Hey Blu_Spirit, thanks for the crit!

I'm going to ask you a question. How much did I actually describe Shahid and the compound, and how much did I let the reader fill in? I don't believe I described the compound that much, and the only concrete details I gave of Shahid's appearance were his height (6'4" or 193 cm) and build ("giant").

Thanks for pointing out that paragraph, though. It contained a lot of exposition awkwardly crammed into a very small space, and your suggestion got me to come up with a much better- and even more concise- formulation.

I now explain why Keener, the sniper, is credited with saving Shahid: she shot the guy who was about to execute him. That said, she's definitely the best shot, and probably the brains of the squad- snipers have to do a surprising amount of math to line up their shot. Honestly, I wish I could have talked more about Keener, but it just didn't feel right for this story. I've had both her and Shahid in my head for way, way too long, and I'm a bit glad I finally got to put them down on (virtual) paper.

Hey Fye! Thanks for the crit.

The rescue was definitely one of the harder parts of the story to write, so I'm glad you liked it. To me, there's only so much battle you can describe before "W shot X and Y, Z blew A up with a grenade..." becomes stale. I did tweak what Shahid did in the midst of this battle, due to a bit of an inconsistency between the story and my head. For some reason, I imagined Shahid tied to a stake, which would make it much harder for him to do anything; upon rereading the story, I realized he was actually kneeling when his executioner gets shot. Unfortunately, his hands and legs are still bound, so there's not a lot he can do.

I've also added a few more descriptions of both Shahid's rescuer and the desert sunset. Trimming out some wordy description and fixing an awkward paragraph left me with just enough to describe a desert sunset and one of Shahid's rescuers.

Excellent

Rules? What Rules?

It was a Thursday evening in March. I was driving west across the Courtney Campbell Causeway and the sun had just dipped into the Gulf of Mexico. Sweat was in my eyes and I wanted to get back to my hotel, down a Bud and change. That's when I got the call.

"Ted, it's Gail. Where are you just now?" Oh dear, my editor. Gail had been a seasoned reporter in her day, with a Pulitzer nose and no sense of humour. A real stickler for responsible journalism. Hah!

"Nearly back at the Marriott. Why?" Straight away I thought something was up. That cold beer was calling me. How I wanted the first gulp, numbing my throat and stinging my sinuses. I wiped my lips with the back of my hand and thought of just hanging up. Not worth the aggro.

"Are you serious about this Clearwater thing? Your copy reads well, but you've taken a ... let's call it a controversial angle. Are your sources reliable."

"Can I call you back in twenty? I'm parched and drenched with sweat."

"No. We go to print in half an hour and I'm not running something that'll invite a lawsuit unless I know it's legit."

I pulled into the car park and left the engine running. The aircon was fighting a losing battle but better than standing out there. Even through the window I could hear the cacophony; bugs waiting in ambush. I called her back.

"Yes, all off-the-record, two from local council members, three from the Chamber of Commerce and a doozy from the mayor's office in Tampa. That's about as good as it gets."

"Did you ask who might speak up, Ted."

"Of course I did. It was a list of the usual suspects. That's why no one would give their name."

"I don't know, Ted. I always like to have someone who doesn't mind the heat, you know, standing out front of the camera."

Heat was right, though that's not what she meant. Two days of these stifling temperatures and I'm almost on my knees. And who wants to be on the record backing the Playboy brigade?

"Good luck with that, Gail."

"We've got a substantial readership that might agree with the Council. You're making it a political issue, not a moral one. City Hall Wages War on the Free Market."

"I think attractive girls selling watermelon by the roadside is a worthy cause, even if their bikinis are smaller than my face mask."

"Think that might be personal bias, Ted? I'm not sure it's a story for the business pages."

"Are you kidding. All those red-blooded commercial lechers and that picture I sent. She's almost naked and look at those watermelons she's holding."

"Alright Ted. Your head if it backfires."

That beer was so good. Oh! And my story went viral as protesters took to the streets. My readership went crazy and Gail let me take a more liberal stance. I still recall that sunset.

[WC:499]

Aww, thank you! Your words mean quite a lot to me.

