Total Write Off - THE FINAL!

pickarooney

So here it is folks, after 4 months and 5 rounds of high-quality fast-action prose battling, we have reached the final round of Total Write Off.

From the original sixteen, two contestants remain, known only by their code names of ORANGE and CYAN. For the final, we gave them a choice between the themes of Chaos and Order and as you can see we have one story on each.

Voting will open today and run until the end of August. As far as possible, please try and give some feedback for the story you vote for and the one you don't vote for.

For anyone who hasn't been following the competition so far, you can read a little more about it here and catch up on the previous rounds by searching for Total Write Off threads. Anyone can vote on this, regardless of whether you've voted before or even if this is your first visit to boards.ie

Voting is by poll, with invisible results and open for 12 days. As far as possible, please try and give some feedback for the story you vote for and the one you don't vote for.

Best of luck to ORANGE and CYAN.

pickarooney

Like Jesus in green jeans, the musician on the stage sang his song of bruises and horror. In front of him, a sea of ten thousand faces rolled and swayed like a single organism. Deep within this writhing mass was one small rapt face, indistinguishable at a distance from any other. Up close, the pretty features were sweaty and flushed, the oval of her face lit by glistening eyes. Her arms waved above her head and she howled along with the thrash of the music. She was carried by the beat and the tide of the crowd. And she loved every moment. Her name was Jenny. She was fifteen years old.

Her parents had no idea where she was. If they had known, they would have stopped her coming. Too young, too small, too fragile, they said. They said it about everything Jenny wanted to do. She had been a premature baby, and her mother and father still saw that delicate infant instead of the girl she had become. Jenny fought their control, disagreed with them, argued, and lied. She had stolen the money she needed from her Dad’s desk, and now she was here, and that was all she cared about.

The song changed to one she did not know, the beat became heavier, the crowd crushed her. Jenny had lost track of her friends some time ago, they had all been jumping and screaming, lost in the music, occasionally checking on each other. Till during a lull in the noise Jenny had looked around, and somehow, Bella and Suz were gone. She couldn’t see them anywhere in the faces that surrounded her. Although she did not know it, she had also lost her phone, gone in the hands of a pickpocket while she queued for a portaloo. But Jenny was blissfully ignorant, and she was having the time of her life. Her friends would turn up, eventually. She didn’t care.

She took a swig from the plastic bottle in her hand. Sweet and fizzy, the vodka cocktail dribbled down her chin. Her lips and face were sticky with it, and her brain was drifting under its influence. Elated and numb, Jenny didn’t care that the faces around her were strangers. She loved them all. They were all her friends.

The music eased again, changing to a slower, melodic chant. The crowd sang along and Jenny swayed against the bodies around her. She closed her eyes and her head spun.

‘Hi Beautiful’

She opened her eyes slowly, and smiled at the man who had spoken.

‘Hallooo’ The word came out unsteadily, her mouth felt wobbly and strange.

‘Want another drink?’ He held up his two hands. Both held plastic bottles of lager.

‘Sure.’ She grabbed one of the bottles and beer sloshed over her hand. She laughed.

‘Clumsy me.’

‘Yeah, clumsy you.’ The man smiled at her. He looked nice, older and mature and exotically foreign. He had stubble on his chin, and floppy dark hair. He wore an earring, and had a small scar across his brow. His crooked teeth showed when he smiled. The crowd surged again and she fell against his chest, her face pressed against the damp heat of his shirt.

‘You smell nice’

‘Do I? Thank you. You’re very pretty.’ His arm crept around her back as he spoke. His fingers touched the clammy skin beneath the edge of her tee-shirt.

‘What?’ She shouted over the clang of guitars that had drowned out his voice.

‘I said you’re very pretty!’ He was shouting now, his mouth close to her ear. She could feel his breath. She mirrored his movement, stretched her arms around his waist, and grinned up at him. They rocked to the song. She swigged her beer. It didn’t taste like the fizzy orange drink. It was bitter and strong, but the man laughed at her screwed up face, so she laughed back and raised the bottle again.

She felt lazy and safe, and shut her eyes again. It felt very nice to hold onto this man, and he didn’t seem to mind. He smelled of hot skin and aftershave. His hands wandered up and down her back and over the rear of her shorts, and it felt nice, it was soothing. The music still pounded around her and the crowd bumped and pushed, but she felt like she was cocooned in a calm space. She rocked and swayed and pressed her body into his and the concert and the sounds and the whole world became muffled and indistinct. His lips brushed against her hair, her cheek; it made her skin tingle. They stumbled and were buffeted by elbows and bodies. Jenny began to feel a little seasick, the beer rolled in her stomach. Her legs were becoming bendy and weak, and every time the mass of people lurched, she felt like she was in a lift that dropped ten floors. She leaned more into his body, and allowed herself to be held upright by this man whose name she didn’t know. Slowly, his arm looped under hers, he held her tightly by the waist, and turned her away from the lights of the stage. She stumbled as the ground moved under her feet. She was unaware of walking, just lifted her feet to follow the changing surface beneath her, only aware of the sensation of unsteadily treading on mud and rubbish and what might have been a person. She dropped the sickly beer bottle, and felt herself grow more limp in the man’s arms. He moved with her back through the throng to where the crowd thinned out, and a green EXIT sign showed. Jenny’s muddled mind imagined she was on the deck of a ship as the air around her cooled and the lights faded; the ground rocked beneath her feet. Her eyes misbehaved in her head, making the scene around her judder like a badly edited video. She felt vaguely like that time they had put her under to take her tonsils out, woozy and sick.

