Herewith the results:
Recognition for outstanding achievement in minimalism!
Recognition for an exquisite sentence that took our breath away!
"He was no novice to the feast." Jeremy Myers 9:22pm
"She casually picked her teeth with a singed finger bone." Kate Higgins 1:49am
"Two disappearances: hers and his money’s." Simon C. Larter 10:46am
"a trait that scraped my inner blackboard." Marybk 1:22pm
best use of the phrase "heaving breasts" since Barbara Poelle's last conference bio
Best followup comment to a hilarious entry:
Lovely imagery but not quite a story:
Kristen Dickson 11:00pm
Great evocation of True Grit:
Someone who needs a vacation and soon:
Someone's been reading too much meta-fiction!
Ricki Berg 11:42pm
And here are the entries that made the final cut:
Simon C. Larter 10:46am
Papillon crew 12:28pm
Christie K 5:58pm
And here are the three entries we selected as the finalists:
“I’m pregnant,” she said, “and I want to keep our baby.”
“Knock yourself out, Amity,” I replied.
“I want us to raise our baby,” she said, dauntless as always.
“I may have to knock your ass out.”
“Don’t you want the baby? Don’t you want me?”
“Call me Abnegation,” I said. “in both cases.”
“How can you say that?”
“It helps being an erudite thug.” Candor is part of my lethal arsenal.
“You’ll make a good father,” she said.
“Baby,” I replied before walking out of her life forever, “the only good thing I’ll ever make is bail.”
The raccoons waged a war. Not being creatures of self-abnegation, they graduated from summers pillaging my outdoor trash to winters looting my indoor pantry. Clever. Devious. Dauntless.
“There’s no raccoons at Dad’s,” said my ten-year-old with candor.
Although I’d called a truce with my ex, our amity went only so far. As a professor, he believed himself erudite in every subject of conversation ever spoken, a trait that scraped my inner blackboard.
“Look, Mom. One’s sleeping in your bed.”
I shut the door and winced. “Let’s give your dad a call.”
Marie Rearden 7:10pm
Lil and Margie lived on a cobbled cul-de-sac, homes and hearts separated only by a glowering A-frame. The eighty-somethings baked muffins, shared memories, and showed no abnegation at the library’s book giveaways. But amity turned to enmity when Mr. Pawpaw, the erudite librarian, moved into the A-frame. Cotton balls of hair fanned his ears, and his bespectacled eyes twinkled. He was a granny’s wickedest fantasy.
Margie concocted a lovely pie. A dauntless Lil whipped up an irresistible quiche. They hobbled to Mr. Pawpaw’s door with their seductive gifts.
With candor, he smooched Margie and honked Lil’s bottom. “I love cougars!”
I had a very hard time deciding which of these entries wins the ARC of DIVERGENT, a fabulous prize indeed, so I solicited the assistance of The Reef Dwellers.
They too struggled but in the end (and after we'd doctored up the cuts and bruises from the fin-fights) the winner is:
Marybk if you'll email me with your mailing address, we'll send you an ARC of DIVERGENT. Sadly, we can't email you the five free hours you'll need to read it but I have a feeling you'll forgo sleep and meals when you start reading!