INDUSTRY JUDGE FEEDBACK ~ Dustin Bilyk ~ Bravo! This was a beautifully written story that gave me the heebee jeebees. I couldn't have asked for more.
You used masterful dialect that didn't feel forced or "too much." You're either from this area or you're so familiar with the dialect that you'll fool anyone who thinks otherwise.
You also surprised the hell out of me with the barn reveal. Covered in webs? Didn't see that coming.
But the true horror came out in the general stubborn hatred for men (they're ALL bad) displayed by the mother and then the daughter. I was remarkably 100% on their side, however, because you brought me there... That was until the end, when the daughter killed the blue-eyed man because he rejected her for none other than her mother. The setup was perfect!
Great use of metaphor throughout. The mood was on point, tense and off-kilter. And your use of the prompts were solid, especially the red ribbon tie-in at the end. Chef's kiss!
INDUSTRY JUDGE FEEDBACK ~ Lynne Walker ~ Oh the pictures in my head. A cute wooden house, a porch with a rocking chair, land turned to dust in the heat, that cute Southern girl and her Mama. But the horrors! Mary-Anne's voice is really what makes this so special. The sweet southern drawl coming out with such awful things (the badness just sneaks right into their hearts he tastes delicious; I have the itch up me) and from the very opening sentence, we know there are awful things going on here: green in Spring, orange in Summer, and red when she’s just gone and killed someone. Don’t you go out in the barn, Mary-Anne, you hear? I got a man marinating in there.” What on earth? We can only guess.
The childlike innocence of Mary-Anne makes this all the more chilling. And she doesn't know it, which only adds to the horror. She doesn't know she's horrific! And her mother has given her such a warped view of the world, which chills all the more: “They’re all bad men, sweetie-pie" and "Mama reckons men can’t seem to help themselves, that they’re all weak fools, and the bad just sneaks right into their hearts. They promise the world, and then deliver a whole heap of steamin’ shit." Where does that come from?
You also feel the almost spider-like (although that is never mentioned) love mama has for her girl and the contempt for the male of the species (again, spiderlike). Add to that the almost web construction holding the man in the barn (marinating), and you have this horror of a picture in your head. But it's all imagination, and we've been cleverly pushed in that direction by the writer. We're not told what kind of creatures they might be, but we know after the killing of the blue-eyed boy that whatever it is is clearly generational. And all this is merely implied (sucking juices, marinating, puncturing the neck, webbing). So clever.
The pacing is sublime here from the get-go, with Mama's red ribbon, the barn foreshadowing, the barn reveal, the blue-eyed man, Mary-Anne's sudden turn on him, the killing, and then the brushing-hair ritual. It's perfect. it rolls along so beautifully. You know my biggest compliment is that you forget how short this story is. I feel I have a whole world in my head now, albeit a nightmare one.
Then we have that ending: Mama tying the red ribbon into Mary-Anne's hair. It feels ritualistic; a handing down of something awful, and it has this strange mix of something really sweet yet so deeply unsettling. And it feels right… and it shouldn't!
So the mix of dark humour and innocence and American Gothic is working here to perfection. It's disturbing in a good way, and the storytelling is supremely confident, which I love. I really wish there were more of Mama and Mary-Anne.
INDUSTRY JUDGE FEEDBACK ~ Philip Athans ~ I don’t even know what it is about this opening line: Mama likes her ribbons. …but that got me in some weird, unexplainable way. That’s the magic, right there. And enough, for me, to satisfy that element of the prompt.
And wow does it get dark from there.
The reveal of the web was fantastic—an absolutely unexpected dial-up—and the ending… a little expected but still effective.
INDUSTRY JUDGE FEEDBACK ~ Sarah Lyn Rogers ~ An overall strength of this story is its voice, especially the way it complicates the story by obstructing who is really “bad” here. I enjoyed discovering the disconnect between the sweet, friendly, chatty tone of the narration and dialogue vs. what turns out to be Mama’s insatiable hunger to kill and consume “bad” men. Early in the story, when we don’t know yet what the rules of this world are, it’s funny and shocking to hear Mama casually say, “Don’t you go out in the barn, Mary-Anne, you hear? I got a man marinating in there.” It’s also fun how the narrator alludes to Mama’s black widow nature with what seems like a metaphor at first: “They always keep straying into her web.” Then we find out it’s a literal web! The twist at the end, that Mama is the real predator, is satisfying, and allows readers to see her comment that “They’re all bad men, sweetie pie” in a new light. We start to wonder if the hitchhiker’s hands really “had got to wanderin’”after all, or if any of them really did anything “bad.”