She suddenly didn’t want to walk anymore. She wanted to sit down. She pushed the man away.

‘Where are we going?’ His face swam in and out of focus.

‘Just getting you some air, darling, that’s all. I know somewhere you can sit down. We can chill out, look at the stars, have a chat’.

‘Is it outside? I’ve got to stay here to find my friends.’ She accidentally bit her tongue as she spoke and her body pitched around like a sail in the wind. He reached for her arm and steadied her.

‘They’ve left already. I’ll help you find them’.

Jenny was confused. That wasn’t what her friends had agreed. She looked around at hundreds of people pushing past her in the darkness but all their faces looked the same. This vague, smiling man was the only anchor she had. She took his hand and allowed herself to be led through the exit.

*

The woman had a heart tattooed on her bosom. It showed beneath the neckline of her blouse. Her faced was deeply lined and traced by years spent in sunshine, and she smelled sour, like damp clothes. She examined Jenny’s fingers, her teeth, her eyes. Prodded and pushed her body like a cabbage she would either buy, or discard. She grunted guttural words Jenny could not understand. Eventually finished, she nodded, gruffly uttered some final words, and left the room.

Jenny sat on the side of the bed, and shivered. A girl who sat on the other side of the room turned from the window.

‘Otkuda ty?’

Jenny didn’t reply. Just hugged her knees to her chest and bit her lip. She was trying not to cry.

‘Where air you from?’ The girl tried again, in heavily accented English.

Jenny looked up, and blinked, allowing a drip of a tear to roll down one cheek.

‘Somerset’

‘Sewmerset? Eenglish? Ah. Loong way.’ The girl turned back to the window, her interest in Jenny lost or put off by the tears.

The room Jenny was in was stark and industrial. She couldn’t remember getting here. Events of the last week came to mind, including parts she wished she could forget. Flashbacks came of bitter, salty pills pushed down her throat, washed down with warm beer. Of groping hands and leering faces. The sharp pain of a needle in her arm. She remembered being slapped, many, many times. Falling and cutting her hands, too. She looked at her palms, still grazed and sore. She remembered other things, and she shook her head and curled her knees up and refused to allow those painful images to come. Another tear splashed onto her skin. Just days had passed, but she felt a million years older.

Outside the room, voices rose and fell, footsteps echoed up and down the corridor. Jenny shrank smaller in her fear, ready to jump and run and try to hide if anyone came in. Especially if a man came in. Bile rose in her throat and she ran to the sink. She retched but nothing came. She clung to the cold porcelain as a cold shaking sweat took hold of her body. All strength gone, she slumped to the floor and curled into a shivering, sobbing ball.


Sleep had come at some point. Jenny was back in the bed, under the thin sheet. She didn’t care how she had got there; she was just glad the shaking had stopped, and that the place she was in was now quiet and dark. She felt strangely calm, then realised they must have given her something. She rubbed her arm, seeking a telltale sting. In the bed next to her, the foreign girl mumbled in her sleep. The words were indecipherable, but it sounded to Jenny like pleading. She bit at the edges of her fingernails and watched the window for the first signs of daylight.

The handsome man at the concert had led her away that night like a smooth Pied Piper. She wished with a pain that was raw, that she could return to that moment and change what she had done. He had called her beautiful, held her hand, and soothed her confused, drunk mind with soft words. She had been charmed. She had gone with him without thinking. But he hadn’t helped her to find her friends. He had never intended to. She winced at the memory. He had led her away from the lights and safety into the dark and she had followed like and eager, willing puppy. When they had reached the gravel car park, and she had slumped against a car and whined that she was tired, he had pulled her, more roughly now, to a darkened row of cars where no lights shone. That was when Jenny’s addled mind finally grasped the danger of her situation. She was no longer in a safe, brightly lit place with a crowd of people. She was alone, and she had no clue who this man was, or what he wanted. But once he punched her face that first time, she knew. When she fell to the ground and he pulled her up by her hair, she had no doubt. He had ripped her clothes and she could not stop him. At barely eight stone, she had no defences. Her mother had been right. She was too small, too fragile, and she had been far, far too stupid.

Even when he had hurt her so badly she wanted to die, he would not kill her. Even when she thought he was done with her and it was over, he would not let her go. He had passed what he left of her on to another man, who had hidden her in a haulage truck and brought her here. For what new purpose, Jenny refused to contemplate. She laid on the hard bed, pulled herself into a tight, foetal ball, and rocked quietly to stop thinking about that. It amazed her that after everything, her heart still thumped in her chest. After all the beatings and pain and drugging, her blood kept circulating, keeping her alive. That no matter how badly she wanted to give up, life refused to let go of her. That rhythm, that order, remained. That man had not killed her body, but he had murdered the person she used to be. That other girl could not bear to keep living with what he had done - what she had let him do - and she was gone. Without sound or whimper, Jenny slowly rocked her body as she snuffed away the last embers of that young spirit from her heart.

Her soulless eyes gazed at the woman who came into the room early that morning. Jenny stared at her with the disinterested air of the damned. She didn’t care anymore. You can’t kill what is already dead.

