I do apologise for allowing this to become so late. I had planned to do it last Sunday and some personal stuff got in the way, and this week has been a little too hectic at work.

(billawaboy, if you would like to join in the voting and critiqueing process, please drop me an e-mail because your e-mail address isn't in your profile. Thanks.)

Winner to be decided by vote. Votes are due by Sat October 25th. (I have added an extra week because of my tardiness, so we still have two weeks to vote and crit.)

You vote for your top three first 13s and top three stories. I will tally the votes like this: three points for your first choice, two for your second, one for your third. You cannot vote for your own story.

I will not be voting myself. In case someone doesn't vote, please include at the end of your 'vote-and-crit' e-mail your votes for the other stories, but not crits.

You must crit your first three choices and send the three crits together with your vote to me by 18.00 GMT on the voting due date above. (Votes without crits don't count.) If you don't vote I'll delete your story and redistribute the votes.

Please use this vote and crit format in your e-mail to make my administrative life easier:

--------------------------
Your hatrack name
First 13 1 -- story number
First 13 2 -- story number
First 13 3 -- story number
Story 1 -- story number
Your crit of story 1
Story 2 -- story number
Your crit of story 2
Story 3 -- story number
Your crit of story 3
Story 4 -- story number
Story 5 -- story number
Etc
---------------------------

You are honour-bound to crit the other stories within a week or two of the close of voting.

If any stories don't get at least three crits, I'll crit them and request the three winners to help me, so everyone should get at least three or four crits.

If for some reason you're unable to submit your story or vote on time, please let me know and we'll make due allowance.

If I don't hear from you by the due voting date I'll delete your story and redistribute the votes received appropriately.

Look out for an e-mail from me later today with an anthology of all the stories ...

Cheers,
Pat

[This message has been edited by TaleSpinner (edited October 10, 2008).]
 

THE EAGLE

Melia looked at the wavering line on TV screen. The certain promise in the white spear blazed out of the fuzzy image. Her finger, laid on top of the cool store window, obscured the launch tower and rocket, while the morning sun beat down on her back. The cameraman’s jerky movement shot the shimmering tip of the tower out from under her grimy, chewed nail, and a newscaster jangled on about the “great event”. She marveled that the dirty, shrieking creatures, that once squatted in trees and prayed to the night skies, had now created the sleek, panting beast in the image before her. “What would they think if they could see what their children had accomplished,” she wondered. Those children were going to those stars now, and the moon was the first step. She remembered being up in one of
 

CALLI'S SONG

Calli and I encounter the last of the colonists just past the fork where the two rivers come together. The stagnant water trickles through the buttressed trunks and between the thick . The Fingers, the Cow Heads called it. Except we're not supposed to call them Cow Heads anymore, now that the war's officially over. Minotaurs. Call them Minotaurs.
Calli gets to the body first and flips it over. Her one eye rolls around to meet mine. "It's Chip-Horn," she says. My ears are attuned to the pitch of her circuits. The higher the pitch the more stressed her systems are. Right now, she's whirring like a fighter pod in over-drive. She liked Chip-Horn. She loved all the Cow-Heads, spent more time with them than I could ever stomach.
 

IN THE TOWER OF THE HIGH LEAGUE

Daniel turned away from the door. In this placethis grand, magnificent placehe hoped to find answers. He was, as Corriano had said, Daniel of the Many Questions. He was also Daniel the Lost. Daniel the Unnamed. Daniel of the Many Scars. And Daniel Who Would Soon Know Why All Of This Was Happening.
A boot scraped on the polished marble floor behind him. His uncle stood watching him. Had been watching him for a few minutes, perhaps.
"Come," Baronn said. "We're all going upstairs."
"How many stairs are there?"
"If you'd prefer to climb from here to the Human Embassy it's only," he paused to consider, "four-thousand six-hundred stairs or so. It would be an invigorating ascent."
 

