NYC Flash Fiction Challenge: Round 3
I did not move past Round 3. In Round 3, the top 3 stories moved on to the final round 4. While I did not move past this round, there were 5 honorable mentions for each group, and within my grouping I did receive an honorable mention. (Although I think it is to note that I was the very last honorable mention – so 8th overall, I guess?)
In this particular round, the genre was fairy tale, the location was a row boat, and the object was a podium. I wasn’t sure how closely I stayed within the confines of a fairy tale, and I really felt the limits of 1000 words within this story so it is quite choppy. I do like some of the ideas for a fantasy setting, and have considered actually expanding upon the world I’ve potentially started to build here.
This was also another story shot out last minute, this time due to general busyness, laziness, and uncertainty at how to handle the tale, although the basic idea of the first scene was always there in my mind.
So here is my final entry for the NYC Flash Fiction challenge, that definitely needed many more words to be fleshed out: “The Stormlord’s Bride”
A Stormlord lived under their lake. When the sign presented itself, the summer solstice ended with a ceremony in which the Stormlord would choose his bride from amongst the young women of the surrounding villages. Denying him would bring calamity, hard winters and dry summers and death. Stormlords were often responsible for such natural phenomena, and their tempers were legendary – that the local Stormlord could be so easily appeased was actually considered a blessing.
The elders had seen the sign for the first time in many years. And Teayani was old enough to participate in the ceremony. Though she did not wish to marry, she did not think that she would be chosen. She donned the traditional raiment and set out in her rowboat. Around her, other boats dotted the surface of the lake, each carrying a girl. Teayani had spent much of her time on the lake and had no trouble pulling ahead of the others.
The center of the lake was marked by a stone podium raising out of the water. Teayani chose to stop a respectful distance away and shivered slightly as she looked at it. She had never seen the podium emerge from the water – it had never happened in her lifetime. Though dark from the water, it was unusually clean – no algae greened the rough stone, no tendrils of water plants hung from its edges. As night darkened the sky, other boats surrounded the podium. Teayani could hear chatter and a little laughter. She was not particularly close to anyone, so she kept away from the others.
The chatter and laughter all died as the priestess called for silence, leaving only the sound of oars sloshing water and boats bumping against each other. Teayani did not know her – she was from another village. Only the youngest priestess was required to be at the ceremony – priestesses took vows of celibacy and were exempt from the ritual, but one had to be present to lead. It became strangely quiet and still on the water – at the priestess’s direction, each girl lit the paper lantern she had brought. The priestess sang an old song in an old language and when she finished, she released her lantern. Other lanterns rose into the sky after. Teayani released her own, watching it float up and swirl and mingle with the others. The lanterns seemed to grow smaller. Teayani heard a sudden gasp from a nearby boat, and frowned as she realized why – the lanterns had actually changed into small lights. The lights began to move in tandem as they descended. The priestess was singing again.
Every girl present held her breath. They had all been told what to do, but had not been told how the choice would be made. As the lights danced amongst them, Teayani knew – whoever the lights landed on would be the Stormlord’s bride. She closed her eyes. The chosen was supposed to climb upon the stone podium and descend to her new husband in the depths. Teayani felt a dread settle in the pit of her stomach – through her closed lids, she could tell that the light was growing stronger around her. She felt flushed. When she opened her eyes, she was blinded by the light. It was as though every point had settled upon her and her boat.
Teayani grasped for her oars. The priestess cut her song short as she saw that Teayani was going the wrong way, shouted a warning instead. “You’ll doom us all!” Then you marry him, Teayani thought to herself, using all her strength to row away.
She couldn’t see through all the light, but she rowed, and soon the shouts and cries of the girls behind her fell away, the yelling of the priestess fell away, and the only sound was the sound of the lights – a buzz that dominated all her senses. She rowed and rowed and began to feel hopeless. She had rowed across this lake so many times before. She knew she should have made it to shore already, and yet… she continued to row.
The light faded, the buzzing stopped. Teayani blinked as her eyes readjusted. The first thing she noticed was that the water smelled wrong. Less like her familiar lake and more like… brine. She turned, trying to see land, but all around was only water – and nearby, a stone podium, thrust out amongst the waves.