The woman sat on the edge of the bed, and the smell of her perfume wafted to Jenny’s nose. It was a clean, fresh smell, like laundry. The smell was a memory; it smelled like home. But no nostalgic tears came. She shrugged away from this woman, who looked kind, but whose smiling face could not be trusted.

‘Jennifer, do you remember where you are?’ She reached her hand across the bedcovers as she spoke. Shiny, manicured nails. Jenny shrank away even more.

‘This is the Gruenstadt Clinic. You were brought here two nights ago, with Stephanie.’ She gestured to the girl in the other bed. ‘By the police. Can you remember?’

A vague blurred memory of blue lights and shouting came to mind, but it was patchy, like a fading dream.

‘You’re safe here, Jennifer. We caught the people who did this to you. They cannot hurt you again. I came to tell you your parents are on the way. The police still need to interview you, but that can wait till you are feeling stronger, okay?’

Jenny nodded. The lady didn’t understand. Those men were still hurting her. They would never stop. But she needed to make the woman go away. She did not want to see her parents, could not let them see what she now was, a damaged and broken thing, bruises covering most of her body, far darker wounds inside her mind. The shining blotches on her skin made her think of a particular song. A song by a Scotsman, with words about bruises and horror. She remembered the last place she heard it, a lifetime ago. When she had still believed in love and kindness and pretty things. Before the chaos of her bad decisions had sucked her life into a maelstrom.

Jenny watched the elegant woman leave, her heels clicking on the linoleum floor. She watched the closed door long after the lady was gone. The room was quiet and peaceful, her companion still slept. Outwardly, Jenny seemed calm. The rocking had stilled to an almost imperceptible tremor. But inside her stomach, butterflies fluttered. Inside her mind, a storm raged.

pickarooney

Oscar grabbed a fistful of his breakfast and jammed it into his mouth. Burbling, he slapped his hand down on the tray of the high chair, smearing it with porridge. I glanced at Father out of the corner of my eye. He hadn't seemed to notice. Oscar laughed and tipped his bowl. Father looked over the top of his paper as the bowl started to wobble dangerously close to the edge of the table. Beside me, Frank froze, watching. I looked at Mother, urging her with my mind to reach over, to catch the bowl before it fell. But she was too busy cutting her food into tiny pieces. All of her attention focused firmly on her plate. Oscar's bowl teetered for an age. Just when I thought it might come to a stop he slammed a pudgy hand down on the edge of it. The bowl sailed into the air, sending globs of porridge onto Frank's hair. Oscar laughed loudly.

I looked at Father. He lowered his paper. Folded it neatly. Placed it on the table beside his plate.

"Enid," he said. "The child needs to learn some manners." Mother nodded and rose to clean up the mess. Father pushed his plate away and stood up. "I'll be in the study." he said looking at me and Frank. "I don't need to tell you." We shook our heads. He left the room and Frank leaned back in his chair, breathing out. I took a piece of bacon from my plate and began to chew it. "He can't help it." I said, between mouthfuls. "He's only a baby." Oscar was sucking the last bits of porridge off his hand, his other one stretching out, trying to reach the bottle of milk in front of Frank. Mother dried her hands and began to pick bits of the mess out of Frank's hair. "We all need manners Robert." she said. "You can never be too young to learn them." Oscar leaned forward, when he still couldn't reach the bottle he took his hand out of his mouth and slapped it on the table. "He needs to learn to be quiet." said Frank. Mother made a reproachful noise. Still reaching, Oscar let out a whine. With a scrape the bottle began to move across the table. Frank sat upright. Oscar waggled his fingers. The bottle moved closer to him and with a jerk, tipped over, spilling milk all over the table.

"No." said Frank as Oscar splashed his hands in the spilled milk. "No no no." I looked from Oscar to Mother. She had stopped picking at Frank's hair and stood very still, looking out the window. "Mother?" I said. She came to and brought her hands together, clasping her fingers around each other tightly. "Hmm?" she said. "Mother." I said. "Oscar." She turned to me, and then to the baby. "Oh heavens." she said. "Look at you sweetheart. We'd better get you cleaned up." She lifted him from his high chair, and carried him, complaining from the kitchen.

Frank sat shaking his head. I drummed my fingers on the table. I had been so sure it wouldn't happen, not again. "What are we going to do?" I said. Frank still shook his head. "Nothing," he said. "Nothing happened, the bottle fell." He drew his thumb towards his mouth and began to chew at the nail.

Crosslegged on the playroom floor I reached out and took the soggy puzzle piece from Oscar's hand. Behind me, Frank stood pulling nervously on his sock. Oscar reached for my hand but I held it away from him. "Take it." I said. He looked from me, to my hand, confused. "You're encouraging him." said Frank. "I want to be sure." I said. I put my left hand on Oscar's chest, pinning him to the couch. "Come on." I said, waving the puzzle piece. "Come on, take it." Oscar stared at it. I felt it begin to vibrate as it fought against the grip of my fingers. I let it rest in my palm and watched as it flew up and into Oscars grasp. He gripped it with both hands and looked at me suspiciously. "Christ." I said, looking at the floor. I could hear Frank rocking back and forth behind me as Oscar shoved his prize into his mouth, coating it with drool.

"What do we do?" said Frank, pulling on an earlobe. I shook my head. "We have to make him stop." he said. "We can't let Father find out." Instinctively I looked up at the door, as if Father would suddenly appear. But he was on the other side of the house, immersed in his work. "Maybe..." said Frank. "Maybe Mother?"