Blackbird,

I love this story, how you describe Shahid, both in appearance and personality. Also the description of the compound (prison?) that he had been incarcerated in was fantastic.

Some small crit here - This paragraph felt a little disorganzied to me.

>As he shambled over, he took some grim satisfaction at the many other guards that fell in behind him. He had been captured by an extremist group while trying to gain evidence of the horrific crimes they had committed, but the troops sent to seize him hadn’t expected a six-foot-four giant using a telephoto lens as a flail. He’d sent three men to the infirmary.

The phrase "guards that fell in behind him" to me indicates that they are following him in a single file line. Maybe a better way to explain it would be "he took some grim satisfaction at the memory of the guards that he had taken down with him. The troops sent to seize him as he tried to gain evidence of their horrific crimes were not prepared for a six-foot-four giant using a telephoto lens as a flail. He'd sent three men to the infirmary before being subdued." Just a suggestion, take it with a grain of salt (I know word count may get in the way here, too).

I would like to see more of the sniper. Why does she get credit for saving him? Is she the squad leader, or just the best shot?

Overall, though, you painted a wonderful scene within the constraints here, and have definitely caught my interest in this story and what they do next!

Zach,

Glad to see a bit more of Bea here, getting her hands dirty! I love how we see her willingness to do some dirty work, especially for what she deems as a pretty decent payment.

Only a tiny, tiny crit here.

>Bea opened the dumpster and quickly stepped back, not believing the smell could get much worse but it found a way. Bea had not been dumpster diving before today and after this she knew she was going to update her Fiverr profile to exclude this specific activity.

Instead of repeating dumpster twice, maybe describe the black heavy lid, then the smell, then the dumpster diving. Just to break up how often the word dumpster is used. Also, the mention of what the client paid felt like an afterthought. Maybe have it more towards the beginning as a reason Bea agreed to dumpster dive for this job.

I absolutely adore her internal pun at the end of this story, as well.

Not very good... LIAR! You just created a nicely written piece of work which flows well and ends with a thought-provoking statement! You're VERY good!

Yeah, and he was feeling guilty because he promised himself he wouldn't, I think. I'm not very good at this yet, I'm afraid. Thank you for reading though, and for the prompt!

It doesn't matter where the life comes from, life is still life. That's what bothers Cedrick, even if he saved many lives on earth.

The Beginning of the End

-----------------------------------------------

This piece should have made my career, not ended it. That once in a lifetime story that, when it comes along, every other assignment — and competing writer — gets told to fuck off. But even knowing that it’d lead to this, I still think I would've taken the bait. Boredom can drive people to do stupid shit. And, damn, was I BORED.

I wasn’t even looking for a story. I was at the Blue Oyster Bar — my usual haunt after Caitlin left with our daughter. Said I was too invested in my work. She wasn’t wrong — I spent far more time chasing stories than I did making our own. My biggest regret.

Focus. The bar. The story. I was three sheets into the wind, munching on seasoned fries to absorb some of the booze sloshing around my belly before attempting to race the last dredges of sunlight home. At least, until this gorgeous redhead sat next to me with a smile, warming my core in a way the alcohol hadn’t. Grinning back, I offered her a drink, surprised she accepted.

Sabine accepted a second drink as well, downing it before whispering seductively in my ear. “Don’t you think it’s time to go home?” Her hot breath sending shivers down my spine and waking up parts I hadn’t paid any mind to for the better part of a year.

I immediately agreed, not considering that someone this beautiful probably had an ulterior motive. After all, it wasn’t like I still had “it”, that fabled recipe of charm and attractiveness. Not sure I ever did in the first place, if I am being honest.

Honest. Sure. Not like I have much time left. I am writing this in the foolish hope that someone — other than my captor — will find it. That my racing thoughts will cross the finish line before the blood — my blood — has been stolen from my veins.

Beautiful, sneaky Sabine. We went back to my apartment, and — well, it was a great night. For me at least. Never had the chance to ask her. Next morning, that damned manila envelope, leaning against my coffee pot. Full of the proof that the worlds’ leaders are working to keep us docile, distracted. Hiding the truth — that we are nothing more than livestock for gods that most of us don’t even believe in.

