Hey! It looks like you're new here. You might want to check out the introduction.
Show rules for this event
Fool Moon
Starting upright, Sheila clutched the blankets to the lace neckline of her flannel nightgown. Three facts filled her mind like ice water in a crystal goblet: the moonlight spilling through the gauzy curtains told her it was past midnight; Jake's spot in the bed beside her was empty—
And she'd just been awoken by some sort of full-throated howl.
"Jake?" she called quietly, wincing at the warble behind the word. Besides, she could see that he wasn't in the room, so how could he possibly hear her if she didn't employ some volume?
The thought made her smile. She could almost hear Grandmother's dry voice telling her to pull herself together and stop being so addle-patted.
She'd heard that tone from Grandmother a lot when spending summers here at the estate as a child—she seemed to wake from nightmares at least twice a week back in those days. And now that she'd inherited the manor and its surrounding woodlands, she found herself missing the crotchety old lady more than she'd ever thought possible.
The memories strengthened her resolve, and she set one slim, pale foot onto the carpet. After all, Jake had been cracking jokes about ghosts and vampires all week after they'd tucked the entirety of their worldly possessions into half a suite on the fourth floor of the west wing and declared themselves to be moved in. So she wouldn't quite put it past the big nut to pull something goofy like this.
And if he wanted to be goofy, well, she could be goofy, too. Clearing her throat, she called out more loudly, "Oh, my goodness! Whatever could that have been? And where could my loving husband have disappeared to?" She threw back the blankets and stood, the room's chill icing a shiver through her. "As a young woman now apparently all alone in this echoing old mansion, I should probably go searching for my missing husband amongst these dark and drafty halls! I certainly hope that no ferocious predatory beast is also roaming said halls!"
Nodding, she crossed the room and stepped through the doorway. They'd chosen the bedroom at the top of the grand staircase, and the moonlight flooding down from the skylight set a lurking shadow behind every one of the giant vases lining the steps. The portraits along the walls seemed to leer or grimace, and—
A growling off to her right made her turn, something stirring in the shadow of the balusters. It rose onto two legs, became tall and broad-shouldered, pointed ears flicking at the top of its head, red eyes glowing where its face would've been. It raised long, muscular arms, claws glinting in the silver light; another howl rent the night, then the thing leaped.
Sheila barely had time to see all this before it was upon her, tumbling her down the hall till she found herself sprawled on her stomach, a heavy and hairy weight squishing her into the carpet, hot breath dampening the back of her neck. "Because," a jagged excuse for a voice panted in her ear, "a house just isn't a home till the first successful hunt in its halls."
With a laugh, Sheila relaxed the iron-clad control Grandmother had taught her and let her body respond to the call of the moon. Her skin crackled, midnight black fur bristling out, muscles bulging and tearing her nightgown to shreds. Rolling over, she easily pinned her mate to the floor, one big paw against his silver-grey chest, and gave a growl of her own.
Jake's grin got extra-toothy, and Sheila knew that, it he'd been standing, his tail would've been wagging like a puppy's. "Shall we call this a successful hunt, then, my Alpha?" he asked.
She leaned over and licked his nose. "You're such a goof," she rumbled. Scooping him easily into her arms, she rose to her full height, her ears just brushing the ceiling, and loped down the hall toward the bedroom door.
And she'd just been awoken by some sort of full-throated howl.
"Jake?" she called quietly, wincing at the warble behind the word. Besides, she could see that he wasn't in the room, so how could he possibly hear her if she didn't employ some volume?
The thought made her smile. She could almost hear Grandmother's dry voice telling her to pull herself together and stop being so addle-patted.
She'd heard that tone from Grandmother a lot when spending summers here at the estate as a child—she seemed to wake from nightmares at least twice a week back in those days. And now that she'd inherited the manor and its surrounding woodlands, she found herself missing the crotchety old lady more than she'd ever thought possible.
The memories strengthened her resolve, and she set one slim, pale foot onto the carpet. After all, Jake had been cracking jokes about ghosts and vampires all week after they'd tucked the entirety of their worldly possessions into half a suite on the fourth floor of the west wing and declared themselves to be moved in. So she wouldn't quite put it past the big nut to pull something goofy like this.