"Sweetheart," said Mother. "Don't be silly." She hadn't even looked up from the weeding. I stood in the sun with Frank fidgeting beside me. "Its not silly." I said. "You know I'm not making it up. You know what happens..." The sun hat swivelled round and she looked up at us. "Things like that can't happen." she said, with steel in her voice. "This isn't one of your Father's books. Things like that don't happen in the real world." "You're lying." said Frank, in a voice thick with tears. "You know you're lying, its happening again." He took a couple of deep breaths and rubbed a fist angrily over his eyes. Mother watched him coldly until he controlled himself. When he looked at her again she spoke. "Go to your room." He began to protest. "Go to your room or I'll tell your Father." Frank turned and stomped into the house. Mother turned her attention to me. "I don't know what to do." I said quietly. She waited a moment. "There are lots of things for a boy your age to do on a day like this." She turned back to the flower bed. "Just don't make any noise. You don't want to disturb your Father."

Frank and I sat on our beds, facing each other. He was still trying to stop himself from crying. Every now and again he'd take a breath and give a little shudder. "We could train him." I said. "Like a dog?" he asked. "Yes. Like a dog. If he does something he's not supposed to then we, I don't know, we pinch him." Frank folded his arms around himself and shook his head. "I don't think that would work. Babies aren't like dogs." "Why not?" I said. "If I punched you every time you sucked your thumb you'd soon learn not to do it." He thought about that. "Well I'm going to try." I said, standing up. I stopped at the door and looked back at him. "I'm probably not supposed to leave the room." he said, looking away.

Oscar was supposed to be taking his afternoon nap, but when I reached the nursery door I could hear him gurgling. I opened the door quietly and slipped inside. Lying on his back, feet in the air, he turned his head and smiled. He smiled at me a lot, with his big toothless mouth. Whenever he did I'd think "Maybe this time, maybe this one will be different." I sat on the floor beside his crib and put my hand on one of the bars. "Hey." I whispered as he grabbed a foot and put it into his mouth. "Hey, we're going to figure this out. We're going to make sure you're ok." I reached through the bars and picked up bear. On seeing it move, Oscar freed his foot and rolled over onto his stomach, reaching for bear with one hand. I pulled bear through the bars and held him close to my chest. Oscar gurgled and pulled himself closer to the bars, pushing a fat little arm through them, grasping. I shook my head as his fingers began to move. In my arms I felt bear move, felt him pull away. I let him go, watched him float towards the crib. Oscar took hold of him and wrangled him back inside the bars. I leaned forward and put my hand out, ready to deliver the pinch. He clasped bear close to his face and smiled at me.

I couldn't do it.

Father finished a first draft that day and was in a good mood at dinner. "They'll love this one." he said. "I can imagine the letters the children will send me when they read this one." He took a drink of wine and closed his eyes. Mother smiled at him. "That's marvelous dear." she said. He opened his eyes and looked at her. She looked away. He put his glass on the table and rested his fingers on the stem. "Its an impossible feeling to describe. You wouldn't understand. None of you would." Frank pushed his potatoes around on his plate. I had barely touched mine. "The letters." he said, fixing his gaze on us. "Do you know how many I get?" I shook my head. "Thousands. They send me thousands of letters, from all round the country. They appreciate me more than my own children do." "That's not true." I said weakly. Frank followed suit. Father smiled one of his mean smiles and looked at Oscar. "Maybe the little man will care about me eh?" Clutching a damp rusk Oscar was oblivious. Father clapped his hands. "Hey." he said loudly. Oscar gave a start and looked at him. "You'll be a good one." His lip trembled, then came the tears, the rusk crumbled in his fist. Mother went to reach for him but Father stopped her. "He needs to learn that he's not the Lord and master here." Mother fixed her eyes back on her plate as Frank began to shake. Oscar's wails grew louder. "Be quiet." said Father, fixing him with 'the look'. But Oscar didn't know what that meant. Father stood up. "BE QUIET!" he roared.

Oscar stopped crying and Father's wine glass exploded.

Tiny shards of glass sprayed everywhere. I put my arms over my head and felt them rain against my sleeves. I heard Father swear and stumble back a few steps. I peeked up and saw him, his hands covering his face, making awful sounds. Frank had ducked beneath the table and Oscar and Mother both looked unharmed. She fluttered to his side. "Let me see," she said. "Oh let me see." She made him take his hands away and pressed a clean tea cloth to his face. When she pulled it away I could see dozens of cuts and tears. One eye was shut and very red. "You." he said, pointing a shaking finger at Oscar. "I knew you'd be no good." Mother was fussing and crying. Frank had his thumb wedged firmly in his mouth. Oscar made as if to cry again, then stopped himself, looking from Mother, to Frank to me. "We have to go to the hospital." she said, pressing the towel to Father's face, pulling him by the sleeve. He relented. Stopping at the door he turned to us. "I will not have a monster in this family."

As soon as we heard the car doors slam Frank began to rock back and forth. "No no no." he said, pulling on his ear. "Frank." I said, pulling his hand away. "Frank, come on. We have to do something." He shook his head. "What? What can we do?" "You know what he'll do next." I said, standing up. Oscar began to whimper and put his hands up. I picked him up and bounced him up and down. "You know what happens next." I said. "We have to do something." "We can't do anything Robert." he said. "He's Father. He's bigger than us. He'll put him in the garden with the others and there’s nothing we can do."

