ready for a new round of Ceramic DM?(judgements in, check in for finals...)

[Mirth]

Re: Re: drawmack vs taladas results!

I have to take exception with some of the judgements.


How much does a child have to care about their mother to notice that she's washing in the fountain first thing in the morning, even though that's what she does every morning. Would have been mentioned again in parts II and III, remember the name is part I.

Drawmack, please remember not to take this personally, as it seems you are. I'm only trying to offer constructive criticism, not attack you. That said...

I didn't choose to use that picture as the mother, you did. I am offering that you should have used the picture in a different way, specifically in a way that would have added to the development of the plot or story, not as stage dressing. This all might stem from a misunderstanding of the way that the competition works, however. All the submissions for each round should be self-contained and complete as well as being balanced in their use of the picture ingredients. I can only judge the story that you submit now, not one that you might submit in the future. I can't be expected to read your mind.

Excuse me, the revenge is the point of this first piece. The two pictures are used to illustrate the means of carrying out said revenger. They illustrate the climax and aftermath of the story. If climax and aftermath are not integral to a story then I do not know what is.

We don't know anything about this story until the old man transforms and tells it to the ancients in a long diatribe. It is not set up in the first part of the story at all. Basically, the villain steps forward and says, "Here's the plot for those that don't know, and by that I mean everyone." Plot should be something that is developed, not something that is told about in a monologue. It's the old show-don't-tell mantra that you may have heard about.

It is not responsible for all that. It is responsible for the betrayal. It is the character you hate. Being the character you hate the reader puts more emphasis on that then the rest, but that is not the authors fault.

We don't know he's the villain until he tells us he is, in fact we didn't even know there was a villain until he tells us. The plot doesn't reveal itself until the villain steps forward and tells us what it is. The plot even resolves itself at the same time that it is revealed by the villain. This was a bad narrative decision that you as the author made and I am simply calling you on it.

The children are in shock. The ending to part I of a trilogy is intended to make you keep reading. You have yet to see these children morn, they are looking for something but they have no idea what and on top of all that how are they going to survive in a world that is apparently much more then they know?

How are we the readers supposed to infer that the children are in shock from what is written. To me they seemed nonchalant about the whole thing. They came off as saying, "Well our loved ones were just destroyed by this guy we brought to town... Let's get out of here." I will again reiterate that you may not have been aware of the nature of the competition, which you don't seem to be if you consider your entry to be the first part of a trilogy. You yourself prove the points that I was making. Only one of the pictures is developed and it is developed to the detriment of all of the other pictures. I cannot see the future and predict what you are going to do with the pictures later. And honestly in this contest, you don't have the option to develop it later.

I hope that this has given you a better sense of what I was trying to get at in my earlier criticism. Try to take this as a live and learn experience. Next time you enter, hopefully you will fare better. Good luck and PLEASE don't take it personally.

I LOVE YOU MAN

Jay

 

[Drawmack]

Re: Re: Re: drawmack vs taladas results!

Drawmack, please remember not to take this personally, as it seems you are. I'm only trying to offer constructive criticism, not attack you. That said...

Wasn't taking it personally I was simply pointing out what I felt were weaknesses in the critique.

I didn't choose to use that picture as the mother, you did. I am offering that you should have used the picture in a different way, specifically in a way that would have added to the development of the plot or story, not as stage dressing.

I will admit that picture use, taken on it's own in this single story was weak.

This all might stem from a misunderstanding of the way that the competition works, however. All the submissions for each round should be self-contained and complete as well as being balanced in their use of the picture ingredients. I can only judge the story that you submit now, not one that you might submit in the future. I can't be expected to read your mind.

No you can't but you can be expected to know that the story isn't finished. In the tilogy of the rings what is resolved at the end of the first book? It ended with a hook.

We don't know anything about this story until the old man transforms and tells it to the ancients in a long diatribe. It is not set up in the first part of the story at all. Basically, the villain steps forward and says, "Here's the plot for those that don't know, and by that I mean everyone." Plot should be something that is developed, not something that is told about in a monologue. It's the old show-don't-tell mantra that you may have heard about.

This does come across as an attack. I'll not take it that way, just pointing to it. Diplomacy is important when reviewing someone's work - it's almost like criticising their child.

Yes, I should have built to it more. I had the over arching story too much in mind. In the over arching story the loss of the child's inocense is the imporant thing in this part. However, I should have taken greater pains to show that.

