December 2003 Best Openings Contest Results
Sorry for the delays, my friends, I was hoping to receive votes from a couple more folks. Alas, they never arrived where I could find them in time. So, without further adieu, here are the results of the December, 2003 Best Opening Contest:
1st 2nd 3rd Bon Vot Tot Blood Ties, Susan Wing 2 1 X X 14 Under Water World, Sara Walker Howe 1 1 2 X X 13 Home For Christmas, Derek Paterson 1 2 X X 11 Chunka Hunka Burning Christmas Love, Bill Allan 2 1 X X 11 The Pirate Ship and the Girl in the Leopard Bikini, Lynn Fernandez 1 X X 8 Untitled, David Gillon 2 1 8 No sub, Wayne Sowry X 3Congratulations, Susan and Sara!
Index UNDER WATER WORLD by Sara Walker Howe
BLOOD TIES by Susan Wing
The Pirate Ship and the Girl in the Leopard Bikini by Lynn Fernandez
HOME FOR CHRISTMAS by Derek Paterson
Chunka Hunka Burning Christmas Love by Bill Allan
Untitled by David Gillon
UNDER WATER WORLD
by Sara Walker Howe
Marian Barker drove away with the taste of Danny still on her mouth. Her shaking hands gripped the cold steering wheel, fighting to control the car. The roads were glare ice polished to a high sheen from the strong winds of the passing December storm. Trees swayed stiffly, glittering in the car's passing headlights, and dropping heavy twigs and branches on ice-crusted snow. She probably should have stayed at Danny's until morning.
She hated fighting with him. And it was such a useless fight, too. Some arguments were constructive and resolved problems. Others were just emotional explosions. And theirs had been a big eruption over little more than who's family they would spend Christmas Day with. Not even their love-making distracted them from the argument. Marian boiled just thinking about it, and belatedly realized her emotions were influencing her driving.
The car sped towards the Sturgeon River bridge, too fast. Marian hit the brakes, remembering the ice too late. Oh, God! She spun the wheel, praying the car would turn and hit the snow bank. But inertia's force was stronger. As the car plunged into the icy water, Marian hurried to roll down the window. Water flooded the car. There was no time to think. She took her last breath, and slipped out the wind, deep under the water, just as the icy current towed the car away.
Marian swam for the surface, but her jacket and boots filled with water and dragged her down. Desperate for air, she kicked the boots off and shed her jacket, swimming once more for the surface. But the chill enveloped her. Slowed her body rhythms. She'd never make it. Tired. So tired. She closed her eyes and let the current pull her down the river.
But it wasn’t the current that pulled her away.
§ Some nice setting in the first paragraph, well framed by the current action. Nowever, I think the second paragraph delves too much into the argument and might be better with just a brief comment or two to show her frame of mind, without going into so much detail. For the rest, my main concern is that the final sentence sounds like a slip into omniscience, since the MC appears to be on the verge of passing out. Second place. - WJS
Under Water World: I liked this one. Good use of all different kinds of conflict—the argument, the weather, the accident—to hook the reader. And the writing is fairly lean and dynamic. First Place. BA
Mine. This is the opening to my fantasy/erotica piece where Marian is swept into an underwater culture of sea nymphs where all is not as it appears to be and somehow she has to find her way out before being sacrificed by the nymphs who want to break the spell they're under. SWH.
Provocative opening sentence. Excellent. Some clunky wording, e.g. the way it's placed, "fighting to control the car" modifies "wheel," rather than the MC (I would've said, "Her shaking hands gripped the cold steering wheel, as she fought to control the car" <shrug>)—but the first graph moves things along nicely. Opening almost derails in paragraph two, IMO: too much introspection for her state of mind. All we need to know is that she's distracted. I'd delete the middle coupla sentences of paragraph two, and keep up the pace. Third paragraph is pretty exciting, but I'd watch out for observations like "inertia's force was stronger." This feel like omniscient POV, 'cause I can't imagine Marian thinking in these terms at this point <g>. Good ending; you've set up an intriguing situation—certainly plenty of danger and tension—I might suggest you find a synonym for "current" (which gets overused near the end, IMO)—otherwise, gets my 3rd place vote <g>—SEW
Nothing freaks me out more than drowning. I didn't like the last line at all, blatant cliff hanger for the reader. I would have liked this a little tighter and shorter so the author could show the last sentence and not tell. Since this took so long to engage me. I'll give it 3rd. LF
First sentence contains unintentional pornographic humor, may be worth revising. Second paragraph nearly turned me off, soap opera, yawn. If not for the title I wouldn't have a clue what the last sentence, the hook, referred to. I'm denying this one a vote in protest at author's waiting until the very last moment to serve up hint of speculative element! -dp
BLOOD TIES
by Susan Wing
Kami hated her brother before he was born. Now she prayed that he would live long enough to forgive her. The bluish doll swaddled in the birthing bed next to Kami's mother was just a newborn baby after all, hardly worthy of hate. Kami lifted another load of blood-soaked cloths from the floor and dumped them in the deep granite rinsing sink.
