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No, You!
Lucille arrived at the Lakewater Theater just as the stapler bit the corkboard.
The first set of double doors were no match for her, blowing wide open as she and the chilly autumn air stormed inside. But the second doors let her know, with a clamour, that they were locked.
She glared at the fat, bearded man through the wired glass. Her scarf was a scorpion's tail, rising behind her in the wind.
Fred sighed. He finished stapling the casting sheet to the board, and let the woman in.
"This theatre is a shambles," she pronounced, projecting her voice against every wall.
"Good morning, Mrs. Williams," he replied, pausing to sip his coffee. "I take it you've seen the results online already."
"Oh, I have!"
Lucille pulled her gloves off with her teeth, and prepared to count everything she had done that morning on her fingers.
"I've read them, re-read them, went over them a third time, and I even used that control-f function my neighbour's son taught me. And yet my daughter isn't there. She's not Alice, the Queen of Hearts, not even the Cheshire sodding Cat!"
Lucille brushed past the man before he could respond, standing strategically between him and the rest of the building.
"You look me in the eyes and tell me that Mary Williams didn't set that stage on fire during her audition," she said.
Fred responded in mid-eyeroll, looking elsewhere. "I can't do that. Your daughter was pretty incredible, all things considered. But we can't cast her."
Lucille crossed her arms. "So it's discrimination, then."
He raised his hands in defense. "Whoa, hey! Let's be clear, this isn't because she's African-American."
"We're British."
Fred contorted his mouth. "I realize. But it isn't that either."
"Well, it's something! Out with it!"
Fred switched his coffee cup between hands and placed the empty hand on her shoulder.
"It's because she's nine, Mrs. Williams."
Lucille scoffed. "I realise that. But so what? Alice is seven!"
"We have a 14-and-up policy here. It's on the casting call."
"Then why let her audition?"
"For the experience! We thought it would be nice."
Lucille continued the offence. "Rigging a game against a child? That's nice, is it?"
Fred bit his lip. He took his hand off her shoulder so he could pinch the bridge of his nose.
Lucille took a breath. "Can I ask you something, Frederick?" she said in a more even tone.
"It's Fred, but go ahead."
"Do you know who you're speaking to?"
Fred gave her an odd look. "That crazy British lady who moved into town a few months ago?"
"Correct. But did you also know that you're speaking to the mother of a child who is starting to hide her accent?"
"I—"
"Did you know, every time she opens her mouth at school, that all the other students gawk, and laugh, and hold out their little pinkies like they're carrying teacups?"
Fred shook his head.
"Do you understand what playing an English role in an English story written by an English author might mean to that little girl?"
Fred threw up his hands "Alright, alright! Look… I tell you what. If I give her a part, will you leave me alone?"
Lucille braced herself.
"Which part?"
Lucille walked briskly back to her apartment, manoeuvring around the morning shoppers, and dragging her heart along the sidewalk.
She glanced down at her phone again, where the updated casting list had already been posted. The last role on the list stuck out like it was somebody's tongue.
So now it was a race—to see who would let poor Mary down first, her mother or the casting sheet.
There were people blocking the entrance to her building. The elevator didn't move fast enough. The corridor was too long. As she turned the key in her door, she realized she didn't know what to say yet.
"Mary?" she sang, creeping in the front door, the warmth of the corridor filtering in behind her. "Are you awake, Mary-pea?"
From the kitchen, she heard movement. A cellphone landing on a table. Pyjamas on a wooden chair. And then an answer.
"Mummy, look!"
Lucille sprinted around the corner, and she looked.
Mary stood with her feet rooted to the seat of her chair, her chest puffed out in front of her, and her smile glowing like autumn fire. Her arms branched up high above her head, as far as she could reach.
"Mummy. I'm going to be in the theatre."
The first set of double doors were no match for her, blowing wide open as she and the chilly autumn air stormed inside. But the second doors let her know, with a clamour, that they were locked.
She glared at the fat, bearded man through the wired glass. Her scarf was a scorpion's tail, rising behind her in the wind.
Fred sighed. He finished stapling the casting sheet to the board, and let the woman in.
"This theatre is a shambles," she pronounced, projecting her voice against every wall.
"Good morning, Mrs. Williams," he replied, pausing to sip his coffee. "I take it you've seen the results online already."
"Oh, I have!"
Lucille pulled her gloves off with her teeth, and prepared to count everything she had done that morning on her fingers.