How are we the readers supposed to infer that the children are in shock from what is written.

You're not, you're supposed to say WTF and then read the second part to find out WTF.

To me they seemed nonchalant about the whole thing. They came off as saying, "Well our loved ones were just destroyed by this guy we brought to town... Let's get out of here." I will again reiterate that you may not have been aware of the nature of the competition, which you don't seem to be if you consider your entry to be the first part of a trilogy. You yourself prove the points that I was making. Only one of the pictures is developed and it is developed to the detriment of all of the other pictures. I cannot see the future and predict what you are going to do with the pictures later.

I believe this contest can be done with the story working as a trilogy and I will continue to enter and I will continue to write trilogoies. I do understand how this game works. I also understand it is more difficult to do in trilogy format. This is my second attempt at doing it that way. In the first attempt I got passed the first round but was left flat in the second. So I attempted this time to hook into a sequel better and did so to the detriment of the first story. It's a learning process and I am learning. Eventually I will take the crown and I will do so with a trilogy.

And honestly in this contest, you don't have the option to develop it later.

This is a personal attack thinly veiled behind stating the truth.

I hope that this has given you a better sense of what I was trying to get at in my earlier criticism. Try to take this as a live and learn experience. Next time you enter, hopefully you will fare better. Good luck and PLEASE don't take it personally.

What you wrote about my story did not come off as constructive criticism for one reason and one reason alone. You talked down bad points without praising good points and offered no sugestions on how the bad points could have been fixed. Without those elements you do not offer constructive criticism you simply offer criticism.

 

[Mirth]

Drawmack,

I'm sorry if you think I am personally attacking you, I sincerely am not. I did praise what I thought were the good points in my original critique of the story and I did tell you ways in which I thought things could have been done better. The second response that I made was simply an extrapolation on your exception to my judgement. Other than what I've already stated, I'm not sure what else to say. If I've angered you, I do apologize. Really I do. I don't think we need to belabor the point(s) here in the thread anymore than we already have. If you'd like to continue this conversation further, feel free to email me: mirthcard@yahoo.com

I think that anyone who sticks their neck out to be creative in a public forum like this, especially given the shocking selection of pictures , the dastardly deadline and the onerous judge(s?), should be highly commended. My hat is off to you Drawmack, sir. You are quite the brave man to bare your creative soul in such a fashion.

Jay

p.s. I'm headed to HeroesCon for the day tomorrow (Saturday) and then I have a feeling that my family has something up their sleeve planned for me for Father's Day, so I'm not sure that I'll be able to get back to judging until Monday. Have a great weekend everybody and to all you Dads out there - Happy Father's Day!!

 

[NoOneofConsequence]

In the hope that I'm not too late.

Nooc vs mystra's chosen

The child mystic’s head lowers slowly down upon the anaconda’s body and soon the little boy seems almost asleep. The massive python, easily twice the height of a grown man when stretched straight, coils itself about the little body. Yet, in spite of the apparent danger, the watching crowd makes no move to take the boy away. Instead, with bated breath, they watch as the boys breathing slows to a gentle, flowing rhythm and the snakes muscular coils begin to pulse with that same rhythm (pic 3).

From her vantage point in the inn’s portico, just behind the crowd, Kalanthi watches as the small boy, barely four years of age, begins to whisper words from his trance. The attendant priest, his blue and orange robes dusty from crouching on all fours near the ground, relays every word to the crowd. The words come slowly, but no one rushes the child or leaves from impatience. Fascinated by the foreign ritual, Kalanthi listens to the priest’s relayed pronouncements. After hearing the dire warning of impending doom in the countryside, she heads back into the inn proper. Behind her she hears the sounds of the priest beginning to gently awaken snake and child from their trance, and the sound of coin being tossed by the crowd into the serpent’s basket.

“Civilized folk are always scared of what’s in the countryside,” she thinks to herself. “And they pay to hear bad news?” Kalanthi’s tribal heart cannot fathom the ways of the Eerkha, the ‘civilized folk’.