The forced calm in the birthing room was deliberate, she knew, but insufficient to mask one essential fact: This was not a normal birth, neither the delivery nor the child. Kami had been a midwife-assistant for four years, since she was thirteen, but she'd never seen so much blood.
"Kamila."
The whisper was barely audible. Kami dropped to her knees beside the bed and leaned close, as her mother struggled to mouth the words.
"Mama?"
"He must die by Midsummer's Day."
"The baby? But Mama, he's just been born —"
"Promise me, Kamila. By Midsummer's Day."
"Oh, Mama." Kami picked up her mother's hand, so dry and pale, and kissed it.
Kami's mother smiled weakly and closed her eyes.
"Here, girl, what are you doing?" One of the older assistants bent down to feel Mama's neck pulse. "Marga! Come quick!" she called.
The priest-midwife swept over and took charge. Kami backed away until she bumped into the door jam. No, Mama, no.
The three older women knelt by the side of the bed and covered their eyes. So when they raised their voices in the keening tones of the passage ritual, Kami was the only one who saw her mother's hand move. Not enough to stir the bed covers and alert the other midwives. Just enough to touch the center of the baby's forehead—three quick taps—and then to fall quiet again.
§ The first two sentences make an excellent opening and the whole thing just grabs and keeps pulling. I want to know why she originally hates him and why he has to die. I can already feel the conflict in her, and just know she is going to defy her dying mother’s wishes and save the baby. And that’s bound to have consequences. First place. - WJS
Blood Ties: This scene is nicely drawn, but if the infant had to die, why did the mother give birth and leave it up to the sister. Even primitive societies have forms of abortion, don't they? Second Place. BA
Very nice. Needs a tidy up. Some stuff is repeated. But I'd turn the page to see where this is going. SWH
Mine. -SEW
I had a few problems with this one. I thought the POVC was younger than she ends up being. I didn't expect someone who was 17 to hate an unborn child. At 17 she should be older emotionally. I think this has promise but no vote. LF
I would have liked to have seen more setting details but still, this opening promised story to come. FIRST. -dp
The Pirate Ship and the Girl in the Leopard Bikini
by Lynn Fernandez
The sun hovered low over the ocean as a chill breeze blew across the deserted beach. Well, deserted except for me. I pulled my jeans on over my bikini when something odd appeared on the water. Just a shadow at first, the shape quickly grew distinct. An old sailing ship materialized, its sails unfurled. It sat silent and immobile, a black silhouette against the pink sky.
Why is it that you're always alone when something really interesting happens? I looked up and down the shoreline but saw no one—not a jogger, not a dog walker, not even one old guy with a metal detector. Figures. I was traveling alone in the Land Down Under. Celebrating New Year's under the summer sun instead of shivering in the northern winter, my Christmas gift to me, but the deal had gone sour. While the Aussies dressed to the nines for The Big Night, my wardrobe remained as packed, tucked away in the belly of a United 747 somewhere over the Pa-bloody-cific.
I didn't notice when the silhouette ship launched any baby boats but one was a ground about 100 yards away. It was occupied by men in costumes. I looked for a film crew. Nope, I was still alone unless they were filming really long shots.
The men were running toward me. And they looked profoundly —well— rabid. I grabbed my stuff and ran. The men shouted at me to stop. Instead, I headed for the rental car I had left near the road.
The men shouted again. Closer. Louder. Angrier.
Abandoning my romance novel and beach towel, I ran harder. So did they. The car keys were hiding somewhere in my bag. I jettisoned a visor, suntan lotion, and my wallet before I found them.
But the men kept coming.
§ Without the title I’d have no idea that it’s a pirate ship, or why she thinks they’re after her in a bad way. The second paragraph has too much background, seemingly for the primary reason of getting in the mention of Christmas. With her standing on a beach watching a strange boat approach, I don’t really care at this point where she is, what she’s doing there, or what happened to her luggage. And as far as the chase goes, in the words of Monty Python: skip a bit brother. - WJS
The Pirate Ship . . ." Pirates invading Australia? Okay, but the protag getting chased wasn't quite enough hook for me. Sorry. BA
A bit wordy. Needs a good tidying up. "The men" is a bit overused. I'd like more details on "the men", at least one should stand out from the rest. I'd read on to at least see if she gets away or is made to walk the plank. SWH.
