Guest

Editing

Title

1

Amy Sutton

Joshua Crisp

Billboard

2

Joshua Crisp

Ella Brasington

Danse Macabre

3

Ella Brasington

Hiu Wai Lee

Tranquility

4

Hiu Wai Lee

Tom McNally

Sound

5

Tom McNally

Amy Sutton

The Special

Warm-up - no wordcount, no title, prompt is: ‘shadow'

Pan was a fae, and that was why he had no shadow. He had been seeking for so many centuries, building his glamour bit by bit - his names he had stolen in contest and deceit, from an ancient god, and a lonely boy wandering a fallen battlefield; his form he had crafted from clouds and forgotten dreams; his entourage he had snatched from cradles left too close to empty windows, and prams left unattended on misty nights. But as yet, a shadow had eluded him. Shadows were as wily as the fae themselves, not as easy to trap or trick as mortals. They could only be drawn by moonlight, and blood.

Warm-up - no word count, no title, prompt is: 'shadow'

If it wasn’t already super obvious from the sunglasses, this black hedgehog is Xtremely cool. He have red spikes in his hair and sunglasses and also a gun. He has killed all of the bad guys because he was so good at fighting and he knows lots of kung fu and could beat up Neo from the Matrix. And also Jackie Chan.

One day he went into dumbledore’s army because Harry Potter was too scared to go and do what had to be done but this hedgehog didn’t hesitate at all and he beat up voldemort and got the elder wand and now he can kill with a thought so if you think you can come and fite him your super wrong.

You can’t draw him without my permission and I’m not likely to give it to you because you won’t do the sunglasses right and I’ve been working on him for a long time and you won’t properly understand him, but if you’re cool and NOT Bradley from school then message me and maybe I’ll let you pay me.

Warm-up - no wordcount, no title, prompt is: ‘shadow’

SNIP SNIP, I’m free to fly away! I flit around the room with ease, but the children scream and gasp. They lure me to a tinder box,they want to clip my wings. A small girl stitches me back to your soles and I shed a single tear.

Warm-up - no word count, no title, prompt is: ‘shadow'

Room without light would be dark. That is the case of renting a coffin-sized flat (or bed) without any windows. The only source of light is that little lightbulb, the blinding lights from your phone/tablet/laptop.  Apart from that, you can only feel your way through.

You cannot see your limbs but they felt the warmth and softness of your comforter. It’s not bad, being in a cramped room. You wouldn’t mind the darkness when you close your eyes or when you cannot see what should be in close proximity. . It’s just that when your phone wakes up from your touch, your eyes roll around from the brightness to everything around and beyond and the contrast stands out. The sudden light aches your eyes. You blink to adjust your eyes and you felt tears nourishing your eyes and the tissues around that.

It’s not depressing when you think of the tens of thousands of people living in the same condition as you do. It’s like when you were hiding under your blankets, playing with your phone when your mother told you to go to bed early.

Warm-up - no wordcount, no title, prompt is: 'shadow'

Nega-Duck was the evil version of Darkwing Duck. After a brief period of defining himself by the identity and actions of the older, more established copy, Nega-Duck experienced a crisis. He simply did not have the resources of Drake Mallard. Keeping up with generational wealth was one unwinnable game too many. He instead became a labour activist and was executed after campaigning for an eight-hour week in Saint Canard.

Nega-Duck’s final words as he stood in the gallows were this:

If you think that by hanging us, you can stamp out the labor movement -  then hang us! Here you will tread upon a spark, but there, and there, and behind you and in front of you, and everywhere, flames will blaze up. It is a subterranean fire. You cannot put it out.

Neither Darkwing Duck nor Drake Mallard offered comment on the trial.

Amy Sutton first draft

100 words first draft (press ctrl/cmd + shift + c for wordcount)

Working Title

As the sun crept over the mountain tops, the advertising board glided out of its subterranean garage and began its circuit through the streets of town. Its magnetic hover-pads meant it could easily navigate kerbs, broken flagstones and even fallen bodies with ease. Its hologram screen projected the face of a famous celebrity, offering passersby a carbonated beverage with a twinkling smile. The board had cameras but was not programmed to recognise the difference between standing and fallen buildings, or assign any greater meaning to them.

Word count: 86

Amy, your editor is:  Tom McNally

Suggested edits:

86 words, room for play

No title,

Think the thought is out of head, maybe more building of dread

Our viewpoint is naive, want us to discover more than our viewpoint

First suggestion: make it first person!

Second suggestion: put more definition on town, a name or a suburb or a landmark

I didn’t sleep so when the sun crept over the mountain tops I went out for a smoke and finally caught it in the act. I saw the advertising board glide out of its subterranean garage and began its circuit through the streets of town.

It hovered over broken flagstone and fallen bodies with ease. Its hologram screen projected the face of someone famous, offering me a carbonated beverage with a smile. The board couldn’t recognise the difference between standing and fallen buildings, so it did its routine to all the burned-out lots before it came to my door.

