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NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.
EN World Short Story Smackdown - FINAL: Berandor vs Piratecat - The Judgment Is In!
- Thread starter Herremann the Wise
- Start date
Thorod Ashstaff
First Post
Slimy things in a can...
Congratulations Rodrigo!
Both these were an interesting take on a REALLY interesting and disparate group of pictures. tadk, I liked the tie-in of the 'unobtrusive' (mostly) aliens. Rodrigo, your words really flowed well, and it was touching, in a disturbing kind of way. I especially liked the conclusion: is a few more years of True Love worth the lives of six billion people? An interesting question.
Well done.
Congratulations Rodrigo!
Both these were an interesting take on a REALLY interesting and disparate group of pictures. tadk, I liked the tie-in of the 'unobtrusive' (mostly) aliens. Rodrigo, your words really flowed well, and it was touching, in a disturbing kind of way. I especially liked the conclusion: is a few more years of True Love worth the lives of six billion people? An interesting question.
Well done.
Dlsharrock said:i hope, if I go through to the next rounds, I don't come up against you Eeralai. That Chili Palmer avatar is *very* intimidating(Yes, I realise I'm the one with the fiery eye of Sauron, but even that pales into insignificance alongside the steely gaze of the world's coolest movie mogul.)
LOL Yes, I thought Chili Palmer had the best game face
And I am immune to The Eye because my husband, unkowingly to me, put it as a screen saver on my computer and the first time I saw it, it scared the crap out of me. But after seeing it over and over, I have grown immune to its evil ways 
madwabbit
First Post
Firstly, to all, but most specifically to Starman and the judges, I apologize for being a complete loser.
Despite several warnings and invocations to the contrary, I did NOT take this contest as seriously as I should have from a time-wise perspective. I waited until nearly the last minute to begin working on my story, did not complete it in time, and then compounded the problem by forgetting to post even my partial text before going out drinking last night with my friends at work.
I suck and am full of epic fail. For that I apologize.
Piratecat is correct, however, that I don't get to get off without posting what I did come up with, and you will find that below the sblock.
By all means, please do not hesitate to snark at me and ridicule me mercilessly for my failure -- I definitely deserve it (although I am too hungover to read any of it, so you might want to save it for now).
Here goes:
[sblock]The single toll of a bell sounded throughout the lush and verdant valley that was the heart of the Forest of Emeranna. All other sounds were stilled in an instant, silencing even the birds and fauna throughout. The people within the valley were struck dumb and motionless as well, as if turned to stone, hoping desperately that the warning had been a mistake. As the echoes of the toll faded, a single lark's song chirped hesitantly, waiting for its mate's response.
The bell tolled again, three sonorous and ominous tolls in succession. It was no mistake.
The Khanathrai were coming.
The bell then continued to toll without cease, frenetic like the heartbeat of the afraid, sending a cascade of din and echo washing down the valley, breaking upon the walls of Wovenbough, the people's village crafted and woven high in the treetops of the Forest. The villagers broke their stillness, dropping whatever they carried, abandoning their chores, moving quickly towards the trees that edged central clearing in the Wovenbough's midst.
In the clearing, Chaili rose from her tending of an herb garden, to look in the direction of the bell's tolling, her heart skipping a beat. Around her, the other young girls blanched in fear, whimpering and wailing, some breaking with panic to run towards the trees. Chaili set her spade and bag down, shaking the dirt from her hands and brushing it from her smock, and then set about unbraiding her hair.
"It is time, girl-child," the voice croaked behind her, with slight sad tone belied by the harshness of age.
Chaili turned to face her grandmother, bending down slightly to kiss the crone's forehead, without ceasing her unbraiding.
"I know, Mémé, I know. I only wish I had just a little more..."
"Time?," Mémé cut her off bitterly. "Time? Don't we all wish this? Don't we all wish for that which we cannot have, that which we can never have. If wishes were loaves, we would all be bakers and then grow weary with the surfeit of bread. No, girl-child, you can wish for nothing but your duty, and pray to the Goddess that you do not fail in it, and if you fail, that you have enough courage and sense to die well. This is the only thing you can wish for, Chaili, the only thing that you can ever or will ever call yours."
Her grandmother's rare use of her name made the sting of the words the more painful. "I know this, Mémé, you do not have to be so cruel in telling me what I have known my whole life. I know what my duty is, and I will not fail, and if I do, then I will die well and bring no shame to my people."
Chaili looked up at the sky, as a shadow passed across the sun, blocking the light that dappled the treetops and shone through to the clearing.
"It is just that in this moment, Mémé," she said as she finished unbraided her and shaking it about her shoulders, her head turned upwards to the growing shadow, "that I have no doubt, no fear, no question save one. Why me, or any of the others? Why were we chosen without given any choice of our own? It is not..."