Shaking her head, she rowed the boat away from the podium. After what seemed like almost an hour, her boat hit something, jostling her. Turning, she saw that it was the podium. Shivering from the cold sea wind, she pushed an oar against the podium, set out in another random direction. Time and time again, she came upon the podium, thrust out above the dark water, waiting for her. After a time, she leaned against the side of her boat and wept, letting her tears fall into the water.
A cold hand reached up and brushed at her cheek. Teayani gasped, staring down into gold, glittering eyes, pale skin, dark hair that blended with the sea. “Instead of marrying the Stormlord, you could join us,” a sweet voice rang out from the water. Teayani glanced at the podium, and then back at the water.
“Join you?” she croaked, her voice hoarse.
“All mermaids are would-be brides,” the voice responded, and the figure pulled closer – the beautiful features of a young woman became illuminated by the moonlight.
“But what about my village?” Teayani asked. “The Stormlord will punish them if I refuse him.”
“And yet, you were running,” the mermaid crooned. “Come with us. We’ll show you how to be free.” Teayani had heard the stories of mermaids before. She knew they wanted to drown her. But she didn’t see that she had a choice. She stood and turned in her boat, looking out across the waves, seeing more dark figures, more glittering eyes, all surrounding her – watching, waiting. She jumped.
She learned to breathe again.
The Judges’ comments:
WHAT THE JUDGES LIKED ABOUT YOUR STORY – {1908} I love the worldbuilding details you include hear, from the Stormlords to the lantern in the ceremony. I also love the image of Teayani rowing yet never reaching a destination. It feels like a wonderfully fantastical world. {1825} I really like the world-building here. The idea of appeasing the Stormlord through marriage is a unique concept for a fairy tale, but is similar enough to some myths to feel right for the genre. {1939} This is beautifully written, and I completely empathize with Teayani. I like that the ending implies hope, that the mermaids do not destroy her, but make her one of their own. WHAT THE JUDGES FEEL NEEDS WORK – {1908} I’d be interested to hear more about the mermaids and the darker parts of the water earlier on. Even just another earlier mention of the mermaids and/or previous would-be brides would help develop this a lot and make the stakes feel higher. {1825} I don’t get the ending. What does it mean that she learned how to breathe again? Does that mean that she died, or did she really become a mermaid? {1939} I know the writer is working with a word limit, of course, but I would have liked to have seen the Stormlord actually make an appearance, so that I could gauge what Teayani is actually running from.
I don’t know how quickly I’ll get back to this particular world, but of the three stories I did for this challenge, this is the one I want to build on the most in the future. We’ll see.
NYC Flash Fiction Challenge: Round 2
For Round 1, I placed 9th overall in my particular group. For Round 2, I placed 5th within the same group. This gave me enough points to advance to round 3.
Round 2’s challenge was a little easier for me. The genre was Action/Adventure, the location was a ship’s cabin, and it had to feature a black and white photograph. This particular assignment occurred the weekend of September 13th. As it turned out, I had made plans with a friend already that took me out of town that weekend, so I spent the time thinking over my assignment and then shot it out over the course of 2 or 3 hours immediately after a day spent driving home and shortly before the deadline. This one did not have the benefit of another pair of eyes, but I feel more at home with Action/Adventure, and I am quite pleased with out it turned out. I might strengthen it at some point in the future because I do like it, but not anytime soon.
So, here is my round 2 story: “The Color of Her Eyes”
Arnesh carefully ran a finger down the photo, tracing the edge of her grey toned likeness. He had trouble remembering the color of her eyes. How many years had it been since they had parted ways? He had heard the tales of her feats and conquests and had assumed she had forgotten him. When her rivals had captured him, he had doubted she would come. But when the first cannon blast had jolted the ship, he felt that it was her, felt her bones call to his bones like an old familiar song.
Another blast – the ship shook again, and he could hear the quick steps of his captors approaching. His heart leapt – it was confirmation. She had come. He folded the picture back up and slipped it into the pocket of his shirt, being careful to button it shut. He had no intention of losing his keepsake, even if he hoped to see the original soon.
He stood slowly, feeling well past his prime, but he had no intention of being used as leverage, not against her, not when she had actually come. He spat at the thought as the door burst open and three men bustled in, one of them holding rope. They paused momentarily at the look on his face, which had changed him so much from the resigned old man they had hustled on board and shoved into this small cramped cabin a week ago.