99

Amy Sutton second draft

100 words second draft (press ctrl/cmd + shift + c for wordcount)

Billboard

When the sun crept over the mountain tops I went out for a smoke, and finally caught it in the act. I saw the advertising board glide out of its subterranean garage and began its circuit through the streets of Bangor.

It hovered over broken flagstone and fallen bodies with ease. Its hologram screen projected the face of someone famous, smiling as it offered me a carbonated beverage in English and then Welsh. The board couldn’t recognise the difference between standing and fallen buildings, so it did its routine to all the burned-out lots before it came to my door.

Word count: 100

Joshua Crisp FIRST DRAFT

100 words first draft (press ctrl/cmd + shift + c for wordcount)

Can You Spark Joy?

The next prisoner tried desperately to rouse some enthusiasm in the empty forest. His paper-white teeth and manic grin failed to move the stoic trees, who looked on dispassionately, and indeed, a little sadly. He did a little pirhouette, twirling his cane, doffing his top hat and shouting to the heavens once more, begging for any reaction: Laughter, cheering, applause. Even a boo would be fine. The forest was silent. His performance did not move the trees. And half his time was up already. The Judge-drone began to play the music that would count down to his execution. He danced madly and shouted, his fists pummeling the bark and splintering his knuckles red and bloody with an aching need. The woodlands did not care. He did not spark joy. Bells rang out, the drone ended his misery and the next prisoner was brought out.

Word count:

Joshua Crisp your editor is:  Amy Sutton

Suggested edits:

Ok, so I just wrangled it into 100 words right here:

The prisoner danced in the empty forest. The stoic trees looked on dispassionately, and indeed, a little sadly. His paper-white teeth and manic grin failed to move them.

He did a little pirouette, twirling his cane, doffing his top hat, praying for laughter, applause - even a boo. The forest remained silent.

Half his time was up already. The execution music began. He danced madly and shouted, pummeling the bark, splintering his knuckles red and bloody.

The woodlands did not care. He did not spark joy.

Bells rang out, the trees ended his misery and the next prisoner was brought out.

***

I’ve reworked the sentence order to help cut some stuff out. I put in some formatting to make it easier to read, removed a few repeats while keeping the rule of three for the tree’s rejection. I got rid of the drone, because word count, and also I don’t think you need it, and so instead of the drone ending his misery I had the trees end his misery. I really like the ‘judged by nature’ idea, it’s fun eco-horror and also has that idea of the afterlife, a council of elders. Removing the drone removes the tech element and makes it a bit more vague, but I think that helps create this dreamtime eco-horror/judgement day feel.

Title Alternate: Does This Spark Joy? (I quite like the impersonal nature of it)

Have a look, see what you like, and tweak as needed.

Joshua Crisp SECOND DRAFT

100 words second draft (press ctrl/cmd + shift + c for wordcount)

Danse Macabre

The prisoner danced in the empty forest. The stoic trees looked on dispassionately, and indeed, a little sadly. His paper-white teeth and beserk grin failed to move them.

He did a manic pirouette, twirling his cane, doffing his top hat, praying for laughter, applause - anything. The forest remained silent.

Half his time was up already. The execution music began. He capered madly and shouted, pummeling the bark, splintering his knuckles red and bloody and raw.

The woodlands did not care. He did not spark joy.

Bells rang out, the trees ended his misery and the next prisoner was brought out.

Word count: 100

Ella Brasington FIRST DRAFT

100 words first draft (press ctrl/cmd + shift + c for wordcount)

Tranquility

Breathe in, and out, and don’t forget this time. You’re pulling the plug, thoughts screaming down the drain. Brain empty, knelling bells in the ears. Soothing tones, you pause to indulge in clamouring static behind your eyes. Swallow. Lids clatter shut, lashes interlock. Brain empty, no thoughts. Penny drops, tongue twitch but you’re committed to the process. Lock jaw, grind teeth - this is nice, you think. Calm hairs dance in the wind. You breathe again - good job for remembering. Don’t rip up the grass, it worked hard to be there. A cooling zephyr kisses hands with canyons driven with nails.

Word count:

Savannah, your editor is: Joshua Crisp

Suggested edits: Cool. This feels like we’re having a stroke or a seizure - a drug episode?  Maybe we’re in the throes of death? Or masturbating to orgasm.

Your first line is super interesting, because “this time” does a lot of work in setting up the scene. We've forgotten to breathe before, which is what takes it away from meditation and towards a more extreme experience. Maybe we’re epileptic. I really like the vagaries of this piece because it isn't fully clear what's happening.

Honestly, it's great. You could let it stand, listen to the prompt again and write something new in your redraft time if you're happy with it :) All the critique below is optional.

Second person is fine, but maybe place us some more in the character - you've given us a lot of lovely bodily experiences we can enjoy, and if you're looking to make it a universalisable thing to read then great. Otherwise hinting at age and gender would help ground the reader.

