hopewrites
Crochet Streamer
Oh I like the synopses! That's a new feature.
Szekret Sztory: Szection Szeven
- Thread starter Dan Jones
- Start date
Requestee: DG Jones - "Something set in an alternate historical timeline featuring an MC with a 'power' they consider a curse."
The Innkeeper’s Diary.
Thursday 22nd December 0
That bloody woman in 2b has stolen the sheets again! I just know it’s her. I sent Gerald to Damascus last year with sixteen mules, two camels and my best carnelian beads and he came back with four score and fifteen of the most divine cotton sheets. Oh, you should see them; the thread count is ridiculous - five hundred! Even Rameses III wouldn’t have had sheets that thick. And we all know how many times he’s had to buy new bedsheets; but even all the sweet perfumes in Arabia can’t take the smell of murder from that dirty swine’s bed. So anyway, Gerald and Nigel go down to Damascus and offload all that livestock and my lovely carnelian beads and come back with ninety-five sheets. And how many have I got left? Sixteen! And
why? Because her ‘Majesty’ from Nineveh clarts up here and gives Gerald the glad eye when I’m not on the front desk, gets the best room with my best sheets and then - excuse me, thanks for the wine and fish - off she toddles with ANOTHER of them wrapped around her head. And my soft husband watches her flounce out with them. Right. Under. His. Nose.
~
A fabulously catty retelling mashup of The Greatest Story Ever Told and Fawlty Towers, this laugh-out-loud story takes us back the year dot on the eve of Christ's birth, and immerses us in the daily grind of a put upon landlady, who has to put up with stolen sheets, her dozy husband Gerald, idiot guests, illegal DVD salesmen and a very odd young couple, one of whom is heavily pregnant yet claiming to be a virgin...
The Innkeeper’s Diary.
Thursday 22nd December 0
That bloody woman in 2b has stolen the sheets again! I just know it’s her. I sent Gerald to Damascus last year with sixteen mules, two camels and my best carnelian beads and he came back with four score and fifteen of the most divine cotton sheets. Oh, you should see them; the thread count is ridiculous - five hundred! Even Rameses III wouldn’t have had sheets that thick. And we all know how many times he’s had to buy new bedsheets; but even all the sweet perfumes in Arabia can’t take the smell of murder from that dirty swine’s bed. So anyway, Gerald and Nigel go down to Damascus and offload all that livestock and my lovely carnelian beads and come back with ninety-five sheets. And how many have I got left? Sixteen! And
why? Because her ‘Majesty’ from Nineveh clarts up here and gives Gerald the glad eye when I’m not on the front desk, gets the best room with my best sheets and then - excuse me, thanks for the wine and fish - off she toddles with ANOTHER of them wrapped around her head. And my soft husband watches her flounce out with them. Right. Under. His. Nose.
~
A fabulously catty retelling mashup of The Greatest Story Ever Told and Fawlty Towers, this laugh-out-loud story takes us back the year dot on the eve of Christ's birth, and immerses us in the daily grind of a put upon landlady, who has to put up with stolen sheets, her dozy husband Gerald, idiot guests, illegal DVD salesmen and a very odd young couple, one of whom is heavily pregnant yet claiming to be a virgin...
Hazelrah: "A heartfelt story featuring an ex-convict and a talking animal. I'll leave the rest pretty open - but the addition of a morally confused robot is always welcome."
Escape
Free at last. Well, as free as I will ever be; there is still an identity implant transmitting my position at all times, the requirement to check in with my parole officer every two working days, the shooting pains if I come within fifty metres of my daughter, the detectors at every street corner, every municipal building that tell them exactly where I am at all times.
But at least I wasn't seeing the same, sad graffiti at each awakening, my walks were limited by arthritis and weather rather than an exercise yard; I could pick up a stick from the hedge I was next to and behead a (probably innocent) thistle, feel the sun baking away my aches and resentments. Swish! And another one bites the dust.
~
An intriguing prison escape drama that offers an ex-con out after making parole a way of dodging the constant surveillance systems set upon him. Apparently the escape route has been masterminded by a figure from his past, who orbits the story with disembodied influence, and whose primary agent is a talking terrier called Oulanos, but as the story progresses, we're left wondering about the reliability of our MC as he takes Oulanos at his word...
