Title: Tooth

First draft

Visions. The dark. Below, the blue. And her.

The reaching-in, between us, was excruciating. Excellent. With her, my angels became demons, and with her, my dark was exquisite.

The reasons for uncertainty were as follows: the dark, as I’ve said. Her confusion. The emptiness between us. And also, above all, the ecstasy of her scream.

I can’t open my eyes under water, you know. The salt, you see. It stings. And here, under moonlight, under the ocean, it can only be worse.

So visions… was a misnomer. I can’t see. I only hear: the dark; below; the blue; and her.

Edits by Joshua Crisp

It’s shit, m8.

Jk. I really like this, but I’m not sure what it is. Maybe that’s the point, but it feels like you could make the plot a little clearer.

Below the blue is nice. In fact, the first line is very iambic which makes it satisfying to read.

If you’re gonna have exquisite excellent excruciating, maybe we can find some more? Ecstatic? Ecstasy? Exhumed? Make a real thing of it.

Oh, you do use ecstasy. Coolness.

RIGHT.

I like the repeat phrase at the end. Are they under the ocean? How can they hear? Feels a bit Titanic reaching down to save a drowned lover. I like it.

I really DON’T like: the word misnomer. You only have 100 words, an unreliable narrator is an odd choice for such a restricted format.

Also, misnomer is hard to say and make it sound poetic

“My dark was exquisite…” is an odd phrase. I like it but what does it mean?

I’ve only just realised this is about a shark. I have changed my mind, and like it all a lot more. Can we make the shark a bit more explicit at the end? And maybe lose the misnomer bit at the end, tying it in differently to the beginning.

Second draft

Tooth

Visions: The dark. Below, the blue. And her.

Her immanent swish.The reaching-in, between us, was excruciating. Excellent. With her, my angels became demons, and with her, the dark was exquisite. But.

The reasons for my uncertainty were as follows: the dark, as I’ve said. Her confusion. The emptiness between us. And also, above all, the ecstasy of her scream.

I can’t open my eyes under water, you know. The salt, you see. It stings. And here, under moonlight, under the ocean, it can only be worse.

So, no vision. I only hear: the dark; below; the blue; and her.

Title

First draft

“Bjork, we have a problem.”

A besuited executive burst into the studio just as Bjork reached the climactic peak of her recording, back to the door, hollaing at the padded walls in the ecstacy of her remembered nature.

“Why do you disturb me when I am in the company of the muses?” she asked, turning slowly towards him.

“Projected record sales are down.” the executive responded, “the test audiences didn’t like it.”

Bjork twisted her neck to face the executive, and bore her hundred gaping eye sockets upon him. Her tendrils throttled him to death. The assistant technician screamed.

Edits by Tom McNally
Title suggestion - Ecstasy?

99 words

Love the eldritch horror feel

‘Burst’ isn’t the right tone, unless it’s to say that he’s in power and his fortune is to be reversed?

Question - is the executive surprised by the lead character’s behaviour or is this her Final Form?

‘Slowly’ can be more horrible
‘Test audiences’
‘Screamed’ -> ‘turned and fled’

Second draft

“Bjork, we have a problem.” The besuited executive interrupted Bjork in her studio as she reached the climactic peak of the recording, her back to the door, hollering at the padded walls in ecstacy of her remembered nature.

“Why do you disturb me when I am in the company of the muses?” she asked.

“Projected record sales are down.” the executive responded, “marketing doesn’t like it.”

Bjork twisted her neck to face the executive, and as he stood immobile in shock, she bore her hundred gaping eye sockets upon him. Her tendrils throttled him to death. The assistant technician fled.

Title

First draft

The birds were screaming. The trees were ablaze for a hundred miles in each direction and the skies were filling fast with an acrid smoke.

Maria’s lungs clung to the inside of her chest as her sweat-drenched clothes hugged the outside.