Gods. Demons. Celestials. Angels. Whatever name they use, they're monsters. Much like the legends of vampires, these…creatures feed on us. More than our blood, though, they steal our lives. Our years. I have aged decades in days. Always suspected I’d die young, never feeling the toll of time on my body. How wrong I was.

I won’t see tomorrow. But the proof, my article, can be found with the dreams of my future. He’s here. It’s the end.

If you find my story, share it. Stop them. Tell the world, don’t let my death —

---------------------------------------

WC 495

Feedback always welcome, and thank you for reading!

Hi Fye!

Thanks for all the valuable feedback :D Your points all made sense and pointed out some areas I thought I'd tweaked but apparent hadn't xD This was fairly long and I needed to do a lot of cutting down >< Always nice to have another set of eyes look it over though and I touched things up where you noted.

As for Bea, I use her a lot because she is a character I've used for years at this point. She's sort of transcended the details of her original story and is now a reliable and fun personality that I enjoy writing with. Broadly speaking, I would say that any given instance of Bea could be imagined as a snippet of life with any other instance, but I don't really stress too much about continuity there. She also appears in very different genres and time periods now and then :)

I'm glad you liked the short and I'm glad you're liking Bea :D

Cedrick couldn’t remember the day, not really. Something had been said to him, he had said something back. The specifics hadn’t mattered. All he knew was that one moment he had been in the fancy meeting room, gazing out the ceiling height windows with the little offering of wine in his hands and then the next he was surrounded by debris. Three city blocks had been destroyed, they said. Burned, razed, crushed. But he saw something there under the debris that mattered so much more. The familiar face of Vick, a long time friend, and one of the heroes of the city. He had cried, then. When they came for his capture he did not resist.

“What happened?” was his first question, in a room filled with white suits.

“You did.” said the lead suit. A tall man, hair swept backwards and with sunglasses to hide behind. “All of that, it was you.”

Later the images returned. The steel bending before him, concrete shattering and glass blowing out. Vick and many others had tried to stop him, but they all shared a similar fate.

“Why did you do it?” he was asked so many times. He never had an answer. “How do we know you won’t do it again?” He wished that he knew.

The white walls, the stale lights, locked rooms and constant surveillance became almost comforting. Maybe here, with all of this effort into his containment he would be safe. Safe from again seeing the faces of his friends, crushed and bloodied by his own hands. But that was not true. He knew that there was little to keep him from walking out, tomorrow, if he so wished. And that was what scared him most of all.

One day, or night, for it was hard to tell, the lead suit returned. His business was simple, “We could use your skills.” he had said. “If you earn our trust, eventually you could leave this prison.”

Little sounded less appealing to Cedrick. His answer was a simple refusal.

Again the suit had tried, “Surely you would like to see the sun? The stars? Feel the wind? You were as free as a bird, you could have that again.”

No, he could not. He was returned to his cell, trailed by a bit of bitter annoyance and disappointment.

That was how the days went. Boredom and fear, proposals and refusals. Never again would he leave, he determined. Never again would he kill.

Some time, the true amount entirely inconsequential to Cedrick, had passed when he felt something new. It was as if a pressure filled the air, made it crackle and stretch with a sense of menace. Something big was coming. Those who spoke to him, the ones that strove to read his thoughts and others who strove to influence them did not seem to notice. The itch burned at him. The sense, the itch grew until he knew that it could not be ignored. It was here.

Cedrick burst from the facility, every alarm blaring, the discord fueled by panicked cries and shouts. It was up there, somewhere. He jumped into the air, and soared on the winds. At once he felt the guilt. There were stars above, the dark mass of earth below, a shimmer of a lake far beyond. Sights vowed to never be seen by his eyes again. But whatever had called could not be denied.

The threat made itself clear soon enough. Adorned in the sky was a constellation that did not belong, pinpricks arranged in a circle to indicate a craft superior and alien to any made on Earth. Cedrick waited until it struck at last, beams of destruction raining upon a suitably large populace. For a moment he found his thoughts pondering why, and then no more came and he lost consciousness once again.

At dawn the first of the light glinted across metal and ruin, what remained of the craft sent and so lost across the vastness of space. Among the crumpled metal Cedrick awoke.