"I've read them, re-read them, went over them a third time, and I even used that control-f function my neighbour's son taught me. And yet my daughter isn't there. She's not Alice, the Queen of Hearts, not even the Cheshire sodding Cat!"
Lucille brushed past the man before he could respond, standing strategically between him and the rest of the building.
"You look me in the eyes and tell me that Mary Williams didn't set that stage on fire during her audition," she said.
Fred responded in mid-eyeroll, looking elsewhere. "I can't do that. Your daughter was pretty incredible, all things considered. But we can't cast her."
Lucille crossed her arms. "So it's discrimination, then."
He raised his hands in defense. "Whoa, hey! Let's be clear, this isn't because she's African-American."
"We're British."
Fred contorted his mouth. "I realize. But it isn't that either."
"Well, it's something! Out with it!"
Fred switched his coffee cup between hands and placed the empty hand on her shoulder.
"It's because she's nine, Mrs. Williams."
Lucille scoffed. "I realise that. But so what? Alice is seven!"
"We have a 14-and-up policy here. It's on the casting call."
"Then why let her audition?"
"For the experience! We thought it would be nice."
Lucille continued the offence. "Rigging a game against a child? That's nice, is it?"
Fred bit his lip. He took his hand off her shoulder so he could pinch the bridge of his nose.
Lucille took a breath. "Can I ask you something, Frederick?" she said in a more even tone.
"It's Fred, but go ahead."
"Do you know who you're speaking to?"
Fred gave her an odd look. "That crazy British lady who moved into town a few months ago?"
"Correct. But did you also know that you're speaking to the mother of a child who is starting to hide her accent?"
"I—"
"Did you know, every time she opens her mouth at school, that all the other students gawk, and laugh, and hold out their little pinkies like they're carrying teacups?"
Fred shook his head.
"Do you understand what playing an English role in an English story written by an English author might mean to that little girl?"
Fred threw up his hands "Alright, alright! Look… I tell you what. If I give her a part, will you leave me alone?"
Lucille braced herself.
"Which part?"
Lucille walked briskly back to her apartment, manoeuvring around the morning shoppers, and dragging her heart along the sidewalk.
She glanced down at her phone again, where the updated casting list had already been posted. The last role on the list stuck out like it was somebody's tongue.
Mary Williams..........................................................Tree
So now it was a race—to see who would let poor Mary down first, her mother or the casting sheet.
There were people blocking the entrance to her building. The elevator didn't move fast enough. The corridor was too long. As she turned the key in her door, she realized she didn't know what to say yet.
"Mary?" she sang, creeping in the front door, the warmth of the corridor filtering in behind her. "Are you awake, Mary-pea?"
From the kitchen, she heard movement. A cellphone landing on a table. Pyjamas on a wooden chair. And then an answer.
"Mummy, look!"
Lucille sprinted around the corner, and she looked.
Mary stood with her feet rooted to the seat of her chair, her chest puffed out in front of her, and her smile glowing like autumn fire. Her arms branched up high above her head, as far as she could reach.
"Mummy. I'm going to be in the theatre."
Pics
Alternate Title: I'd Like to Be a Tree
I have to really think about this one. In fact I didn't even notice a certain something about this the first go around, and I have to give the author kudos for this: you made me pay attention to the details.
It seems like Mary literally turned into a tree, or is in the process of becoming a tree, for this play. I don't know how that works or how it happened, but it'd be even weirder if it was metaphorical, because what the fuck is the point?
This is a comedy entry, I think? It basically builds up to a single joke, which at most is chuckle-worthy. Otherwise this is a weird kind of urban fantasy where the fantasy part is the twist.
Or it could be neither and I'm wasting my time.
I don't know, man, that penultimate paragraph gets me. Assuming this is literal, it's pretty clever, in terms of describing the reveal. The author just doesn't go, "Hey, she's a tree now." Ain't that swell? It's also the best-written part of the story, prose-wise, but then again much of the story is dialogue-driven.
I'm not biased against dialogue-heavy stories, I swear. I just like my juicy prose goodness, okay?
Okay?
Goddamnit.
At the same time, if this is meant to be like a dark-ish urban fantasy then it didn't quite hit me like it was supposed to. Hell, it took me a second read to get an idea as to what the twist is, and even then I could be wrong.
I like it, but I can't claim to understand it entirely.
I have to really think about this one. In fact I didn't even notice a certain something about this the first go around, and I have to give the author kudos for this: you made me pay attention to the details.
It seems like Mary literally turned into a tree, or is in the process of becoming a tree, for this play. I don't know how that works or how it happened, but it'd be even weirder if it was metaphorical, because what the fuck is the point?