The baby leaned his head on my shoulder, clasping and unclasping my collar. We could hide. We could run away. We could call the police. Frank put his thumb back into his mouth and I pulled Oscar in tighter. We wouldn't do any of those things, I knew we wouldn't. And Father would be home soon.

angelll

God that was a hard one,i can see why both authors got into the final. I went with orange in the end. Cyan was very good,atmospheric but it all came to an easy conclusion. The bad men were caught.

Orange was completely different but you still have the uneasy atmosphere,the feeling that something bad will happen. And in the end it looks like it will. I was drawn into the story,it was so unusual. Really enjoyed it,well done

Hrududu

I thought the writing in Cyan's story was superb. The first section at the concert was really well done, I pictured everything really clearly. The description of her getting more and more confused was great. On the downside I wasn't too keen on the plot, once it moved to where she was being kept I felt a little disappointed. But like I said I loved the writing.

Dublin141

I feel like Cyan would have been a lot stronger if told using third person limited all the way through. For example, the second last paragraph was much more powerful to me than the entire first section. The distance of that all-knowing narrative didn't really work for me, but that's partly personal preference.

Orange was unusual but well done - my biggest criticism was the formatting because I kept getting confused as to who was talking in the block paragraphs. The story itself kept me on edge until the end; I couldn't stop reading because I cared what happened, and I was disappointed when it ended.

Great job, both of you.

pickarooney

I might be starting to sound like a fanboi but there is just nothing I can find fault with in ORANGE here. There seems to be so much misdirection going on in the first couple of paragraphs despite the deceptively simple prose. The economy of language in this story is superb, the pacing metronomic and the payoff right on the nose. For me, this piece should see ORANGE take the title, having beaten almost all the other strong contenders on the way.

One of the only things going against CYAN was that it wasn't Orange. The vivid descriptions, the assault on the senses and the growing feeling of danger are all executed with aplomb. The reader feels compelled to scream at Jenny to get out of there from the moment of first contact with the stranger and so much is conveyed implicitly in the middle paragraphs. I can't quite figure out how to feel about the ending, both in terms of the fate of the protagonist and the way it's written. Such ambivalence is mostly a positive thing as far as the piece goes but this story needed something extraordinary to convince me to vote for it. I did not, in the end.

Unlike ORANGE, who has written to a consistently high standard, CYAN has improved with every round of the contest and I for one can honestly say that these writers were both fully deserving of their places in the final.

Congratulations to both.

Antilles

Cyan - maybe I'm just used to "twist" endings in stories this length, but I kept waiting for the "oomph" moment to come and it never did. The ending felt pretty much inevitable from very early on and there were no real surprises.

It was well written, very visual and I could picture everything perfectly, but you never really made me care about the girl. Apart from my own desire to see justice done, I never really cared if the bad guys got caught either.

The story could be summed up as "silly girl acts irresponsibly and suffers for it," which I'm afraid just doesn't have any emotional impact for me.

Orange - absolutely fantastic story. Well written, well plotted, the whole package. I get the feeling that this might be part of a longer work, and I hope so, because I'd LOVE to read more.

My only complaint, if I was forced to make one, is that the formatting makes it a bit hard to read.

I really hope this one wins because not only is it a great story, but Orange's other entries have been my favourites through the entire competition.

mari2222

+1

Six of One

I voted for orange because it felt new and original to me. Cyan was excellent too but in the end that was what decided it for me.

Slow Show

I thought the writing in Cyan's was superior, but tbh as a story, I enjoyed Orange a lot more. Cyan's did end a little too easily (although I can appreciate how hard it can be to write a suitable ending) and I don't like those kind of stories much anyway, while Orange's kept me wondering until the end. I'm not very good at putting my thoughts into words but basically, if I liked the story of Cyan more, it would have been a clear winner as the writing was very good, but for this competition, it has to be Orange.

Also, well done to both finalists for getting this far.

smcgiff

ORANGE

Orange’s story seemed to be cut out of a larger story, and the pacing felt wrong for a short story. Well written all the same, but a tad too slow at the start perhaps.

Cyan’s piece is masterful - ‘His fingers touched the clammy skin beneath the edge of her tee-shirt.’ Love this line, it’s a perfect descriptive sentence.

This story is true chaos. The one criticism would be that it went for the more Hollywood ending. I’d have probably preferred if it had ended while we still thought she was captive. Very interesting and thought provoking.

Well done to both

ORANGE

I'd echo what smgiff said:
Orange’s story seemed to be cut out of a larger story, and the pacing felt wrong for a short story. Well written all the same, but a tad too slow at the start perhaps.

They were both excellent though. i know cyan went for the happy ever after type ending or so it seemed, but i liked the inner turmoil it left us with.
the pacing in orange was slow and it would be excellent as a larger work. whoever you are, go off and write it okay!

Mr E

ORANGE

Both really terrific stories in their own right.

Cyan really has a great way with words, and the story took me on a journey. I knew after a couple of paragraphs that it was going to be very grim. Gripping, though.

Regarding Orange's, I had to look back over the earlier stories because the name Oscar stood out for me. It was actually the name of the onetwothreefourfiveonetwothreefourfive guy from the round 1 'Madness' story. I thought for a second that this round's Oscar baby would grow up to be the numbers guy from round 1.