And if he wanted to be goofy, well, she could be goofy, too. Clearing her throat, she called out more loudly, "Oh, my goodness! Whatever could that have been? And where could my loving husband have disappeared to?" She threw back the blankets and stood, the room's chill icing a shiver through her. "As a young woman now apparently all alone in this echoing old mansion, I should probably go searching for my missing husband amongst these dark and drafty halls! I certainly hope that no ferocious predatory beast is also roaming said halls!"
Nodding, she crossed the room and stepped through the doorway. They'd chosen the bedroom at the top of the grand staircase, and the moonlight flooding down from the skylight set a lurking shadow behind every one of the giant vases lining the steps. The portraits along the walls seemed to leer or grimace, and—
A growling off to her right made her turn, something stirring in the shadow of the balusters. It rose onto two legs, became tall and broad-shouldered, pointed ears flicking at the top of its head, red eyes glowing where its face would've been. It raised long, muscular arms, claws glinting in the silver light; another howl rent the night, then the thing leaped.
Sheila barely had time to see all this before it was upon her, tumbling her down the hall till she found herself sprawled on her stomach, a heavy and hairy weight squishing her into the carpet, hot breath dampening the back of her neck. "Because," a jagged excuse for a voice panted in her ear, "a house just isn't a home till the first successful hunt in its halls."
With a laugh, Sheila relaxed the iron-clad control Grandmother had taught her and let her body respond to the call of the moon. Her skin crackled, midnight black fur bristling out, muscles bulging and tearing her nightgown to shreds. Rolling over, she easily pinned her mate to the floor, one big paw against his silver-grey chest, and gave a growl of her own.
Jake's grin got extra-toothy, and Sheila knew that, it he'd been standing, his tail would've been wagging like a puppy's. "Shall we call this a successful hunt, then, my Alpha?" he asked.
She leaned over and licked his nose. "You're such a goof," she rumbled. Scooping him easily into her arms, she rose to her full height, her ears just brushing the ceiling, and loped down the hall toward the bedroom door.
Pics
I could be mistaken, but I think you've wandered into a bit of a Catch-22 here when it comes to the tone of the story. Either A) write the story with tension, or B) write it without any tension, which makes more sense, since Sheila knows what's going on. You seem to do a bit of both, with a definite slant towards B).
The problem with A) is that you're just lying to the reader. Since Sheila is our POV here, any amount of tension added is going to make us very disappointed with the ending. And the problem with B) is that... well. There's no tension. Nothing to really get invested in, except a woman getting out of bed, idly wondering where her husband is. So I'm not sure if this story could divert in a way that could really grab me.
Apart from that, I'm left wishing I knew more about the characters. Werewolves usually have some sort of interesting origin, no? These two seem to be werewolves for the sake of it. In fact, this story could easily be about a couple offurries canine enthusiasts with certain kinks. Only the transformation needs to be taken away, and nothing else has changed.
But that's all from me. Thanks for writing, Author-person!
The problem with A) is that you're just lying to the reader. Since Sheila is our POV here, any amount of tension added is going to make us very disappointed with the ending. And the problem with B) is that... well. There's no tension. Nothing to really get invested in, except a woman getting out of bed, idly wondering where her husband is. So I'm not sure if this story could divert in a way that could really grab me.
Apart from that, I'm left wishing I knew more about the characters. Werewolves usually have some sort of interesting origin, no? These two seem to be werewolves for the sake of it. In fact, this story could easily be about a couple of
But that's all from me. Thanks for writing, Author-person!
Four days in, and there are stories with only one comment apiece? I'm not keen on reviewing everything again, but since I've read every entry, I suppose I can help by reviewing a few fics with nowhere near enough natter. Here we go!
I will say this for Fool Moon: one or two typos aside, it's very well-written. The progression of events felt smooth and comfortably paced, with enough verbiage used to deliver each point and then move on to the next paragraph. I had an easy time visualizing the scene and getting into the headspace of the character Sheila. So on technicals alone: good job!
