What a nail-biting finish to the April BOC! Finishing neck and neck with 13 points each, let’s give it up for our first place winners, Josh Langston and Beth Shope! April 2002 Best Openings Contest Results
<woo-hoo yeah wooooo! yells the crowd>
Everyone gave a fair showing this month, so good work, and congratulations all round, particularly to our second place winner, Derek Paterson!
Opening title Author 1st 2nd 3rd V Total Storytellers Josh Langston 2 2 0 y 13 Dragon's Eye Beth Shope 2 1 2 y 13 Enemy at the Gates Derek Paterson 1 1 1 y 9 The Tall Man Phyllis C. Davis 1 0 1 y 7 Stella Within Marsi Lorey 0 2 2 6 (voted only) Kevin S. 0 0 0 y 3 (voted only) David Gillon 0 0 0 y 3So... what does this mean for our quarterly results???It means... our new BOC Administratix is...
*** BETH SHOPE ***
<the crowd applauds madly> Well done, Beth! If you need any help with anything, just ask. :)
Thank you, Your Administratix,
Sophia
Index Enemy At The Gates (novel) - Derek Paterson
Dragon's Eye - Beth Shope
The Tall Man - Phyllis Davis
Storytellers - Josh Langston
Stella Within - Marsi Lorey
Enemy At The Gates (novel)
- Derek Paterson
"Midnight, and all's well!"
The sentry's voice came from the battlements above, and was echoed throughout the castle by a dozen other voices, each trying to out-do the rest. Micha von Falken jammed her pillow over her head, wishing they'd all shut up. Of course all was well! Why did they have to make such a racket every night, when people were trying to sleep?
She tossed the pillow aside and sat up in bed, thoroughly irritated at still being wide awake. Of course, she just had to have insomnia the night before she had a classroom test. Brother Josef wouldn't be pleased if she failed, and neither would Micha's father, the Graf Rainer von Falken. The fact she would never in her entire life have a use for mathematics in any shape or form didn't seem to matter to them. She was the Graf's daughter, therefore she must do better than the other children who attended Brother Josef's classes.
"Fuss and bother," she said to herself. "Why do they press me to learn such rubbish, when I'll probably end up married to some fool of a lordling who won't ever want his wife to think?"
Micha's reflection, in the full-length mirror standing in the corner of her bed chamber, frowned at her. Micha made a face and stuck her tongue out. Her reflection made the same face back at her.
"What do you think, Ashim?" she said, throwing back the duck feather quilt and swinging her legs off the bed. She walked over to the mirror, a wraith in her pale night dress, her black hair contained by the net which her maidservant Gretchen insisted she wear to bed. "Is mathematics the biggest waste of time in the universe, or is there actually something more boring and pointless?"
Ashim, the name she'd given her reflection, thought about it for a while. Then she said, "Boring or not, your father wishes you to pass the test. When you leave this castle, you will carry a letter from Brother Josef stating that you are an educated lady. Such a letter will open doors for you. Isn't that what Mother always said?"
§ Mine. An insane sorcerer, timeless evil rising from beyond the grave, and a spunky heroine who must save the world. What, you didn't vote for it? Your loss! -DP
I liked this entry. My only question would be is Ashim tied to that mirror, or will she appear in every mirror Micha looks into? You could have fun with both ideas.
The entry doesn't seem to have any bearing on the title, but that isn't strictly necessary, at least not in the first page. I give this one 1st place. I like the heroine’s name and I like what could be done with this story. -PDDisclaimer. I don't do spelling or grammar. Whatever is commented on is not to be construed as a savaging of the author or story. They are the things that tripped switches in my mind, and you don't want to go there....really.
Title confusion. Already been written and filmed as heroic sniper in besieged city, basically. :)
'Battlements' make one think stone stronghold. Stone is superb sound deadening material. Guard would have to be bellowing very close to room window to disturb occupant. One would also expect the dwellers to have enough sense to drape material over openings for warmth and to cut down external noise. Why so many guards? Huge castle or attack imminent? Security numbers are usually reduced at night; third guards response should be out of hearing range of heroine.
From the writing am thinking medieval setting, feudal society, pre-industrial level? In that case the word, 'universe' jars. The society wouldn't have reached that level of knowledge to consider things like galaxies, orbiting bodies, etc.
