Guest

Pronouns

Editing

Title

1

Amelia Armande

they/them

Charlie Dinkin

Birth Day

2

Joshua Crisp

he/him

Tom McNally

A carpet of snowdrops

3

Charlie Dinkin

she/her

Joshua Crisp

NO ACCIDENTS

4

Sally Vanderpump

she/her

Amelia Armande

Apple of my Eye

5

Tom McNally

he/him

Sally Vanderpump

Ray of sunshine

Listener

Pronouns

Submission title

Prompt

1

CatGirl

she/her

Jimmy Boy

s02e07

2

Colette McCormick

she/her

Plague

s02e07

Tom and Jerry filled me with dread as a kid. They both seemed equally as awful as each other, locked in eternal combat. It was like a vision of hell.

His plunger was depressed for the last time. He’d been depressed for years. His colourful spring slowly fought the surface tension until he popped off the desk with a sad final *boing*

She'd sent invitations saying 6pm, but for her, the party didn't start until 9. For those 3 hours, the guests stood on the lawn, occasionally knocking at the deadlocked doors.

She had never done anything wild before. Perhaps it was not too late? She smoothed a crease from her cardigan. Yes, she replied. “Zany Wild by name, Wild by nature.”

When Garfields in bermuda shorts walked the Earth: I set my Nickelodeon Gak free in New York. The gak headlined a sitcom, which had 13 million viewers and was cancelled.

Amelia Armande first draft

Working Title

The crabs were barely hours old, their tiny bodies translucent, tender and fragile as pieces of glass. Their little minds held only these tenets:

One - THE SEA IS SAFE

Two - THE BEACH IS NOT

Three - I AM DELICIOUS

They scrambled through the wet sand, navigating shells and driftwood, breathless, trembling, divine fear burning like a star on the horizon. Above, the gulls loomed like reapers.

Word count: 65

Amelia, your editor is:  Sally Vanderpump

No title
Beginning of the idea
It doesn’t have an end!
How can I evoke the emotion of the scene

----

I love this - it’s succinct but very evocative. I love the last line as it has a certain menace and contrasts beautifully with the first line. Perhaps the emotion could come from another outside force - a parental figure, a child, some creature who wishes them well or a unity between crabs?

Word count: ??

Amelia Armande second draft

Birth Day

The crabs were barely hours old, their tiny bodies translucent, fragile as spun sugar. Their little minds held only these tenets:

One - THE SEA IS SAFE

Two - THE BEACH IS NOT

Three - I AM DELICIOUS

They scrambled through the wet sand, navigating shells and driftwood, breathless, trembling, divine fear burning through every sinew. Above, the gulls loomed like reapers.

Suddenly - a shadow across the world. A bright green spade scooped, turning everything on its head.

Flight!

And then - the blessed relief of hitting the roaring surf.

The toddler waved as it watched its new friends disappear off into the waves.

Word count: 100

Joshua Crisp FIRST DRAFT

Working title

Sweat poured against the analyst’s glasses and she wiped them off. The VHS cassettes whirred behind her. She watched the grainy footage on the big projector. A pristine wilderness stretched out like a canvas. Soft-white snow and bright pine needles. A whispersharp Kansas night and a full moon.. A shooting star spangled the heavens and then dripped like errant paint splatter to stain the snow a muddy ochre. Crunch. The first body fell. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Falling like fruit to bruise the ground and leave tiny puddles while all the world’s aircraft continued to ignite in the skies above.

Word count: 96

Joshua Crisp your editor is:  Charlie Dinkin

We LOVE a sweaty analyst - elegant and visceral.

I think you could punch this up by thinking about making it present tense - how immediate can it feel? Or did it happen in the past? If so…why is she sweating NOW?

I love the contrast between the hum-drum office and the scale of the epic disaster she’s watching unfold. How does it make her feel?

Can you vary your ‘crunches’ - a chance for some onomatopoeic action. Perhaps there’s a chance to sneak all five senses in there. I think you could tighten up the description of the landscape on the projector to make space for this…

…or perhaps focus on making it even more beautiful? A gorgeous scene, disrupted by disaster.

Joshua Crisp SECOND DRAFT

A carpet of snowdrops

Sweat is smudging the analyst’s glasses, so she wipes them off. VHS cassettes whir behind her. Grainy footage on the big projector. A pristine wilderness stretched out like a canvas. Cloud-white snow and bright pine needles. A majestic Kansas winter with a full moon. Shooting stars puncture the heavens and then drips like errant paint splatter to stain the snow a muddy ochre. Crunch. The first body falls. Whump. Hush. Crush. Crunch. Flaming, falling fruit that bruised the ground and left tiny puddles. Pilots and passengers alike died on impact, their tonguefrozen prayers muffled in mouths now stoppered with snow.