"Fair?," Mémé snorted. "No, girl-child, it is not fair. And you are a fool to even have that thought cross your silly little mind. There is only the truth of what is, and that truth is you were born Fae-wyrd and that you have come into your moon-blood. That the Khanathrai come is also the truth of what is, and that they have now come to take you and any other Fae-wyrd girl-child who has come into their moon-blood.
"There is no fair, there are no wishes... not for you. That you are what you are is the truth of what is... and the Khanathrai now come."
In the same instant that the crone finished speaking, there was the sound of innumerable trees groaning, snapping and splintering into thousands of shards. The floor of the valley shook as if a giant fist slammed down upon it, followed by quick succession of the ancient giant trees of the forest being crushed as if mere sticks, and the hard quakes of something huge slamming into the ground.
The sun above Chaili and Mémé was completely blotted out by an impossible sight: a island floating in the sky, shaped like a mountain peak, covered by a city of towers harshly hewn at odd angles from the very stone of the mountain itself, the bottom of the mountain shaped into a conical plow which now hovered above the clearing. It descended slowly, in a silence made eerie by its impossible size.
Up and down the valley, smaller floating island cities pushed down upon the edges of the forests, smashing tree and groud aside as they slammed hard into the earth, planting their plows deep within. The tolling of the bell abruptly ceased.
"Step back with me, girl-child," Mémé said softly, "for it is time, the Khanathrai have come, and there is no more time for anything else."
Chaili turned as Mémé gently tugged her, and they moved quickly back towards the edge of the clearing, where the other villagers waited, on their knees with heads bent, holding onto each other. The tip of the giant plow slammed heavily into the soft earth of the clearing, shaking the earth mightily as it tore into it, crushing Chaili's herb garden and all other growing life within, as a giant wave of earth was pushed up and outward towards the forest's edge.[/sblock]
Despite several warnings and invocations to the contrary, I did NOT take this contest as seriously as I should have from a time-wise perspective. I waited until nearly the last minute to begin working on my story, did not complete it in time, and then compounded the problem by forgetting to post even my partial text before going out drinking last night with my friends at work.
I suck and am full of epic fail. For that I apologize.
Piratecat is correct, however, that I don't get to get off without posting what I did come up with, and you will find that below the sblock.
By all means, please do not hesitate to snark at me and ridicule me mercilessly for my failure -- I definitely deserve it (although I am too hungover to read any of it, so you might want to save it for now).
Here goes:
[sblock]The single toll of a bell sounded throughout the lush and verdant valley that was the heart of the Forest of Emeranna. All other sounds were stilled in an instant, silencing even the birds and fauna throughout. The people within the valley were struck dumb and motionless as well, as if turned to stone, hoping desperately that the warning had been a mistake. As the echoes of the toll faded, a single lark's song chirped hesitantly, waiting for its mate's response.
The bell tolled again, three sonorous and ominous tolls in succession. It was no mistake.
The Khanathrai were coming.
The bell then continued to toll without cease, frenetic like the heartbeat of the afraid, sending a cascade of din and echo washing down the valley, breaking upon the walls of Wovenbough, the people's village crafted and woven high in the treetops of the Forest. The villagers broke their stillness, dropping whatever they carried, abandoning their chores, moving quickly towards the trees that edged central clearing in the Wovenbough's midst.
In the clearing, Chaili rose from her tending of an herb garden, to look in the direction of the bell's tolling, her heart skipping a beat. Around her, the other young girls blanched in fear, whimpering and wailing, some breaking with panic to run towards the trees. Chaili set her spade and bag down, shaking the dirt from her hands and brushing it from her smock, and then set about unbraiding her hair.
"It is time, girl-child," the voice croaked behind her, with slight sad tone belied by the harshness of age.
Chaili turned to face her grandmother, bending down slightly to kiss the crone's forehead, without ceasing her unbraiding.
"I know, Mémé, I know. I only wish I had just a little more..."
"Time?," Mémé cut her off bitterly. "Time? Don't we all wish this? Don't we all wish for that which we cannot have, that which we can never have. If wishes were loaves, we would all be bakers and then grow weary with the surfeit of bread. No, girl-child, you can wish for nothing but your duty, and pray to the Goddess that you do not fail in it, and if you fail, that you have enough courage and sense to die well. This is the only thing you can wish for, Chaili, the only thing that you can ever or will ever call yours."
Her grandmother's rare use of her name made the sting of the words the more painful. "I know this, Mémé, you do not have to be so cruel in telling me what I have known my whole life. I know what my duty is, and I will not fail, and if I do, then I will die well and bring no shame to my people."