And a heroine who converses with herself while facing a mirror? Even giving a name to the voice that answers? Straight jacket, liquid food only and keep sharp implements out of reach, is the usual treatment for people exhibiting these tendencies...or used to be.
It had a humorous beginning which tailed off very quickly. Perhaps if the heroine threw the pillow and it burst open filling the room with its contents and causing more exasperation and a stamping of bare feet on cold stone or rushes?
Mirror magic features heavily in the occult and if Micha had to perform some ritual, words, gestures, to invoke a duplicate of herself it would tie in with the readers belief wish and get rid of stigma attached to having a conversation with oneself, and the furniture, that is prevalent in all societies. Unless this is one of those cultures where people who talk to themselves are accorded a special status?
Writing's fine and the story flowed, it's just I've got a pernickety mindset...:) (2nd Place)
KevinSThe writing itself is competent (though I can't help but wonder what the source of light is the first time she looks in the mirror), but there was nothing compelling about the premise. This entry would have placed if the character's dilemma had been less ordinary. - Beth
Mechanically sound, but the protagonist doesn't do much for me. The suggestion of a multiple personality disorder manifested by the protag's reflection in the mirror offers some interesting possibilities. I'd keep reading. Makes first pass. I generally ignore titles in these things since they can be so easily changed, but this one feels especially shopworn. Finishes 3rd. —Josh
Hmm, spoilt brat deprecates routine security and learning. I can see a sharp lesson in the offing. The writing is reasonable, but I've a low tolerance for brats, and I'm probably not alone in that, so she'd better be shaken out of it fairly quickly. The last paragraph suggests a reflection with a life of its own, which adds a little novelty to what is essentially a little clichéd, either that or she's got a really strange way of looking at herself, which isn't necessarily a problem. Given this is meant as a novel I don't think it's a problem that the plot hasn't been jump-started as yet, but at the moment we have a slightly irritating character and a stock pseudo-mediaeval European setting, which probably isn't enough to hold people. Misha needs to be a stronger character who demands our attention and the setting could probably use a distinguishing element or two. DG
Smooth writing as always, but the story is moving very slowly. Even for a novel entry, I would expect more of a sense of drama and impending action in the opening paragraphs than what is given here. The main character is not appealing enough to draw me in, and there is very little difference between her 'voice', that of Ashim, and that of the author during the description. I'd read on a little to see what happens, but overall, quite staid. It needs kickstarting. - Admin
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Dragon's Eye - Beth Shope
Deep beneath the foundations of the white city lay the ruins of an ancient palace. Catalin named it the dragon's lair, and she lived like a mole in its twisted, moldering bones. In the city above, danger thrived—they could take her hands for thievery, her tongue for selling secrets, and then give her to the slave-breeders, where hands or tongue counted for nothing.
But in the dragon's lair she was safe.
The dragon itself slept in the baths beyond the court of the green-eyed warriors. She had blinded those for the worth of their jade eyes, but left one intact to guard her treasure. His hard green gaze touched her back as she entered the baths and wound her way through a small forest of alabaster columns sprouting pale fungus and around the gaping mouths of empty pools. She raised her lamp. The dragon was stretched along one wall, his feathers lapped over one another like tongues of blue flame. To the touch, though, they were as rough as a cat's tongue; the sandstone on which they were painted was a far cry from the smooth plastered walls of the city above, where Balasi created his masterpieces.
Catalin's dragon had been spawned in darkness, but unlike Balasi's beasts, he would fly.
She dug out her prize and placed it with its fellows: a row of little round paintpots, each one labeled with a dot of brilliant pigment on its fat belly, like a jewel in a eunuch's navel. The newest had a thumbprint of deep gold.
In the flickering lamplight, the dragon's feathers undulated like silk licked by the wind, but his eyes were mere hollows of blank dusty stone. When she painted them open, he would breathe. That was why the great velvet lids of Balasi's dragons were always closed in sleep. No one wanted a living dragon.
Except her.
She lacked brushes, but her fingers were deft. Soon, one eye stared back at her, unwinking, amber-gold and hawk-fierce. A trembling eagerness seized her. Now I will fly free...
"That paint is worth a year's wages," a man said softly from behind her, "but what price a dragon?"
