Guest

Pronouns

Editing

Title

1

Amelia Armande

they/them

Nóra Blascsók

Marble Run

2

Joshua Crisp

he/him

Peter Gardiner

Fill it up, Derek!

3

Peter Gardiner

he/him

Tom McNally

Green Collar

4

Nóra Blascsók

Joshua Crisp

Superpower

5

Tom McNally

he/him

Amelia Armande

The property cycle

They are nutritious and delicious. Too wriggly? Pull the legs off and toast them over a fire - very palatable. And, if you leave them long enough, they turn into beetles!

If elected, I promise to be the leader that stands for true Conservative values. I guarantee deregulation, tax-cuts and doing whatever it takes to defend your capital from the democratic process.

It sits at the bottom of the communal bin, it stinks, jesus christ, worse than anything that coulda come outta man or animal. Who did this?

The melon ice cream was dripping down her chin into her lap as she stared at the toilets but couldn’t go because she would have had to stop eating the melon ice cream and who would hold it anyway.

Four and a half worms
Balled up in the denim pocket
Of a ten year old
Who will go back home when they are sure their parents have stopped fighting.

Amelia Armande first draft

Marble Run

It looped and crisscrossed around the edge of the chalk circle. James had drawn the sigils on with Tippex, and she had taped the bones underneath the specific intersections. She walked around it clockwise, slowly, checking her schematics. It was looking good. She gave James the nod.

The four-year-old solemnly poured the bucket of marbles into the feeder tube. They clattered like hail, and resolved into a rising and falling hum. The centre of the circle glowed blue, and then suctioned down into nebula-filled void. One by one the marbles completed their run, spinning off into spiralling infinity. A flash of blue light, and the portal snapped shut.

"It worked!" breathed Lydia.

"My marbles!" cried James.

Word count: 116

Amelia, your editor is:  Tom McNally

Tom McNally’s edits

The marbles had been James’ great-grandfather’s. He had worked in a glass factory and had the habit of staying an hour extra most days to twist clever little patterns into the glass spheres.

Lydia clapped to get James to complete what she’d asked of him. He quivered, then solemnly poured each of the marbles into the tube.

Lydia’s construction looped and crisscrossed around the edge of the chalk circle. James had helped draw the sigils and tape the bones underneath each intersection.

The marbles clattered like hail, resolved into a hum. The circle glowed blue all the way to the event horizon. One by one the marbles completed their run, spiralling into infinity. A flash of blue light, and the portal snapped shut.

Whole scene
116 words
More acid to pep up the fun cruel

Word count: 123!!

Amelia Armande second draft

Marble Run

The marbles were James’ grandfather’s. He had worked in a glass factory, twisting little patterns into them.

Lydia’s construction looped around the edge of a thick chalk circle. James helped draw the sigils and tape the bones underneath each intersection. When she was satisfied it was ready, Lydia nodded to James. He poured the marbles in.

They clattered like hail, resolved into a hum. The chalk circle spiraled down into an event horizon. One by one the marbles completed their run, spinning into infinity. A flash of blue - the portal snapped shut.

His grandfather's beloved marbles were gone, forever.

Word count: 100

Joshua Crisp FIRST DRAFT

Washing Machine

The steps down to the cellar are creaky and old, but Derek (aged five) has been up and down all evening. He’s not afraid. The washing machine is almost full. And it will be a sight to behold.

Derek’s parents own a special washing machine. Expensive. It’s really designed for industrial loads. It has a top-loading drum, into which Derek has been placing things. The cat. Four plates. A set of steak knives that his father won in a raffle.

Word count: 80

Joshua Crisp your editor is:  Nóra Blascsók

Nóra Blascsók’s edits
80 words - none of them are good
Needs to be fixed! Rewrite? Whatever you want

Room for one more

Derek, whose name sounds like an old man’s but he’s only five, keeps sneaking up and down the creaky stairs all evening. He’s not scared. The washing machine is almost full and the end of the cycle will be a sight to behold.

Derek’s parents own a special washing machine. It’s  designed for industrial loads, really. It has a top-loading drum, into which Derek has been throwing things. The cat. Four plates. A set of steak knives.  Steak. Grandma was asleep in front of the TV. She was getting smaller by the day. Derek wondered if she would notice.

Word count: ??

Joshua Crisp SECOND DRAFT

Fill it up, Derek!

Derek is five years old.

He’s been sneaking up and down the creaky stairs all evening.

He’s really brave!

Derek can carry lots of things in his hands!

Tonight he’s carried: four plates,

The TV remote

Daddy’s keys,

Mummy’s Inhalers,

The Cat,

A set of steak knives

And a BIG bottle of bleach.

And no-one saw him!

So Derek carried

A bible,

A screwdriver

All the screws that used to be in his bed

A remote-controlled car,

Jessie, the elderly budgie,

The fruit from the fruitbowl

The fruitbowl.

And Grandma’s ashes.

There! The washing machine is full!

Derek turns it on.

Word count: ??

Peter Gardiner

The Middle

Sun beating down, limbs aching, back screaming.

20 years an administrator crashing against a week of landscaping.

For a good cause: special needs farm. At least you’re not on the phones right?

Charity drive. Giving back to the community. A wreck of white collars fumbling with manure and shovels and wheelbarrows making the place look worse then when they arrived.

And the scrum of middle managers delegating in a circle with their soft hands.

A gravel path along a lip of grass verge, no foundations, ready to be washed away with the first rain. Two bags of of the stuff. Donated by Wilkos

The other 4 bags goes in the department heads trunk. To redo her driveway.

Morale: boosted.