This is a comedy entry, I think? It basically builds up to a single joke, which at most is chuckle-worthy. Otherwise this is a weird kind of urban fantasy where the fantasy part is the twist.
Or it could be neither and I'm wasting my time.
I don't know, man, that penultimate paragraph gets me. Assuming this is literal, it's pretty clever, in terms of describing the reveal. The author just doesn't go, "Hey, she's a tree now." Ain't that swell? It's also the best-written part of the story, prose-wise, but then again much of the story is dialogue-driven.
I'm not biased against dialogue-heavy stories, I swear. I just like my juicy prose goodness, okay?
Okay?
Goddamnit.
At the same time, if this is meant to be like a dark-ish urban fantasy then it didn't quite hit me like it was supposed to. Hell, it took me a second read to get an idea as to what the twist is, and even then I could be wrong.
I like it, but I can't claim to understand it entirely.
Top of my slate:
To my reading, it's just straight-up "slice of life"--the heightened language gets introduced right at the beginning, >>No_Raisin, with lines like, "Her scarf was a scorpion's tail, rising behind her in the wind," so I really, really doubt there's any dark fantasy intended. The story's just told with very theatrical exaggeration, something that fits the subject, fits the character, and I found it to be all kinds of fun to read.
It's got some comma issues throughout, and the external perspective didn't quite work for me. I'd recommend anchoring the POV more firmly in Lucille's head, author. She's enough of a drama queen--or I guess "stage mom" would be a better way to describe her--that the heightened language will still work, but if we're in her head, we can feel the roaring tempest of her emotions more directly. Very nice here, though!
Mike
To my reading, it's just straight-up "slice of life"--the heightened language gets introduced right at the beginning, >>No_Raisin, with lines like, "Her scarf was a scorpion's tail, rising behind her in the wind," so I really, really doubt there's any dark fantasy intended. The story's just told with very theatrical exaggeration, something that fits the subject, fits the character, and I found it to be all kinds of fun to read.
It's got some comma issues throughout, and the external perspective didn't quite work for me. I'd recommend anchoring the POV more firmly in Lucille's head, author. She's enough of a drama queen--or I guess "stage mom" would be a better way to describe her--that the heightened language will still work, but if we're in her head, we can feel the roaring tempest of her emotions more directly. Very nice here, though!
Mike
Lots-a talking heads this round, though you at least only skirted close to it the one time, towards the end of the first scene. I wonder if you can't tighten that up a little, maybe by giving a few more meaningful actions to the characters. Lucille following Fred to his office and refusing to leave until her daughter is included, or something like that, to keep things moving.
I'm a big fan of Lucille's journey here. Because at first it is a comedic look at a helicopter parent maybe going a little too far—which could be too dangerous, making her unlikable, but it's fun enough to evade that. And you even had time to sprinkle in some humanity, then bring her down a peg, and show that the entire trip was worthwhile in the end. Great stuff.
One last thing before I go: I don't see how the title fits the story? The fact that you've come up with a twist on 'no u' is clever and all, but it implies a second meaning that I'm not seeing. Who is saying "No, You!" to whom here?
Well, no, okay. I guess Lucille is pretty adept at throwing Fred's own words back at him, so that kind of relates. Still, I think there are better titles out there.
But that's all from me, Author. Thanks for entering.
I'm a big fan of Lucille's journey here. Because at first it is a comedic look at a helicopter parent maybe going a little too far—which could be too dangerous, making her unlikable, but it's fun enough to evade that. And you even had time to sprinkle in some humanity, then bring her down a peg, and show that the entire trip was worthwhile in the end. Great stuff.
One last thing before I go: I don't see how the title fits the story? The fact that you've come up with a twist on 'no u' is clever and all, but it implies a second meaning that I'm not seeing. Who is saying "No, You!" to whom here?
Well, no, okay. I guess Lucille is pretty adept at throwing Fred's own words back at him, so that kind of relates. Still, I think there are better titles out there.
But that's all from me, Author. Thanks for entering.
This is my favorite entry so far, by quite a margin too. I love how this played with expectations with how Lucille initially seemed like a typical overly-agressive soccer mom, before the reveal suddenly makes her vulnerable and relatable. The pacing is great, the story sucked me in all the way, and I'm having trouble finding nitpicks with my reading experience that are worth mentioning. So, to the tippy-top of my slate with you!
>>Miller Minus
I think the title is a play on "No 'U'", as in Mary hiding her British-ness. I might be wrong, though.
