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Little Dahlia
By the time Dahlia regained control of her body, her husband Ronald Baloney was lying face-down at the dinner table with a massive dent in the back of his head.
Her blood froze. She felt the chill strongest in her upraised hand. Slowly, her gaze rose to see the vast, dripping, slightly dimpled frozen leg of lamb.
She dropped it. The thud was loud and sickening. Again.
Shock and nausea forced her to her knees. Shuddering against the sobs, she wished, wished, wished he hadn’t said that. Poor stupid old fool! Why had he said that?
Because he doesn’t care about you anymore, said the dreaded voice in her head; glee dripped from every syllable. He never cared about you. Trophy wife. Punching bag. Baby factory.
That voice had taunted and haunted her since childhood.
“No!” she said hastily. “He wanted everyone to know he loved me. He wanted a family.”
HahahahahaNO! Oh, he was all smiles and kisses and promises on your honeymoon, but you secretly hated him for turning them into nothing but lies. I can see your every thought. Oh, that felt good!
Weakly, Little Dahlia eased herself off the floor. “Now what do I do?”
Now we make sure no one spoils our fun.
And just like that… the other Dahlia took over.
Little Dahlia watched in horror – tinged with fascination – as Other Dahlia calmly walked outside under the pouring rain and swung the leg of lamb, smashing a window. She filled a bucket from the pump, walked back inside, and carefully dribbled a trail leading up to Ronnie’s corpse, then pushed the body off the chair.
“There we go,” she said, finishing the trail up to the front door, which she pushed, ripping its old locks. “Some madman broke in, bopped old Ronnie boy, and broke out.”
This is wrong, said Little Dahlia, but she couldn’t resist that voice. She’d never resisted anyone’s voice: Ronnie’s, her parents’, Other Dahlia’s…
Other Dahlia placed the lamb leg in the oven and said, “Make a trip to the village for vegetables. We need alibis. Then come back, scream, and call the police. You’re an innocent victim in shock. Got it?”
Little Dahlia whimpered. No problems there, she felt.
Later, the oven hummed. It was old, and Ronnie never replaced anything until it wore out. Little Dahlia paced up and down.
“I’m gonna get caught,” she moaned.
Admit it. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?
“No!”
Oh, but you are. You’ve craved power like this ever since you were Little Dahlia in Big Bertha’s playground. You wanted someone to take care of the bullies of the world.
“I never wanted you in my life!”
Oh my god, you’re killing me! My sides ache! You wanted no one but me. Even Mom and Dad tanned your hide, but who was there to take care of the “pwecious baby bwother” and pass it off as S.I.D.S.? Who was there to get Big Bertha crippled for life in a “tragic playground accident”? Me, me, always and forever ME! You should thank me on your KNEES, not push me away!
The doorbell rang.
Dahlia was across the hall and opening the door before she had time to think.
She sighed with relief. PC Washington had answered. Old family friend. He tipped his hat respectfully; the two constables flanking him nodded.
Play the part!
“Thank goodness you’ve come!” she wailed. “Oh, Peter! Peter!”
“It’s all right,” said Washington, coming in and taking off his mackintosh. “You haven’t disturbed the scene of the crime? I’d like to take a look, if you please.”
Other Dahlia laughed her head off while Little Dahlia wiped her eyes and said, “In the dining room. I don’t wanna go in again!”
“I understand. Duncan, Freeman: take a look around the premises. We might find some clues regarding our mystery madman.”
They’ve swallowed it hook, line, and sinker! What better cop could you have asked for than trusting old PC Washington!? It’s perfect!
Little Dahlia shushed her and returned to the kitchen, wiping her eyes. Washington’s gasp could still be heard. He and Ronnie had been old school friends.
She attended to the cooking as calmly as though policemen weren’t poking and prodding the premises all around. Hours crawled by. Calmly, mechanically, she took out the lamb leg and carved it into chunks.
Washington ambled into the kitchen. “Heavy blunt instrument,” he was saying. “Poor Ronnie. Definite signs of a break-in. Pity the footprints would’ve washed away in this rain by now…”
Little Dahlia said nothing. Other Dahlia was feeding her some idea of giving the lamb to the officer, but the rest of her was too numb to try. Why would she say that!?
Washington smiled. “You always were a fantastic chef, Dahlia.”
Should I tell him? He’s always been so nice to me…
Yeah, and how long do you think that’ll last once you confess? Anyway, Ronnie used to be so nice to us too.