Escape
Free at last. Well, as free as I will ever be; there is still an identity implant transmitting my position at all times, the requirement to check in with my parole officer every two working days, the shooting pains if I come within fifty metres of my daughter, the detectors at every street corner, every municipal building that tell them exactly where I am at all times.
But at least I wasn't seeing the same, sad graffiti at each awakening, my walks were limited by arthritis and weather rather than an exercise yard; I could pick up a stick from the hedge I was next to and behead a (probably innocent) thistle, feel the sun baking away my aches and resentments. Swish! And another one bites the dust.
~
An intriguing prison escape drama that offers an ex-con out after making parole a way of dodging the constant surveillance systems set upon him. Apparently the escape route has been masterminded by a figure from his past, who orbits the story with disembodied influence, and whose primary agent is a talking terrier called Oulanos, but as the story progresses, we're left wondering about the reliability of our MC as he takes Oulanos at his word...
johnnyjet
Western PA High Tech Country Boy
Sorry, sorry! I've not forgotten, but been busy with work and stuff. More coming soon I promise 
johnnyjet
Western PA High Tech Country Boy
I know all about "work and stuff." No problem.
Hi all, it's been a really difficult week as my new baby daughter hasn't left hospital since being born last Sunday, so I've been back and forth to hospital, while trying (and failing) to fit in work, but we've high hopes of her finally coming home tomorrow and maybe then I'll have a smidgen more time to get through these. Apologies for everyone who's been waiting by their computers, frothing at the mouth.
In any case, I've not forgotten about these, and will try to get through them! Here's the next one on my list.
Kerry Buchanan: "I'd like a story about a person who is actually a robot/cyborg/AI, but doesn't know they are. If the writer can bring a cat into the story it would be greatly appreciated. It can be any genre / period -don't feel bound to write pure Sci-Fi just because there's a robot in it."
Misperceived Reality
Morning sunlight broke into its constituent colors through the dew drops on the greenhouse walls. MineX noted the change in lumen count in the applicable spectrums and adjusted the supplementary LED lighting back to 468 nanometers. He knew the Children in this part of His Temple were at a sensitive stage in their growth; they had recently been removed from their Mother and were trying to root. Geminod's surgical precision during extraction led MineX to expected a high survival rate from this batch.
5:06am, the Priests would be arriving in 2hours 54 minuets. MineX sent printouts of which Children he wished tended today to the entrance computer terminals. SD125-7 (whose mother, SD125-O, had suffered a similar intolerance) was suffering from a nitrogen burn MineX couldn't compensate for. BM44 had to remain in quarantine.
~
This snappy vignette shows that the lines between sentience and artifice are just as blurred as those between self-assurance and insanity. And that nothing gets past cats.
In any case, I've not forgotten about these, and will try to get through them! Here's the next one on my list.
Kerry Buchanan: "I'd like a story about a person who is actually a robot/cyborg/AI, but doesn't know they are. If the writer can bring a cat into the story it would be greatly appreciated. It can be any genre / period -don't feel bound to write pure Sci-Fi just because there's a robot in it."
Misperceived Reality
Morning sunlight broke into its constituent colors through the dew drops on the greenhouse walls. MineX noted the change in lumen count in the applicable spectrums and adjusted the supplementary LED lighting back to 468 nanometers. He knew the Children in this part of His Temple were at a sensitive stage in their growth; they had recently been removed from their Mother and were trying to root. Geminod's surgical precision during extraction led MineX to expected a high survival rate from this batch.
5:06am, the Priests would be arriving in 2hours 54 minuets. MineX sent printouts of which Children he wished tended today to the entrance computer terminals. SD125-7 (whose mother, SD125-O, had suffered a similar intolerance) was suffering from a nitrogen burn MineX couldn't compensate for. BM44 had to remain in quarantine.
~
This snappy vignette shows that the lines between sentience and artifice are just as blurred as those between self-assurance and insanity. And that nothing gets past cats.
Shyrka: "A story where the lines between heroes and villains are blurred.. Genre isn't important but at least half the principle charaters should be female."
Darkened Clouds
Standing at the foot of the huge doors of the World Corporations Congress Building, Amber Cochran knew something was wrong when the clouds darkened in her cloud implant. The clouds never darkened. They were always bright with activity.
Amber had a full sunburst of red hair and freckles. She wore a tight leather red and white jumpsuit and black boots. As she stared in anticipation at the big doors at the top of the stairs, she heard her name called in a familiar voice and turned.