Walking up the inn’s three flights of stairs, Kalanthi walks down the corridor to the room she shares with her companion, Torodesh the Mage Most Magnificent. As she steps through the doorway, she sees the mage ‘Most Magnificent’, scrabbling about in the dust on the wooden floor. Light streams in the window from the late afternoon sun and the motes stirred by the mage’s prostrate fidgetings dance in the golden shafts. In the space on the floor where the light strikes the wooden boards sits the object of the mage’s attentions, a two and a half pound, leather-bound block of enchanted crystal, his “eye of the mage”(pic 1). He throws some more dust into the air, this coloured a deep blue and drawn from a pouch at his belt, so that it dances in the sunlight and then falls upon the surface of the crystal, there to be absorbed by magical forces beyond Kalanthi’s understanding.

“Who would have thought that a common inn room would have such marvelous light?” Torodesh says by way of conversation. “Hah! How many arcane crafters, stuck in their drafty marble towers would be jealous if they only knew what I know?”

“A room is a room is a room,” says Kalanthi with a shrug.

“Primitive! What would you know?”

“I know there’s a boy predicting the future through the coils of the snake down outside,” Kalanthi replies, not stirred by the insult. Kalanthi understands that Torodesh is Eerkha and therefore has no real understanding of honour. Among her own people she would have already struck down the fool who insulted her thus.

“It is neither the boy nor the snake who predicts, actually,” Torodesh pronounces sagely. “The two together form a temporary confluences of earth forces, a ley-junction of sorts, and in this junction the priest utilizes a latent geomantic talent to read the future.”

“So it is the priest who foretells the future?”

“Or the earth itself,” Torodesh offers. “You could argue that either is the case.”

“Why use a child?” asks Kalanthi, coming to the heart of her confusion about the ritual.

“A grown man’s heartbeat is far too strong for the serpent’s sensitive hearing. The creature would be deafened and the ritual disrupted. Sometimes they use small women, with light bodies, but usually it is children.”

Kalanthi was sure that she had heard that snakes were deaf but again she didn’t waste breath arguing with Torodesh, an Eerkhahiri. “How much longer do we wait?” she asks.

“Patience, barbaric maid, patience,” chides Torodesh. “Soon I will have gathered all the power that I will need. Then we will confront the earth giant and I will bind him.”

“You mean I will confront it,” Kalanthi thinks, but she says nothing.

----

Four days from the inn, Torodesh and Kalanthi look down a long corridor of worked black, stone. The corridor is nearly perfectly square, so great is the quality of the workmanship. Hanging at regular intervals from the ceiling are globes of fine glass, each one glowing with a magical light brighter than the brightest oil lamp (pic 2). The corridor is lit as if in full daylight and Kalanthi extinguishes her burning torch, its feeble light made to seem inadequate and small by this magic.

“A marvel isn’t it?” breathes Torodesh. “Behold the crystalline power of the mages who bound the earth giant here centuries ago.”

“If they bound it here, why are we going to release it?”

“Because, my wild warrior maid, I am going to rebind it, to my service,” says Torodesh, as though explaining something simple to a child. “Now go down there and do as I said.”

“You want me to break the seal?” Kalanthi confirms.

“That’s it! A big seal of glass set into the stone. Crack it, the binding will be broken. Then return to me and when the giant awakes I will bind it to my service.”

“Why can’t you break the seal yourself.”

“Because I must prepare for my magic, between the plinths,” Torodesh points back out to where the carved stones stand like a gateway at the tunnel entrance. “That is where the confluence of geomancy and heliomancy is strong enough. I explained all this to you.”

“This is servant’s work,” Kalanthi complains, but heads down the corridor regardless. She pulls a miner’s pick from her

“Do not be churlish,” Torodesh chides as he heads back out into the natural daylight and hefts his wizard’s eye crystal by its leather strap.

----

Torodesh has only just taken up his place between the ancient standing stones when Kalanthi bursts at full pelt from the tunnel mouth. She skids the half dozen yards to the first stone plinth and then rounds it, sword drawn, hiding behind the rock.

“There’s no need to hide like a frightened child,” says Torodesh.

“Oh, shut up fool and do your magic!”

Torodesh shakes his head and is about to rebuke the superstitious barbarian when an enormous groan issues from the tunnel mouth. The Mage Most Magnificent turns his head in wonder when the enormous bulk of the earth giant erupts from the tunnel. The worked stone of the walls flies in all directions and Torodesh is forced to duck as a piece the size of a small pony almost takes his head from its shoulders. With unimaginable force, the giant levers itself to full height and charges through the plinths.

Kalanthi darts backwards as the giant fists shatter the first of the standing stones, the one she was hiding behind (pic 4). She holds her sword ready in her hand but makes no foolish attempt to use it.