Word count: 119

Peter Gardiner, your editor is: Joshua Crisp

I’ve chopped some words, rearranged some stuff and fixed the grammar, so it’s A TIGHT 100 words now, but I had to lose some things from the original piece. Can I suggest Travis Perkins as a store, if you want one. Maybe “The Cardiff Travis Perkins” or something. Placing it specifically is funnier. Though I’ve cut that bit as you’ll see.

The sun beat down on aching limbs and screaming backs.

A week of landscape gardening had tested bodies built for data-entry. Moulded by decades of office chairs.

A charity drive. Teambuilding. Giving back to the community.

In practice, this meant weeks of white collared incompetence. Shiny shoes met shovels, manure, and wheelbarrows. The place looked worse then when they'd arrived.

After many meetings spent delegating in a circle, a scrum of middle managers had just about managed a gravel path. It led nowhere, had no foundations and would be washed away with the first rain.

Job well done.

Morale: boosted.

Word count: 100

Peter Gardiner SECOND DRAFT

Green Collar

A farm for the eldery.

Sun beating, backs aching.Mouths grumbling.

Administrators landscaping.Shiny shoes in manure.

Team building apparently.

A wreck of white collars fumbling with hedge-trimmers and shovels and wheelbarrows: making the place look worse than when they arrived.

A scrum of middle managers delegating in a circle with their soft hands, the result a gravel path along a lip of grass verge, no foundations, ready to be washed away with the first rain. The 2 bags of Gravel Donated by Travis Perkins

The other 4 bags goes in the department heads trunk. To redo her driveway.

Morale: boosted?

Word count: ??

Nóra Blascsók FIRST DRAFT

Dice roll

The boy was watching the dice jump around in the washer/dryer, cupping his ears. Screaming could not be heard through the garage door so nobody could help him. Tommy had woken up with a superpower: Dolby Surround 7.1 hearing. His ears magnified all noise that others would barely notice to near-eardrum blasting level. He cried his eyes out but could not move, dumbfounded by his new power. He put the dice in the washer-dryer to test it. He woke up in the morning to his mother’s voice belting in his ear, Good Morning honey. This would normally have been a whisper. The dice were thumping against the walls of the machine as the boy stood there in pain and wondered what had he done to deserve this.

Word count: 129

Nóra Blascsók, your editor is: Amelia Armande

Amelia Armande’s edits

I think you can lose the first two sentences, which immediately takes you down to 99 words.

I think rearranging the order of this piece can make it feel more stand-alone. Have him wake up to this blasting sound of his mum’s voice, and then the realisation that small sounds are magnified. The turning point of the piece is, with kid logic, he decides to test it.

Then you can jump us to him putting the dice into the washing machine, and this becoming this auditory sensory nightmare, with him completely overwhelmed and immobilised by it, and unable to call for help.

If you have the words for it, I particularly like the idea that he can’t call for help, or even cry aloud - he has to cry silently, because to make any noise himself would further hurt him. And I think that’s quite a nice revelation to finish it with - he has to cry silently, it seems as if there’s no way out of this until the washer cycle stops.

Word count: ??

Nóra Blascsók SECOND DRAFT

Superpower

He saw mother loom over him through half-asleep eyes and suddenly her voice came like a blast out of hell. “Good morning, honey”. She would usually whisper to gently wake him. He could hear the ice cream truck as if it was in his room.

Something wasn’t right. He picked up the dice on the table and ran to the garage to test it. Has he woken up with super-hearing? He pressed start on the washer-dryer and jumped. Thump, thump, crashing against the drum. He cupped his ear in pain. He opened his mouth, paused & started sobbing as quietly as he could. He could not move. Nobody could hear him.

Word count: 110

Tom McNally FIRST DRAFT

The property cycle

The rent was escalating so I either had to brave a three hour commute or move into a washing machine.

Mum helped me move in, ‘at least you’ll always be clean,’ she sniffled. I know, mum.

I was a little bit ahead of the trend actually, because soon the whole laundrette was full of tenants. There’s a Malaysian couple next door that host a barbecue in the car park on Saturdays. Technically there aren’t any pets allowed but there’s a parrot in one of the machines that clearly listens to the same podcasts as me.

Word count: 95

Tom McNally, your editor is: Peter Gardiner

Peter Gardiner’s edits

The rent was escalating so I either had to brave a three hour commute or move into a washing machine. The way this is phrased doesn’t make it clear he’s moved into a washing machine

Mum helped me move in, ‘at least you’ll always be clean,’ she sniffled. I know, mum. Better joke would be about always having clean clothes or the “flat” being in a good location, good use of space etc Something to do with spinning? You don’t have to worry about losing your keys but always need a 20p piece on you, or that the rent is 20p a half hour

I was a little bit ahead of the trend actually, because soon the whole laundrette was full of tenants. There’s a Malaysian couple next door that host a barbecue in the car park on Saturdays. Technically there aren’t any pets allowed but there’s a parrot in one of the machines that clearly listens to the same podcasts as me. Cut the trend line to save words, move straight onto neighbours and try to fit in more. Needs punchline “it’s  hard to sleep at 50 RPM, but someday I’ll retire and move to the tumble dryer

Word count: ??

Tom McNally SECOND DRAFT

The property cycle

The rent was escalating so my choice was: either brave a three hour commute every day or move into a cement mixer at a construction site.

The owner of the site had been bought out and until the restructuring was sorted they were letting out the equipment for young people earning £35 000 or more.

“At least it’s close to work,” mum sniffled when she dropped me off.

It’s hard to sleep at 50 RPM, but when they finally start paying me for the promotion I’ll be able to move into the tumble drier development just off the flight path.

Word count: 100