together since the first time he saw her on campus freshman year, and now they were seniors.

Over the past week he planned tediously for this special evening, contemplating every possible situation of the night, and was determined for all to go smoothly. He still reveled at his idea to use his parent’s beach house, which he’d decided was the ideal place for him to execute his plans.

The moon glowed magically on her skin as they sat on the candle lit blanket that he placed prior to her arrival. He pulled a bottle of merlot, her favorite, from its cooler. As he prepared to serve her, he reached for the corkscrew that lay next to the bucket and lifted it against the cool sea breeze…

Following ten swift stabs, his hands began to shake and he dropped the coiled instrument now covered in her essence. He watched as her blood was drunk by the sand and absorbed, like the spilled wine, into the blanket. After a few moments, the edges of his mouth began to shift, and a malicious smile spread across his face.

He felt utter delight knowing that she would never be able to cause another person the pain she had inflicted upon him through her countless rejections of his affection for her. Although she would never know he knew that she only went out with him as a part of her sorority hazing, he knew he had done justice for many men that she had and was sure to have harmed.

[TwinMoon]

Last chance to enter!

[Dualnames]

ENTRY:

What's THE correct way to start a story? Is there a typical way to start a story? I don't think so. And even if there was a typical way, wouldn't that mean that all stories would start the same way? Some say that the above sentence is wrong, and some say it is right. Maybe if those people say it at the same exact time it will be perfect but for this moment it's wrong, but in the next moment it will be right. Those were John's words at the beach the last day of May, in an island that its name matters a little, and even if some consider it important, those 'some' are in proper numbers so few, that their opinion is considered an  not-so-important one. Anyway, John was a small taylor down in this not-so-important island and he had that little chit-chat about how books should start, if they should start in the first place, with his daughter Janine, who was trying to write something up, but couldn't store and express her ideas the typical writing way. She was feeling a little awkward about the fact, that she should restrain and express her inspiration, which she had none at the time being, but that's not the point, with limits. And above all the things she hated, and she could hate many things, even things that you can't possibly hate, was that feeling. So she tried to talk about it with her father , who despite being her father in the first place , could help her so little. But she was not aware of that fact. If she was, she wouldn't have started talking to him. So they talked in the beach, for hours and hours. Mostly talked about the beach, and not about her feeling. They talked about how the sun fells on the sea when it's diving to go get some sleep. How the birds feed themselves. And how gorgeous surfers try to show-off, resulting in injuries and bruises. And how rocks loved to have those surfers hug them once in a while. They talked about passing boats, but they both realised a little later on, that there were no passing boats around this not-so-important island, for quite a long time.


Author's note:
i think i've passed the limit a little bit. But reading the story will give you the point.

[Jack Sheehan]

Last chance to enter!

Hey why? I was intending to do something tommorow, and it's only the 22nd.

[TwinMoon]

The last two days were intended for voting. The 24th is when the voting was supposed to end. I'll admit that it's confusing since the title mentions it ends the 24th.

I'll extend it to saturday morning, ok?

[rock_chick]

Author's note:
i think i've passed the limit a little bit. But reading the story will give you the point.

It's 376 words, I use Microsoft Word to check word counts for these sort of things, since it's only a bit over the limit I'd be inclined to allow it but then that'd be unfair to other people who might have left out other things they would have loved to have put into their entries but followed the rules so even though I'm probably going to sound like a bitch I don't think this should be a valid entry, however since you're only over the limit by 26 words if TwinMoon agrees it's not valid than I think you could find some way of limiting it to 350 while still maintaining the main part of your story and having a real chance of winning.

I realise this is the second time I've mentioned that someone in this competition should have their entry invalidated for breaking the rules but I entered a short story competition for acclaim and money once and if I'd broke the rules I'd have been disqualified and not even got a chance to try again, then again my entry didn't get any prize but I will say from the little of the entrants writing I've read(I didn't want to know too much about what I was up against) I think lots of you guys have real writing talent!

[Jack Sheehan]

Check my original post in the first page for my story, looks like I just slipped in under the deadline. Cheers for the extension.

[Emerald]

How exactly does voting work? Is it up to the public, or the entrants, or some 'judges', or what?

I have a feeling there aren't many people with the patience and devotion to read every single entry, weigh their merits as a piece of creative writing and make a perfectly unbiased judgment.

Not mention that if the whole point of a 350 word limit is to encourage people to cut away the excess rhetoric we use and leave a glittering gem, having the public decide seems like an odd juxtaposition. The public are idiots -- the Da Vinci Code was one of the top-selling books of all time for chrissake...

[rock_chick]

How exactly does voting work? Is it up to the public, or the entrants, or some 'judges', or what?

I have a feeling there aren't many people with the patience and devotion to read every single entry, weigh their merits as a piece of creative writing and make a perfectly unbiased judgment.

Not mention that if the whole point of a 350 word limit is to encourage people to cut away the excess rhetoric we use and leave a glittering gem, having the public decide seems like an odd juxtaposition. The public are idiots -- the Da Vinci Code was one of the top-selling books of all time for chrissake...