Unfortunately (and ironically) it was the lead character in Cyan's first round entry.
It would have been a sweet twist.

Great job to both. A superb finale to a great competition.

My vote is for Cyan.

Blush_01

Orange reminded me a little of The Wasp Factory. I sort-of expected Robert to be revealed as a girl at the end for some odd reason. Orange really was spectacular.

I'm going to echo Picka in saying the only thing wrong with Cyan for me was that it wasn't Orange.

Johnboy1951

ORANGE

Cyan for me ..... although I thought it should have ended just before the woman came into the room and provided explanations of the situation.
Those were unnecessary for me .... left to the readers imagination might have had a better impact.
So for me the rest was a 'let-down' in impact.
What went before was extremely powerful.

Orange .... I liked the story, but found it (relatively) very hard to read ... possibly due to formatting, but also I think due to not being sure of the various characters early enough.

Both great works .... but Cyan gets my vote.

Carter P Fly

ORANGE

Cyan, It was good throughout so He got my Vote

Orange, I found it hard to picture the characters and wasnt sure who they were.

GerM

As previously mentioned, the change of style in Cyan's story took away from the flow which up until then had been excellent. As it stands, I think the story tended to lose its appeal when it became clear where it was going. Largely, its very well written but the storytelling didn't strike a note with me and it strolled towards an inevitable conclusion.

Orange's effort is equal in terms of prose but the story itself was stronger and is one that you feel you want to read a second time to take in. The layers in the story make for interesting reading which raise curiosity. The untold elements show a great understanding for the imagination of the reader and the power it can hold.

Orange gets my vote.

Mr E

ORANGE

Did the voters really jump from 12 to 35 since this morning?

pickarooney

Yeah, there was a sitewide announcement.

Deki

I thought both stories were well written. Both held my attention until the end. The difference for me is that while I thought Cyan a bit predictable I was not sure even at the end exactly what was going to happen in Orange's story. I was sure something was but it might not... for that reason I vote for Orange I was drawn in by her characters while I felt sorry for Jenny I really didn't feel a part of her.

LegacyUser

Cyan was the winner for me.

I loved the story, thought it was utterly convincing and very well written. The ending was a little abrupt however.

Orange's story was a very interesting idea, but I did find it a little confusing at a few points and I found it hard to get a complete flow of the story as a result.

r3nu4l

Both were fantastic, tough call. I'm a fan of magic, the supernatural, fantasy and tense suspense though so Orange had all of these elements for me. Loved it. I'd love to know if this is simple telekinesis or if there's more to it. In other words, it gripped me and I want to read more!

Ectoplasm

Both worthy finalists but in the end, it was ORANGE for me.

I thought CYAN started out incredibly strong and I loved the descriptions of the crowd and noise. Overall, the writing quality was good. My problem was that it was just that bit too predictible for me. From the moment Jenny was handed the drink, I could see where it was going which made getting there a little less fun.

With ORANGE, the strength was in the suspence. The vague air of menace from the start was sustained throughout and the supernatural element was actually a bit of a surprise but well executed. A little more work on formatting, particularly the dialogue and I wouldn't be able to find any fault at all.

r3nu4l

I've been thinking about the 'predictability' element in CYAN. Perhaps it's only 'predictable' because it's a situation that we've all heard about over the years between news reports about predators and everything around that.

Perhaps CYAN would have been less predictable and more suspenseful if we had caught a glimpse of the man beforehand and she had felt some element of caution from the start when he approached her. As he soothed her wariness with words we would perhaps have been thinking 'No! Trust your instincts! He's a horrible person, what are you doing ? Don't go away with him!!!'


ORANGE was less predictable simply because we didn't know what was actually happening. As EMF2010 said, apart from the air of menace present from the start, we're all clueless.

I still think CYAN's story is excellent, just a little harder to make it suspenseful.

yellowsky169

ORANGE

I really liked CYAN's story as I could really picture it and even though it was predictable I found it interesting.
I wasn't so sure about ORANGE's story. I liked the idea and the suspense but I found I had to read most of the larger paragraphs again to understand what was going on and that broke the flow of the story.
I voted for CYAN but well done to both:)

triggermortis

ORANGE

I thought both were well written. Like a few posters have mentioned, I thought Oranges story was part of a larger one. It took a more careful read to realise who was talking in places, and the story matter wasn't a personal favourite of mine (not into sci-fi/ super natural stuff).
The only issue I had with both stories was the themes. Cyan was themed as chaos - which it was at the start and I thought the story would have been better without the chosen ending and instead kept up the chaos theme.
Orange chose order, but there was a lot of chaos I thought, even though order was wanted, by Father, anyway.
It was a tough choice in the end. I was bought here from a totally different forum and have never posted here before and haven't read the earlier rounds yet. I think I'll do that before I vote.

Ectoplasm

r3nu4l wrote: »

I've been thinking about the 'predictability' element in CYAN. Perhaps it's only 'predictable' because it's a situation that we've all heard about over the years between news reports about predators and everything around that.

I still think CYAN's story is excellent, just a little harder to make it suspenseful.

Absolutely agree, CYAN's was excellent and I'm hoping my feedback didn't come across as too harsh now! Regarding 'predictablilty', it's not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, as a reader I find it comforting in many ways and sometimes trying to avoid it results in ridiculous plot twists. I engaged with the character and would be interested to see what happens to Jenny in the aftermath.