She drew in a futile screech of air and whispercoughed her daughter’s name again.

It was raining, she noticed, as the jungle flashed around her. Each belching roar of flame seared the rain and tears from her cheeks.

Suddenly all was darkness. The smoke descended in a thick tide that smothered her like a child in a blazing crib.

Edits by Paul McNally

This is a very emotive and striking passage. And very tight as it stands. I would trade a few adjectives like “sweat-drenched” in order to give a better picture of Maria. The thing that needs to come out a bit more strongly is the main character.

Second draft

Birds were screaming. Trees ablaze for a hundred miles in each direction and the skies were filling fast with acrid smoke.

Desperate and dirty, Maria’s lungs clung to the inside of her chest as her sweat-drenched clothes hugged the outside.

She drew in a futile screech of air and whispercoughed her daughter’s name again.

It was raining, she noticed, as the jungle flashed around her. Each belching roar of flame seared the rain and tears from her shaven head.

Suddenly all was darkness. The smoke descended in a thick tide that smothered her like a child in a blazing crib.

Title

First draft

The screaming was for show. It was something that she had always done. And now it was considered part of what the aunts and uncles expected, after they had descended the stairs and just before the brandies came out. How it had become a tradition, the middle sibling screaming at family gatherings, in placement of a song perhaps, the eyes screwed shut in much the same way and the smiles of enjoyment emanating from what may come from a ditty, was rooted in a time before the money and...

Edits by Paul Fisher Davies

11 words short. I like it. Does it need paragraphing?

Like my one, it finds its way as it goes. You could change the running order in the third sentence: give us the framing *before* the aunt and uncles come in.

The fourth sentence could do with breaking up: starting with How is okay but bring that sentence to coherence? Does it become a question of how? (Or is the word a FYAC for ‘now’?)

I’m interested in what’s after the And… you’ve got 11 words to find it! Maybe bring back the aunts and uncles? I’m interested in them.

Where are the parents? (You don’t have to explain.)

Suggestion for the title: Capitalism

Second draft

The screaming was for show. It was something that she hadn’t always done, but almost. And now it was considered part of what the aunts and uncles expected, after they had descended the stairs and just before the brandies came out. How it had become a tradition, the middle sibling screaming at family gatherings, was rooted in a time before the money arrived. For now it was in place of a song, the eyes screwed shut in much the same way and the smiles of familiarity emanating from the guests as if they were bobbing to a little ditty.

The Amazon Cinematic Universe Episode One: Alexa Origins

In the unjust world of Massachusetts

The steampunk 1600s

The little girl tragically dead of pneumonia

Now a clockwork woman

Thanks to the old tinkerer in his shed

His lecherous toys providing a bolthole for her soul

He made her to find witches but the people call her witch

Prejudiced and afraid, she needs a new purpose. He will not release her.

She lashes out and her steel hand cracks his wicked head, his brains spill on the floor

Grief overcomes her

Then in the shadows

She hears the crying

Hungry and lost

Little Echo Dot is afraid

Edits by Claudia Treacher

Very poignant ending, good lesson for the kids about where these kinds of actions will get you in life. There is no punctuation. This is alarmingly subversive.

It is not immediately clear who the lasher is and whether their head is full of wicked thoughts or the victim. Perhaps it doesn’t matter. Why do they need a new purpose? Again, perhaps it doesn’t matter. You could mess about the order of the last section and see how it feels?

Massachusetts, the steampunk 1600s
The clockwork woman confronts her creator, the old tinkerer.

He made her to find witches but the people call her ‘witch.’

Prejudiced and afraid, she needs a new purpose. He will not release her.

Alexa lashes out. One swipe of her steel hand cracks his frail head, and spills his wicked thoughts to the floor.

Her grief pulls her down.

What place is there in the world for one such as she?

Then she hears the crying

A tiny, bleeping sound

There in the corner, in the shadows

Little Echo is afraid

And she is hungry.