THE TRADE-IN

Christine switched over the Voice Activated Response System in her hovercar. Her husband, Seldon, had set it in a female’s tone, but Christine thought the voice was too flat and artificial and preferred more personality and human quality to it. A morose voice, like that of a depressed man with a severe head cold, spoke slowly and softly to her.
“Hello, Christine.”
“Good morning, VARS.”
“I have a message from Mr. Platt.”
“Would you play it, please?”
Seldon Platt’s voice was wry, and it warped across the recording with a condescending sneer. “Hey, I just glided by the dealership this morning, and they’ve given me the best deal
 

UNPREDICTABLE

Scott and Jenny hurried through the woods. The sun was already setting. As the path curved, Jenny caught a glimpse of torches in the distance, and realized that the sound she’d mistaken for her beating heart was really drums.
“I can hardly believe I’m finally going to see a fairy,” Jenny breathed.
Scott stopped; blocking the trail. “Gypsies aren’t regular fairies, Jenny. Promise me you’ll stay close to me.”
She laughed. “Or what? You’ll tell on me?”
“I’m not kidding. Male fairies love beautiful human women, and gypsy fairies aren’t exactly known for being trustworthy.”
She grinned. “I’m just wondering how you think you’re going to protect me from a fairy.”
 

A SKEIN OF MIND

I was already old when the stranger came. By then I had lived in the observatory at the top of the highest tower in the world for many years. For most of that time I did not see the tower directly, but through the eyes of the people. It was round and sheer, with broad gray blocks of stone at its base fading into the supple sheen of steel above. A crystal thrust upward from the peak, a glimmering spike that shone with its own light.
Nine hundred twenty steps wound around the outside to the upper floors. Its builders made the top narrower than the bottom, which created the illusion of even greater height, but I know the number: I used to count them when I could make the climb. I was younger then, a lithe girl with bones yet untwisted, afraid of the gap between the step and the railing, afraid of the wind.
 

THE VARENNE

I find myself, as of late, perched by the bay window of my apartment before bed. I sit and stare out at the mighty obelisk at the city center. Like the finger of a Titan, it is a great, black ominous thing that blots out the otherwise star filled sky over our serene little city, and dwarfs the buildings of downtown. It stands like a guard over us, a protective bird over its nest of younglings. Or perhaps it looms. A predator - awaiting that one poetic moment to crush us all.
In my mind’s eye I can see the unfamiliar scribbles and gems that wrap a sinuous trail around the tower during the daylight hours. I can see the sandstone grey of its color and the way it alters to shades of green and blue as the sun changes
 

MERCHANT OF FORTUNE

Jenner posed naked against a Mummy while Katrina said "Smile," and grabbed a picture. "--Might be the last we ever see of our Mummies."
"They matter so little?" said Jenner.
"Not as much as surviving," said Katrina. "What use is the British Museum when we can't generate enough electricity to cool and power London? Give me unlimited fission power any day."
Edna's voice interrupted them. "We should probably go for Synchronicity soon."
"Stand by Elgin's Marbles," said Katrina. "I want a pic of them too."
"But Edna called--"
"--She only said 'probably'--"
 

Enjoy the stories--let the voting and critting commence!

Cheers,
Pat
 

"Have you seen any votes yet?" he asked.

"Nope," I said. "You?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. I'm a machine. Are you sure?"

"Yep. I got you looking over my shoulder all the time."

"Do you suppose they forgot?"

"No ... it's a good bunch of stories. I expect they're reading and carefully considering their votes and crits."

"And leaving it to the last minute, like you always do."

"Yeah maybe ... they got lives as well ... by the way, when is the last minute?"

"Votes together with crits of their top three stories are due to be e-mailed to you by Saturday October 25"

"Thanks Zac," I said.
 

(not sure whether it's you or Zac I should be appealing to!)

[This message has been edited by annepin (edited October 24, 2008).]
 

"I don't think, therefore I'm a machine," said Zac.

"Okay. Analysis?"

"If you stick to the deadline there will be fewer crits and more disappointed writers. Some would say it's better to be inclusive, if a little late."

"Okay, crits and votes to me by close of business in your neck of the world on Tuesday 28th, please."

#

It's a good bunch of stories and thanks, everyone, for your commitment to the contest. I'll get results out by the 30th.

Cheers,
Pat

 

I hope she's all right. Poor baby! And poor you, Melanie.
 