In a short story though, I am often looking for a twist or a surprise, something that challenges me or my expectations (purely personal preference) and felt that ORANGE really delivered this for me.

TouchingVirus

ORANGE

I'm voting for CYAN, even though I agree with the criticisms. I particularly agree that the last section where explanation happened (the police, the parents on the way etc) was predictable and diminished the impact the story on me. I can say that to end with

Jenny slowly rocked her body as she snuffed away the last embers of that young spirit from her heart. Inside her mind, a storm raged"

would have had me going "Powerful stuff". Still, I empathised with Jenny, we were all young, rebellious and stupid at some point. The concert was described perfectly and my imagination was forced to consume all the details, incredible

ORANGE, I haven't read your previous works which posters are saying were equally as impressive as this effort but I just didn't like the pacing of the story. It did feel like an excerpt from a longer work with so many characters to introduce that we never got to know any of them; there were no descriptions of the scenes or the people involved and for me it was all just a little bland in my opinion - it didn't grip me. Please don't take this the wrong way, there were many positive aspects to the writing such as the language used, structure, the misdirection and that wonderful little twist. All of these are hallmarks of your skill but to repeat myself, your story just didn't do it for me

dambarude

If there hadn't been so many names in Orange, I wouldn't have had to think twice who I'd vote for. It reminded me of trying to read Lord of the Rings when I was nine- the Aragorns and Faromirs seriously confused me. That put aside, it really was brilliant, and as other posters said I'd love to read a novel (or a few) based on it.

Cyan's was very good until the ending - what had happened was made too obvious, and was unnecessary IMO. Very well written up until this point though.

This competition shows how wonderful Boards can be. Free entertainment from two very gifted writers. Well done to both!

Ayla

I thought the story lines of each entry were interesting - twists, surprises, character development.

Although I am someone who uses a lot of commas & phrasing in my own writing, I found the writing style of CYAN a bit overly choppy, to the detriment of the story's flow. Also, I think the character personalities were almost too predictable...the clean/innocent teen, the crooked-toothed & scarred sleeze, the well groomed saviour.

I ultimately voted for ORANGE because there was character & plot development throughout the story. You didn't know how much an arse Father was until the end, you really could sense the growing fear the kids had & they reacted in a realistically childlike way to a stressful situation.

alchemist33

I haven't looked at the other commments yet, and hope to God I'll have made my mind up before the end of this post.

Cyan - very skilfully done, with excellent descriptions. However, the mix of omniscient and close 3rd person point of view jarred. It would have been better if it was all close in. I also felt the pacing was off, with too much time devoted to the concert scene, and the end came about too simply.

But the prose was fantastic.

Orange - I felt this was a better story, with the "catch" introduced halfway through quite skilfully. I don't know if people are allowed comment on punctuation etc. but I had difficulties with the dialogue, such as full stops used where commas should have been, and, more importantly, different characters speaking within the same paragraph. This made it harder to grasp who was doing what. I also thought it would have benefitted from a more definitive ending. It clearly intimated soemthing bad was going to happen, but my reading of the protagonist was that he was the sort of character who would do something to get them out of the situation rather than wait for the inevitable.

That said, excellent story, with more defined characters.

So, by a whisker, i'll vote Orange.

gottarun

I like Cyans visual appeal, I was there in the whole scene. Possibly because it read like a mosaic synopsis of so many movies (Taken, Hostel etc) this reality was easy to settle inot. The story line is unsettling due to the amount of people who are appearing on lamp-post posters over the past number of years. This makes it very real for many. Potentially a good movie script but for me a little formulaic as a story despite being very well put together.

I've gone with Orange and I simply want to know when the rest of the book will be finished.

The randomness of the developing storyline means it is a bit confusing, the block prose and cluttered conversation adds to the drama of the story leading at one point for me to believe that Robert was actually a girl spirit observing the happenings as part of a family setting speaking in Franks mind.

The whole short story line felt as if set in mid 40's with stereotypical familial roles for the players yet extremely supernatural and disturbing at the same time.

More!

FewFew

Enjoyable reads all round.

CYAN - Excellent visual element and nicely descriptive. I could really visualize the whole concert scene. There the compliments end though.

Story was hugely predictable, the minute the guy appeared you knew it was going to be a date rape/kidnap type situation. The story kinda loses itself after the carpark scene. Ok, so all these terrible things happen and she remembers them in a nightmarish flashback kind of way, but... I can't quite put my finger on it, but the step from one the carpark to the clinic wasn't handled well. There wasn't really a sense of time. I assumed she was brought somewhere directly after the concert, and the Somerset bit threw me again. Maybe the aim was to achieve the disorientating effect Jenny is feeling, but it's just another paragraph so the reader continues on.
The turmoil and pain at the end... I just didn't buy it. Felt like words on a page. It wasn't so much that it was cliched, but, I just didn't feel any emotional connection there.

Few other bits with repetition in sentences etc. that made me feel it was just shy of being the piece it could have been. The lack of a twist or anything unexpected made me feel it was more the kind of story you'd find in a teenaged girl magazine.

Now... that does seem overly negative, based on the amount of copy going on about problems, but you can see why Cyan made the final, the ability is there, I just think the story was too weak.