“You did well.” the man’s face was now familiar, his stark white suit only mildly marred by the night of warfare. His arms raised, a gesture at the destruction. “This great victory was only possible because of you. You saved countless lives.”

Cedrick looked at his hands. They were bad hands, hands that had killed, had destroyed.

“You are great, Cedrick. With tonight, you have redeemed yourself.”

“No.” spoke Cedrick at last. “I have only failed once again.”

Thanks for the feedback Fye!

Interesting to see that Allen came off as he did to you. I deleted a sentence of his from the paragraph where he talks about the event. Originally, he said "Sex tapes just don't cut it any more." But it didn't sit right that he would say that while he reached out and touched her hand. Seemed just overtly predatory.

And "intensive purposes" was deliberate. I threw in "irregardless" as well. But I think that's less egregious so it may not have been enough of a tell.

I think if I started from scratch I'd describe the contract side of it a bit differently. But all of these parts she's going through make up one contract. So she held out on the final piece after deciding she wanted more money. (Allen is a bad attorney for formatting the contract like this)

Thanks again. Always look forward to your comments.

Man, I love this ending

Hey Zach!

Ooh, an interesting story here. I liked the personality you gave Bea here. The derision and annoyance she felt whilst doing all of this. She hasn't given up or anything, just feels like she needs to wade through this garbage before she can get out and do some proper work.

Also, something else I noticed. You use the name Bea a lot in your stories. Are these all interconnected by any chance? All the same character going through different bits of life? Or do you just really like the name, Bea, lol?

Just curious.

I do have a few bits and bobs for you though,

> Bea opened the dumpster and quickly stepped back, not believing the smell could get much worse but it found a way.

This bit read a bit awkwardly to me. You didn't describe the smell before this, so it seemed like you mentioned it was bad, and then in the same sentence it got worse? Not too sure.

> The offer that the client had made had been pretty damn generous on paper; five hundred dollars was hard to turn down.

So this felt like a bit of a contradiction. Before this, she swears off doing these kinds of jobs again, but then she thinks about how much money there is with no connecting thought. I hope that makes sense.

> Bea had no idea his name

"Bea didn't know his name" might read better. But you could probably come up with something better.

I hope this helps.

Good Words!

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Hey galdu!

Well heck! Now I want to know what happens next. Does she cave? Does she get her way? And whether that happens or not, what is this 'Event'?

As you can see, you did a wonderful job hooking me into the story here. Building up this character as she signs away what seems to be her life. And I like how we don't get much backstory here either. All we get is the implication that she's an up-and-coming star. That she'll be something big very soon.

I think you also did a good job with Allen. He's smooth and friendly. He's still working for a company that wants to take advantage of her, but he's still very amicable about it. I hope that makes sense.

I do have a few bits and bobs for you though,

> But as each suit got their fill, they departed. In the early morning, only Allen remained.

This bit read a bit awkwardly to me. Maybe switching "But" with "After" could help? Not sure.

> For all intensive purposes, Bradley Media Group gets ninety percent of everything.

So I've always heard the phrase as '"For all intents and purposes.' Not how you have it here. Is this a mistake or a deliberate change?

> Sam breathed. “Okay.” She poised herself to wring the goose’s neck across the dotted line.

So I'm not sure why she refused to sign. She signed the ninety percent form already, so why stop here? Just didn't make too much sense to me. Did she see something? Maybe changing it up a a bit could help?

I hope this helps.

Good Words!

Hey blackbird!

I think you did a great job of characterising Shahid here. In reality, he hasn't really done much in the first portion of the story, simply walked over to an execution spot. But the way you sprinkled his backstory in between glances and observations worked so well I think.

And I quite liked how you described the rescue too. Rashid is blind at this point, and you do a good job of making out the sounds and explosions whilst still making sure enough confusion remained for believability.

Really well done!

I do just have a few bits and bobs for you though,

> After being held indoors for twenty-eight days, he was unused to the light.

I've never seen it written like that. I've always seen it as "he wasn't used to the light." So I'll just leave this here in case it is wrong. But again, it is probably right.

One other thing, how much light was there? Some more description could help here. Was he blinded for instance?