Back to the topic at hand--I'm so close to being finished with those critiques, I can almost taste it! You know, critiquing a 2000 word contest is a lot more work than critiquing a 1000 word contest. Who knew?
Melanie
 

"Thus far we have votes and crits from Annepin, LAJD, oliverhouse and philocinemas," said Zac.

"We know that Devnal and Unwritten are working on theirs. Have you heard anything from Kin Castelmare?"

"No," said Zac. "Nor yourself, TS."

"I don't vote because I can see who wrote what. I'll crit, though. Let's hope Kin Castelmare hasn't forgotten ..."

"Hope is for humans," said Zac. "Either he has, or he hasn't. Either way we'll know by tomorrow's deadline."

 

I did see that the deadline had been postponed by the angels of fate-would-have-it-thus and, now that I have made penance, I am seated before the altar of Jobs once again. Votes and crits to follow soon.

in pace

Kin
 

The stories and their authors were:

1 LAJD "Eagle"
2 Annepin "Calli's Song"
3 Kin Castelmare "Tower Excerpt"
4 philocinemas "The Trade-in"
5 Unwritten "Unpredictable"
6 oliverhouse "A Skein of Mind"
7 Devnal "The Varenne"
8 TaleSpinner "Merchant of Fortune"

The best first 13, by a long way, was "A Skein of Mind" by oliverhouse.

There was a tie for second best first 13,
"Unpredictable" by Unwritten, and "Calli's Song" by Annepin.

The best story was story # 4, "The Trade-in" by philocinemas.

Reviewers said, "Great characters, great spin", "does what good sci-fi should do: show a human story in a way that no other
genre can", "Really good job", "good characterization and a real plot".

Second was story # 6, "A Skein of Mind" by oliverhouse.

Reviewers said, "good suspense that started early and just kept increasing, with the impending arrival of the stranger", "great story – very publishable", "excellent title and opening line".

Third was story # 2, "Calli's Song" by Annepin.

Reviewers said, "A thought-provoking story full of irony and tinged with pathos", "Start submitting it", "finely and sensitively drawn".

I have e-mailed all the crits to all authors.

Thanks everyone for a super contest. Congratulations to the winners and to everyone for a super set of stories.

Cheers,
Pat (and Zac)

P.S. I plan to offer another Sudden contest in two or three months ...
 

Looking forward to the next one, TS!
 

Please let me know if anyone has any questions about my crits.

Leslie

Just to recall the triggers were:

The tallest tower on the planet
Merchant of rarities (rare goods or services)
A flowing together (confluence)

Leslie
 

I wasn't sure how the "switch" would be received. I enjoy stories from a different era when this technique was more prevalent - O'Henry, Poe, Rod Serling.

Did anyone catch that the opening sentence could describe the switch of voice, of mind, or of which character was the trade-in?
 

I owe a few people crits still, and I promise I'll get to those.
 

Good work everyone. I really enjoyed all of the stories.
Thank you TaleSpinner.
Melanie

[This message has been edited by Unwritten (edited October 30, 2008).]
 

For next time, two or three months hence, how do people feel about the length? Was 2000 words better than 1000?

Cheers,
Pat
 

I thought 2000 was a good limit.

Unwritten, I hope your daughter is feeling better - Did she get a cast and crutches? How is she doing with those?

Also, has anyone heard how ReagansGame's daughter is doing?
 

Besides, there are lots of flash challenges, and few sudden fiction challenges.
 

quote:

---

Unwritten, I hope your daughter is feeling better - Did she get a cast and crutches? How is she doing with those?

---

Thanks for asking. She's an amazing girl who is adorable on her crutches. I think she's totally unstoppable. The doctors tested that theory yesterday by cutting off her temporary cast and then sending us on a 4 hour tour of all the medical facilities in a 15 mile radius searching for a type of walking cast that we finally discovered does not exist--so they put her back in a temporary cast and sent us home. Apparently most 5 year olds don't usually break those particular bones. The cast expert that we finally found said these particular bones are usually broken by adults who spend a lot of time around wild horses.

[This message has been edited by Unwritten (edited June 29, 2009).]