Arnesh took the moment of their hesitation to move forward, snatching the rope away and twisting it around his hands. The one that recovered more quickly than his companions slipped his cutlass from the scabbard and lunged forward, and Arnesh, anticipating the move, grabbed the blade with his rope-protected hands and twisted the sword from his attacker’s grip. Letting the shredded pieces of rope fall to the ground, he flipped the cutlass to grip the handle and slashed up at his attacker, who cried out in pain and fell back, clutching at his abdomen to hold it closed. In the same fluid movement Arnesh shifted to block the blade of his next attacker.
The ring of metal on metal and the drawing of first blood seemed to spook the three. They stared at him in wide-eyed awe, and he felt a flash of anger course through him. They had taken him captive knowing what his relationship was to the Jewel of the Seas – had they not heard of the times he had fought side by side with her? Furious, he parried the blade aside and pushed his cutlass into his opponent’s neck, feeling some satisfaction in the gurgling and gush of red and the surprised gasping cry of the man he had slashed first who was still sitting in the corner, clasping his gut.
He realized the third captor had retreated at some point when he heard the returning thumps of many running feet. He pushed his dead opponent off his blade with his foot, and with an absentminded flick of his wrist, ended the life of the man whose cutlass he had taken. He momentarily considered arming himself with the second cutlass, but the space in the cabin they had kept him in was too small. He would not be able to move as freely with two blades in his hand.
He moved himself closer to the door – if they wanted him, they’d have to come at him one at a time. He had no intention of making it easy. He heard the tell-tale signs, felt the shudder of the ship being boarded, of men fighting and dying above, and heartened, he met the first of the attackers attempting to enter the cabin. All he had to do was last in this battle, and then he’d be able to see and remember – the color of her eyes.
Cordelia jumped first, fearless, onto the enemy ship, as any good Captain should, and nearly a hundred courageous souls shouted and followed her lead. She trusted that they would handle the fighting up top and bee-lined below decks, hoping she wasn’t too late. She heard the clang of swords ahead, felt her bones sing with the thrill – Arnesh was here! Arnesh was alive! Arnesh was fighting! She felt like laughing, certain the fools rued the day they had decided to use Arnesh as bait. A small crowd stood ahead, all bustling against each other to get in through a door. Cordelia couldn’t see past their bodies, but she knew what to do – she crowed, and brandishing her blade she slammed her sword forward into the mass of bodies ahead of her. Surprised cries of pain rose out from the small crowd, and now men at the back were turning to face her instead.
She took two measured steps back and carefully, methodically cut down each man in front of her, focused only on their blades, the movements and shifts of their bodies, the flash of their eyes – every sign that told her where they intended to strike. She had always been good at losing herself in her battles like this. She heard the rush of her own heart in her ears and felt herself grinning ear from ear as she parried and struck, blocked and slashed.
And then she was face to face with an opponent that seemed somehow familiar in his litheness and she moved to strike – and was shocked when he quite easily disarmed her. “You’re in quite the frenzy,” he growled at her, and she blinked and reassessed, recognizing the line of his jaw, the crinkles around his eyes that seemed deeper set now. He tossed his blood covered cutlass aside, and she twirled, looking at the bodies arrayed around them, making sure it was safe, before throwing herself into his open arms.
“Arnesh!”
He pulled her back, stared into her face long and hard a moment, and smiled. Her eyes were the deep green of a calm sea. And they felt like home.
