LUCKY CRITIQUE ENTRY #9

TITLE: Aqueous
GENRE: YA contemporary fantasy

“Where’s my camera?”

Dad looked thunderstruck. “Is that all you can say? You almost died. You shouldn't have been out in the first place. This is why I--"

“Lane!” That was mom. “Shut up! Just shut up, will you?” She stroked my hand. “How are you feeling, honey?”

“I want to know what happened to my camera.”

“Well, where did you have it last?”

“On the boat.” I swallowed an unwanted lump in my throat. “I put it in one of the storage compartments.”

“It should be fine. When Joseph realized you were gone, he circled back to look for you. He ran the boat ashore.”

“And left it there?”

Mom nodded, patting my hand gently.

“But my camera!”

“Do you mind?” dad snapped. “That camera almost cost you your life!”

I knew dad talked louder the more upset he got, but it didn’t soften the sting of his words.

“The best thing you can do right now is try to relax, and get some sleep,” the nurse said, her calm voice a lifeline in a sea of discord. “You've had a close brush with hypothermia.”

I bit my bottom lip, and then winced. It was swollen, painful to the touch. What had I done, bit a chunk out of it?

“Can’t hypothermia kill you?” I asked.

The nurse’s forehead creased. “Yes. Very easily, and very quickly. You’re extremely lucky.”

I wasn’t sure if I felt lucky. I wasn’t sure of how I felt about anything. Except that I wanted my camera back.

I wanted those pictures.

LUCKY CRITIQUE ENTRY #8

TITLE: Practissimo
GENRE: Historical Adventure/Romance

Taylor lifted his weapon—a sharp stick—and jabbed Manerow in the face.

Eric roared, clapping his hands to his cheek.  “Guards!  To me!”  His call rang across the garden.

Eric swiped, and Taylor ducked, thwacking the branch across Eric’s knees, and the man stumbled back, almost hitting Addie.  She jumped to the side and ran around the fountain to the the hedge opposite him.

Manerow stepped forward and swung, keeping a hand to his cheek, and Taylor cracked the stick against his wrist.  Eric grunted and swiped again from the right, and Taylor lashed him near the eyes, sending him backwards.  The strategy held for now, but against more than one opponent, he wasn’t sure.  He wasn’t sure against just the one.  He hadn’t planned for things to get this far.

Eric abandoned his one-handed attack and lunged for the branch, managing to grab the end.  Taylor jerked at it, but it didn't budge, and Manerow rammed the stick into his gut, forcing a yell from him and thrusting him back into the hedge.

Taylor pushed off the branches, getting halfway to his feet, and Eric punched him in the face.  His vision flashed dark, pain shocking around his left eye.

“Eric, please, that’s enough!” Addie cried.

Another powerful blow dug into his stomach, and he curled in on himself, dry heaving into the leaves.

“Eric, please!”  She sounded close.  The rumbling of boots on dirt surrounded them, and Taylor glanced up.  Addie had wrapped herself around Eric’s arm, and ten guards filed into the alcove.

She stepped back, rose petals falling from her gown, eyes at her feet.

“Sir Manerow?” one of them asked.

Eric pointed at Taylor, red-faced with exertion.  “This is the intruder.  Take him to the king’s dungeons as instructed.”

LUCKY CRITIQUE ENTRY #7

Title: Begging to Breathe
Genre: YA mystery

I spend the first length of the pool underwater, dolphin kicking along the bottom, dragging my fingertips across the tiles. The bulkhead that separates the part of the pool for competition from the part of the pool for easy swimming floats two or three feet off the bottom, and from my perspective, I can see a shadow of something trapped underneath it. Something big.

I porpoise up, take a deep lungful of air, and dive back down. I’m less than five yards away, and my heart is pounding, because what I think I see can’t be real. I need air again, even though I can usually hold my breath for a couple minutes. I start to remember last year. As I tread water, taking deep, shaky gulps of oxygen, oxygen that refuses to inflate my lungs, Blue comes up behind me.

“Get out of the middle of the lane,” he says, swimming forward.

I pull his ankle backward. “L-look under the bulkhead.”

“Is it a condom again?” His voice breaks. He bites his lip.

Usually he throws out dirty jokes like I throw out second place ribbons—or, like I would if I had any—so I narrow my eyes. He raises his chin. I sigh. “Ew, no.”

He turns around and swims back the other way, leaving me alone. With it. Whatever it is. I focus, exhale, then inhale, and dive down, keeping my eyes closed until my searching fingers hit plastic. I follow the bulkhead down until it ends, then I open my eyes—and let out a scream of bubbles and kick away hard, fast, choking and gagging.

Oh my god oh my god oh my god.

Because it’s Julia.

And she’s dead.

And it’s all, undeniably, my fault.