"Mika!"
Mika Crechnovalich approached her wearing her trademark white and black-striped jumpsuit and white boots. Her long coal-black hair was striking against her outfit. She approached like a stalking cat, ready to pounce. Amber crouched. Mika leapt.
~
A quasi, grotesquely engorged corporate future is the setting for this stylish and whip sharp comic-book-style tale of female mercenaries, which somehow reads like a mashup of 1984, Charlie's Angels and The Avengers. The wisecracking ladies face a faceless enemy who may or may not be on the same side as themselves. Which, when you're a mercenary, is a hard side to fathom... Fun, intelligent and amusing. Also, in a meta-twist, noteworthy for creating a character named after the person who requested the story!
Darkened Clouds
Standing at the foot of the huge doors of the World Corporations Congress Building, Amber Cochran knew something was wrong when the clouds darkened in her cloud implant. The clouds never darkened. They were always bright with activity.
Amber had a full sunburst of red hair and freckles. She wore a tight leather red and white jumpsuit and black boots. As she stared in anticipation at the big doors at the top of the stairs, she heard her name called in a familiar voice and turned.
"Mika!"
Mika Crechnovalich approached her wearing her trademark white and black-striped jumpsuit and white boots. Her long coal-black hair was striking against her outfit. She approached like a stalking cat, ready to pounce. Amber crouched. Mika leapt.
~
A quasi, grotesquely engorged corporate future is the setting for this stylish and whip sharp comic-book-style tale of female mercenaries, which somehow reads like a mashup of 1984, Charlie's Angels and The Avengers. The wisecracking ladies face a faceless enemy who may or may not be on the same side as themselves. Which, when you're a mercenary, is a hard side to fathom... Fun, intelligent and amusing. Also, in a meta-twist, noteworthy for creating a character named after the person who requested the story!
Jaxx: "A story about redemption and starting over, utilising a spiritual awakening for the MC, set in a classic medieval fantasy trope, with familiar races, with a twist."
ETERNITY
Edmond stood at the peak of Camber Hill and watched a village die. Pillars of smoke, bloodied by the setting sun, rose from bonfires like tortured ghosts. Even at this distance the stench of burning corpses filled the air. Plague raged through Maxton, and soon it would be no more than a cemetery.
Torwell Priory was more fortunate. The disease struck lightly, stealing the lives of only a handful of monks. Edmond thanked God each day for His mercy. He was also willing to credit the healing power of simple food, hard work, and prayer.
The priory’s blessings were many. A spring of pure water rose nearby. The barley fields were heavy with grain. Goats grew fat on emerald grass. Monks labored to make hearty bread and sharp cheese to sustain the body, as well as dark ale to cheer the soul. Yet Edmond was troubled.
~
Set in the classic medieval setting, as prescribed, this wonderfully crafted and understated tale depicts a monk, Edmond, struggling in the aftermath of a plague that leaves many dead, and the survivors at the mercy of merciless bandits. Only his Christian faith keeps him sane and strong. However, when a mysterious and fantastic creature appears at his monastery from the nearby woods seemingly in search of an unlikely spiritual rescue, Edmond finds his own faith questioned, and finds himself at a crossroads between what his faith deems to be correct, and what feels like the right thing to do. Thought-provoking and beautifully written.
ETERNITY
Edmond stood at the peak of Camber Hill and watched a village die. Pillars of smoke, bloodied by the setting sun, rose from bonfires like tortured ghosts. Even at this distance the stench of burning corpses filled the air. Plague raged through Maxton, and soon it would be no more than a cemetery.
Torwell Priory was more fortunate. The disease struck lightly, stealing the lives of only a handful of monks. Edmond thanked God each day for His mercy. He was also willing to credit the healing power of simple food, hard work, and prayer.
The priory’s blessings were many. A spring of pure water rose nearby. The barley fields were heavy with grain. Goats grew fat on emerald grass. Monks labored to make hearty bread and sharp cheese to sustain the body, as well as dark ale to cheer the soul. Yet Edmond was troubled.
~
Set in the classic medieval setting, as prescribed, this wonderfully crafted and understated tale depicts a monk, Edmond, struggling in the aftermath of a plague that leaves many dead, and the survivors at the mercy of merciless bandits. Only his Christian faith keeps him sane and strong. However, when a mysterious and fantastic creature appears at his monastery from the nearby woods seemingly in search of an unlikely spiritual rescue, Edmond finds his own faith questioned, and finds himself at a crossroads between what his faith deems to be correct, and what feels like the right thing to do. Thought-provoking and beautifully written.