Loved the title. This promises to be an entertaining romp. Writer does a good job staying in MC's POV and giving her a distinctive voice, especially in phrases like: "Why is it that you're always alone when something really interesting happens?" and "Pa-bloody-cific". Good pacing on the overall scene—Set-up, observation, realization of danger, flight—and the image of the MC looking for her car keys, tossing stuff out of her bag as she's running, is priceless. Amusing and spirited, good for a 2nd place vote, IMO. - SEW
Mine LF
With a title like this, author had a tough job convincing me to read the opening let alone turn the hypothetical page. The first person telling didn't give the story the sense of involvement author was maybe hoping for. The "pirates" just weren't detailed enough. -dp
HOME FOR CHRISTMAS
by Derek Paterson
There were few things more beautiful and more terrifying than night sentry duty, Private Henry Roberts decided. He paused halfway along the trench as starshells turned night into day. Their brilliance reminded him of the fireworks they'd set off to mark the New Year. He smiled at the memory of friends and neighbors and strangers crowding the streets, singing and dancing and shaking hands, and ooh-ah-ing as each rocket exploded....
Roberts swallowed hard. The starshells meant that somewhere along the line, perhaps as little as ten miles away, some poor buggers were getting it. The Boche would be pouring across No Man's Land in their thousands, bayonets gleaming. Salvo after salvo would cut down hundreds, then it would be hand to hand fighting in the trenches, man against man, with superior numbers and determination deciding who won and lost, who lived and who died.
His section hadn't seen any action for days, but he knew the Hun might suddenly appear without warning. It was Roberts' job to raise the alarm at the first sign of trouble. He couldn't afford to relax for a second. Nor could he peek above the edge of the earthworks for fear of being shot. Boche snipers were deadly adversaries. They'd picked off a dozen members of his unit in the past month alone. Stick your head above the parapet and you were a dead man.
Sergeant Harris had told him, "Keep yer bleddy head down if you wants to live. Use yer ears, not yer eyes. Yer hear something moving around out there, yer shouts a challenge. If they don't answer in the King's English yer blows yer whistle, then shoots the first Boche yer sees before he shoots you."
But wot about the rest of 'em, Sarge? he'd wanted to ask.
§ A lot of focus on what used to happen, what might happen, and what would likely be happening elsewhere, but not much of interest happening here and now where the MC is. Perhaps make him one of those poor buggers “getting it”. - WJS
Home For Christmas: Another effective job of scene-setting, but that's as far as we get. No clue as to what makes this different from any old war story. Third Place. BA
Very nice. Dark. I just know Roberts is going to meet the Boche and I so don't want him too. And for some reason I'd read on to find out. THIRD SWH.
This opening does a nice job of establishing setting and atmosphere—but (as in a lot of my openings, I confess <g>)—nothing happens, or even seems to be about to happen. The threat to the MC remains abstract, out in the distance. Look at the verbs: "were," "decided," "paused," "turned," "reminded," "set off," "mark," "smiled,"...That's just the first coupla sentences—reflective and internal, rather than active and external. Introspection has its place, but it doesn't work here, IMO, unless the writer uses it to clearly establish a conflict, e.g. the MC's wife is about to deliver a baby, his father is on his deathbed, the evil sorcerer will take over the universe if the MC's troops don't win the battle <g>. IOW—what's at stake here?—Character and situation are promising—but for a war story, I'd rather be thrown into things, and then find out how I got there. IMHO, of course. <g>. -SEW
I'm not much for a story set in this era, but I liked this. It is well written and I did become interested in the character. 1st place. LF
Mine. Token victim "teaser" opening—the main story hasn't started yet. -dp
Chunka Hunka Burning Christmas Love
by Bill Allan
Donna had set up six hours ago, the Nikon 3000 resting on its tripod and focused on a second-story window across the street. She'd also established audio surveillance, a long-range receiver the size of an ordinary dish antenna positioned on the roof above her.
It was sheer luck there had been an empty house so close to her subject. Fifty bucks slipped to the real estate agent had secured this perfect location for tonight's job.
Perfect. Yeah, perfect way to spend Christmas Eve. But that's why her client was paying triple overtime.
So she'd miss the holiday this year. So what.
Earphones on, she monitored the upscale Vegas suburb through a pair of night-vision binoculars. The street was quiet. In a neighborhood like this, everything jumped off behind closed doors. It didn't really matter, though, when you had good equipment. And thanks to wealthy, jealous spouses, Donna could afford the best.
Car engine. She tracked the sound with the military-grade field glasses. Just the young couple next door, returning home from some get together. The husband looked happy and a bit tipsy. Against her will, she thought of Frank. One cocktail and he . . .
To hell with Frank. She didn't need him or anyone else. Screw people. They were all phonies and cheats anyhow.