Instead, Washington went back to the crime scene to “look around some more”. Dahlia sighed.
Later, the police left with bits of glass and the body. Dahlia threw dinner away and went to bed feeling sick.
Other Dahlia. Revolting as she was, she wasn’t really a different person. It was still Dahlia. The Dahlia she needed and never wanted.
But how to kill a bully-killer when you needed her to kill?
Her blood froze. She felt the chill strongest in her upraised hand. Slowly, her gaze rose to see the vast, dripping, slightly dimpled frozen leg of lamb.
She dropped it. The thud was loud and sickening. Again.
Shock and nausea forced her to her knees. Shuddering against the sobs, she wished, wished, wished he hadn’t said that. Poor stupid old fool! Why had he said that?
Because he doesn’t care about you anymore, said the dreaded voice in her head; glee dripped from every syllable. He never cared about you. Trophy wife. Punching bag. Baby factory.
That voice had taunted and haunted her since childhood.
“No!” she said hastily. “He wanted everyone to know he loved me. He wanted a family.”
HahahahahaNO! Oh, he was all smiles and kisses and promises on your honeymoon, but you secretly hated him for turning them into nothing but lies. I can see your every thought. Oh, that felt good!
Weakly, Little Dahlia eased herself off the floor. “Now what do I do?”
Now we make sure no one spoils our fun.
And just like that… the other Dahlia took over.
Little Dahlia watched in horror – tinged with fascination – as Other Dahlia calmly walked outside under the pouring rain and swung the leg of lamb, smashing a window. She filled a bucket from the pump, walked back inside, and carefully dribbled a trail leading up to Ronnie’s corpse, then pushed the body off the chair.
“There we go,” she said, finishing the trail up to the front door, which she pushed, ripping its old locks. “Some madman broke in, bopped old Ronnie boy, and broke out.”
This is wrong, said Little Dahlia, but she couldn’t resist that voice. She’d never resisted anyone’s voice: Ronnie’s, her parents’, Other Dahlia’s…
Other Dahlia placed the lamb leg in the oven and said, “Make a trip to the village for vegetables. We need alibis. Then come back, scream, and call the police. You’re an innocent victim in shock. Got it?”
Little Dahlia whimpered. No problems there, she felt.
Later, the oven hummed. It was old, and Ronnie never replaced anything until it wore out. Little Dahlia paced up and down.
“I’m gonna get caught,” she moaned.
Admit it. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?
“No!”
Oh, but you are. You’ve craved power like this ever since you were Little Dahlia in Big Bertha’s playground. You wanted someone to take care of the bullies of the world.
“I never wanted you in my life!”
Oh my god, you’re killing me! My sides ache! You wanted no one but me. Even Mom and Dad tanned your hide, but who was there to take care of the “pwecious baby bwother” and pass it off as S.I.D.S.? Who was there to get Big Bertha crippled for life in a “tragic playground accident”? Me, me, always and forever ME! You should thank me on your KNEES, not push me away!
The doorbell rang.
Dahlia was across the hall and opening the door before she had time to think.
She sighed with relief. PC Washington had answered. Old family friend. He tipped his hat respectfully; the two constables flanking him nodded.
Play the part!
“Thank goodness you’ve come!” she wailed. “Oh, Peter! Peter!”
“It’s all right,” said Washington, coming in and taking off his mackintosh. “You haven’t disturbed the scene of the crime? I’d like to take a look, if you please.”
Other Dahlia laughed her head off while Little Dahlia wiped her eyes and said, “In the dining room. I don’t wanna go in again!”
“I understand. Duncan, Freeman: take a look around the premises. We might find some clues regarding our mystery madman.”
They’ve swallowed it hook, line, and sinker! What better cop could you have asked for than trusting old PC Washington!? It’s perfect!
Little Dahlia shushed her and returned to the kitchen, wiping her eyes. Washington’s gasp could still be heard. He and Ronnie had been old school friends.
She attended to the cooking as calmly as though policemen weren’t poking and prodding the premises all around. Hours crawled by. Calmly, mechanically, she took out the lamb leg and carved it into chunks.
Washington ambled into the kitchen. “Heavy blunt instrument,” he was saying. “Poor Ronnie. Definite signs of a break-in. Pity the footprints would’ve washed away in this rain by now…”
Little Dahlia said nothing. Other Dahlia was feeding her some idea of giving the lamb to the officer, but the rest of her was too numb to try. Why would she say that!?