Chaili looked up at the sky, as a shadow passed across the sun, blocking the light that dappled the treetops and shone through to the clearing.
"It is just that in this moment, Mémé," she said as she finished unbraided her and shaking it about her shoulders, her head turned upwards to the growing shadow, "that I have no doubt, no fear, no question save one. Why me, or any of the others? Why were we chosen without given any choice of our own? It is not..."
"Fair?," Mémé snorted. "No, girl-child, it is not fair. And you are a fool to even have that thought cross your silly little mind. There is only the truth of what is, and that truth is you were born Fae-wyrd and that you have come into your moon-blood. That the Khanathrai come is also the truth of what is, and that they have now come to take you and any other Fae-wyrd girl-child who has come into their moon-blood.
"There is no fair, there are no wishes... not for you. That you are what you are is the truth of what is... and the Khanathrai now come."
In the same instant that the crone finished speaking, there was the sound of innumerable trees groaning, snapping and splintering into thousands of shards. The floor of the valley shook as if a giant fist slammed down upon it, followed by quick succession of the ancient giant trees of the forest being crushed as if mere sticks, and the hard quakes of something huge slamming into the ground.
The sun above Chaili and Mémé was completely blotted out by an impossible sight: a island floating in the sky, shaped like a mountain peak, covered by a city of towers harshly hewn at odd angles from the very stone of the mountain itself, the bottom of the mountain shaped into a conical plow which now hovered above the clearing. It descended slowly, in a silence made eerie by its impossible size.
Up and down the valley, smaller floating island cities pushed down upon the edges of the forests, smashing tree and groud aside as they slammed hard into the earth, planting their plows deep within. The tolling of the bell abruptly ceased.
"Step back with me, girl-child," Mémé said softly, "for it is time, the Khanathrai have come, and there is no more time for anything else."
Chaili turned as Mémé gently tugged her, and they moved quickly back towards the edge of the clearing, where the other villagers waited, on their knees with heads bent, holding onto each other. The tip of the giant plow slammed heavily into the soft earth of the clearing, shaking the earth mightily as it tore into it, crushing Chaili's herb garden and all other growing life within, as a giant wave of earth was pushed up and outward towards the forest's edge.[/sblock]
Rodrigo Istalindir
Explorer
For Dlsharrock:
[sblock]Nice story, Dlsharrock. There's a lot of lines in there I wish I'd written (especially "Being blown to bits didn't change much more than the relative location of my limbs.")
It can be really hard to pull of that sort of meta-story, but you handled it really well.
The picture use IMO was adequate, but lacked any real ties to the story. They seemed interchangeable. In other words, if the picture of the LARPer had been a guy fishing, you could have used it more or less the same way without much difference. Ideally, the picture and the text intertwine so that neither would work without the other. Obviously, the entire setup is contrived -- that's the point of CDM -- but the more you mask that, the better.
Uusually, you can spot the picture that inspired the story. Sometimes it's not even the most unusual pic, or the one that features most prominently, but generally you can look at how a picture is used and say 'Aha! That's what sparked the idea for this story.' With yours, though, I can't see it -- what was the spark?
Good job with the first one, btw. I really like it when writers take a fairly straightforward picture and stretch it (and conversely, I really like it when a really wierd picture gets used in a mundane manner that makes sense).
[/sblock]
[sblock]Nice story, Dlsharrock. There's a lot of lines in there I wish I'd written
(especially "Being blown to bits didn't change much more than the relative location of my limbs.") It can be really hard to pull of that sort of meta-story, but you handled it really well.
The picture use IMO was adequate, but lacked any real ties to the story. They seemed interchangeable. In other words, if the picture of the LARPer had been a guy fishing, you could have used it more or less the same way without much difference. Ideally, the picture and the text intertwine so that neither would work without the other. Obviously, the entire setup is contrived -- that's the point of CDM -- but the more you mask that, the better.
Uusually, you can spot the picture that inspired the story. Sometimes it's not even the most unusual pic, or the one that features most prominently, but generally you can look at how a picture is used and say 'Aha! That's what sparked the idea for this story.' With yours, though, I can't see it -- what was the spark?
Good job with the first one, btw. I really like it when writers take a fairly straightforward picture and stretch it (and conversely, I really like it when a really wierd picture gets used in a mundane manner that makes sense).
[/sblock]
maxfieldjadenfox
First Post
madwabbit said:
I had the flu last week and managed to turn in a story. It made me cranky that you didn't. But you did cop to the fact and I think I was overly harsh with you since I was still feeling cranky.
So, all is forgiven but don't let it happen again...