ORANGE - Formatting was tricky, but formatting is always a bit tricky online. I kinda let that slide, even though I had to go back and re-read a paragraph where a time/location shift wasn't indicated.

Must say I really liked this story. I was a bit lost at the start, but in a good way, I knew the characters weren't instantly going to be introduced, so that's ok. From the off I liked the sense of menace from the father. I didn't see the telekinesis bit coming, but I did think the dad was going to be strict to the point of insane, and I liked how it wasn't spelled out for the reader but everything was so brilliantly put together that we sense it.

At the start I wasn't sure about the writing. It felt a bit too stop start. Then I realised that my reading was falling into the rhythm of the story and suddenly it really added to the sense of terror that everyone was feeling.

The telekinesis bit was a nice addition and the sense that it had happened before was a nice touch, especially at the end when it's revealed that there are more buried in the garden.

Must say I disagree with anyone who complains that this feels like an excerpt from a larger piece. Honestly I think it'd be destroyed if there was anything added to it. An intro that explains what's going on? No thanks. An ending that sees the boys running about, escaping their dad like an action movie? Not for me. I really think it does a disservice to Orange's craftsmanship to think it's meant to be any other way than it is... the intro is a perfect slow build and the ending is a great final twist added on top of another twist. A definite ending would ruin it.

Someone said it in an earlier comment, but I think Orange has really given us a masterclass in how to use the reader's imagination to get the job done.

+1 for Orange.



When do all the colours get matched up to the names? I'm interested to go back and read stuff from boardsies I haven't had the pleasure of reading yet

Mr E

ORANGE

Nearly 100 votes for this is superb!
There should be a good few more before Wednesday morning.
I can't wait to see the final results.

viadah

Orange for me, sets an interest to come back for more. To me it had a coldness that made me want to warm to it, if that makes sense. The punctuation seems stilted, sharp and ordered, suggesting the mood of the house. As for the format, I just came off reading 'Smallcreep's Day' again so it definitely wasn't alien to me.

As for Cyan, while well written, it suffers for me because as part of that general 'scene' myself (the music, not the rapeyness) too much seemed stereotyped and predictable.

Like I have a clue anyway.

Barrt2

orange just wow amazing stroy very sad well written

Antilles

Woo, the result will be known by the time I get to work tomorrow

Antilles

Well done orange! Your stories were stellar all the way through and you completely deserve the win!

(and also now I don't feel so bad about going out to you in an earlier round )

Mr E

ORANGE

Congrats to Orange!

angelll

Congratulations orange,can't wait to see who it is

FewFew

Phew! I had the fear that Cyan would win, just as X-Factor tops the charts. Well done Orange, that story was excellent

Mr E

ORANGE

Fewcifur wrote: »

Phew! I had the fear that Cyan would win, just as X-Factor tops the charts. Well done Orange, that story was excellent

Not really fair, Fewcifur. Cyan's story was superb too. Both authors proved their worth to get to the final, and either story would have been a worthy winner.

There are no Wagners or Jedwards here, my friend.

FewFew

Mr E wrote: »

Not really fair, Fewcifur. Cyan's story was superb too. Both authors proved their worth to get to the final, and either story would have been a worthy winner.

There are no Wagners or Jedwards here, my friend.

Ah yeah, Cyan's story was good and certainly more accessible. I wasn't heading to the Jedward scale of the spectrum, but more towards the popular vote. Cyan's story was easier to read, if I was just skimming through boards I would have voted for Cyan's story as an enjoyable read and dismissed Orange because I had to pay attention.

pickarooney

Congratulations to ORANGE!

A big thanks to everyone who entered, who voted and especially those who left feedback. 123 votes is a pretty decent turnout for the final. Comparing feedback to votes cast throughout the course of polling, there was a fairly steady 60/40 split so everything tallies up nicely and fairly.

Who wants to have a go at matching up the colours to some or all of the 16 names in the original list? I'll reveal the names around midday unless the winner prefers to come out and bask in the glory of victory before that time.

Hrududu

Antilles wrote: »

Well done orange! Your stories were stellar all the way through and you completely deserve the win!

(and also now I don't feel so bad about going out to you in an earlier round )

Red?

Antilles

I was blue.

pickarooney

Might as well end the suspense...

In ascending order:

1st round
PURPLE: Doluc
MAGENTA: Phantasos
GOLD: Turtyturd
BROWN: Killer_banana
BRONZE: smcgiff
PLATINUM: Mr E
GREEN: angelll
YELLOW: Aoibheann

Quarter Finals
COPPER: Slow Show
BLUE: Antilles
PINK: Memnoch
BLACK: Insect Overlord

Semi Finals
WHITE: Blush_01
RED: azzeretti

Final
CYAN: Oryx
ORANGE: Hrududu

Congratulations once again to Hrududu

Oryx

Jaysis I can take off me mask now.

Well done Orange/Hrududu, I knew it was you when you didnt crit your own story, lol.

Consistent storytelling all the way from you, you deserve your win.

But some great stories along the way, it was a brill competition.

Mr E

ORANGE

Oryx wrote: »

Oryx
Pumping Iron
Join Date: Nov 2004
Location: Little House on the Prairie
Posts: 8,888

Nice.

So when's round 2?!

Hrududu

Oryx wrote: »

I knew it was you when you didnt crit your own story,

Heh, I thought that might be a giveaway. I loved reading all the entries throughout the different rounds. It was a lot of fun.