FLASH CHALLENGE: June '07

[kailhofer]

The "Sound of Silence" Challenge:

This month's challenge is designed to see if we can learn to interpret and describe the world around us in a new way, by taking away one of our senses: I challenge you to write a flash fiction story where your main character can't hear.

I've never known someone who lost his or her hearing, so I can only guess what that is like. Nevertheless, I feel it's good for us as we grow as writers to stretch our perceptions and maybe even our preconceptions, too.

REQUIREMENTS: (1) Your main character must be 100% hearing impaired. Maybe your character's species does not have any type of organs to hear with. Regardless, the character must be unable to hear in a world where sounds exist around the character; (2) A musical instrument and a book must physically appear in the story; (3) 1,000 words or less; (4) Anything that falls under science fiction, fantasy, horror, supernatural fiction, alternate history, cyberpunk, or magic realism is OK; (5) 'PG13' or lightly 'R' content, please; and (6) Give your story a title.

If in my judgment any requirement is missed, I won't post the story. Sorry, but rules are for everyone.

NEW!! HOW TO ENTER: Based on suggestions from the last challenge, this time stories should be submitted to me by PRIVATE MESSAGE, and NOT posted into the thread. If you've never sent a PM, all you have to do is log into this forum and click the 'PM' button at the bottom of this post. That will take you to a special message board, a kind of Aphelion-only email, where you paste your story into the body of the message and then send it to me. You are responsible for doing your own formatting, and for the sake of uniformity, please leave an extra line between paragraphs, just like when you see them in the 'zine. Please DO NOT send a regular email to me--I don't want to risk a spam filter blocking someone's hard work. We may not do it this way ever again, but I'd like to try it.

DEADLINE: Stories should be in by 10 p.m. Central Standard Time, June 21, 2007. The stories will then be posted for voting. Voting will close at 10 p.m. C.S.T. on June 27.

NEW!! VOTING: This time, all the stories will be posted "blind"--that is, without the author's name on them. This is to make things as fair as they can be, without favorites to be played, and allows for anyone to enter, from newbies to editors to maybe even me. Names won't be on the poll for voting, and the order will be as random as I can make it. When I close the poll after the voting week, I'll put everyone's name with his or her story (unless the author wants to remain forever anonymous, of course). BTW, I'm not able to alter the votes in any way.


So, if you're a lurker, and always wondered if you could write a story, take the challenge. If you've never tried telling a whole story in only a thousand words before, take the challenge. If you'd like to stretch your skills as a writer by describing the world in an all-new way, from an all-new perspective, take the challenge. If you're an experienced writer, and want to see how you stand up against your fellow Aphelionites in fair competition, take the challenge.

An example of what may be done follows.



EXAMPLE STORY (Not eligible for entry)


[right]774 words[/right]

[center]
The Quiet Rebellion


By:
N.J. Kailhofer[/center]



The strings on the banjo vibrated with their slow, silent call.

The room twirled and stomping boots shook the floor, but Jack sat still on his place of honor, watching. The clan's eyes were alive with joy, their faces awash with merriment. Some wore beaming smiles, while others mouthed open secrets about him, the only killer in the room.

There was no turning back now. The load would not return to the shell.

The clan would bandy words back and forth about their good fortune and how he had to be the one foretold, but they did not understand. Baldwin's own would come, and none of them would survive like this.

Tea parties. Socials.

Baldwin ruined them all, with his guns and rough chains. None were alive now that lived before they came. None of the clan even remembered freedom.

Killing Baldwin was easy. Any of them could have done it.

The man before him halted in place, and then stepped to the side. Jack's eyes darted about the room. They were all staring at him. The strings on the banjo were still.

In front of him, the room reformed into two rows from where he sat up to the most glorious vision he had ever seen--Marianne Greenbush. Her white dress was a wide hoop skirt with ruffles that hid her shoes from sight. Through some dressmaking magic, her waist was extra narrow. A wide lace collar hid most of her chest, hinting at the ample bosom that had to be straining at such fabric. Short sleeves revealed thin arms that trailed to white lace gloves. His nose brought him a faint, tantalizing scent that he only smelled when Marianne was near. It was like the lilac bushes Baldwin's people planted, the only pleasant odor they brought with them.

He loved it.

The sight of her flushed blood to his cheeks, as it always had. Her hair cascaded down in long curls along the sides of her face. He longed to caress that angelic vision. He knew her skin was soft and smooth like all the women wanted theirs to be, but never was. Hard work and hard life prevented it, but not so for Marianne. Baldwin favored her, kept her from toil so that she could become the woman he wanted.

Baldwin! The thought of him welled up rage inside Jack. Missionary to the New South. That was how he and his kind presented themselves. They pretended they were going to help the clan--rebuild the valley after the war, and start a new future. Instead, they took everything and called it their own.

Jack glanced around the room at every soul dressed in "Northern" style. Trousers, cutaway coats, and tall collars were everywhere. They powdered themselves with foul-smelling concoctions and smoked pipes filled with the new tobacco. The stench of it turned his stomach. Baldwin forbade them all the clothes of their homeland, the long robes and bright colors. He gave them new names, new homes, new work, and all of it was just to make him rich.

A hand touched Jack's knee. It was Harry.

Harry and Jack had a secret language since they were boys, one of movements.

"She speak you," Harry gestured.

Marianne stood before him, and without his mind even willing it, he found himself on his feet.