§ Nice imagery and use of words but I couldn't tell whether Catalin intended to paint a dragon, or create one. Or whether the former leads to the latter. Observation: nearly every sentence seemed to ring with resonance. Oddly enough, this got distracting pretty quickly. ;-) THIRD. -DP
A dragon with feathers??? I’ve never heard of one before. Are you sure it's a dragon??? What good did it do her to leave a warrior with eyes if someone could sneak up on her??? I give this one 2nd place. -PD
Disclaimer. I don't do spelling or grammar. Whatever is commented on is not to be construed as a savaging of the author or story. They are the things that tripped switches in my mind, and you don't want to go there....really.
'white city' Because the city is predominantly white in colour, or is that its name? If latter capitalise white. Who, what are the jade warriors? Not enough description for me, seeing as how heroine blinds all except one who guards her. How are they overcome and bound to her?
The description is rich and varied which is good. Unfortunately belief system was kicked out by wondering what would happen when dragon came to life. Would body be formed from stone; which would then cause ruined wall to collapse round missing segment?
Magic paint? (Of course there is a lot the reader is ignorant of. The heroine may have special powers, similar to ESP or be of magical descent, perhaps genetically gifted.) Otherwise, everybody would be running about with pots of paint and there would be screaming hordes of nightmare creatures settling differences between neighbors, shopkeepers, et al...A trip to market for some brussels sprouts would be an epic saga of bravery, blood, and hacking a path to the stall through savage, ravening creatures powered by lust, envy, greed, jealousy. And doing that twice a week! It's enough to turn one carnivorous. :) (3rd Place)
KevinSMine. - Beth
The protagonist here captures my attention. Good mechanics. There is also some exceptional imagery in this opening. I'd definitely keep reading. Makes first pass. Finishes 1st by several strides. Bravo! —Josh
This I like a lot. There's a tone to the writing that lifts it above the ordinary and some distinctive turns of phrase, blinding the statues, for instance. A feathered dragon is different enough to catch people's attention as well, though it's unclear as yet whether the whole story is drawing on a South American mythos -Quetzelcoatl, the feathered serpent—or if it's just this one element, or simply coincidence. If the intention is to have a South American rather than pseudo-European based society then I'd be tempted to include at least one more pointer to that in this opening segment. There's an interesting character here and suggestions of an interesting plot and background, so this counts as a good firm start, my only specific criticism is that Dragon's Lair should be capitalized if she has specifically named it. My 1st place for the month. DG
I liked the beginning and was intrigued by the well-drawn setting. However, I became confused by what exactly was going on with the guards and the painting, which threw me out of the story for a while. Otherwise, lovely writing. I think it would do no harm to remove the "eunuch’s navel" and "undulated like silk licked by the wind" descriptions - everything else was pretty much perfect, but these two seemed like overkill. - Admin
The Tall Man - Phyllis Davis
Standing in the shadows, the tall man observed the two young girls he had been assigned to watch. Eighteen years earlier, he had been with the parents when they eloped. His purpose then to make sure they were not thwarted in their desire to wed and have a family. He carried out his assignment to watch and to be as unobtrusive as possible with quiet efficiency. The young couple had seen him from time to time and built a theory about who he was and why he always showed up at important times in their lives.
The tall man had been present at the birth of the elder who had been born ten months after the elopement and had felt the inherent power of that infant brain. Now, after an absence of only sixteen years everything was changed. Something had happened to change the inherently powerful infant so he could no longer feel her power. Instead all he got was the image of a shiny metallic helmet with a rearing white horse on it. No matter how he tried he could not get past the helmet. Time after time, he tried to probe their minds and failed.
'I knew I should have stayed with her instead of going on other assignments. If only they had allowed me to stay here, I could be inside that shield and be helping her shape her destiny,' the tall man thought. 'What were they thinking to send me elsewhere when I'm so desperately needed here?'
In despair he delicately probed the younger girl and the result took his breath away. Deep in his thoughts where she had no right to be she smiled at him and said, "Hi, what are you doing here?"
§ Dragged a little due to the glum, or should I say uninspiring POVC of the title, but the closing line was amusing, I'd have turned the page. FIRST. -DP
Alas, this one is mine. -PD
Disclaimer. I don't do spelling or grammar. Whatever is commented on is not to be construed as a savaging of the author or story. They are the things that tripped switches in my mind, and you don't want to go there....really.