Washington smiled. “You always were a fantastic chef, Dahlia.”
Should I tell him? He’s always been so nice to me…
Yeah, and how long do you think that’ll last once you confess? Anyway, Ronnie used to be so nice to us too.
Instead, Washington went back to the crime scene to “look around some more”. Dahlia sighed.
Later, the police left with bits of glass and the body. Dahlia threw dinner away and went to bed feeling sick.
Other Dahlia. Revolting as she was, she wasn’t really a different person. It was still Dahlia. The Dahlia she needed and never wanted.
But how to kill a bully-killer when you needed her to kill?
Ahh, the words ‘frozen lamb leg’ give me such.... interesting memories.
This seems weird to follow everything to a T except the last part. Although, the more I think about this story the more I realize there was a word limit and you probably couldn’t have fit the last part where she feeds them the leg.
I do like the concept that she has done this before and the idea of her monologuing in her own head. The monologuing to me did seem kind of off at some points like when she goes ‘HAHHAHAHANO’. It seemed jarring from the rest of the fic which was very straightly played.
This seems weird to follow everything to a T except the last part. Although, the more I think about this story the more I realize there was a word limit and you probably couldn’t have fit the last part where she feeds them the leg.
I do like the concept that she has done this before and the idea of her monologuing in her own head. The monologuing to me did seem kind of off at some points like when she goes ‘HAHHAHAHANO’. It seemed jarring from the rest of the fic which was very straightly played.
My review:
Plot and Pacing: The first couple of sentences are very engaging. Specifically, I already seem to know the whole scenario after the first four. This is both a compliment to the strength of the opener (very important indeed), and a slight criticism of the rest of the story. Afterward, it all seemed to develop rather mildly and predictably: Good personality resists bad personality, bad personality wins anyway, plan to cover up murder is executed, cops come, plan to cover up murder is (presumably) successful. The best thing going for it, though, is that this sorta tepid development is at least presented in an interesting, page-flipping way. I just wish there were more brilliancies like at the start.
Style, Flow, and Grammar: No grammar mistakes, check. While narration doesn't really stand out, it's also very comfortable to read (so it's already much better than most, imo). Only part where I was slightly confused was the following: "Other Dahlia calmly walked outside under the pouring rain and swung the leg of lamb, smashing a window. She filled a bucket from the pump, walked back inside, and carefully dribbled a trail leading up to Ronnie’s corpse, then pushed the body off the chair." Changing "she filled" to "she then filled" would've helped wonders on my first immediate reading, and the whole act of dribbling water from the bucket seemed hard to imagine. If she had just been out in the rain, couldn't she just create wet footprints herself? Would sloppy, uneven puddles of water intermittently poured from a bucket even resemble wet footprints?
Characters and Dialogue: Good Dahlia and Bad Dahlia are interesting purely as a split personality trope, but it became clear that there really wasn't that much more to them. Other Dahlia is cunning and appropriately profane, but she's also a little bit of a cookie cutter edgelord (e.g. "pwecious baby bwother" paragraph). Good Dahlia doesn't seem to have much personality at all, and by the end, I couldn't even tell (and not in a good way) whether she really was just a little angel, or secretly cheered Other Dahlia on. Basically, everything other than that "tinged with fascination" line would have me summarily concluding the former, but that line really does set a contradicting precedent.
Final: I think I indicated a harsher impression than I really have of this neat little fic. It will be somewhere in the upper-middle of my ballot, I think.
Plot and Pacing: The first couple of sentences are very engaging. Specifically, I already seem to know the whole scenario after the first four. This is both a compliment to the strength of the opener (very important indeed), and a slight criticism of the rest of the story. Afterward, it all seemed to develop rather mildly and predictably: Good personality resists bad personality, bad personality wins anyway, plan to cover up murder is executed, cops come, plan to cover up murder is (presumably) successful. The best thing going for it, though, is that this sorta tepid development is at least presented in an interesting, page-flipping way. I just wish there were more brilliancies like at the start.