Ihe: A postapocalyptic survival story that involves demons and blind people.
An Island Sanctuary
Another howl reached them through the night, setting the hairs up on Niko's neck. 'C'mon, Catur. We gotta get under cover and a fire lit 'fore they catch us.'
Catur ran doggedly at his heels, her panting breath loud in the cold air. Niko's own lungs burned with the pace, but to stop for breath was to die – or worse. Out here there was nothing to light a fire, and nowhere to shelter until morning, not that morning was much safer, but at least the demons seemed less active in daytime.
Niko glanced at the sky out of habit, even though he knew the cloud hid any moon that might be up there. Since E-Day two years ago there'd been neither sun nor moon, only darker and lighter shades of grey. He could barely remember what colour grass was or what flowers looked like.
F***. He'd let his mind wander and now he couldn't hear Catur. Where'd she gone? Did he dare call out, or had she been taken already? The sickness in his gut at that thought surprised him. He stopped, looking back. There were too many shadows here – she could be anywhere.
~
This delivers exactly what it says on the tin. Niko and his younger sister Catur try to survive a post-apocalyptic landscape blasted by nightmarish demons and ragged, barely human survivors almost as bad as the demons themselves. When Niko and his sister get a helping hand from a sinister stranger, they are dangled the opportunity of escaping this horror. But is the man all that he seems? This is a slickly, tightly written piece, fraught with tension and sucking the reader along at a rollicking pace, all the way to the shocking denouement. Great entertainment for a gloomy, rainy afternoon. Or, as it is right now, a blisteringly hot sunny day!
~
Only 4 more to go - getting my groove on now
An Island Sanctuary
Another howl reached them through the night, setting the hairs up on Niko's neck. 'C'mon, Catur. We gotta get under cover and a fire lit 'fore they catch us.'
Catur ran doggedly at his heels, her panting breath loud in the cold air. Niko's own lungs burned with the pace, but to stop for breath was to die – or worse. Out here there was nothing to light a fire, and nowhere to shelter until morning, not that morning was much safer, but at least the demons seemed less active in daytime.
Niko glanced at the sky out of habit, even though he knew the cloud hid any moon that might be up there. Since E-Day two years ago there'd been neither sun nor moon, only darker and lighter shades of grey. He could barely remember what colour grass was or what flowers looked like.
F***. He'd let his mind wander and now he couldn't hear Catur. Where'd she gone? Did he dare call out, or had she been taken already? The sickness in his gut at that thought surprised him. He stopped, looking back. There were too many shadows here – she could be anywhere.
~
This delivers exactly what it says on the tin. Niko and his younger sister Catur try to survive a post-apocalyptic landscape blasted by nightmarish demons and ragged, barely human survivors almost as bad as the demons themselves. When Niko and his sister get a helping hand from a sinister stranger, they are dangled the opportunity of escaping this horror. But is the man all that he seems? This is a slickly, tightly written piece, fraught with tension and sucking the reader along at a rollicking pace, all the way to the shocking denouement. Great entertainment for a gloomy, rainy afternoon. Or, as it is right now, a blisteringly hot sunny day!
~
Only 4 more to go - getting my groove on now
hopewrites
Crochet Streamer
With reviews like these how could I help downloading
Vaz: "A slightly dystopian story featuring a female MC and her badass talking velociraptor companion attempting to steal something priceless from a shady corporation."
Untitled
Slianka looks like a carnisaur, all teeth, claws and scales, but actually she's warm blooded, closer to being a mammal than reptile. The cosmetic effect is awesome, though, and her footprints, in a million years or so, will be indistinguishable from her distant non-ancestors.
Not very long ago, owning something that looked like her (or 'believing you owned', as she would insist) would have indicated major wealth - either one of the individuals whose value is measured in the Billions of Newdollars, a major corporation or a national government. To own one that thought like her - well, 'unique' was the strongest word we have, and it's inadequate.
The Universal Entertainment Society, as innocuous a name for probably the most rapacious, unprincipled organisation of individuals remaining in this vale of tears, thought they owned her, and several of their enforcers were in regeneration tanks right now for attempting to impose this situation - a couple more and an ex-member of the board of directors would never interest themselves in such matters again, and I had been totally and proudly involved in their lack of interest.