'...the tall man observed...'
How does the reader know the man is tall? Why should they take your word for it? They don't know what height the narrator is. ' ...standing in shadows, partly for concealment, partly to hide his distinctive height...'
Is my own poor example of wording to show the reader this characteristic.
The style of writing is not considered 'correct' at the moment, too. It reads a little awkward. The opening is mostly, 'tell' not showing, as in the given example. For me, it's also too condensed, which further on in the story would work, but not in the opening. An example of the tall man's intervention in the growing up stages of the girls life would have increased the interest for a reader in that respect.
Weakness in story is that of being given multiple assignments. Either he should have stayed with the original assignment, or a reason given as to why he was saddled with others that took him out of the lives of the two girls.
I've also read too many, 'Guardian', stories to be interested in this one. That's my fault, not the authors.
KevinSThe first paragraph is omniscient, which is OK, but then the shift into the Tall Man's POV is rather muddy. The premise has potential, but the writing is not well edited (too many word repetitions and clumsy sentences). And too much backstory. Would have been much more intriguing if the story had gone into immediate action and left the back history until later. Third place, by the thinnest of hairs and solely on the potential of the premise. - Beth
The mechanics are solid, but I question using such a generic description for a protagonist. I'd prefer a name to a description, but if it must be the latter, then I'd rather have something I can more easily visualize: birdlike, reed-legged, stiff-backed and rigid as a tin soldier, etc. I'd probably keep reading, but I'll need something really interesting soon to keep me engaged. Makes 1st pass. Gets an honorable mention. —Josh
An interesting start, though super-powered children are something of an old staple. The Tall Man remains an enigma, but as that's intentional it isn't a problem. There is a problem in the second paragraph, where the last sentence has him trying to probe both children's minds, but context says it is the older one only. We've got characters, the start of a plot, but unfortunately not a hint of setting. At the moment it's impossible to tell if this is fantasy or SF, past, present or future. I'd say that's the main thing that needs dealing with here. DG
I would like to know what the theory was that the parents had developed about this man. (Did they think he was a psychotic stalker? Why not?) Much of this opening reads like a summary of the story, and leaves me wanting some details. The final line is the most interesting and I would read on a little to see what happens. The writing needs polishing. The, "His purpose then..." sentence, for example, would perhaps be better as, "His purpose then had been..." Overall, the story needs to slow down. Show the events referred to, so that we gain a sense of the growing connection between the man and the family. - Admin
Storytellers - Josh Langston
"T'was the hungry season," wheezed the storyteller, his belly straining against the rope binding his tunic, "and the heat of summer sent the weak to their graves by the score." He pealed a boiled egg while he spoke, sprinking bits of shell at his feet.
Tupin's boy sat close enough to the storyteller to smell both man and egg, though the odor of the villagers was strong enough to mask them both. The man's words belied his condition, but none dared interrupt lest he halt his tale and leave them for the next shire. Instead, they all listened as the fat man spoke of starvation. All except Tupin's boy, who studied the teller rather than the tale.
He noted how wine stains turned the nubby cloth of the speaker's tunic into a catalog of his travels. Blotches of deep red and purple signalled harvests near the coast; inland vinyards favored grapes of white and yellow. The man waved his arms when he spoke as if conjuring characters from the air, but such was the limit of the work those palms endured; they bore neither callous nor scar and scarcely any dirt. How, the boy wondered, could one grow so fat on so little labor?
"But neither Matins, Prime, nor Vespers found a soul in the manor house with an empty stomach." The storyteller's voice grew strained, and someone handed him a wineskin.
Tupin's boy reeled from an epiphany. Storytelling! What a wondrous reprieve from herding pigs and sweating in his master's fields. He stared into the pale, watery eyes of the speaker. What could he offer the man to teach him his trade?
The storyteller mixed his words with the egg and the wine, but choked on the result. Several in the throng slapped his back and invoked an abbeyful of saints to protect him, but the coughing and choking continued until the storyteller's face mottled eggplant dark, and he pitched sideways in the dirt, clawing at his throat and thrashing like a beached trout.
Tupin's boy smiled as he died. The world needed a new storyteller.