Style, Flow, and Grammar: No grammar mistakes, check. While narration doesn't really stand out, it's also very comfortable to read (so it's already much better than most, imo). Only part where I was slightly confused was the following: "Other Dahlia calmly walked outside under the pouring rain and swung the leg of lamb, smashing a window. She filled a bucket from the pump, walked back inside, and carefully dribbled a trail leading up to Ronnie’s corpse, then pushed the body off the chair." Changing "she filled" to "she then filled" would've helped wonders on my first immediate reading, and the whole act of dribbling water from the bucket seemed hard to imagine. If she had just been out in the rain, couldn't she just create wet footprints herself? Would sloppy, uneven puddles of water intermittently poured from a bucket even resemble wet footprints?
Characters and Dialogue: Good Dahlia and Bad Dahlia are interesting purely as a split personality trope, but it became clear that there really wasn't that much more to them. Other Dahlia is cunning and appropriately profane, but she's also a little bit of a cookie cutter edgelord (e.g. "pwecious baby bwother" paragraph). Good Dahlia doesn't seem to have much personality at all, and by the end, I couldn't even tell (and not in a good way) whether she really was just a little angel, or secretly cheered Other Dahlia on. Basically, everything other than that "tinged with fascination" line would have me summarily concluding the former, but that line really does set a contradicting precedent.
Final: I think I indicated a harsher impression than I really have of this neat little fic. It will be somewhere in the upper-middle of my ballot, I think.
Good Stuff: The prose and the voicing in this are both excellent. I liked the arguments between the two Dahlias, and the subtle way the trauma takes it toll on the "good" one (s that a reference to suicide at the end!? Whoa!). You have an amazing opening line. What I liked best was the little twist that these aren't really two different personalities, which would have been the obvious choice, but that Dahlia recognizes they're both the same person. That's a cool subversion. Finally, there are bits of detail here I like, such as Ronnie's being cheap with the oven and Washington being his school friend, that make it seem more convincing.
Bad Stuff: Like >>Anon Y Mous, I've read "Lamb to the Slaughter" by Roald Dahl, and this felt uncomfortably too close to it. You got the same leg of lamb idea, the same characters, and except for the ending, the same plot points, and it feels too derivative. You at least changed things around by making it more psychological horror than dark comedy, and the ending goes a different direction. But you don't do it enough, and it gets really distracting and uncomfortable really quickly. I won't say you're plagiarizing because it is at least clearly trying to be different, maybe as a reimagining, but I wouldn't blame someone for accusing you of laziness.
Verdict: Mid Tier. I really want to like this one more than I do, but the obvious source material - you even play around with the names to make it more obvious - subtracts more than it adds. If you'd changed things around more or concentrated on developing the characters more, I might feel better about it. It's still a well-written piece you've put some effort into, and I don't think you'd have to do much to make it a solid entry. I'd also expand on that last line; it was really exciting, and then the story ends. There's potential there.
Bad Stuff: Like >>Anon Y Mous, I've read "Lamb to the Slaughter" by Roald Dahl, and this felt uncomfortably too close to it. You got the same leg of lamb idea, the same characters, and except for the ending, the same plot points, and it feels too derivative. You at least changed things around by making it more psychological horror than dark comedy, and the ending goes a different direction. But you don't do it enough, and it gets really distracting and uncomfortable really quickly. I won't say you're plagiarizing because it is at least clearly trying to be different, maybe as a reimagining, but I wouldn't blame someone for accusing you of laziness.
Verdict: Mid Tier. I really want to like this one more than I do, but the obvious source material - you even play around with the names to make it more obvious - subtracts more than it adds. If you'd changed things around more or concentrated on developing the characters more, I might feel better about it. It's still a well-written piece you've put some effort into, and I don't think you'd have to do much to make it a solid entry. I'd also expand on that last line; it was really exciting, and then the story ends. There's potential there.
"Ronald Baloney" is a pretty interesting name, though I feel like its inclusion here detracts more than it adds to the story.
The story itself is solid, though I didn't know the source material without HiTime providing its name. And after reading its Wikipedia summary, it feels uncomfortably close to that--I feel like the author is going for homage, with the "Baloney" reference, but with little difference in story progression, it also feels more like... well, more than that. In addition, these days, the spouse is always the first suspect--this is a kind of story from the days before DNA evidence and cell phones.
Other Dahlia's dialog blocks feel sort of... well, blocky. They feel more like their own thing than speech that's integrated with the normal flow of narration. It might be good to break it up with actions or other narration, like normal dialog. In addition, Other Dahlia's voice feels kind of chuuni and cartoonish, like in Paracompact's review.