LUCKY CRITIQUE ENTRY #6

Title: Beyond the Horizon
Genre: Mystery/Romantic

As I near the turn in the corridor, my back against the white walls, my heart beating wildly in my chest, I can’t forget last night and the message that I saw. Crouching down and peeking to make sure all is safe, I turn back and signal to Tania to come. She runs towards me silently, her silver hair swishing with every step.

“Look, I know we’re not supposed to be here but I really need that book! I’m sorry if I—” I say, whispering but she covers my mouth with her hand suddenly, signalling that someone might be here. I switch off the flashlight and we both crouch down, listening to the sound of slow, heavy footsteps and our racing hearts.

A gruff, low voice then says, “I got it. Let’s get out of here.”

His partner, in an equally gruff voice adds, “Check to make sure we left nothing behind.” They then separate and footsteps begin to come closer to us. Trying to squeeze ourselves into a ball, I grab onto Tania’s hand and we try to be silent, not even letting our breaths make a sound. My mind races, thinking of where to run if he gets any closer. If we get up and run now, we might be able to make it to the second floor. Okay, God. It’s all up to You now. 

Reacting on instinct, I grab Tania’s hand and run as fast as I can, praying we don’t get caught.
“He’s seen us!” she screams, and we zip through the old familiar hallways, running towards the light.

LUCKY CRITIQUE ENTRY #5

TITLE: The Night
GENRE: Epic YA Fantasy

Taeon strode out of the trees, fists clenched in an effort to restrain the fire as he approached.

“Get away from her, Varloi,” he said through clenched teeth.  The fire raged against his control, pressing in on him, wanting to burn this magician to the ground.

“I interrogate a prisoner,” the Varloi replied, unmoving.

The heat redoubled, and Taeon tried to think through its stifling presence, to consider the consequences.  “Leave her, Varloi.”  The fire licked at him, more insistent, and the invisible tongues of heat became claws.  The noon sun saturated the air around him.  He had to get rid of it, before it became too much to control.

The magician only smiled.

And then the heat recoiled, and light dimmed, flickering.  The Master Varloi stood beside him, holding a small golden box.  The metal inside glowed a deep, malevolent red.

The red metal drew more, though the heat was gone, pulling and grabbing at the fire that lived inside him until he collapsed.  He shuddered with weakness, and with the pain like daggers of ice.

“Stop!  You’re killing him,” Nari cried.

The Master Varloi closed his box slowly.  “Very well.”

Taeon gasped, stealing back his breath.  “What is the meaning of this, Varloi?”  He struggled to pull himself up as warmth returned in an aching flood.

“As an ehkel of fire, an uncontrolled display of power would prove fatal to many among us, including our prisoner.  It was my duty to the keralen to eliminate the threat.”

“I had it under control.  And it is my duty to keep the prisoner safe from your methods, magician.”

“That has been removed from your responsibilities.  You have proven yourself unfit to lead this mission, and, therefore, I shall be reinstated as master.  You will obey me.”

LUCKY CRITIQUE ENTRY #4

Title: We've all Been There
Genre: YA

“We are here today with rising country pop singer, Juliet Summer.”

This was it. I fingered my purity ring willing it to give me luck. It was St. Patrick’s day after all.

“Please my friends just call me Tex.”  I inwardly cringed at the word friends; they weren’t what-you-might-call plentiful.

“Where does that come from?” The audience laughed, I couldn’t really see what was so funny about it.

“It’s my middle name.” My slight twang seemed magnified against my host’s culturally neutral drawl.

“Alright Tex.” She specially put a cowboy sound on it. It sounded so fake it was sick.  “Do you know who Timothy Walters?” And then smiled like I should know, like everyone knew, but I didn’t.

“No.”

“Really? Well you can meet him now.”

“Okay.”  I  stood up and turned my head toward the entrance I came in.

In walked in T.W. the famous, like really famous singer, who hadn’t heard of him? And I had just said I never had. So much for luck. I had never really believed in luck before. I knew God orchestrated all those details. So more likely it had been bad luck for me to believe in luck.

“Tim I would like you to meet Tex.”

“Hi.” I shook his hand, blood creeping up my face.

He sat down next to me on the couch and I was sweating bullets.

“I think I have heard of you before. I mean I just didn’t recognize your full name. Sorry.” I didn’t know to whom or why I was apologizing. It was just something I had to do.

“We’ve all been there.” He laughed at my stupid, naïve mistake.

Before I could respond, I heard, “And we will be right back with more from Tex and T.W. after this.” And we went to break.

LUCKY CRITIQUE ENTRY #3

TITLE: A Gamble
GENRE: Fantasy

Only three Blots landed purple side up. Famiem huddled closer to the back of the Drawn's wagon, her shackles clinking.

Raylen took a deep breath, and slid the Blots toward her competitor.

