It never gets old congratulating the winner of a round, and today we add Brookside to the list of the victorious. Unfortunately Ratz was defeated for a second time and is no longer eligible for re-selection in future bouts. Make sure you check my WRiTE CLUB 2012results page for a breakdown of all the winners so far, along with links to all of the writing samples.
I’ve made mention numerous times about how the number of submissions WRiTE CLUB has received exceeds the number of available slots in the ring, even with the expanded format, but what we haven’t discussed yet is what to do with the unused writing samples. The easiest solution is…nothing. I simply delete the files and all of the writers will have to wait until next year to try again. But I think you all know me by now, and easy isn’t always my first choice. J My wife received an email from one of the contestants not chosen yet suggesting we turn the Linky List into a blog hop. The exact idea was…What I would like to suggest is that when Write Club is over it turns into a blog-hop, using the same list. Minus the winners, everyone puts up their entry on their own blog. Those who already saw their entry critiqued put up something new. Then for two weeks (or a week, or whatever) we do a blog hop. That way people who never got a chance have the opportunity of having their work read can have their work critiqued.
While I like the concept, and the purpose, I do feel that plan has some flaws. The existing Linky List has 180+ names on it, many of which did not submit a writing sample, plus a good many of the people who did submit wanted to do so anonymously, so I’m not sure they would want to post their writing on their blog. But I’m not opposed to creating a new Linky List specifically for a blog hop of some sort, one where each writer specifically agrees to take part.
This is where I would like your input. What would you like to see happen when WRiTE CLUB is over?
Here are this rounds randomly selected WRiTER's.
Standing in the far corner, weighing in at 463 words, please welcome to the ring……..Penny Script.
Standing in his dark cellar, he reviewed the supplies laid out in front of him: it was all there…the time had finally come. He’d been plotting his revenge for years now; ever since the death of his family at the hands of those monsters.
Magic was not an uncommon practise in the village, but people were rarely able to do what his wife found so easy – control the elements. Only people of prodigious skill were able to do so, unless they naturally possessed the gift, like she did. The people of the village were weary of him and his family because of this, but left them alone, for the most part.
Until one night, when he had been working late, repairing a roof in the village. He returned home to find his house alight with coloured sparks – it would have looked beautiful, had he not been so horrified. He had never been able to wipe the image from his memory: sparks engulfing his house, relentlessly tearing it down as his family slept inside. The feeling of helplessness as he watched, wishing he had the power to stop it.
He had never known who was responsible, but he was sure that the villagers were involved. They had never trusted his wife’s power, and were obviously uneasy that it had passed onto the children. There were many magically inclined villagers, and it could have been any one of them.
Ever since that day, he’d isolated himself, practising magic at every available opportunity. He had never naturally possessed the same power that his wife had, but it’s amazing what a thirst for vengeance can achieve. He could control the elements fairly well now, though not to the extent that his wife had been able to. The very power that the village was so afraid of was about to be brought down on them, through their own doing…
Gathering his supplies together, he climbed the hill on the outskirts of the village and set his tools down on the ground, arranging the supplies in a circle. He gazed down at the village, which looked serene in the light of the full moon hovering above in the cloudless sky. As he raised his arms, the peaceful atmosphere changed abruptly: wind blew so fiercely that the trees around him swayed, and purple clouds rapidly swirled around the sky. He stood above the village feeling powerful and exhilarated as the air whipped around him. A bolt of lightning lit up the sky, and a roar of thunder broke the silence of the night, as the wind grew fiercer still.
Smiling for the first time in years, he brought his arms down and unleashed his fury on the people who had made his life hell, as sparks scattered into the night.
And in the other corner, weighing in at 493 words, let me introduce to you ……..Khanada.
Through her feverish haze, Marie looked up from her bone-thin pallet and saw a man with intense green eyes mopping the floor. She smiled at him when she saw he had a very kind face and that he appeared to wear a faded red triangle. Political prisoners were supposed to be very nice.
The janitor returned the smile and continued mopping. When he came to Marie’s pallet, he slowed down his mopping considerably and leaned down to look at her.
“How old are you, kid? I don’t see many people your age in this part of the ward.”
She shook her head and struggled to get out one of the few things she knew how to say in German. “Please, can you speak French? I am only thirteen and did not get enough time at school to learn good German.”
He switched to French. “You must be from a recent transport, if you’re this young and still here. Do you need real medicine or extra food? I’m a master smuggler.”
“No, no, my Italian doctor friend Caterina is taking care of me. She told me she won’t let me die.” She closed her eyes against her swimming vision.
“Well, it never hurts to have two people looking after you. I assume your parents aren’t with you. If I had children, I’d hope someone were looking after them.” He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out an orange slice. “Open your mouth, Mademoiselle.”
Marie obliged and let the fruit sit on her tongue, savoring the flavorful citrus juices. Even in Gurs and Drancy, she hadn’t had oranges.
“What’s your name? I’m Wolfram Engel.”
“Marie Zénobie Sternglass.” She kept the orange slice on top of her tongue. “Are you here long?”
“Long enough. I don’t suppose you know anything about Paragraph 175. I ended up here because I violated that statute.” He walked around Marie’s pallet and began mopping more earnestly when he saw one of the overseers walking around.
Marie felt a twang of disappointment when the orange finally dissolved and there were no more traces of the succulent juices anywhere on her tongue or in her mouth or throat. When she opened her eyes again, she saw Wolfram dusting at a very slow pace.
“Do you always befriend young patients?”
“Not normally. I made an exception for you because you’re so young. And you’re young enough to be my daughter, if I could have children.”
“You can’t have any children? Were you very sick too?”
“No, I’m perfectly able, as far as I know, but I prefer men. You can see my triangle is pink.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of chocolate. “Save this for later. When you’re feeling a little better, we can get better acquainted. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mademoiselle.”
Marie stuck the chocolate under her pillow and drifted off to sleep, no longer so afraid of being alone in this strange place.
Anyone can vote, you just have to make sure you’ve first signed up on the Linky List found at the link provided by clicking on the badge below. Please tell your friends about WRiTE CLUB also. The voting will remain open until noon next Tuesday.
Remember, here in WRiTE CLUB, it’s not about the last man/woman standing, it’s about who knocks the audience out!