> The battle raged on for what felt like hours, Shahid hoping all the time no stray fire would hit him. As the roar of guns waned, he heard nearby footsteps.

I wanted more from Shahid here. He's clearly experienced with taking care of himself, so what did he do here? Did he lie flat on the ground, burying his head as deep in the sand as possible to protect it? Did he try to get the shackles off or maybe the sack? Maybe he tried to simply run? Just something more would be great here.

> The sack was roughly pulled off his head, and the shackles on his hands and feet were unlocked.

And finally, I expected something about how his rescuer looked here. What were they wearing? What did their face look like? Did they have a nametag? Maybe a country's flag on their armour? Just something like that.

I hope this helps.

Good Words!

Howdy stranger!

Woo! A rare and much-loved stranger story! Yay! I really liked the anger and frustration you had this character show in this piece. And I like how that evolved too. From plain boredom and disinterest to anger and resentment as the interviewer asks for more words. I think you did a great job of basically keeping this conversation going despite it being almost completely one-sided.

But also, poor girl. Soon, very soon, she'll find people with common interests and be more accepted.

I do have a few bits and bobs for you though,

> 30 minutes have stretched into a week in my brain as I sit, immobile, across the old interviewer in the blazer.

First, I believe you want "Thirty" here. Spelt out rather than as a number. I believe if the number is less than 100, then you spell it out.

Second, I think you're just missing a "from" after "across".

> He stares attentively this time, and motions to ask for more words.

I think you could simplify "to ask for more words." to something like "to continue.". Just saves a few words.

> Because now, I get bullied every time someone in my class catches me outside of school, and my parents keep yelling at me that I should dress proper and cover my skin and whatnot, and old ladies keep stopping in the street and talking some stuff about the end times and everything and…

This sentence felt a tad long. I really think a few periods in place of some commas could really help split it up and make it easier to read.

One final thing, whilst reading this, I wanted to know who this guy was. And what this interview was about. The starting questions made me think of therapy or a psychological evaluation of some sort. And then I thought maybe it was a meeting with the school's principal. Either way, signifying that it's a journalist earlier could really help I think.

I hope this helps.

Good Words!

Hey gaborrero!

Wow, you managed to tell so much story in so few words. I really like how you focused on Katherine here, and all in one location too. I like how you used her interaction with another person to show what kind of person she was. And to even then explain that away. So much characterisation going on here.

I think you also did a great job of setting the mood of this story. Relaxed and uncaring. We focus pretty heavily on Katherine, and I like how the barista isn't even given a chance to properly explain himself.

Very well done!

I do just have a few bits and bobs for you,

> Her fingers glided easily across the ergonomic surface of her keyboard that her eyes never even focused on once.

The second bit of this sentence is worded a bit oddly. I'm not too sure how you can fix it per see, but maybe removing it could work? Or maybe saying that her eyes were glued to the screen could help?

> She didn't spare him so much as a glance, even as he continued to stand there, waiting for who-knew-what.

A small tense thing here but I believe you want "who-knows-what" here.

> Katherine picked up her cup and took a sip of her latte. She set it down with a loud CLINK and went back to typing, not sparing him another glance.

With a story so short I felt like this line was a bit too wordy for what's actually happening. She just takes a sip and continues to ignore him. So I think just saying that in fewer words could help.

One final thing, what is she reporting on? What is this bombshell that's got her so worked up? I liked the twist that you had with the twenty followers but I think more could help. Pick something dumb like a vegetable conspiracy and really finish off that twist.

I hope this helps.

Good Words!

Hey Astro!

Ooh, you did a great job of painting a truly disturbing scene in that basement. and teasing it too with the woman's face. I really liked how you showed Dr. Tyler to be such a normal and friendly person too! All the way up to when he realised what she knew.

I do just have a few bits and bobs for you though,

> Mary sat on the park bench as the sun set behind her eating a bag of seasoned oyster crackers.

I think just a comma after "behind her" could help here.

> Their neck was covered in slash marks.

We know it's a woman now, so being a bit more specific with the pronouns would help make this character a little more personal to the reader. So the injuries impact us more.

> One week later, Dr. Tyler locked the office door behind him as he left none the wiser. Mary hid in the bushes nearby.