Bad toss, that was. Pity. The trader smirked as he shook the flat disks. Purple and green flashed between his fingers, whirling and clashing but never escaping his grip.

He's experienced. Raylen gritted her teeth. But only luck matters here.

So said the Drawn, who watched impassively at the side of the board, gauging and measuring and weighing, as always. The youngest fidgeted.

With a flourish, the trader spun the Blots onto the board. Half spun straight into the dust, yet more than three greens remained. Raylen's mind stalled.


What does that mean?

Her heartbeat quickened, the trader swore, and the oldest of the Drawn shook his head.

"Poor luck. Very poor luck," he said slowly. A pause as he regarded Raylen, then Famiem. "The girl has freed herself. But she must bet that freedom back again to win her sister."

Hardly a daring wager; she'd already staked her life on the Blots to catch the Drawn's interest.

Raylen scratched her wrists. She shook the Blots. Then her eyes closed - dropped them onto the board and jammed her fists into her armpits, waiting.

"Lucky girl," the old Drawn said. Respect laced his voice. "A perfect win."

Raylen opened her eyes. Purple stared up from every Blot.

And the youngest Drawn stared hard at her from across the board. Here came the real gamble.

The boy slowly cleared the board as the other Drawn ran off the "luckless" trader and removed Famiem's shackles.

He didn't say a word about the pouches strapped inside Raylen's sleeves, or the purple paint coating both sides of the disks.

Raylen had been lucky.

LUCKY CRITIQUE ENTRY #2

Title: Substitute
Genre: Science Fiction (short story)

Some people have skeletons in their closet. Things they don’t want as public information, whether out of fear or shame. Things that shouldn’t have happened. Things that shouldn’t exist.

Some people have skeletons. The Senate of Eochatos has me.

“Claudia.” said a loud voice. I jerked my head up. The doctor stared at me, his glassy eyes shifting as he looked over me. He stroked his chin with one steel hand, “How is your emotional processing?”

“Just fine.” I said, smiling tightly as a grey-clad nurse approached with a syringe and two-inch needle.

She murmured, “This won’t hurt a bit.” and began to wipe the back of my hand with a sanitizing cloth.

The doctor leaned back against his silver chair, “Senator Drendle said you’ve had trouble sleeping lately.”

The needle sunk into my hand, sending a thin plastic tube into the vein. I watched out of the corner of my eye as blood filled the capsule on the table. “I guess.”

“You know, Claudia, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” he said, irritation bleeding into his tone, “That’s why we’re here, you know. To help you.” Because without us, you won’t be here. Without our help, you’ll fall to pieces. 

“I’m tired of being treated like glass.” I said finally, pulling away from the nurse. The tube tugged against my hand, “I’m not going to break if I don’t come see you every week, Dr. Mallon. Besides, you’re the psychologist--it’s not good for people to be controlled this much, especially not at my age.”

“Not good for people.” he repeated, putting emphasis on the last word.

I clenched my jaw, “I am a person.” The nurse silently pulled out the tube and threw the needle aside, capping the vial of blood.

LUCKY CRITIQUE ENTRY #1

TITLE: Extraction
GENRE: YA Sci-fi

I sink to my knees and scoot back from the edge as far as I can, gritting my teeth and trying not to think about slipping. I am too high, too high, too high.

A loud whirring arises in the streets below me. From around a corner, a round silver contraption lifts into the air, its rotors spinning a cloud of dust. A flight pod, come to rescue me.

Only, no way is it really for rescuing. I'm going to need a clever story.

As the pod nears my beam, my throat tightens. The chances of them letting me into the Core, letting me grow old and live to save Logan are next-to-nothing now. Why did I do this? I should have found some other way to escape the boys, not started climbing a restricted building.

A door slides open, and an official reaches his hand out. “You'll have to jump,” he shouts over the loud rotors.

Act. Innocent, I tell myself. That's the only thing that might help me.

I jump with a cry into the pod and stumble when my feet hit the metal floor. The patrol catches me as the door slides shut, silencing the wind's roar.

Hands release me, and my legs give out.

“I'm s-s-sorry,” I fake-sob. “I didn't mean to c-c-climb!”

“It's all right.” The official drops to a knee beside me. “We're going to catch the kids who were chasing you.”

Shaking from the cold, breathing unsteadily, I stare at him.

His eyes are narrowed, but not in the way I am used to. Like he's on my side, all of a sudden. Still programmed to harm, but this time it won't be me. This time, it will be for me.

I don’t know how I ever got so lucky.

St. Patrick's Day Critique SUBMISSION WINDOW CLOSED!

The submission window for the St. Patrick's Day contest is now officially CLOSED! All the entries will be posted TOMORROW, open for critique by anyone who visits the blog, as well as our special guest critter, Alison!

Make sure that, if you entered, you critique a minimum of 3 other entries.

Good luck, everyone!