Hands trembling at the awesome power of the creature, Torodesh lifts his wizard’s eye and focuses his will. A beam of condensed sunlight lances out from the crystal block and strikes the giant straight in the chest. To Torodesh’s everlasting horror, the mighty being merely stands and absorbs the heliomantic energies. Though it would seem impossible to imagine, the giant grows even taller and its limbs become more mightily thewed than before. Its feet kick over the last of the standing stones and then it strides into the foothill forest towards nearby farmland.

“Well,” says Kalanthi, coming to stand next Torodesh in the settling cloud of dust that had once been standing stones. “It’s headed towards the Eerkha lands.”

“Yes,” agrees Torodesh, glumly, failure settling on him like a heavy winter cloak.

“I wonder if this is the doom in the countryside that the mystic predicted?” Kalanthi muses. Torodesh groans as if in great pain.

 

[Taladas]

I just read the results and am a little surprised that they came in so early. Wow I advanced to the next round.

To Drawmack, Thanks. I enjoyed your story and believe you when you say that you will one day take the crown.

Clay, when is round two to start, after all of the round one judging?


Mirthcard, you wrote that the ending was a little abrupt and I get that alot. I was wondering what you might suggest to expand the ending.

 

[Desdichado]

Re: joshua dyal vs gregor-

mirthcard- Oh, one more thing, I believe the
lyrics are: If you don't eat your meat, you can't
have any pudding; How can you have any pudding, if you
don't eat your meat? To me, they fit even better
than the ones you posted.[/B]

You're right! And my ending with Melissa was kinda forced -- I was running out of steam by then. I had a good twelve hours left, but I had to sleep for 7 of them, and work for another four or five, so I had to just blaze on to the end. In the ideal world, with perhaps one more day, the ending would have been much more polished.

 

[AuroraGyps]

Auroragyps vs. Angcuru

Jessen’s Tale
By Andrea Vecchione


Life was good for all that lived in The Warrens. The inhabitants that dwelled in the underground city were members of the human race, but tended to be smaller than those that resided above ground. Their ancestors had left the open skies many generations before in favor of the snug tunnels that ran underneath the land.
Jessen was one of these people. He was a boy of thirteen that lived a regular life with his regular family. They were a happy family that consisted of his three sisters, his mother and father, and himself. They were all content with their lives in the Warrens, except for Jessen. He dreamt of clear, blue skies over his head and soft, green grass under his feet… things that he’d only read about in books. No one from The Warrens had been above ground for ages and everyone Jessen told his dreams to always made sure to remind him of that fact. Still, he hoped that someday he would see the world his people had left so many years ago.
One morning, as Jessen’s family was cleaning up from breakfast, a great uproar could be heard echoing through the tunnels outside their home. His father opened the door just as one of their neighbors was passing by. She stopped and came up to the door.
“What’s going on?” his father asked. “Why is everyone making such a racket?”
The woman rung her hands in front of her. “Oh, it’s terrible. This morning, the watch was making it’s rounds of the perimeter tunnels and they ran into something… something awful!” The woman was extremely upset, nearly hysterical. “Only one man made it back to warn everyone and he was badly hurt.”
Jessen’s father stayed calm, so as not to worry his family, and asked,” What do you mean ‘something’? Didn’t the watchman say what it was?” He figured this was just one of the usual threats The Warrens occasionally faced. A raid by surface dwellers or perhaps one of the few dangerous creatures that lived below ground had crossed the perimeter and caused some trouble.
“He didn’t know what they were. ‘Monsters’ he said. At first, the men thought there had been a cave in when they saw large boulders in one of the tunnels. Then they got closer and saw that the boulders had hair! (#3) One of the men went to touch one of the things and it lurched towards him and crushed him against the tunnel wall. And the hair… it wasn’t hair, it was tentacles. They reached for the man and the blood pooling around him. They were sucking it all up.” The woman was hysterical now and she talked in a rush. “More of the monsters came at the watch and they tried to fend them off, but they couldn’t. Oh, it must have been so horrible!” The woman burst into tears.
Jessen’s mother reached past her husband to put her hand on the woman’s arm. “Come in and sit down.” She headed back into the house and the woman followed blindly.
Jessen’s father looked at his wife. “I’ll go find out more information. You will all stay here until I get back,” He stepped out the doorway and shut the door behind him.
Jessen took a few steps to follow his father, but a look from his mother changed his mind. She continued to speak with their neighbor, trying to calm her down, while they all waited nervously for Father to return.
Several hours later, Jessen’s father walked into the house. He had a concerned look on his face. His wife went to him and steered him towards his chair by the hearth. After a brief silence, he took a deep breath and began to tell his family what he’d found out.
“These things have been seen before, many years ago. The Elders found a record of the incident. Fifty watchmen were killed before they managed to dispatch just a couple of what they call spherids. These things are extremely tough with thick leathery hide and spongy interior. Hammer blows bounce off. Puncture wounds seal up quickly. Fire doesn’t seem to hurt them much except for causing the tentacles to shrivel up and those grow back almost immediately.”
“What are we going to do?” asked his wife.
Her husband rubbed his hand across his eyes. “Tonight, one hundred men are going to try and drive the spherids back out of The Warrens and we’ll go from there. The Elders are looking for more information.” He looked at his wife with tired eyes.
“You’re going with them, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” he replied simply.
Jessen stood up out of his seat. “I’m going too.”
“No, you’re not. You will stay here with your mother and sisters,” his father answered back sternly.
“But…”
“Jessen,” said his mother, “Listen to your father.”
Jessen fell back to slump in his chair. Around him, his mother and father gathered together anything that might be useful against the Spherids. His sisters and their neighbor did busy work to try and stay distracted. As for Jessen… he thought hard about what he could do to help.