§ Tupin's boy comes across as a selfish little sh@t, but nonetheless I found the telling interesting enough. SECOND. -DP
>> He pealed a boiled egg<< That should be he peeled a boiled egg, unless the egg is going to peal like a bell???
>>Tupin's boy smiled as he died.<<
I'd make this read, "Tupin's boy smiled as the old man died." You would still be within the word limit and there wouldn't be any chance of misunderstanding who had died.
This reads more like a complete story than an opening. -PDDisclaimer. I don't do spelling or grammar. Whatever is commented on is not to be construed as a savaging of the author or story. They are the things that tripped switches in my mind, and you don't want to go there....really.
The last line spoiled any chance of empathy with Tupin's boy. Pleasure in another's death for personal gain? Yuk.
After the first ref to 'Tupin's boy' I would have preferred him to be named.
'Epiphany' seems out of place. Correct description, no problem with that, preference is for simpler description of 'insight, revelation', whatever...
Well written, good description. (1st Place)
KevinSThe writing is vivid; the observations about the origins of the wine stains were very well done. The entry could have used more polish. This sentence: <<The man's words belied his condition>> is confusing, since we don't yet know why that should be so. Also one wouldn't use "belied" in quite that sense. This is likewise jarring: <<How, the boy wondered, could one grow so fat on so little labor?>>. Labor is much more likely to make one thin, what with burning calories and so forth. What the boy meant is, how can someone who doesn't work for a living come by sufficient food to grow fat on? But that's not what the sentence said, exactly. <<Tupin's boy smiled as he died.>> Ambiguous pronoun. Yes, we know what was meant, but this was sloppy. And it's the one sentence that nearly cost this entry first place, because it doesn't make sense that the boy would be happy that the one person who could teach him storytelling just died. More likely he'd be upset or angry at this sudden reversal of fortune. (Not to mention that would make things more interesting for the reader.) And that smile doesn't make me like him at all. But this entry was the most interesting and immersive of all the offerings. First Place, purely on the imaginative writing and the hope that the author can be persuaded to revise that next-to-last sentence. - Beth
Mine, misspelled words, indefinite antecedents and all. <sigh> BTW, the elves assigned to correcting such details have all been flayed with miniature cat-o-nine-tails. You may have heard them screaming. If so, ignore them. That's what the little buggers get for sleeping on the job. —Josh
Now that's an interesting way to start a story, introduce a character through the viewpoint character and then have him choke to death before the first page is out. The character of the storyteller is very well observed, although I'm not completely convinced a fat, itinerant storyteller is a likely combination. I'm also less than convinced that calling the viewpoint character 'Tupin's boy' is a good idea, it seems very artificial. That said, I think the whole thing is nicely written, let down only by a few spelling errors, and that the description of the storyteller is very well done. My second place for the month. DG
"Tupin's boy sat close enough to the storyteller to smell both man and egg, though the odor of the villagers was strong enough to mask them both." - I think this needs the word "nearly" or "almost" before "strong enough", otherwise you are contradicting yourself. The line about the man's words belying his condition made me smile, but then the subtle effect was ruined by stating (and thus repeating the earlier straining belly description) that he was a fat man talking of starvation. If that line was removed, the opening would be far better, I think. Otherwise, good entry, but I became very unsympathetic to the boy at the end. Perhaps he could be shown as being a bit of a nasty sort earlier on, so his apparent callousness does not seem so strange. - Admin
Stella Within - Marsi Lorey
Stella rolled over in bed and frowned beneath the silken facemask she wore to block the streetlights that shone in through her bedroom window at night. She lay there a moment or two, then without thought, she reached toward Harry on the other side of the double bed. Her hand met nothing but the cool touch of empty cotton sheets. She sighed. A habit of fifty-seven years was difficult to break. Every morning she reached for Harry, and every morning she realized he was no longer there, would never be there. Harry had died last fall.
One day, before too very much longer, she wouldn't be there either. Time had a habit of that, creeping over people, robbing them of their youth and vitality, and then taking them out of the picture to make way for the young and strong. Stella sighed again. In truth, the thought didn't bother her very much. Such was the pattern of life. When the Grim Reaper came for her, she would greet him with a smile. Stella grinned. Of course, she might tell him to bugger off too.