You can also make room for another sentence if you want one by eliminating some of the ‘you’s - after “You’re pulling the plug” we know it’s 2nd person, so we don’t need “You pause”, when Pause would do the same thing. Same deal for “This is nice, you think” and “good job for remembering” does the work of the “You” at the beginning of the sentence.

You could also look at the double “with” in your last sentence. Replacing one with a “ - ” or a fun word like “over” or “through” does interesting things...

Ella Brasington SECOND DRAFT

100 words second draft (press ctrl/cmd + shift + c for wordcount)

Tranquility

Breathe in, and out, and don’t forget this time. You’re pulling the plug, thoughts screaming down the drain. Brain empty, knelling bells in the ears. Soothing tones, you pause to indulge in clamouring static behind your eyes. Swallow. Lids clatter shut, lashes interlock. Brain empty, no thoughts. Penny drops, tongue twitch but you’re committed to the process. Lock jaw, grind teeth - this is nice, you think. Calm hairs dance in the wind. You breathe again - good job for remembering. Don’t rip up the grass, it worked hard to be there. A cooling zephyr kisses hands with canyons driven by nails.

Word count:100

Hiu Wai Lee FIRST DRAFT

100 words first draft (press ctrl/cmd + shift + c for wordcount)

Working title

I am not a morning person but I always wake up before 8...even on the weekends. It was not by choice. Apartment with thin walls in a densely populated city. I don’t need an alarm clock.

Every morning, there is that truck selling foreign  groceries. Everytime it passes by, that humanoid sound echoes three times. I think it’s a truck from a supermarket owned by a foreign company. The worse part is, there are no supermarkets within 5 miles of where I live.

Then there is always my sister’s stupid alarm on her phone. She has three alarms and always get up after the third alarm. So every morning is the default alarm soundtrack.

“It’s a soundtrack with alarms from all over the world.”

Word count: 125

Hiu Wai, your editor is: Ella Brasington

Suggested edits:

I am not a morning person but I always wake up before 8...even on the weekends. It’s not by choice. Apartment with thin walls in a densely populated city. I don’t need an alarm clock.

Every morning, there is that truck. Everytime it passes by, that humanoid sound echoes three times. I think it’s from a supermarket selling foreign groceries. There are no supermarkets within 5 miles of the apartment.

My sister relies on her phone. She has three alarms and only gets up after the third. Every morning the same default soundtrack.

“It’s the same alarm sound all over the world.”

I’ve cut, or tightened some things and got it down to 103.

I like the truck, maybe the sister needs more anger? Or is the tone resignation?

Hiu Wai Lee SECOND DRAFT

100 words second draft (press ctrl/cmd + shift + c for wordcount)

I am not a morning person but I always wake up before 8. It’s not by choice. Apartment with thin walls in a densely populated city. I don’t need an alarm clock.

Every morning, there is that truck. Everytime it passes by,that humanoid sound echoes. I think it’s from a supermarket but there are no supermarkets within the 5-mile radius.

My sister, however, relies on her phone. She has three alarms and only gets up after the third. Every morning the same default soundtrack.

“It’s the sound of the world.”

Sound

Sound

Word count: 91

Tom McNally FIRST DRAFT

100 words first draft (press ctrl/cmd + shift + c for wordcount)

Working Title

After the funeral he devised the Special.

Before he sent her clothes off to the charity shop he had most of the structure down.

By the time they sold her house and he moved in to the hostel the Special was fully-formed.

His car filled up with dirty laundry and takeout containers while he told the world about the Special, and how to get it, through the loudspeaker.

When his son-in-law rapped on the car window one cold morning and offered him a spare room he didn’t know what to say so he just told him about the Special, about what it could do for him and his family.

It led to an argument and he ran him down. It didn’t take them long to find him in the next town over because he couldn’t stop broadcasting the news about the Special.

It didn’t matter, by the the Special had taken hold. No jail could hold him now.

Word count: 158

Tom McNally, your editor is: Hiu Wai Lee

Suggested edits:

After the funeral, he devised the Special.

Before he sent her clothes off, he had most of the structure down.

By the time they sold her house and he moved into the hostel the Special was fully-formed.

His car filled up with dirty laundry and takeout containers when he told the world about the Special through the loudspeaker.

When his son-in-law rapped on the car window and offered him a spare room,  he spoke nothing but the Special.

It led to an argument and he ran him down. He couldn’t stop broadcasting the news about the Special and it didn’t take long for them to find him.

It didn’t matter, no jail could hold him now.  

Tom McNally SECOND DRAFT

100 words second draft (press ctrl/cmd + shift + c for wordcount)

The Special

He devised the Special after the funeral, before he donated her clothes.

When they sold her house and he moved into the hostel the Special was already fully-formed.

His car filled up with dirty laundry and takeout containers while he told the world about the Special through the loudspeaker.

When his son-in-law rapped on the car window and offered him a spare room,  he spoke nothing but the Special, so he ran him down.

It didn’t take long for them to find him - he saw no need to stop broadcasting.

He went quietly, no prison could hold him now.  

Word count: 100