WRiTE CLUB 2020 - Cage Bout #2

Reminder - You can follow along with all of the bout results right HERE.

It's CAGE BOUT time!

Here's how this works. Instead of two writers competing against one another, now it's THREE AT ONCE. But there's a twist. All of the winners have been given the opportunity to absorb the feedback offered during their preliminary round and submit an edited version of their original submission. As a writer, utilizing feedback can be a tricky proposition - because frankly - not all feedback is equal. This is our chance to see how the contestants used that feedback (if at all).

The readers/voters are to choose one of the three to move on.  There will be six daily bouts (Mon-Sat), and no saves this time.

Remember, one of the real values of this contest is FEEDBACK. So, please be respectful with your remarks!

Even though there will be a different bout every day (M-S), because of time restrictions the voting period will be staggered somewhat, so please pay attention to the dates posted. The voting for today’s bout will close on Sunday, June 7th (noon central time).

The piece that garnishes the most votes will move on to the next round where they’ll face a different opponent with a BRAND NEW WRITING SAMPLE. 

As always, in case of a tie, I’m the deciding vote.

Here are the voting guidelines –

1) One vote per visitor per bout.

2) Anyone can vote (even the contestants themselves), but although our contestants are anonymous, voters cannot be. Anonymous votes will not count, so if you do not have a Google account and are voting as a guest, be sure to include your name and email address.

3) Using any method (email, social media, text, etc) to solicit votes for a specific contestant will cause that contestant's immediate disqualification. It’s perfectly okay, in fact, it is encouraged to spread the word about the contest to get more people to vote, just not for a specific writer!

4) Although more of a suggestion than a rule - cast your vote before you read other comments. Do not let yourself be swayed by the opinions of others.

Here our the contestants for this first cage bout (in random order) are -

Annie Corvino

August 1961, Turkish coast

Deep beneath the Aegean Sea, Jillian Ames hovered in her scuba gear over the ancient wreck. Light from an underwater camera tower illuminated its cargo—clay wine jars—as she shifted her air-lift hose to clear them of sand and marine encrustations. Even now, a month into her first post-grad expedition, the sight of artifacts that had lain untouched for centuries still thrilled her.

For a moment, the thought of the sailors who had met their deaths in the wreck turned her thrill to unease. It was something she’d get over, the rest of the crew had assured her. A thousand years and more than a hundred foot-depth of salt water should be enough to wash away any ghosts.

Still, that shiver again. Was it the cold or a sudden sensation of being watched—and not just by the camera?

A small octopus burst from a hole in one of the wine jars. The turbulence of its escape left her bobbing in the water, its ink and the flurry of her air bubbles blurring her vision. She choked back a giggle at her own jitters. Something had been watching—that inquisitive octopus.

But as the ink cleared, she realized it hadn't been the only watcher. Out of the surrounding blackness where no sun ever shone, a man appeared, barreling toward her. He wore no equipment. Must be one of the rare free divers searching for sponges. His face, bare of goggles, was distorted as if in anger. Or more likely, fear.

Still holding the air-lift hose with one hand, she waved the man away with the other. His mouth was open now, lips moving. Before she could offer help, he slammed into her, tugging viciously at her scuba gear. Oh, God, he was drowning and in his terror, he would drown her as well.

She kicked, webbed flippers meeting solid flesh. Then nothing. She swiveled, searching. Within the circle of camera light, there was no sign of him. He had disappeared as suddenly as he came.  He must have realized his only hope was to head for the surface. If he didn't reach the top in time….

There was one other possibility. Jillian swam to the underwater phone booth installed for emergencies. Its upper Plexiglass sphere held enough air to save him. If only.

But it was empty.

She ducked inside to alert the barge crew on the surface to the man’s peril.

"Jill?" Tom Belasarian, the expedition leader. “You OK?”

"There was a free diver down here. Must have run out of air. He tried to grab my gear. Have you seen him?"

"Jill, you need to get out of the water. You know the procedure."

"But the diver—"

"Come on up, Jill.” Very calm, very deliberate. "I checked the camera feed. You became agitated, tried to rip off your own gear. Thank God, you headed for the booth."

"But—"

"Now, Jill. There's no other diver. Nobody down there but you."

#################################################################

Contestant number two is Wink N.A. Smile

“Entamaphobia”

I’m focus breathing, gripping my coffee cup in one hand and the orange airport seat with the other. Still I can’t shut out the images, the ones from the nightmare I’ve had since childhood, not with the continous trigger of scrolling departures.

Berlin 11:29

Topeka 11:41

Chiang Mai 11:57

Unfurling bronze leaves . . . on a tree etched in red  . . . on the opening door.

Get a grip, Sylvie. But I can’t, not with this blur of destinations you could fall right into. One wrong step down the boarding ramp and you’re in Minsk or Peru. And then leaves unfurl, a door opens.

The man across from me leans forward. “Scared of flying?” My heart double-times. It’s nerves, of course, plus eight solid hours of caffeine, but mostly it’s the precise stubble on his jawline. His clear hazel eyes. “No, just – work stress.” That’s partly true. If I’d known travel would be part of the job, I’d never have taken it.

“So what’s your gig?”

I take a shaky sip of coffee, steady myself with roasted beans. “Risk management.” Then I can’t think of another thing to say. His navy shirt reads “Rebooting . . .” and that’s exactly what I need right now. I could have been so many things without that door.

“Hey, could I trouble you?” It’s Hazel Eyes again with a girl in a pink flannel hat clinging to his hand.  “Could you watch my daughter a minute? I’m headed to the lavatory – don’t want to leave her.”

The girl smiles, and she’s missing a front tooth. I shouldn’t say yes to this, everyone would say I shouldn’t say yes, but between the two of them, I’m toast. I wave at the seat next to me. Coffee sloshes over my hand, and I hope he doesn’t notice. “Sure.”

He tweaks the girl’s hat. “Be good, Nina.” She bounces down, twisting a charm bracelet. Unicorn, ice cream, skates.

“Hi Nina! I’m Sylvie.”

“Hi.”

“You going on holiday?”

“No.”

“Headed home, then?” I’m trying too hard but somehow I can’t help it.

The girl turns huge grey eyes to mine. “Something like that.”

“Got it.” And on the other side of the flight, there’ll be someone waiting for them, someone without a coffee stain spreading up her sleeve.

The charms circle again. Open book. Flame. Teardrop. Either that’s an odd set, or I don’t know kids at all. She slips a cold little hand into mine, looks up. “Hi, Dad.” He’s back, dazzling as before, staring straight at me. “Ready, darling?”

He takes my arm, pulls me to my feet.

“No! What? What are you – NO!”

People turn, gape, but already they’re too far away to help. Everything brightens, fades. He leans close, smelling like everywhere I’ve never been, whispers, “You’ll see.” And he’s right. Because right there in front of us, bronze leaves take shape on a red tree. As the door opens, they pull me across the threshold.

#################################################################

And finally number three is Peace and Quiet

REMOVED AT AUTHORS REQUEST

#################################################################

Please leave your votes and critiques in the comments below. Again, be respectful of your remarks and try to point out positives as well as detraction's.

We’ll be back tomorrow for another cage match. Please help all our writers out by telling everyone you know what is happening here and encourage them to come vote.

This is WRiTE CLUB—the contest where the audience gets clobbered!