Stella reached for the facemask. Her hand paused. Her nose wrinkled. What was that god-awful smell? Stella gave a delicate sniff, forcing her nostrils to dissect the stench that permeated the air around her. She laughed as the identity of the smell registered within the forefront of her mind. Priceless, she thought. Absolutely, priceless. The stench causing her stomach to do flip-flops was nothing more than old age-the smell of her own approaching death and decay.
Still shaking with laughter, Stella pulled the facemask from her eyes. Until Death came for her, the apartment and her body required tending. She reached for the handmade white eyelet comforter draped over her frail form. Sweet Jesus! Now I've become senile too. Stella pulled back her hand, or rather the hand that didn't belong to her. No. I've lost my mind, she thought.
The hand that obeyed her commands was not hers. Gone were the knotted blue veins, gnarled knuckles and age spots that belonged to her. Someone had stolen all the signs of time she had earned over eighty-two years of life. In their place was a smooth hand with long supple fingers, a hand that belonged to her sixty years ago.
Stella closed her eyes. I've lost my mind. There's no doubt about it, I've lost my mind. Then another thought occurred to Stella. Her eyes popped open. Oh, Jesus! Is this what it's like? Am I dead?
§ Not bad, could easily have got a vote if I'd had just a tiny glimpse of where the story was maybe heading now that Stella is young again? -DP
This one is kind of cute! In fact I liked the premise. So far it's just a bit of fluff, but bits of fluff have their place too. 3rd place by default. -PD
Disclaimer. I don't do spelling or grammar. Whatever is commented on is not to be construed as a savaging of the author or story. They are the things that tripped switches in my mind, and you don't want to go there....really.
Not interesting as is. Needs re-working. Having said that, ...' facemask...block the streetlights that shone in...' What's wrong with heavy curtains to block light? It is an obvious remedy.
Too much rumination in the first couple of grafs. Major disbelief point in that the older you get the more pronounced and noticeable the smell of death is, ie; Friend or stranger sniffs, ' Arr, I see youse only got three months and seventeen days left, Matilda.'
If it was personal body odour, leakages, which occur naturally with aging, then that is more believable.
'Staring at the hand which had switched the bedside lamp on Matilda noted it's smooth, taut, healthy glow...so different from the wrinkled, liver spotted one which had switched off the lamp the night before.' Another example. Which also leaves oodles of explanation and exploration of the characters feelings and senses in the rest of the opening and possibly tightens the start of the story?
KevinSThis sentence: <<Every morning she reached for Harry, and every morning she realized he was no longer there>> should be the opener. It's stronger than simply seeing someone wake up in a silk eye shade. The hook at the end was good, but the writer nearly lost me before getting that far, because nothing of much interest was happening. Writing is more polished than other entries, so this one gets Second Place. - Beth
Stella's name feels a bit over-used. A few more pronouns instead would be easier on the ear, and since she's the only character in the scene, there's little risk of confusion. The hook is interesting enough to keep me reading. Makes first pass. Finishes 2nd. Keep working on this one. —Josh
Very intriguing. Establish the character as old and then cut that certainty out from under us. We're left hanging, not knowing quite what is going on, but that's not a problem at this point in the story. One thing that is a problem is the inconsistency in highlighting Stella's thoughts, half of them are marked with underscores, which is fine, but half aren't, and should be for the sake of consistency (and reader sanity). There are also, IMO, too many references to Stella by name. With only a single character introduced we're not likely to be confused by referring to Stella as 'her' or 'she'. My third place for the month. DG
"She reached for the handmade white eyelet comforter draped over her frail form. Sweet Jesus! Now I've become senile too." - The exclamation seemed out of place, as I didn't realise anything out of the ordinary had happened here. Even reading it over, this doesn't seem right. Some hint that something catches her eye about her hand maybe, before she comments, might work better. Otherwise, this read well first time through, and the POVC is appealing. - Admin
Here are the quarterly totals:Author February March April Total Beth Shope 18 10 13 41 Josh Langston 11 14 13 38 Derek Paterson 3 8 9 20 Bill Allan 5 9 - 14 David Gillon 11 - 3 14 Kevin S. 3 3 3 9 Phyllis C. Davis - - 7 7 Sid Gittler 6 - - 6 Marsi Lorey - - 6 6 Deb Dunkerton 3 0 - 3 Giedi 3 - - 3Back to Index Back to top