The next day, silence reigned in The Warrens. All one hundred men had been lost while the spherids had only been pushed back a small distance. People everywhere were packing up whatever they might need, plus a few irreplaceable possessions, in order to move to a more defensible place.
Jessen’s family moved as if in a dream, while he sat on his bed paused in his packing a satchel. His eldest sister came over and whispered harshly, ”Jessen, now is no the time to be daydreaming. Get your things packed.”
He didn’t seem to hear her, so she grabbed the shirt he held in his hands and stuffed into the bag. “What else are you taking?”
He glanced at her. “Hmm? Oh, nothing else.”
“There’s not much in here,” she observed. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be holed up against those things.”
He let out a long sigh and looked her in the eyes. “I’m not going with the rest. I’m going above.”
Her eyes opened up wide. “What? You coward! You’re just going to run away? Now, when the family needs to stick together? Just to go off and experience you stupid dream?” Her yelling had brought the others and they stood in Jessen’s doorway.
“I’m not running away.” He sounded quiet and calm. “I’m going above to see if there’s something up there that can stop these things.”
Before she could tell him that he was crazy, their mother walked into the room. “Jessen, are you sure about this?” she asked calmly.
“Yes. One boy won’t make that big a difference down here, but maybe up there…” He looked at his mother and she returned his gaze, while his sisters looked at the both of them.
Their mother took a deep breath. “If you feel you have to do this, you should. Maybe you can find people that will help us, if anything else.”
Jessen stood and embraced her. “Thank you Mother. I promise I will do my best.”
She kissed the top of his head. “I know you will, Jessen. I know.” Her daughters joined them in the hug and they remained that way silently, for a while.

Later that day, Jessen and his family stood at the junction of three tunnels, to say good-bye. The right tunnel led to where the inhabitants of The Warrens were going to barricade themselves against the spherids. The left led up to the surface and it was illuminated to mark this fact. The family quietly hugged each other and split up. (#4)
It took several hours to get to the surface. Once there, Jessen took a moment to take in his surroundings and then headed off in the direction of the setting sun. He walked day and night, stopping for a few minutes ever once and awhile.
One day stretched into two, two turned into three, then four. Jessen kept going, thinking only of his family. He saw no one until he came upon a monastery. He wearily walked up to the door and knocked as loudly as he could. A minute later, the door was opened and a bespectacled, elderly nun looked up at him. (#1)
She grinned a warm grin at Jessen. “Hello my child. You look weary. Come in and rest.”
Jessen shook his head. “Thank you Sister, but I only seek information. I live in The Warrens and they have been invaded by boulder like creatures called spherids. Many men have been killed and more people, woman and children, may be next. I’ve come to look above to see if I can find something that will drive them back out of our home.” He leaned against the doorway and hung his head in exhaustion.
“Ah, yes… I have heard of such creatures. A great battle was fought against them many, many years ago above ground. Many good men lost their lives until a weapon was found that turned them away.”
Jessen looked up excitedly. “A weapon? What sort of weapon?”
“It was a horn. The kind that is used by huntsmen.”
“A horn? Just a horn? Do these creatures not like music? You make fun of a boy that is trying to save his people!” Jessen said angrily.
The nun placed her hand on his shoulder. “No, my son, I speak the truth. Come inside and while you rest, I will explain.” She gestured towards the doorway and they both entered the building.