>>Miller Minus
I think the title is a play on "No 'U'", as in Mary hiding her British-ness. I might be wrong, though.
There's already four positive reviews for this story, so I hate to be the odd one out -- but I really didn't care for this story. Nothing happens, the conflict is both petty and artificial, and the reveal at the end sucks away any possible tension that may have remained. It's not that the characters are unrealistic or that the story is badly written per-se, but this is barely a story.
There are other stories in this writeoff that aren't proper stories, but they're trying to sell themselves on an intriguing premise. This is a fairly common premise combined with a tepid execution, and (for me at least) it made the story feel dull.
There are other stories in this writeoff that aren't proper stories, but they're trying to sell themselves on an intriguing premise. This is a fairly common premise combined with a tepid execution, and (for me at least) it made the story feel dull.
I don't know why this story isn't additionally attached to axxuy's The Queen's English, because it was what gave me the idea of British immigrants living in America and struggling to fit in. Oops!
I'm thrilled this clinched the second spot, because I had originally written off gold and silver to Colourless Blues and The Burning (6th, people?). Thanks so much for reading and for all your feedback.
>>No_Raisin
This is one of the funniest reviews I've ever received, but only in hindsight. When I first read it, I was screaming on the inside. But still, I found your review helpful, and I'm glad you were into the second last paragraph, because I intentionally put some extra mustard on it. I felt bad for skirting with talking heads earlier on, so I wanted to make it up to all the prose lovers out there.
And don't worry, I flubbed on Bachi's story being in space, so I really shouldn't laugh. I will anyways, but I at least know how hypocritical I'm being.
>>Baal Bunny
I have an abusive relationship with commas, I know. And you're totally right on anchoring the POV. I was 400 words into this story before I realized I was jumping between Lucille and Fred willy-nilly, and it looks like I didn't quite patch it all up in time.
Thanks for the feedback!
>>Miller Minus
Oh, the fuck do you know.
>>Bachiavellian
Thanks so much for reading, Bachi! I know it may look like I was fishing for people to figure out my awesome twist in the title, but I wasn't kidding in my fake review when I said there wasn't a double meaning. I mean, you're still right, because the story is about the missing 'u' in american spellings, but my point was that the title implied that there was something in the story that begged that pun. The final title was honestly just a placeholder.
I honestly just never thought of a better title.
>>GaPJaxie
Can't win 'em all. I'm unfortunately not very good at intriguing premises, and I've been that way all my life. It's something I want to work on, but I figured I could get some character-driven writing in as practice this round.
Still, thanks for sharing your impression. I'll try to amp up my creativity in the future. And congrats on the bronze!
I'm thrilled this clinched the second spot, because I had originally written off gold and silver to Colourless Blues and The Burning (6th, people?). Thanks so much for reading and for all your feedback.
>>No_Raisin
This is one of the funniest reviews I've ever received, but only in hindsight. When I first read it, I was screaming on the inside. But still, I found your review helpful, and I'm glad you were into the second last paragraph, because I intentionally put some extra mustard on it. I felt bad for skirting with talking heads earlier on, so I wanted to make it up to all the prose lovers out there.
And don't worry, I flubbed on Bachi's story being in space, so I really shouldn't laugh. I will anyways, but I at least know how hypocritical I'm being.
>>Baal Bunny
I have an abusive relationship with commas, I know. And you're totally right on anchoring the POV. I was 400 words into this story before I realized I was jumping between Lucille and Fred willy-nilly, and it looks like I didn't quite patch it all up in time.
Thanks for the feedback!
>>Miller Minus
Oh, the fuck do you know.
>>Bachiavellian
Thanks so much for reading, Bachi! I know it may look like I was fishing for people to figure out my awesome twist in the title, but I wasn't kidding in my fake review when I said there wasn't a double meaning. I mean, you're still right, because the story is about the missing 'u' in american spellings, but my point was that the title implied that there was something in the story that begged that pun. The final title was honestly just a placeholder.
I honestly just never thought of a better title.
>>GaPJaxie
Can't win 'em all. I'm unfortunately not very good at intriguing premises, and I've been that way all my life. It's something I want to work on, but I figured I could get some character-driven writing in as practice this round.
Still, thanks for sharing your impression. I'll try to amp up my creativity in the future. And congrats on the bronze!
>>Miller Minus
Thanks man, and yeah, the character writing here was good. Looking forward to reading more of your stuff. :)
Thanks man, and yeah, the character writing here was good. Looking forward to reading more of your stuff. :)