I think just some reordering could help here. Establish that Mary is hiding before you mention that Dr. Tyler is locking up. That way, the "none the wiser" makes sense as we know what he isn't wise to.

> At the bottom of staircase was a laboratory with a table in the middle of the room.

Just missing a "the" before "staircase" here.

> He left the unfortunate results of his experiments.

I just wanted to see this final line connect a bit more with the lines before. So a connective could help maybe. Or "he disappeared, leaving the unfortunate results of his experiments."

One final thing, why didn't the woman go to the police? Why go to a reporter? Did the Doctor threaten her or pay her off? Was something else going on? Why would he leave her alive after he experimented on her? It's clear that he's killed before. Just a bit more detail could help here I think.

I hope this helps.

Good Words!

Hey Lively!

Heck yeah, she's so got this.

I loved how from the start, we get the sense that something else is going on underneath. The language that you use, the way our character manipulates the situation and people around her to get to the story she's looking for.

I also really like the irony of the slogan. And the way you bring it back at the end and actually give it the sense that it's true this time.

I also think you did a great job of characterising John and even the boss in this. Even though we don't see much of the latter, you do a good job of giving us a picture of what he's like. So very well done!

I do just have a few bits and bobs for you,

> With relief I snapped the laptop closed, eager to answer the call of my personal laptop beckoning me home so my real work could begin.

Just a little bit of repetition of "laptop" here. I think simply going for something like "computer" could work just as well and avoid repetition.

> his piggy eyes running all over my body like slime,

Similarly, there was just a bit of repetition of "piggy eyes" here and with the boss. Just stood out to me. If you want to keep it, you could insinuate that the boss and John are related I suppose. Father and son, thereby explaining why he acts as he does. But just a small thought I had whilst typing this.

> Damn, he worked fast!

I'm not too sure what this meant. Are you saying that she was surprised he sprung the drinks thing so soon? Because it seemed pretty reasonable to me, as it's said that they were taking the new girl out for drinks. But not sure.

> I carefully lined my oversized handbag with a heavy-duty plastic bag to pour all the drinks I was not about to drink

Again, just a bit of repetition of "drink" here. No biggie.

> “Fighting for Fairness!”, I raised my fist into the air and exclaimed, “Oh yes I am. This is for you Sarah!”.

This felt a bit silly to me. First off, shouldn't she be afraid of someone overhearing? Or has everyone left already? And even if they had, it still is a bit strange, no? I don't know, might just be me.

YTB!

I hope this helps.

Good Words!

Hey Chop!

I loved these descriptions and the sheer rich backstory you give Pauline here. You do an amazing job of bringing her to life through just a few simple facts about her life. Her dreams and aspirations, her debt, her current work and the amount of work she puts in.

I also really liked the gentle calming feeling the first portion of the story had. It really builds up quite well to that sudden intrusion of the voice. So very well done.

I do just have a few bits and bobs for you,

> The Sun had set — was swallowed whole by the ocean — and the wasted hours were getting to her.

I honestly think you don't need these em-dashes here. You're saying the same thing twice, just more dramatic the second time around. I'd say drop the "The sun had set" line and go straight for the more powerful bit.

> Pauline works as a self-employed investigative journalist

There seemed to be a tense shift here. We were in the past tense earlier and now we're in the present. Not sure if that's intentional though.

> but what she wanted — what she really really wanted — was to be a hard-hitting, truth-touting,

Similarly, as above, I think the bit in the em-dashes is just a little too similar to what comes before it. So something like "what she needed really" could be better.

> Anyone notices us and it’s just a random chance meeting, but who would see us at Stinky Beach?

Similar to the tense change. Here I think you switch person. You go from second person to first person. I'd say stick to second.

> The journalist was knocked off her car by something hitting her in the side of the head.

Finally, was just a bit thrown by this. It's an awfully physical and violent reaction to being startled. She didn't just jump off her car, she was thrown off. Just sounds a bit exaggerated.

And last but not least, I kind of have to mention it: the ending. Heck Chop, I need more! Please, it's such a perfect opening. It just needs more!

I hope this helps.

Good Words!

That's fair. Thank you for telling me. :)