Some minor quibbles:
- Why "Little" Dahlia? For a while, I thought the main character was some kind of abused child bride.
- When she "filled a bucket from the pump", I thought this was referring to gasoline and she was going to torch the house.
- Pouring rain seems like a setting detail that's better introduced earlier in the scene. Also, it sounds like the bucket was also outside since it's mentioned after she leaves the house, so wouldn't it be full of rain water?
- Dahlia's romantic interest in the policeman seems to be brought up and then immediately brushed aside, which feels like it also detracts more than it adds to the story.
The story itself is solid, though I didn't know the source material without HiTime providing its name. And after reading its Wikipedia summary, it feels uncomfortably close to that--I feel like the author is going for homage, with the "Baloney" reference, but with little difference in story progression, it also feels more like... well, more than that. In addition, these days, the spouse is always the first suspect--this is a kind of story from the days before DNA evidence and cell phones.
Other Dahlia's dialog blocks feel sort of... well, blocky. They feel more like their own thing than speech that's integrated with the normal flow of narration. It might be good to break it up with actions or other narration, like normal dialog. In addition, Other Dahlia's voice feels kind of chuuni and cartoonish, like in Paracompact's review.
Some minor quibbles:
- Why "Little" Dahlia? For a while, I thought the main character was some kind of abused child bride.
- When she "filled a bucket from the pump", I thought this was referring to gasoline and she was going to torch the house.
- Pouring rain seems like a setting detail that's better introduced earlier in the scene. Also, it sounds like the bucket was also outside since it's mentioned after she leaves the house, so wouldn't it be full of rain water?
- Dahlia's romantic interest in the policeman seems to be brought up and then immediately brushed aside, which feels like it also detracts more than it adds to the story.
I cannot really rank this entry knowing that it leans heavily on another author’s previous work, especially since I didn’t read that other work. I found the name Baloney a bit odd too, I wonder if that has anything to do with the famous Italian sauce.
Beyond that, I won’t offer more and will abstain.
Beyond that, I won’t offer more and will abstain.
Thanks, all, for the two cents. I will address, above all, the big issue:
>>Anon Y Mous
>>HiTime
>>Filler
>>Monokeras
Yeah, fair's fair: this leaned waaaaaaay too heavily on the original. Thinking about the prompt, the old favourite popped up in my head as an example, so I thought "Hey, I should do something like that!" Then, I started playing around with the original concepts. Then, I just lifted them wholesale as placeholders to be replaced later. Then, I realized I couldn't match the original's brilliance. Then, I changed the names in a half-hearted attempt to pre-empt any "plagiarism" accusations and convey I was reimagining or taking inspiration from it (hint: anyone notice the "Ronald and Dahlia" connection?). Then, I noticed I was struggling even with the new ideas I introduced -
Long story short, it was a complete mess and a complete miss. Frankly, I'm not surprised it didn't make it to finals. Given its copycat nature and general sense of muddle, I'm not putting up any defences for it.
Next time, I'm going to delete something like this. The only reason I didn't this time was sheer fascinated reluctance.
I'm especially disappointed the characters were only so-so, but someone like Dahlia in particular needed more of a twist to make the old double-personality thing feel novel. As-is, the lack of inspiration and the word limit kick it while it's down.
>>Anon Y Mous
>>HiTime
>>Filler
>>Monokeras
Yeah, fair's fair: this leaned waaaaaaay too heavily on the original. Thinking about the prompt, the old favourite popped up in my head as an example, so I thought "Hey, I should do something like that!" Then, I started playing around with the original concepts. Then, I just lifted them wholesale as placeholders to be replaced later. Then, I realized I couldn't match the original's brilliance. Then, I changed the names in a half-hearted attempt to pre-empt any "plagiarism" accusations and convey I was reimagining or taking inspiration from it (hint: anyone notice the "Ronald and Dahlia" connection?). Then, I noticed I was struggling even with the new ideas I introduced -
Long story short, it was a complete mess and a complete miss. Frankly, I'm not surprised it didn't make it to finals. Given its copycat nature and general sense of muddle, I'm not putting up any defences for it.
Next time, I'm going to delete something like this. The only reason I didn't this time was sheer fascinated reluctance.
I'm especially disappointed the characters were only so-so, but someone like Dahlia in particular needed more of a twist to make the old double-personality thing feel novel. As-is, the lack of inspiration and the word limit kick it while it's down.