~
This snappy little number depicts a grotesquely bloated, future consumerist postmodern society where the only viable industry remaining is the creative arts (oh, the horror!!). Our MC - a whip-smart genetically engineered little girl with a knack for cyber attacks and Slianka the raptor in tow - breaks free from her captors / creators, the ubiquitous Universal Entertainment Society (shudder!!) and attempt to bring them down from the inside. A wry and quirky look at a future that will definitely come true.
Untitled
Slianka looks like a carnisaur, all teeth, claws and scales, but actually she's warm blooded, closer to being a mammal than reptile. The cosmetic effect is awesome, though, and her footprints, in a million years or so, will be indistinguishable from her distant non-ancestors.
Not very long ago, owning something that looked like her (or 'believing you owned', as she would insist) would have indicated major wealth - either one of the individuals whose value is measured in the Billions of Newdollars, a major corporation or a national government. To own one that thought like her - well, 'unique' was the strongest word we have, and it's inadequate.
The Universal Entertainment Society, as innocuous a name for probably the most rapacious, unprincipled organisation of individuals remaining in this vale of tears, thought they owned her, and several of their enforcers were in regeneration tanks right now for attempting to impose this situation - a couple more and an ex-member of the board of directors would never interest themselves in such matters again, and I had been totally and proudly involved in their lack of interest.
~
This snappy little number depicts a grotesquely bloated, future consumerist postmodern society where the only viable industry remaining is the creative arts (oh, the horror!!). Our MC - a whip-smart genetically engineered little girl with a knack for cyber attacks and Slianka the raptor in tow - breaks free from her captors / creators, the ubiquitous Universal Entertainment Society (shudder!!) and attempt to bring them down from the inside. A wry and quirky look at a future that will definitely come true.
Victoria Silverwolf: "A story about two characters who wander about their environment for whatever reason you like, and who encounter another character who causes complications in their lives. Any genre, no restrictions."
A Walk in the Ruins
A man and a woman stepped from under the shadow of the great teacher's statue and walked into the ruins it overlooked. They seemed young in some ways, yet appeared aged and weary in others. Their demeanors were energized, yet their steps were tired.
The man, called Amadeo, meaning God's love, had dark brown wavy hair under a pale brown rimmed cap. He had a brown goatee and facial hair, tipped with gray, and a slender frame in loose gray cotton shirt, opened in the front, and loose stained jeans. He wore dust-covered sandals and carried a small pack on his back and a black staff.
The woman, called Etebar, meaning faith, belief, and trust, had long black hair with soft features and intense blue eyes, a bruise under pouty lips. Her body drew a perfect hourglass under a tight floral blouse—blues, yellows, greens—and short yellow skirt. She also wore dust-covered sandals and carried a slim, gilded and bejeweled staff.
~
This short, Beckettian piece, almost impressionistic in tone and style, sees our two MCs wandering what seems to be a bleak, dead city, when they encounter an old crone. It is soon apparent that nothing is as it seems. It can be read as an ontological reflection of the way in which people lose their way, in more ways than one, or simply as a walk among the ruins.
A Walk in the Ruins
A man and a woman stepped from under the shadow of the great teacher's statue and walked into the ruins it overlooked. They seemed young in some ways, yet appeared aged and weary in others. Their demeanors were energized, yet their steps were tired.
The man, called Amadeo, meaning God's love, had dark brown wavy hair under a pale brown rimmed cap. He had a brown goatee and facial hair, tipped with gray, and a slender frame in loose gray cotton shirt, opened in the front, and loose stained jeans. He wore dust-covered sandals and carried a small pack on his back and a black staff.
The woman, called Etebar, meaning faith, belief, and trust, had long black hair with soft features and intense blue eyes, a bruise under pouty lips. Her body drew a perfect hourglass under a tight floral blouse—blues, yellows, greens—and short yellow skirt. She also wore dust-covered sandals and carried a slim, gilded and bejeweled staff.
~
This short, Beckettian piece, almost impressionistic in tone and style, sees our two MCs wandering what seems to be a bleak, dead city, when they encounter an old crone. It is soon apparent that nothing is as it seems. It can be read as an ontological reflection of the way in which people lose their way, in more ways than one, or simply as a walk among the ruins.