Plus, I like the back and forth between tension and relaxation. First, we assume she's in supernatural danger. Then we see her get over that and suspect a prank. Then the monster comes and for a moment it looks like she's foolishly led the real thing to herself. But then it turns out she's OK. For 750 words, that seems a reasonable amount of alternation between twists, especially with the physical description and the brief introspective moments.
My main complaint, to be honest, is that this is all very good for a much longer fic. As a starter to a short story, this is encouraging, with the main subversive point of the scene a competent launching point for future elaboration. But this isn't a short story. This is a minific. And measured against that, you can tell the fic's insubstantial as a complete standalone.
For instance, Sheila's only notable trait is her playfulness, which is unremarkable for a married couple. Even her bravery early on is undermined by the fact that she knows before we do there's really nothing to be scared of, so it's less a character note and more a byproduct of the way the story's told. Without knowing the characters vividly, the fun is mostly academic.
Yeah, it's a bit weak of me to basically say "your story doesn't fit the limit". It's 750 words and hard enough to write anything complete with that. Also, it is a cute idea, to be fair. But like this, it lacks substance, which means nothing much to chew on for a reader, nothing to make them remember it.
What I think you should do next time is scale back the descriptions a tad (I do like them, but sometimes sacrifices must be made) and have a little more happen to Sheila to test her character, throw in a curious quirk, give us an idea of who she is, help us identify with her. It might be worth sowing more doubt on her part, for instance, which also addresses >>Miller Minus's issue about it lacking tension.
Plus, the joke's that little sharper if we identify with and root more deeply for the character, than if we feel like bystanders to a demo run for a concept.
I will say this for Fool Moon: one or two typos aside, it's very well-written. The progression of events felt smooth and comfortably paced, with enough verbiage used to deliver each point and then move on to the next paragraph. I had an easy time visualizing the scene and getting into the headspace of the character Sheila. So on technicals alone: good job!
Plus, I like the back and forth between tension and relaxation. First, we assume she's in supernatural danger. Then we see her get over that and suspect a prank. Then the monster comes and for a moment it looks like she's foolishly led the real thing to herself. But then it turns out she's OK. For 750 words, that seems a reasonable amount of alternation between twists, especially with the physical description and the brief introspective moments.
My main complaint, to be honest, is that this is all very good for a much longer fic. As a starter to a short story, this is encouraging, with the main subversive point of the scene a competent launching point for future elaboration. But this isn't a short story. This is a minific. And measured against that, you can tell the fic's insubstantial as a complete standalone.
For instance, Sheila's only notable trait is her playfulness, which is unremarkable for a married couple. Even her bravery early on is undermined by the fact that she knows before we do there's really nothing to be scared of, so it's less a character note and more a byproduct of the way the story's told. Without knowing the characters vividly, the fun is mostly academic.
Yeah, it's a bit weak of me to basically say "your story doesn't fit the limit". It's 750 words and hard enough to write anything complete with that. Also, it is a cute idea, to be fair. But like this, it lacks substance, which means nothing much to chew on for a reader, nothing to make them remember it.
What I think you should do next time is scale back the descriptions a tad (I do like them, but sometimes sacrifices must be made) and have a little more happen to Sheila to test her character, throw in a curious quirk, give us an idea of who she is, help us identify with her. It might be worth sowing more doubt on her part, for instance, which also addresses >>Miller Minus's issue about it lacking tension.
Plus, the joke's that little sharper if we identify with and root more deeply for the character, than if we feel like bystanders to a demo run for a concept.
>>Miller Minus
>>BlueChameleonVI
Thanks for the comments, folks:
I guess my takeaway is that werewolf romantic comedies need more than 660 words to be fully effective. :)
Congrats to the finalists! See y'all next round!
Mike
>>BlueChameleonVI
Thanks for the comments, folks:
I guess my takeaway is that werewolf romantic comedies need more than 660 words to be fully effective. :)
Congrats to the finalists! See y'all next round!
Mike