Last edited:
Rodrigo Istalindir
Explorer
For Eeralai:
[sblock]Fantastic stuff. The protagonist was funny, interesting, and unexpected. Oh, yeah, and *funny*. The story moves quickly; maybe a little too quickly, as more would have been most welcome. Maybe a flashback during her flight and before the arrival of the angel to provide a little change of pace as well as flesh out the character's history?
Picture use was very good, and the figure in the trees was perfect. The only negative was I thought working in the blue-eye-glow was stretching a bit, forcing the fit of what was really a trivial element of the picture.
Great job! I really enjoyed reading this. 'Holly Golightly on crack' slays me.
[/sblock]
[sblock]Fantastic stuff. The protagonist was funny, interesting, and unexpected. Oh, yeah, and *funny*. The story moves quickly; maybe a little too quickly, as more would have been most welcome. Maybe a flashback during her flight and before the arrival of the angel to provide a little change of pace as well as flesh out the character's history?
Picture use was very good, and the figure in the trees was perfect. The only negative was I thought working in the blue-eye-glow was stretching a bit, forcing the fit of what was really a trivial element of the picture.
Great job! I really enjoyed reading this. 'Holly Golightly on crack' slays me.
[/sblock]
madwabbit
First Post
Right.maxfieldjadenfox said:You know those people who go to karaoke and they have the song memorized, and they really perform it? That's us serious SSS people.
Really, I know that life can get in the way of this little competition. I also know that the only reward you get is the personal challenge and bragging rights, but for future reference (to anyone who thinks about playing) when you don't post at least something on time, it shows great disrespect for your opponent, and you've also taken a spot that someone else would have loved to have...
*jumps off soapbox and goes back to wait for judges*
Duly noted.
Rodrigo Istalindir
Explorer
I'll save my verbal abuse of madwabbit, delivering it in small doses over the course of months or years. More fun that way.
But, I will say this: Newcomers, don't overestimate your ability to put words on paper (metaphorically, anymore) in a crunch. Start writing right away, even if it's just a rough outline, or if you think you'll end up scrapping most of it. Once you've done this a few times and know that you can crank out a page an hour (or know that you can't), it's okay to procrastinate a little and figure stuff out in your head until you're ready to write.
My first CDM story took me around twenty hours of sitting in front of the computer to finish. It had been years since I'd written anything creative, and I'd forgotten how damned hard it is to produce on demand, how much time you can fritter away thinking of the right word so you don't reuse the same adjective over and over, or how many words it can take to resolve a complicated plot.
Now I spend, on average, around four hours actually writing, but two solid days thinking about it ahead of time, working out the plot, snatches of dialogue, and especially internalizing the pictures so that they have a chance to become inextricably part of the story.
For anyone that likes to write, or has to write, I can't recommend enough participating in these events as much as possible. It's hard, no doubt, and may not be fun at first, but it will get easier and more enjoyable. And you absolutely will improve as a writer. You'll learn how to deal with writer's block, how to honestly appraise your own work, how to take criticism well and learn from it, and you'll get oh so much better at stretching yourself by working in new genres and perspectives.
And when that starts to get commonplace, take up the judge's mantle, and you'll take things to an even higher level. You'll find that having to critique others' work holds a mirror up to your own stuff, and you'll learn how to evaluate your own stuff as you write it. No substitute for a good editor or outside analysis, but it will make your first drafts 10x better.
But, I will say this: Newcomers, don't overestimate your ability to put words on paper (metaphorically, anymore) in a crunch. Start writing right away, even if it's just a rough outline, or if you think you'll end up scrapping most of it. Once you've done this a few times and know that you can crank out a page an hour (or know that you can't), it's okay to procrastinate a little and figure stuff out in your head until you're ready to write.
My first CDM story took me around twenty hours of sitting in front of the computer to finish. It had been years since I'd written anything creative, and I'd forgotten how damned hard it is to produce on demand, how much time you can fritter away thinking of the right word so you don't reuse the same adjective over and over, or how many words it can take to resolve a complicated plot.
Now I spend, on average, around four hours actually writing, but two solid days thinking about it ahead of time, working out the plot, snatches of dialogue, and especially internalizing the pictures so that they have a chance to become inextricably part of the story.
For anyone that likes to write, or has to write, I can't recommend enough participating in these events as much as possible. It's hard, no doubt, and may not be fun at first, but it will get easier and more enjoyable. And you absolutely will improve as a writer. You'll learn how to deal with writer's block, how to honestly appraise your own work, how to take criticism well and learn from it, and you'll get oh so much better at stretching yourself by working in new genres and perspectives.
And when that starts to get commonplace, take up the judge's mantle, and you'll take things to an even higher level. You'll find that having to critique others' work holds a mirror up to your own stuff, and you'll learn how to evaluate your own stuff as you write it. No substitute for a good editor or outside analysis, but it will make your first drafts 10x better.