The Judge’s comments:
WHAT THE JUDGES LIKED ABOUT YOUR STORY – {1921} All pirate queens/captains should be named “Cordelia,” something about it just sounds perfect for that role. Besides that, I thought this was a thrilling tale, and you did a great job at drumming up action throughout, and using the prompts judiciously. My favorite details included the way that the two leads thought so fondly of each other – sometimes the best action is spurred by old love and romance. {1927} A well-told, action-packed story. It’s rich in description and vibrant action. The prose is dense, but the accessible. The author does a great job taking in to account all the senses, especially sound. The happy ending works well without being to saccharine. {1774} What an enjoyable, adventurous frolic on the high seas! You established the depth of the connection between the two characters quickly and believably. Your rich descriptions propelled the action wonderfully, especially the fight specifics. Great pirate action and romance. WHAT THE JUDGES FEEL NEEDS WORK – {1921} This story needs a little editing love. There were a good many sentences that were clunky, and felt like that had been banged out in a first draft and sent to print under a deadline (which very well may be the case – I’m not one to judge) and I think that you are 90% of the way there. To give a morbid metaphor: your story not only has good bones, but a great musculature and circulatory system on top to boot, all it needs is a little skin to wrap around it and get going. {1927} There needs to be a few more obstacles/dangers in each of their quests. Yes, they are fighting, but it never feels like they will not succeed. I was also unclear of who exactly the protagonist was here. I may have missed some between the lines information, but some more hints about that would have been helpful. The POV change is good, but think it would be better if it were broken up a little more and we see what each is going through up until the point their united. {1774} Describe how/why Arnesh was taken. If he was, in fact, being used as bait, what did his captors seek from Cordelia? Share more about the couple’s history together.
When debating how to go about it, I considered a less romantic route and maybe more of a touching family reunion between a daughter and her father following some of the same basic idea of a dramatic fight scene in a ship’s cabin. I was a bit worried that the ending was a bit too Diabetes inducing, so I was glad to see that it wasn’t eye rolling to the judges at least. I also found it amusing that they could tell how rushed the work was.
NYC Flash Fiction Challenge: Round 1
This year I decided to give myself a bit of a challenge in writing and took part in this contest. I did not make it to the final round, which is about what I expected. BUT: I got farther than I had thought I would, so I figured I would share the stories I did for each round. While I quite enjoyed the process, I will probably (probably? maybe?) not enter again this year, as there is an entrance fee to consider as well. However, I am planning to enter again come 2021.
As a bit of explanation: The NYC Flash Fiction Challenge gives you 48 hours to write a piece not exceeding 1000 words and fitting within an assigned genre, location, and item. The story has to remain within the constraints of the genre, mostly take place at the location in question, and have the item appear at least once. In my defense, the stories I will post are fairly raw – I am posting what I submitted for the contest without any additional edits to improve the narrative, and afterwards I will post the judge’s comments.
In the first round, which occurred the weekend of July 12th, the assignment I ended up with was a thriller set on a commuter train, and an ethernet cable had to make an appearance. Thrillers are not really a genre I work with much, so I was a bit concerned over whether I was doing it right. I did spend the most time working on this story, but I liked it the least, and I don’t imagine that I will be revisiting it to add any further editing or additions. This was also the only story that got a read through from a friend who offered some advice and critiques, so it has a bit more “polish” compared to the other stories. I do remember that when I initially received the assignment, I considered a techno thriller that hinged on the use of an ethernet cable, but couldn’t figure out how I would make that work beyond the bare idea of it.
So instead I went the easy route and decided to murder people, because that’s what quitters do. So below is “Broken Code.”
West’s scalp crawled and his heart beat in his throat as he listened to the details of the planned event. Raking his hair back with his fingers was a telltale nervous habit that his ex-girlfriend had always teased him about, and he fought the urge to make the sudden movement now. He committed to fiddling with his phone with his earbuds in, but the sound was off and he could hear the bone-chilling conversation of the man and the woman in front of him quite easily. He had been listening to them for over a week now – in fact, he had started immediately after his break up. That very next morning he had chosen a seat near theirs, mistaking them for a couple. He’d wanted some proof in the world that relationships still worked and had hoped their conversation would inspire him. Instead, he had been completely baffled.
He had puzzled over it that morning and finally figured that they were talking in a code. He had spent the next week sitting near them attempting to decipher this code. He wrote down repeated phrases as soon as he sat at his desk and puzzled over their meanings throughout the day, a more interesting task than unjamming the printer or restoring accidentally deleted files. He could remember the excited thrill of being “in” on something when he finally cracked the code– to understanding a thing he wasn’t meant to understand.
But now that he could understand, he wished he didn’t. He knew instantly why they would choose to speak in code. What they were planning was… monstrous. Horrible. How many lives would be destroyed? He couldn’t allow it to happen.
West followed them off the train. They parted ways at the station, taking different bus routes. After a moment’s hesitation, he followed the woman. He settled into the back of the bus, watching her blonde hair sway with the motion of the vehicle. He shifted his bag on his shoulder and wondered what he had that he could use as a weapon.