INDUSTRY JUDGE FEEDBACK ~ Joanna Vander Vlugt ~ This story has atmosphere. It’s a really cool story. The writer selects great verbs. The story logically unfolds, there’s consistency, no jarring moments. There’s a rhythm to the writer’s style. Even if I didn’t know where exactly this story took place, I still had a great sense of location. The dialogue was authentic and the characters are authentic—two very distinct characters.
‘Whenua’ is a gentle, touching story about family, loss, life, love, and heritage, told from the point of view of a child. The voice is simple and straightforward, focusing on the narrator’s observations and questions, but the story is deep, faceted and nuanced. What’s not said is as important as what’s on the page; we readers see the grown-up story unfolding between the lines. It can be incredibly difficult to pull off happier endings, but this story does so with aplomb. The story resists the temptation to over-simplify or to overplay its hand. There is no easy, overly neat solution to the challenges the mother and her children face; the new father and his attitudes are still there. However, there is a glimmer of realisation, hope and quiet self-assertion that we can, if we desire, imagine growing larger and stronger alongside the family trees in the garden.
THE GOLDEN CHILD TAKES FAMILIAR themes—the rivalry between siblings and parental favoritism—to a deliciously dark place.
From the beginning, the motif of “gold vs. silver” is woven deftly throughout. The disparity in the jewelry worn by their mother, the color of their stickers, even the differences in hair color—it’s all brilliantly used to highlight the theme of the “golden child”.
I particularly loved that this story played on the deceit of gold. Shiny trinkets and bright objects aren’t necessarily of the greatest value, and though the “golden child” may be the most lustrous in the eyes of those around her, the one who knows her best sees through that deceit to the cold-as-gold heart beneath.
Highlighting simple word choices—like “could be quite pretty”— calls into stark focus just how much the “golden child” denigrates the “silver child” in her need to feel superior. It’s a subtle yet stark means of showing how petty people go out of their way to make others seem small in order to make themselves shine all the brighter. Like gold mocking silver for not sparkling with equal brilliance. I think what I loved most, though, was the way the “silver vs. gold” theme was cleverly subverted and reversed at the end. Through the bulk of the story, we expect things to go a certain way—the golden child to walk away with everything (like literally walking away from the mother’s sick-bed with a new gold necklace)—but the lovely, vicious reveal turns everything around in a surprising way.
The Bad Blood theme was also done with a great deal of finesse in this story. While many of the other submissions focused on the narrating/POV character’s enmity toward someone else, this one stays consistent with keeping the “silver child” in second place even in the amount of hatred and vitriol. The outcome is as much a result of the “golden child’s” actions as everything else in the story, and it gives the story such a satisfying end while remaining consistent to the theme.
Overall, I found The Golden Child told my favorite version of the contest’s theme, with emotionally compelling and wonderfully clever writing. The character’s suffering and sadness shone through in every word and made for a visceral, riveting read. I’m delighted to
select it for the “golden star” it deserves.
INDUSTRY JUDGE FEEDBACK - KEN LIU - The metaphor of "bent out of shape," at once horrifying and lucid, is masterfully woven into every scene of the story. The characters are well drawn and sympathetic (except for the villain, deservedly hated). I love the creativity in the image of the abuser being drowned by the emotional pain of his victims. It's justice.
INDUSTRY JUDGE FEEDBACK - MATTHEW LYONS - This was a violent, heartrending, unflinching piece that portrays its all-too-human horrors in artful detail that somehow never feels exploitative or like it's going for shock value. I love a good story that sets the humans within it against each other in natural, character-driven ways, and this piece does so beautifully. Also, the screams rising up at the end were a nightmarish, lovely image that gave me chills.
INDUSTRY JUDGE FEEDBACK - LAURA FROST - This is an absolutely brilliant piece. The screams. Oh my goodness, the screams. They were set up beautifully as a heart-wrenching way for Jenny and Mama to deal with their abuse, and I never saw it coming that it would be the screams that would save them. Brilliant. The analogy of bending shapes was used in so many ways, layering upon each other, and the way you tied it all together in the end was perfect. They way Papa's mouth froze in his favorite shape. *chef's kiss* And the POV and voice could not have been better. Even the way the narrator says, "cos" grounds me in the setting and characters. You paint such a beautiful picture with your words. "Purple don't go so well with white." "Papa never did like to see his handiwork." etc etc etc Beautifully written. You are an extremely talented writer and it was an honor to read this story.
