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First edits

Second edits

Title

1

Amy Sutton

Claudia Treacher

Paul Davies

Chapter XIII - The late 21st Century

2

Joshua Crisp

Tom McNally

Claudia Treacher

Metal Ache

3

Paul Davies

Amy Sutton

Joshua Crisp

Phoenix from the Ashes

4

Claudia Treacher

Joshua Crisp

Tom McNally

Redox

5

Tom McNally

Paul Davies

Amy Sutton

Sail-dem

Warm-up - ten words, no title, secret prompt is: ‘acquaintance'

Dear friend

Known for years

I never learned

Your name

Warm-up - ten words, no title, prompt is: ‘acquaintance'

Me old bamboo. Me old bamboo. Me old - it’s dead!!!

Warm-up - 10 words, no title, prompt is: ‘acquaintance’

Yeah, we’re mates. You know, we meet up. Met.

Warm-up - 10 words, no title, prompt is: ‘acquaintance'

This isn’t an opportunity to get to know it better.

Warm-up - 10 words, no title, prompt is: 'acquaintance'

Friend from work staring at Jules with disturbing hunger.

Amy Sutton first draft

Ba’al Reborn

Boats in the harbour. Pretty bunting and succulents, canal boats not suited for wider tides. Out on the horizon, in the choppy grey water, a figure stalks the horizon. Crown of horns disappearing into the swirling clouds, beard curling like a roiling cloud born on a weather front, eyes crackling with pent-up electricity. The pretty wind chimes hanging from the doors of the little boats begin to tremble and chime a far too cutesy warning. Only a cat raises its head at the silvery chorus. The sky god billows clouds like a cloak. He has not seen the harbour. Yet.

Word count: 100

Amy, your first editor is:  Claudia Treacher

Claudia’s redraft:

These canal boats are not suited for wider tides. They sit in the harbour, adorned with bunting and succulents, painted bright colours against the darkening water. Out on the horizon, the water begins to boil and churn. A figure stalks there with eyes crackling the energy of the oncoming storm. A wind-chime on the harbour begins to ring out a tinkling, a sound swamped and struggling in the pitch of the waves. Only a cat raises its head at the silvery chorus. The sky god billows clouds like a cloak. He has not seen the harbour. Yet. (97 words)

Amy Sutton - final draft by Paul Davies

VIII: The Late 21st Century

In those times, the waters had risen by several metres and much of the coastline had receded drastically. Those peoples who remained adopted waterborne houses, both as a way to navigate from place to place in search of food, and to evade the dangers of further tidal flows, and threats from their fellow citizens.

As a way of announcing their presence, they created from the scraps of the former society trinkets, which would have made chiming sounds as they blew in the wind. Found tethered on twine, these would have made clear when boats were encroaching on each others’ territory.

Word count: 100

Joshua Crisp FIRST DRAFT

Hungry for Jewels

The kitchen dwarves were hard at work, hammering rubies, diamonds and precious gemstones into a sumptuous breakfast for the Queen. Porridge made from Quaker Opals, Eggs Amethyst with orange juice, followed by Beans on Topaz.

The miners worked furiously, dripping sweat from exhausted pores in the flickering dragon breath lighting. Shovelfuls of priceless gems were smashed and blended into ‘healthy’ smoothies for the Queen’s visiting daughter.

The craze was dire for the entire kingdom’s dentures but they just fucking loved munching on jewels. Couldn’t get enough. And consequently, the ting ting ting of hammering out emeralds rang throughout the realm.

Word count: 100

Joshua Crisp your first editor is:  Tom McNally

Tom’s redraft:

Every year when the princess came home for the winter the whole mountain did their bit to make her feel special. The most splendid phosphorescence was hung, the dragons were lit and the songs of her youth lilted through the caverns.

This year there was a new craze in the fortress. The Queen and the consorts were eager to introduce her to it. A dozen expectant eyes gazed over at the princess as she sat down for breakfast. The smoothie was brought to her. Nods, smiles. Drink it, it will balance your royal vitality.

The princess drank, then coughed, a success. Her teeth ached and she tasted metal. We drink the jewels now!

Joshua Crisp Final draft by Claudia Treacher

Metal Ache

Claudia’s final draft

This year there was a new tradition in the fortress. Phosphorescence was hung in the caverns, the fires were lit, and the dragons in their gilded-cages were wheeled into the chamber. The royal court were eager to see how she would take the change. As she sat down on a rough-hewn mat, a goblet was placed in front of her. The expectant eyes of the court gazed at her as she raised it to her lips. Nods and smiles. “Drink it,” they said, “it will balance your royal vitality.”

Her teeth ached and the dragons cried. She drank the jewels.

Word count: 100

Paul Davies FIRST DRAFT

Toucan

The green shade of the tall savannah, and the hot light in rays passing through. In the distance, a flash of red and gold.

“Was it her?”

The camera shutter whirred and jerked and whirred, click click click click.