He got off the bus at the same time she did and followed her into a tall building. He felt a surge of panic, wondering if he would be stopped if he continued to follow her, but she veered down a side hall to enter a restroom. West, seeing the hall was relatively deserted, hesitantly pushed the door open and called in, “Hello?” and after a moment’s inspiration added, “It’s the janitor!”
“There’s someone in here!” the woman’s voice called back.
“Just the one?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’ll be quick,” she promised. He echoed the thought mentally as he pulled an ethernet cord out of his bag and pushed into the restroom. She looked at his reflection in the mirror as he entered. Her mouth opened, but before she could let out a sound, he dropped his bag and looped the cord around her neck, tightening it. She stared at him with bulging eyes and pushed back against him with a strength that almost surprised him. The world went red around the edges of his vision – he hated hurting anyone, it felt especially wrong to push all of his strength into strangling a woman, but he knew – he knew something had to be done about this particular woman. Before she could ruin everything.
“I’m sorry,” he said, staring straight into her large brown eyes.
When he finished and she lay limp on the floor, he stumbled into one of the stalls and puked. But he knew he couldn’t stay long – it was a miracle no one had entered yet. He flushed the toilet, grabbed his bag, and found a different exit from the building as quick as he could. As he started jogging down the sidewalk, he heard sirens in the distance. He didn’t go to work that day.
The next morning, the man was on the train as usual, a frown creasing his features as he glanced around, looking for his partner. West settled into the chair behind him, but didn’t bother with his usual faked distractions. He felt like a bundle of tensed nerves. As the train started pulling forward, the man pulled his cellphone out and made a call. West waited and listened. “Hi, it’s Jim. Is Sara….” he paused as though he had been cut off mid-sentence. Whoever was on the other end was telling him what had happened. West listened in suspense, almost as though he expected the man to turn around and stare straight into his eyes in accusation. Instead, the man said, “Oh my god… why didn’t anyone call me?” There was some defense made by the person on the other side, which Jim cut off angrily with, “We were trying to work it out, so I damn well consider it my business!”
West closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. He pulled the ethernet cord out of his bag and wrapped each end around a fist – it was time to finish the job.
“He says he overheard them plotting a terrorist act. He won’t even say what they were planning or why,” the detective sighed in frustration and took a quick sip of his coffee before pulling a face – it was cold. He hated cold coffee.
“Anything unusual about the couple at all?”
“No. They were in the middle of a divorce, from what I understand. The male victim had been trying to talk the female victim out of it for the past few months.”
“Wonder what made the guy target them in particular?”
The detective shrugged and glanced down at the evidence bag on his desk. It contained the notebook with the deciphered code the suspect had willingly provided – his proof. “This isn’t going to work,” repeated itself on the first page, ending with, “Who gets the kids?”
“I don’t know what this world is coming to,” the detective sighed, and went to dump the cold coffee down the sink.
The judges comments were as follows:
WHAT THE JUDGES LIKED ABOUT YOUR STORY – {1941} The writing was clear, precise, and engaging. I especially loved the scene in the bathroom where he killed the woman. It was very vivid. {1903} I was drawn in and invested in what was going to happen. Engaging read. {1739} The intrigue carried very nicely. WHAT THE JUDGES FEEL NEEDS WORK – {1941} I thought the ending was a bit predictable. It seemed obvious that West’s version of reality was distorted. Is there a way to further convince readers that West is in fact committing a courageous act? {1903} I think a different ending would have more payoff. I was hoping the “code” he’d heard was the couple planning their huge wedding. {1739} Oddly, the payoff with the police was a bit off somehow. If he deciphered a code that didn’t actually exist, then it almost becomes necessary to know what he thinks he has discovered. It would also help to know what pushed him so far over the edge. His breakup isn’t characterized as being particularly traumatic.
The ending was especially rough – I didn’t want to quite end it at the last murder and thought something needed to tie things up or contextualize things, but obviously did a kind of ham-fisted half-hearted attempt at that, and it was quite easy to see that that payoff did not work well with the judges either. But I was happy that even with a genre I wasn’t comfortable with, the readers still found my writing engaging.
450
Blue.
mehryment 