Robert Mackay: "A story with a reveal in which something about the MC's (and reader's) assumptions about the world turn out to be untrue."
Untitled
They were close. Talis could hear them, the crackling of their furnaces gave them away, even when they weren’t moving. She stared up through the tattered hole in the ceiling, watching their smoke as it leaked into the darkened sky, mingling with the embers of her burning home.
The school. It had been her home for as long as she could remember. Lorrence claimed she could remember the day Talis arrived there, a baby in the guardsmen’s arms. Talis had never believed it – Lorrence couldn’t have been more than a baby herself at the time – but now she wanted to. It seemed important that someone should.
For a moment, the crackling quietened. The golems’ thudding footfalls faded. Talis gripped the window ledge and peered up. A cry of dismay rang out and the crackling grew to a violent roar. The golem’s work was mercifully short. Judging from the quiet that soon descended, whomever they had found put up little resistance. Talis’ scanned the horizon, heart hammering in her chest. The courtyard was dark, deserted, lit only by the dull amber sky.
~
We end with a true epic; a brilliantly written, full length novella that clocks in at almost 20,000 words. The work and world is multi-layered, a fabulously realised fantasy that rocks between steampunk and magic systems, and has more twists than a twisty-turny thing. Talis and her friend Lorrence, rogue magicians being persecuted by the Hidden Emperor, are faced with monstrous Imperial War Golems, soulless, fire-breathing machines created through the human sacrifice of magicians. But as the story progresses, and the lies and layers are peeled back like so many different masks, to reveal the clever reality of the world and the true motivations of the characters, we are shown a world that is not merely about magic and fire, but power, in all its myriad, seductive forms. As the two characters are separated in an attack of the war golems, they both are set upon paths that reveal to them their own true fates, and as the shuddering climax draws near, the two leads learn how they are able to influence the world in ways they could not have imagined. My only criticism: why write such a brilliant, original piece and not give it a title!? Go to the back of the class!
PS An observation: the longest pieces in the last two Sekrit Santas have both been novella-length pieces with fire as one of the central themes... (the last one was Resvrgam, by yours truly).
~
Right, that concludes the posting and reviewing of all the entries! Phew! I hope you enjoyed them all, and that my reviews enticed you to download at least a few of them. They were all very good indeed, and there were three or four absolute pearlers in there that were a joy to read. You clever people.
I'm off for a coffee, and will get around to posting the details for the guessing game. Let's keep that open until the end of July to give people a chance to read them, and for me to recover and finally get round to writing something for the 300-worder!
Untitled
They were close. Talis could hear them, the crackling of their furnaces gave them away, even when they weren’t moving. She stared up through the tattered hole in the ceiling, watching their smoke as it leaked into the darkened sky, mingling with the embers of her burning home.
The school. It had been her home for as long as she could remember. Lorrence claimed she could remember the day Talis arrived there, a baby in the guardsmen’s arms. Talis had never believed it – Lorrence couldn’t have been more than a baby herself at the time – but now she wanted to. It seemed important that someone should.
For a moment, the crackling quietened. The golems’ thudding footfalls faded. Talis gripped the window ledge and peered up. A cry of dismay rang out and the crackling grew to a violent roar. The golem’s work was mercifully short. Judging from the quiet that soon descended, whomever they had found put up little resistance. Talis’ scanned the horizon, heart hammering in her chest. The courtyard was dark, deserted, lit only by the dull amber sky.
~
We end with a true epic; a brilliantly written, full length novella that clocks in at almost 20,000 words. The work and world is multi-layered, a fabulously realised fantasy that rocks between steampunk and magic systems, and has more twists than a twisty-turny thing. Talis and her friend Lorrence, rogue magicians being persecuted by the Hidden Emperor, are faced with monstrous Imperial War Golems, soulless, fire-breathing machines created through the human sacrifice of magicians. But as the story progresses, and the lies and layers are peeled back like so many different masks, to reveal the clever reality of the world and the true motivations of the characters, we are shown a world that is not merely about magic and fire, but power, in all its myriad, seductive forms. As the two characters are separated in an attack of the war golems, they both are set upon paths that reveal to them their own true fates, and as the shuddering climax draws near, the two leads learn how they are able to influence the world in ways they could not have imagined. My only criticism: why write such a brilliant, original piece and not give it a title!? Go to the back of the class!