Word count: 100

Charlie Dinkin FIRST DRAFT

Working title

14 days without an accident, the sign at the entrance proudly displayed. A new record for the park, which stood atop a clifftop that was slowly crumbling into the sea (but no one mentioned that). With four rollercoasters, the bumper cars and a haunted house - or so they called it (it was just a house) it was inevitable that something would happen once in a while. Richard didn't have to kill his wife though. She didn't even work there.

Word count: 79

Charlie Dinkin, your editor is: Amelia Armande

Lovely metaphors
More flourish
Surprise ending - set up punchline

I really, really like this setting. The opening is strong.

I think you can let us linger on the different elements of the theme park - maybe short-circuiting bumper cars, three and a half rollercoasters, or loose bolts on the roller coasters. Rats in the candyfloss.

And maybe you could tie your haunted house into the murder. It’s like, we’ve already got the dangerous bumper cars and the rickety rollercoasters. But the haunted house was NOT authentically haunted. Now that Richard’s wife/the park inspector/the bus full of school kids were in and the doors were locked, he would see to that. I think that could tie it up in a neat bow.

Word count: ??

Charlie Dinkin SECOND DRAFT

NO ACCIDENTS

'14 days: no accidents' the cracked wooden sign at the entrance proudly displayed. A new record for the theme park, perched atop a clifftop that was slowly crumbling into the wild sea. With its short-circuiting bumper cars, three and a half rollercoasters and rodent-ridden candy floss machine, the day's visitors seemed surprised - if not disturbed - to learn that the haunted house was so freshly haunted. The ageing proprietor had locked the children inside, he announced by loudspeaker to the assembled crowd, but if he was completely honest with himself (when lying alone in bed that night) it was no accident.

Word count: 100

Sally Vanderpump FIRST DRAFT

The Apple

How long had she been here? She had no idea. She pressed the button on her phone hopefully but there was nothing. Blank. The rain dripped gently on the canvas and she thought could hear birdsong. It might have been comforting had she any clue where she was or how she had got here. She fumbled around her in the tangle of sleeping bags and empty crisp packets, at a loss for something to do. There, in the midst of it all, was an apple. Shining, red and asking to be eaten. So why did she know it was the wrong thing to do?

Word count: 104

Sally Vanderpump, your editor is: Tom McNally

More menace - mysterious
Suspense
More atmosphere
Some trimming
Some repetition



The canvas thrummed hypnotically under the rain, the little shadows of drops against a plane that was neither light nor dark.

The birdsong might have been comforting had she any clue where she was or how she had got here. How long had she been here?

She fumbled around her in the tangle of sleeping bags and crisp packets. She wanted to find something that she couldn’t name.

Her hand brought out an apple from the midst of it all. Shining, red and asking to be eaten.

So why did she know it was the wrong thing to do?

Word count: 99

Sally Vanderpump SECOND DRAFT

Apple of my eye

The canvas thrummed hypnotically with the rain, shadows of drops formed on its plane. Was it dawn or dusk? She could not tell.

The birdsong might have been comforting had she any clue where she was or how she had got here. How long had she been asleep?

She fumbled around her in the tangle of sleeping bags and crisp packets. She wanted to find something she couldn’t name.

Her hand brought out an apple from the midst of it all. Shining, red and asking to be eaten.

So why did she know it was the wrong thing to do?

Word count: 100

Tom McNally FIRST DRAFT

Music Box

For a laugh, I downloaded my soul into our daughter’s music box.

We didn’t tell her, of course, until she was much older. But that was me inside the ballerina. That was me, a piece of me, listening to that tinny (Which song ought to play?) again and again.

But you know how it is with teenagers. They always think they are being betrayed. So she threw it into the back of the rubbish truck.

I get a sense of it sometimes. The smell of the (landfill), a caw of crows. One day I swear someone picked it up, and (the music) played again.

She leaves my texts on ‘read’ for at least a day. I swear it is on purpose.

Word count: 121

Tom McNally, your editor is: Joshua Crisp

Smell words

A specific piece of music, A better title

Chop out loads of words, Use the piece of music cleverly

--

I downloaded my soul into our daughter’s music box. My only sunshine.

We didn’t tell her, but that was me.

Inside the ballerina.

Tinny and tearful, I sang again and again.

I made her happy.

But teenagers never know how much you love them. They always think they are being betrayed.

So she threw me into the outside bin.

I can still remember. Against the smell of landfill and, the cawing of crows. The bin-men emptied me out with all the other unwanted junk in her life. I bounced into the darkening trash and watched as the tombstone lid closed and took my sunshine away. Forever.

Word count:

Tom McNally SECOND DRAFT

Ray of sunshine

I downloaded my soul into our daughter’s music box. My whole sunshine.

We didn’t tell her, but that was me.

Inside the ballerina.

Tinny and tearful, I sang for her, again and again.  

But, teenagers. They always think they are being betrayed.

And she threw me out with the other junk she didn’t want.

She didn’t tell us, but I still catch the smell of landfill sometimes, and hear the crows. She acted completely normal that day as a piece of me was buried under the darkening trash.

One less ray of sunshine for me, from then on.

Word count: 98