The next day, Jessen stood on a hilltop overlooking the site of the battle that the Sister had mentioned.
“The call of the horn hurt the creatures,” she had said,” and they left the people alone from that time on. You will know the battle site, and the horn, by the Lattice Star. It was the emblem of the people’s Lord. Objects bearing the star lay scattered about to this day.”
Sure enough, Jessen could see several stars adorning various objects that lay about. He headed down the hill to begin his search.
Hours later, he hadn’t found the horn among what lay above ground, so he began to dig up the earth, hoping it was just hidden underneath. With shovel and pick he tore up the turf. (#2)
Jessen was getting ready to give up, thinking that time was running out and that he’d be too late, when the rising sun glinted golden upon something to his left. He scraped away the soil to reveal a golden hunting horn that was engraved with Lattice Stars all around the bell end of the instrument.
Though he was exhausted beyond belief, this discovery gave him an immense energy. He jumped to his feet and ran off towards the nearest entrance to The Warrens.

Finally Jessen was back underground and he moved quickly through the tunnels. They were eerily silent. As he got closer to the location that his people had chosen for safety, he saw scattered weapons and dark stains littering the floor.
At last, he saw a large group of spherids up ahead. The creatures turned at the sound of his quietly echoing footsteps. Jessen stood frozen as one of the creatures started to roll towards him. He suddenly came back to his senses and quickly brought the horn up his lips. The spherid that was moving stopped. Jessen took a huge breath and blew the horn as loudly and as long as he could.
At first, nothing seemed to be happening, but then the creatures started to shiver. Jessen continued to play the horn. The sound echoed and grew in the tunnels. The spherids started to shake violently and suddenly their surfaces burst apart. The spongy insides started to dissolve on contact with the outside air.
Finally, all the creatures were destroyed. Jessen stood stunned with the horn held at his side. People started to come from all directions, while carefully stepping around the remains of the spherids. His mother and sisters ran up and embraced him.
One of the Elders looked closely at what was left of the spherids. Then he looked over at Jessen. “Well done, my boy.”
Jessen looked back blankly. “But, they were just supposed to leave. I wasn’t trying to kill them. How could a horn kill them?”
The Elder walked over and took the horn into his hands. “This was used above to drive spherids away?” Jessen nodded. “Well Jessen, I would guess that the tunnels that make up our home caused the horn’s effect to be increased, by making the sound coming from it echo. Whatever the case, we are all safe now. It is unfortunate that the creatures were destroyed, but it was an unforeseen thing.”
“I guess you’re right Sir.”
The Elder nodded. “Now then, you will go back home with your family and rest. When you are recovered from your adventure, we will speak. I would also guess that there will be much celebrating done in your honor.” He smiled at Jessen who smiled back grimly.
Jessen’s mother gathered up her children and they all headed home. “What was above like dear?” she asked him while they walked.
Jessen hugged her as they walked. “It wasn’t home.”

 

[alsih2o]

Clay, when is round two to start, after all of the round one judging?

yessir. probably get all the judging done, take a one day break, and then start round 2

 

[Angcuru]

I am very sorry to say that I have to drop out of this one.

I had been near-finished with my story before I left for the prom last night, and was planning on putting on the finishing touches and posting this afternoon. Unfortunately, my computer decided to be a @*($&)!! piece of junk and delete the directory in which I was storing the file sometime during the night. Stupid Win-Wiper mistook the directory to be defective or something and deleted it, not to the recycle bin, but to nothingness. Damn it, I say.

I would have probably lost anyway, I just read AroraGyps' story after I found mine was hosed and, well...hers was better. Too bad she has to win be default.

Good luck in the quarter-finals, Andrea.

 

[AuroraGyps]

I'm sorry your PC ate your story Angcuru. I did enjoy the challenge of writing something using the pictures Clay provided us though. If possible, I'd like the judges to still read my entry and tell me what they think. I look forward to the next round Clay... I must be nuts.