PS An observation: the longest pieces in the last two Sekrit Santas have both been novella-length pieces with fire as one of the central themes... (the last one was Resvrgam, by yours truly).
~
Right, that concludes the posting and reviewing of all the entries! Phew! I hope you enjoyed them all, and that my reviews enticed you to download at least a few of them. They were all very good indeed, and there were three or four absolute pearlers in there that were a joy to read. You clever people.
I'm off for a coffee, and will get around to posting the details for the guessing game. Let's keep that open until the end of July to give people a chance to read them, and for me to recover and finally get round to writing something for the 300-worder!
OK, so here are the names of the authors (who submitted something), and the names of the stories submitted. See if you can put them together. And yes, you'll have noticed that there are more stories than there are authors. That's because one chronner wrote two stories , and another chronner wrote three! So you'll have to factor that into your guessing!
The 11 Authors:
@hopewrites
@Ihe
@chrispenycate
@johnnyjet
@Victoria Silverwolf
@Ashleyne. B. Watts
@sinister42
@Kerrybuchanan
@Shyrka
@Phyrebrat
@Vaz
The 13 Stories:
That Damned Magpie
The Inn keeper's Diary
Misperceived Reality
Untitled 1 (for Vaz)
The Heirs of Nothing
An Island Sanctuary
Joust A Bit More
Darkened Clouds
Untitled 2 (for Robert)
Eternity
Magpie
Walk In The Ruins
Escape
Happy reading, and good luck guessing - I'll do the reveal on either July 31st or August 1st, whenever I get time...
EDIT: I forgot to say: everybody who made a request actually got something, which is fantastic, I'm dead chuffed. I'd like to think it's down to my brutal, astringent management style and strict adherence to punctuality wot dun it...
The 11 Authors:
@hopewrites
@Ihe
@chrispenycate
@johnnyjet
@Victoria Silverwolf
@Ashleyne. B. Watts
@sinister42
@Kerrybuchanan
@Shyrka
@Phyrebrat
@Vaz
The 13 Stories:
That Damned Magpie
The Inn keeper's Diary
Misperceived Reality
Untitled 1 (for Vaz)
The Heirs of Nothing
An Island Sanctuary
Joust A Bit More
Darkened Clouds
Untitled 2 (for Robert)
Eternity
Magpie
Walk In The Ruins
Escape
Happy reading, and good luck guessing
- I'll do the reveal on either July 31st or August 1st, whenever I get time...EDIT: I forgot to say: everybody who made a request actually got something, which is fantastic, I'm dead chuffed. I'd like to think it's down to my brutal, astringent management style and strict adherence to punctuality wot dun it...
Last edited by a moderator:
hopewrites
Crochet Streamer
*patiently waits for email*
johnnyjet
Western PA High Tech Country Boy
*patient too*
johnnyjet
Western PA High Tech Country Boy
Without looking at the full stories, I made the following author guesses:
That Damned Magpie (for Chrispy) - Phyrebrat
The Inn keeper's Diary (for DG) - hopewrites
Misperceived Reality (for Kerry) - Ihe
Untitled 1 (for Vaz) - Chrispy
The Heirs of Nothing (for Ashleyne) - Chrispy
An Island Sanctuary (for Ihe) - Kerry
Joust A Bit More (for Ashleyne) – sinister42
Darkened Clouds (for Shyrka) - Vaz
Untitled 2 (for Robert) - DG
Eternity (for Jaxx) - Chrispy
Magpie (for Chrispy) - Shyrka
Walk In The Ruins (for Victoria) - Ashleyne
Escape (for HazelRah) - Victoria
That Damned Magpie (for Chrispy) - Phyrebrat
The Inn keeper's Diary (for DG) - hopewrites
Misperceived Reality (for Kerry) - Ihe
Untitled 1 (for Vaz) - Chrispy
The Heirs of Nothing (for Ashleyne) - Chrispy
An Island Sanctuary (for Ihe) - Kerry
Joust A Bit More (for Ashleyne) – sinister42
Darkened Clouds (for Shyrka) - Vaz
Untitled 2 (for Robert) - DG
Eternity (for Jaxx) - Chrispy
Magpie (for Chrispy) - Shyrka
Walk In The Ruins (for Victoria) - Ashleyne
Escape (for HazelRah) - Victoria
Impressive stuff, Johnny. You have a mighty one correct.