Those idiots are the ones that make or break writer's careers, like it or not if you publish a novel your sales and books popularity are based a lot of the publics interest in it, not some bunch of so called experts, a book is written for an audience and that is the public, I'm not saying I agree with some of the public's favourite shows and such but it's reality. If you want to have a more real idea of whether an audience likes something you need to let them choose, it doesn't mean you agree with them. And then if not the public who should be considered qualified enough here to be a judge and why? However these issues need to be dealt with for this competition to be successful, how the voting system works is important regardless of how you feel it should be conducted so I'm not attacking you.

[Tuomas]

I think it's only fair to expect people who submit a story of their own to vote or at least read through the other stories too, especially if they wish to have their own story voted on. At least I would not wish to see posts like, "Oh, I didn't win. Why didn't anyone vote, lameasses" if you don't vote yourself. Though I'm not going to vote, I'm too busy at the moment, and I can't get fond of the forum layout stories, most of which seem to be done in 5 minutes, no offense intended of course.

Oh, I and I remember I once recorded something fun under the topic Beach if you want to hear

[TwinMoon]

I feel it's arrogant for me alone to decide which are the best, I prefer people to vote. Maybe I'm being too optimistic about this, we'll just have to see.

The DaVinci Code is popular because every chapter presents a new plot twist / surprise. People like thrillers. (By the way, people who say it's their favourite book ARE morons, since most of the facts presented in it are wrong.)

I don't agree with you Tuomas about the quality, I think there are a few genuinely well-written entries.

[TwinMoon]

VOTING'S ON!

Everyone gets two votes. Explain why you liked those entries.
Giving comments on other entries is encouraged

As a kickoff, I'd like to give my thoughts on the entries. I'll look mainly at structure, style and how well it holds the reader's attention. Spelling and grammar won't be commented upon too much since not everyone has English as their first language.
Every comment will consist of something positive followed by something negative.


The Beach
+ Switching between Tim's thoughts and descriptions of what's happening drives the story forward.
- Tim's attitude towards the girl is totally passive. I'd understand him better if he told her that breaking into a beachhouse wasn't such a good idea.

Backswash
+ The dialogs are very good; remarks like 'you work too hard' and 'how's Angelica' really make the characters come alive. The foreboding is good: Andrea hates the beach, there's a sharp wind, etc. all point towards the unfortunate ending.
- I don't like all those white lines between the dialogs.

PixelPerfect
+ "I'm sorry I didn't kiss you yesterday." This sounds realistic; of course that's what is most important at a moment like this.
Alternating between personal (Trai and An) and impersonal (the village) works very well.
- After the first line "It was a beautiful afternoon", if you give a long description and exaggerate how beautiful the afternoon is, the line "Then an airplane came" has much more impact.

Dark Waters
+ I like your style of writing: "endless eternity sculpted from liquid glass", words like "forlorn" and "marooned" really suit the dark romantic mood.
- If you described Andrew as a more desperate man, I'd understand his suicide more. He still dreams of rescue, and is sane enough to distinguish reality from illusion. Even when stranded on a deserted island, it's difficult to kill yourself.

Seychelles
+ Descriptions: Sound of waves, smell of sea salt, sound of ice cubes. These can invoke a lot in readers.
- The downbeat ending is unsatisfying, giving it's a humorous story. Maybe if there were more clues this guy is a slacker I'd feel less sorry for him.

Dark Adrenaline
+ The great sarcasm makes this so much fun to read. (At least, I hope it's sarcasm.) The style fits perfectly.
- The last sentence: "her mother's gratitude saved my life." which I don't understand.

Pure
+ Very strong writing (reminiscent of Dylan Thomas), Nancy was totally believable.
- Repeating the name Nancy got slightly annoying after a while. Maybe first person would suit this better.

rock_chick
+ The structure is very good. From perceptions to recollection to flashback and then to the harsh reality. Flows really natural.
- Using more paragraphs would make it easier to read. Examples of where I'd start a new paragraph would be after the lines:  "...filled with other things.",  "concentrating on riding a wave."  and  "woman to our place?"

Like Red Wine
+ The skipping of the actual deed works great, since your mind fills in the blank with more
horrific detail any description could. Also, this suggests the murder was done in a blind rage.
- Nothing really, except if you rephrase the last sentence as: "...her sorority hazing, he knew she
would never hurt a man again." it would be a more punchy ending.

Dualnames
(I feel I'm missing the point of your story, but I tried to give some criticism anyway.)

+ It has a unique and original style; I like how it moves fast through a lot of details.
- This story consists of unrelated facts: why is it necessary to mention Janine hates a lot of things? Why the long abstract talk about whether the opening sentence is wrong or right? Why did
they talk for hours about the beach? If you made things connect more it'd be a better story.

On The Beach
+ The characters of the three people - Isaac, Derrick and Barker - are clearly established, which is no easy task in 350 words.
- There's no plot twist, as a standalone story it's not very interesting.


My two votes go to:
"Pure" by Petteri
"Dark Adrenaline" by Candall



The top three entrants will be awarded the
“Order of the Big Blue Pencil” 

The first runner up will in addition receive the title
“Hero of the Big Blue Pencil”


and the winner will be awarded the title
“Champion of the Big Blue Pencil”


Oh, and btw: there are small, insignificant trophies which come with these grand, prestigious titles:
      

[Jack Sheehan]

I vote for 'Pure' and 'The Beach'.