Thank you so much for participating in our Seventh Playground Challenge. We thought that you did a wonderful job with your story, “A Suitcase of Colours.” It has a strong and charming narrative voice that caught our attention right away. We were immediately curious, as it says, “The first time I saw him,” to learn more and find out who this was that Abby was referring to and why he was important. We like how you go on to set the scene and describe the man, and what it was about him that made him stand out amongst the crowd. We loved the line, “it was like he was coloured bright green, or even pink when everyone else was black, white and grey.” We thought the opening was strong.
We also loved the line: “Back then I didn’t know it was rude to stare, that the polite thing to do was to ignore the odd and pretend they didn’t even exist.” It felt very honest. It’s interesting because it’s true that it is not polite to stare, but at the same time, it is not really polite to pretend like people don’t exist either—but it seemed authentic that a child would understand the situation in this manner. It felt like an authentic perspective for Abby to have, and we also saw it as a bit of a cultural commentary. We liked the way that you captured that, subtly, with that one line. It was thought provoking.
We felt for Abby when she starts to cry, after the train approaches, and we immediately found the man that she refers to as Sir Hatt to be very charming. We also really like the way that you begin to hint at the situation that Abby and her mother are in—her big belly (implying that she is pregnant) and the line about not knowing what her last name would be now. That gave us a sense of the situation that they were in and once again, we like the way that you gave us that information subtly, within the natural flow of the story, and from what seemed like an authentic perspective of a child. Even though the mother was a little stern up until that point, we empathized with her as well, and could sense her sadness/struggle as Abby describes her as grey and we see her looking out the train window. Then, we really felt for them when we learn that her father had died, and we read, “He was bright green, like the man, and back then Ma was a pink. That was when we all had colour.” That is a heartbreaking line, and at that point, we were really able to connect, and feel emotionally invested in these characters. That was a fantastic way to end that first section.
We continued to really feel invested in this character as we made our way through the story. It was terribly sad to learn about how Abby’s father died in the earthquake, and the effect his death had on both Abby and her mother. There is some nice tension that builds as we see Abby struggle to understand why she is being left with her aunt, why her mother never came to visit, and why she can’t go home after her mother has the baby. We like how that builds to the climax of her running away to the river, where she bumps into Sir Hatt again. The end of the story is really beautiful.
We also really enjoyed the scene in which she bumps into Sir Hatt again at the platform. He is a charming character all the way through—the bits about the dragwarts and the magic are really cute—and we felt for him as well when we learn that he lost his wife in the earthquake as well. This is a beautiful story and we thought it was very well crafted and well written. It was a very difficult decision and this piece was in consideration right up to the end. It was a pleasure to read. Nice work and keep writing!
Thanks again for participating in this challenge. You did a nice job incorporating the prompts and you should be proud of what you accomplished over such a short period of time. We hope you enjoyed this experience, and hope that you will sign up again so we can read some more of your work in the future. If you have any questions about anything, please feel free to reach out via email.
Best wishes,
Merick Humbert
Mariana Davila Moreno
The twist at the end of Anne Wilkins' Marjorie, the winner in WM's Twist competition, is so well executed that it's worth reading the short story twice – the first time as a reader, and the second time as a writer – to understand how and why Anne has achieved such an excellent and effective twist ending in a story that provides more than one twist within the narrative.
It's probably necessary to give a spoiler alert here, but these comments are about the construction of a story and it's fair to assume that the reader has read it before turning to its judging comments. Marjorie is an ingenious take on the theme of sibling rivalry. The narrator feels supplanted in their parents' affections by the new child: one who is more engaging and appealing. A superior model - literally as well as figuratively, it turns out, because the initial twist in Marjorie is that the narrator is not a human child, but an Animoid – an AI robot. The reader assimilates this piece of information, but with the implicit understanding that the narrator is an Animoid and Marjorie is a human child.
What a clever use of foregrounding. As the story progresses, the revelation of Marjorie's true nature and the fact that she can be repaired is a breathtaking twist. Advances in technology mean that the narrator – and their counterparts, who are also revealed to be Animoids – have been rendered obsolete.
There are many other touches which contribute to this story of controlled, effected reveals - the 'humanity' of the Animoid narrator being one of them. We care about them and their distress in a way that you'd care about a living creature – because Anne's skill as a writer has made readers empathise with a narrator who blurs the boundaries between human and AI. This makes the ending even more shocking, because the twist in this story isn't just about plot, but character too.