Once again I fear a number of you forgot to eat before writing (although–true confession–I’ve been known to snack on my own sweet children from time to time). What a hilarious mix of the creepy and comedic, with a number of truly stirring tales to boot. THANKS, all, for another memorable week of seriously amazing writing.
Don’t forget all stories remain eligible for snacking on by Monday’s Flash Points feature, right here.
Judge Beth Peterson says, First, let me say again that I judge stories “blind”; I transfer them, sans identifiers, into a word processing document to go over and do my judging. In that way I avoid any unconscious pitfalls of favoritism (’cause I like a lot of you writers who I see here quite often!).
Karl A Russell, “September’s Song.” A little tightening up might have made this piece truly soar! Even so, the capture of Marlee as the distant, untouched-by-it-all, deliverer of fate was well done.
2nd RUNNER UP
Allison K. Garcia, “Babies for Sale.” Loved this! And that last piece of dialog pulled it together and wrapped it in a bow!
1st RUNNER UP
Ursula Andromeda, “Nurse Blucher Banned from Nursery.” I have laughed every time I’ve read this, which has been several times. You caught the dialect well and the characterization shown through the dialog (as well as the choice of names, ROFL) was masterful. Well done!!
DRAGON WINNER IS….
for “Cheap Labour.” What absolute fun, to hear these babies talking among themselves, like a group adult laborers. Lovely dialog that makes their voices sound so clearly in my mind, and subtle imagery that evokes further depth, like the cart (which immediately drew me an image of an old horse-drawn cart complete with plodding pony) …. And I must say, the doorstops and Pete who can’t hold his drink are hilarious.
Congratulations, Mike! Here are your Winner’s Page, a glorious dragon eBadge (below), and your winning Tale. Please contact me asap (here) with your email address so I can interview you for Wednesday’s Sixty Seconds feature.
“Any idea where we’re going, Billy?”
“Not really, mate. Pete here reckons we’re being sold off to the local mill owner, cheap labour. Says he heard the master talking to matron last night. Seems we’ll be used as doorstops to start with, until we get a bit bigger.”
“Could’ve been worse, Billy. I heard the last basket load never even made it to the village. Fell off the back of the cart, killed them all, poor buggers. Pete’s quiet; is he alright?”
“He’s fine; just can’t take his drink. A couple of bottles and he’s out for the count.”