"Jack," she related through Harry, "Owe debt, you. Saved life. Pay how, you?"

Jack answered.

He saw Harry struggle to reply, since there would be no English word for it. Finally, Harry seemed to use the old way, the old word, since shock and outrage swept the room.

Marianne flushed, and fanned herself. Men appeared to grumble and women fled the room.

"Wrong you," Harry translated. "Not permissible. Monstrous."

A man handed her the Book of Ways and she held it out in front of her.

"People Baldwin's teach better us."

Jack turned to Harry. "She promised me before born. Baldwin try mate her. Bad. Bad all."

Marianne stared at the words on the book: Colonization and Reconstruction of Worlds in the Image of the Old South: An Experiment in Primitive Civilization Management, by Dr. H. B. Baldwin, et al.

Her watering, green on green eyes narrowed to slits, and she looked back up to him. Her long, forked tongue tasted the air, and she leapt, taking him to the floor.

Even as her long fangs dug deep into his flesh, he smiled. After she devoured his koa every one of her eggs would carry his gift of silence, and none of them would ever hear the nonsense of the Earthers.


He hoped their children would have her eyes.

The End

[kailhofer]

I was asked for clarification on the instrument and the book, and I thought I should share that with everyone.

Just mentioning those words is not enough. The objects we'd recognize as a book and an instrument (either by appearance or function) must be physically present in the scene. You could mention their presence (i.e. a man played a harp in the corner) or describe them, but they have to be there somewhere. Also, the sound without the instrument would not be ok, since that could just be a recording instead of the object itself.

Nate

[kailhofer]

If, in your opinion, an entry doesn't meet the qualifications will you tell the author so they can fix it and re-enter it, or not?

Absolutely, I'll message anyone back as soon as I've considered it, if not immediately upon reading it. I want as many people as possible to have the best experience, and chance of winning the challenge, as they can.

If someone is looking for a snap decision five minutes before the deadline, I may be a bit of an ogre about it. Otherwise, I'll work with anybody on any submission.

Nate

PS. I think it's totally cool that I already have more than one! Way to go, Aphelionites!

[kailhofer]

i was first, right Nate? right, right, i was first? tell me i was first in something, please!

Lee

Believe it or not someone beat you by 4 minutes.

So like they say, Number Two in your program, but Number One in our hearts. Does that ease the pain?

Nate

[kailhofer]

In the end, it really doesn't matter. You'll all be posted in random order anyway.

Nate

[Robert_Moriyama]

Just threw my metaphorical hat (it keeps the metaphors out of my hair) into the ring. What's the entry count now? Presumably more than 5 -- will you need to split the poll?

Robert M.

[kailhofer]

Just threw my metaphorical hat (it keeps the metaphors out of my hair) into the ring. What's the entry count now? Presumably more than 5 -- will you need to split the poll?

Robert M.

Seven so far. Some really good reads.

Last time, there were 8 lines I could fill on the poll.

Rob? Is it possible to add more than that?

Nate

[doc]

Seven so far. Some really good reads.

Last time, there were 8 lines I could fill on the poll.

Rob? Is it possible to add more than that?

I upped the limit to 20 after the last contest. If we ever get more than that, we'll, that'll be something.

[kailhofer]

Much as I am glad to have so many entries by so many Usual Suspects, I hope that these "I'm in" announcements are not frightening anyone away.

All entries will appear without the author's name on it, and must therefore stand on their own merits. Everyone has an equal chance, regardless of experience.


So if you're out there, and you've been thinking that you'd like to try this, please do. Maybe you're a writer who's only had one or two stories published. That's ok. This contest is for everyone. Give it a try.

Nate

[Robert_Moriyama]

Kate's entering? Nobody said they were bringing out the Big Guns.

Lots of things I'd like to do with Kate. . .

But competing in a Fiction contest?

Uh. . .don't pay any attention to the yellow stain on the floor beneath me. . .I'm sure it was there when I got here. . .

Bill (That's what I call Intimidation!) Wolfe

But Bill, when a Wolfe leaves a yellow stain, he isn't being submissive -- he's MARKING TERRITORY. Besides, a Wolfe would never be afraid of a Kitty, would he?

Robert "I'll moidalize the lot of yez, as soon as the Wizard gives me that courage thing" M.

[kailhofer]

Just so everyone knows, I might be a teensy bit late posting the stories tomorrow. My son's baseball game was rescheduled to 7:45 tomorrow night, so I might not get home much before 10. (They only play 6 innings.) I will post them as fast as possible after that point.

So, I also won't be around to answer a last minute question a straggler might have, but I'll answer any I can before we have to leave.

One day left to enter.


Nate

[Robert_Moriyama]

Just so everyone knows, I might be a teensy bit late posting the stories tomorrow. My son's baseball game was rescheduled to 7:45 tomorrow night, so I might not get home much before 10. (They only play 6 innings.) I will post them as fast as possible after that point.

So, I also won't be around to answer a last minute question a straggler might have, but I'll answer any I can before we have to leave.

One day left to enter.


Nate

All together now:

One ... day ... left to enter
One ... day ... left to write
One day left -- to write of silence
'thout sex or vi'lence (much anywa-a-ay)
Need a book and mu-si-cal in-strument
Or you won't get in
Break the rules and the poll won't include your work
So you can not win

(etc.)

(To the tune of "One Less Bell to Answer", for those of us old enough to remember Marilyn McCoo)