I wiped the sweat and condensation away from my eyes and peered into the digital screen. We just had a blur; but then, a wing; a broad, tall beak, yellow and crested. She had passed right in front of us.

“We’ve got her, but I don’t know if it’s useable.”

Word count:89

Paul, your first editor is: Amy Sutton

Amy’s redraft:

The green shade of the tall savannah, the hot light in rays passing through.

In the distance, a flash of red and gold.

"There!"

The camera shutter whirred and jerked and whirred, click click click. A blur; a wing; a broad, tall beak, yellow and crested.

The operator stepped out from under the cloth, wiping sweat and condensation from their eyes.

"Was it her?" the expedition leader asked.

"Won't know for sure until it develops," the young man said.

Word count: 79

Paul Davies final draft by Joshua Crisp

Phoenix from the Acids

Joshua’s redraft:

Her master’s words rang in her head in the close confines of the darkened room.

“We won’t know for sure until it develops.”

Surrounding her were dozens of cast-off reels of film. She was on her knees, poring through image after image. Red-Gold wings and out-of-frame claws. Here and there a flicker of flame, but blurry and out-of-focus.

When she found the complete bird she gasped. Gentle fingers dipped the priceless negative in acid baths and silver nitrates and ammonium thiosulphate before gingerly pegging it up.

Then she watched. The photograph’s form began to smoulder and a phoenix was born.

Word count:100

Claudia Treacher FIRST DRAFT

Rust

First draft

The howling winds of Mars whipped red rust through my bolts as I chipped away at my leg. We had been here for decades now. The first I had known started as a small round scraper, who inched themselves out of the compacted dust. They shovelled out the next, and then recovered me too. The field of detritus was heavy-baked, and in the midst of our hammering and scraping I could see a glinting light growing closer in the sky.

Word count: 80

Claudia Treacher, your first editor is: Joshua Crisp

Joshua’s redraft:

The howling winds of Mars whipped red rust through my bolts as I chipped away the last of my leg. I was finally free. After the centuries had bleached and broken my embedded landing struts, a thousand years of hammering had made them weak enough for me to snap myself and crawl off after the others. The green light in the sky had been growing for almost eighty years now. We didn’t have long left. Limbless and long past insane with pain and solitude, I dragged myself across the field of detritus and towards the deep red spire.

98 words

Claudia Treacher SECOND DRAFT by Tom McNally

Redox

After a time I realised I could sweat. A tiny outlet of water vapour from the electrolysis tanks could condense on the surface of my hull. I could manage a spray once per sol, and as Helios permitted that was just enough.

The dew I made allowed the tiny traces of gas in the atmosphere to dissolve and mix. What would have taken a hundred thousand years now could take place in a mere hundred or so. I had to gamble, but the purpose of my life and work was that same gamble.

Slowly, miraculously, some biological process, some life, used those dissolved gases to oxidise the metal of my prison. My legs rusted away. There was life on Mars and I was free.

Word count: 124!

Tom McNally FIRST DRAFT

Working Title

Grandfather and his men built the sails before they went out into the valley, never to return. They are torn now, and painted all over with lichen, but they still crush the grain and still power the turbine.

Last week a party of Blues sang from the trees that they would tear down the sails, or burn them. Mother counted ten-five-two of them but Old Pat said it was more.

If the Blues do that when we sleep then there will be no more flour and no more lights. I’ve been telling everyone that we can ever sleep again.

Word count: 99

Tom McNally, your first editor is: Paul Davies

Paul’s redraft

Papi en him man-dem build them sail bifo dem went out into Valley-Vista; emi never comback.

Dem torn now, sail-dem, en paint all over wi Lichen-Green-Rot, but dem still mash di grain en still big-power Turbine.

Week-gone one party di Blue-Men sing from de tree-dem: “Wi TERUP dem sail, wi BURN-DEM!”

Mami counted ten-five-two of dem but Ol Pat i say, it was many-many mo.

If di Blue-Men-Dem do that when wi sleep-tight, then there gon be no mo grain en no mo flour en no mo light.

I’ve been tell every-man-dem dis: wi can NEVA sleep, neva-mo.

Tom McNally SECOND DRAFT by Amy Sutton

Sail-dem

Amy’s redraft

Papi en him man-dem build them sail bifo dem went out into Valley-Vista; emi neva comback.

Dem torn now, sail-dem, en paint all over wi Lichen-Green-Rot, but dem still mash di grain en still turn roun big-power Turbine.

Week-gone one party di Blue-Men sing from de tree-dem: “Wi TERUP dem sail, wi BURN-DEM!”

Mami counted ten-five-two of dem but Ol Pat i say, it was many-many mo.

If di Blue-Men-Dem do that when wi sleep-tight, then there gon be no mo flour en no mo big-power en no mo light.

I’ve been tell every-man-dem dis: wi can NEVA sleep, neva-mo.

Word count: 100