An explosion of sound. She tore off the earphones and looked up in time to see her dish fall past the window and into the front yard. Then, through the painful ringing, she heard the crunching of footsteps on the roof above and a whoosh and crash in the next room.
Before she could get her hand on the Glock, a tall chubby man filled the doorway. He was dressed in red tights, and . . . he was a dead ringer for The King.
§ I think it should be possible to slip in the mention of Christmas without having three paragraphs of background dedicated to it. And it might also help if we knew more about her before we got hit with her melodramatic attitude towards Frank and people in general. I can’t see me having much sympathy for such a character, and would quite likely put the book back on the shelf right about there. Which is a pity, since that’s when it actually starts to get interesting. - WJS
Chunka Hunka . . .: Mine. BA
Not bad. The Frank part was a bit much. Scene reads fine without it. I LOL at the ending! And would read on. SECOND SWH.
Cute title. But I get the feeling that the title is pretty much a spoiler for the story <g>. Nothing wrong with the writing here. "Rear Window" opening is effective and intriguing. The comments about "Frank" are perhaps too mysterious; I found myself backing up to see if I'd missed something/I still don't understand what's going on with that <g>. But generally, moves along smoothly, and ends with a situation that is incongruous and amusing—Only reason this didn't get a vote is that it feels a little like a one-liner. IOW, we've got a Santa who looks like Elvis. So?—This is a situation, but not, IMO, a story. If he also looked like Frank, OTOH <g>. Or if he said something to the MC to push the story forward...Clever, but, as written, feels a little thin. - SEW
This was interesting. I liked the tone. It moved well. Except for the first paragraph. That was clumsy. 2nd LF
I didn't know what "he was a dead ringer for the King" meant. Elvis? In Santa tights? Confusing but interesting enough to get a vote. Would have got a higher vote if not for the confusion. THIRD. -dp
Untitled
by David Gillon
The crash site had an odour all of its own. Hypergolic propellants that would never propel anything again, pressurized fluids that were no longer pressurised, and bodily fluids with the emphasis on body. I started to walk through the wreckage, just getting a feel for the site in my mind. Daria slipped over to my right, weaving her way through the bushes. To my left Tard bulldogged his way though the undergrowth, too big to avoid the crackle of branches breaking on his tough hide. I kept my head swinging, mostly watching the ground in front of my feet. There were things I preferred not to tread in; my nightmares are lurid enough without close encounters of the fragmentary tissue kind.
I stopped, attention locked on a haunch of red meat. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly moist, flashing on an image of steak, very rare. I turned away, looked at Tard who returned my gaze with a puzzled look. He knew something was happening, shared consciousness of it as much as I did, but he wasn't Terran, the scents were just wrong. I turned to look Daria in the eye and she had the dignity to blush, which she doesn't always when caught thinking something unseemly.
"There are times," I told her, "When I think they spliced entirely too much cat into your genome."
She shrugged. "I am what I am, walk me around red meat and I'm going to get hungry. It isn't even as if this is a crime scene, just a lousy accident from lousy maintenance on a lousy old shuttle."
"Well, keep it to yourself," I told her. "Your fantasies end up in my nightmares. And besides, this is a crime scene. If you weren't so busy fantasising you might have noticed the bullet wound."
§ I’m somewhat intrigued by the nature of the characters, but otherwise it just has the feel of a space episode of CSI (Crime Scene Investigation). Fine if you like that sort of thing I suppose. - WJS
Very nice. Don't see any bonus points here, but I liked it just as well. I think the narrating character's name should be mentioned somewhere in this piece. But I'd certainly read on. FIRST SWH.
FWIW, this felt like the opening of a completed piece, definitely not first draft, IMO. Excellent variations in rhythm—sentence length and structure. Good verb choice evokes clear images of character and action: Daria "slipped" and "weaved," Tard "bulldogged." IOW, author didn't stop the action to give visual/anatomical descriptions of non-human characters, but reveals them through their behavior, instead. Other exposition handled through dialogue—"spliced too much cat in your genome," "lousy accident from lousy maintenance on a lousy old shuttle"—and the suggestion that this is not a crime scene means, of course, <g>, that's precisely what it is—a suspicion that's smoothly confirmed in the last sentence. My choice for 1st place, IMO. - SEW
Nicely done interplay between characters and interestingly odd thoughts from the lead character. SECOND. -dp
All story excerpts herein are Copyright © 2003, 2004 by the Authors, who retain all rights. The excerpts are uploaded for purposes of critique only, which does not constitute publication.
And the winner of this month's
"Guess who's behind the beard" contest is...
THERE WAS NO WINNER.
Incredibly, no one succeeded
in guessing correctly. The grand prize
of becoming BOC Administrator is held
over until February.
