Author: Jon Elkon

How Even Virtue-Signalling Costs a Fortune

How many of the emails in your inbox want your money? I don’t only mean the obvious direct sell ones. You know, like Charles Tyrwhitt, ‘shirtmakers of Jermyn Street’, though all of their shirts are made in the Far East – who, despite all my attempts to de-register from their mailing list continue to deluge me with emails. This may be because I once sent an email to their founder, upper-class twit Charles, to express my disgust at his support for Brexit and the hypocrisy of his business model. Their shirts are pretty crap too. None of them resist a cigarette-lighter.

And I don’t mean sweet innocents like Last Minute.com. At least they don’t pretend not to want money – except at the height of the lockdown when no-body was going abroad, when bored executives at their online agency started sending out emails with pretty pictures of exotic destinations and no way to get there. With taglines like, ‘Where is your favourite place to have sex ?’ (My answer was, on Donald Trump’s golf course on the 9th green. They did not even have the courtesy to acknowledge my perfectly serious opinion, probably because of my unthinking addition of ‘with you.’)

The massive load of purely commercial sellers of junk is a nightmare. Sum them all up: Gimme your money!

Apple TV, Netflix and the BBC are loyal purse-botherers. The former is now desperate enough to offer me the opportunity to ‘rent Bad Boys for life for only £2.99’. Well! If I wanted rent boys I wouldn’t get them from Apple. If I did, I would get stuck into a lifetime of upgrades to system 12.7.8 et seq, which upgrades never work and end up crashing my hard disc.

The dozens of leeches and vampires attracted to writers is awful- they all offer their expertise and their seminars and books about better writing and videos and podcasts, and if I were to even look at a tiny percentage, I would never have time to write. The most annoying is Curtis Brown. Do our Course, they cry. They have several courses. I tried one. Over £230 and I assure you, no CB person read anything I submitted to the Course, at least until I had paid a further £100 for a few pages of superficial inconsequence.

No, my rant today is about the high price of virtue. You see, my inbox is also jammed with perfectly good organisations, which are very keen to send me ‘updates’, because maybe I supported one of them, say Greenpeace, and as you know email lists are bought and sold on the market like politician’s promises. I’m not blaming Greenpeace necessarily, or the Green Party, or the legitimate campaigning organisations I do support (add Amnesty and FoE into this list) – they are all terribly worthy, and who can blame them for hawking their lists about a bit?

So here are some of the purse-botherers whose updates, slightly interesting as they are, always end with a begging-bowl.

Second thoughts. I’m not going to list them. They know who they are.

Listen here you guys and girls! I love you all and sometimes you tell me stuff that I didn’t read in the media. Sometimes. The rest of the time, you tell me some heartwrenching stuff I’ve been ranting about for days, then comes the ‘donate’ button. Hey! I would love to support you all! But now you’re driving me crazy, and the implicit message is ‘if you don’t donate Brexit will happen, Boris won’t agree to a UBI, Black Lives won’t matter, the NHS will be doomed to be sold to America and we, the sweet cosy little group of lovely people, are all that stands between ……. and the deep blue sea.’

Jeeeee whizzzzz.

We the Goodies are not made of money. That’s the other side. Besides, guys and girls, I’m just not sure virtue has to be paid for with the remains of my money.

Illustration: No reason. Just the pleasure I take not giving Pigrights another opportunity to rip me off for thousands more for ‘breach of copyright’. Pls note, pigrights: if anyone uses my illustration above without attribution, they’re welcome to it.

I. Love. You. All. Except Trump. And Pigwrites.

The MEGASAGA 3 writing competition has reached its conclusion, and the WINNER will be awarded £100 in shiny British Currency!

Interestingly, there were many comments on the website supporting our decision. As I said, the decision was based not on votes, but on our judgement as writers and readers. Ultimately the judging panel was extended from 3 people to 7, as we were terribly split between two of the stories. Our meeting last night was full of contention! But we have made friends now, and after it came down to the casting vote, cocktails were dispensed. Virtually, of course.

I would most sincerely like to thank the two Peters, Zara, Zelda, Caroline, Anna and Steve for their help in reading through, analysing and judging the entries.

I would also most sincerely like to thank ALL ENTRANTS for your hard work and brilliance in creating exciting, amusing and frightening Megasagas. Proof that the form is alive, well and thriving as a marvellous exercise in writing and editing.

BY THE WAY one of the stories in the Shortlist was by me. Any idea which one? Don’t worry, it hasn’t won!

BEFORE I MAKE THE ANNOUNCEMENT:

The judges, while they admired all the shortlisted stories, found themselves split and divided between two of them: Beulah Harris‘ ‘MEGASAGA’ and Jacqui Huxham’s ‘Love in the Time of Corona’.

Beulah’s story is that rare beast – the perfectly constructed, beautifully paced, intriguing tale which lulls one into near somnolence for the first few paragraphs and then delivers a sharp, cynical totally unexpected kick into one’s fundament with the last sentence. Each word and phrase is carefully chosen, and while I had my doubts about ‘…John Lennon singing the most beautiful song ever written’ it was pointed out to me that because we immediately think ‘Imagine’ – the titles and lyrics have an immensely poignant relevance to the plot and atmosphere. (Or ‘Yesterday’? Written by McCartney…)

My (and other pedants’) very slight unease comes in the last sentence, which is so important to the resolution. The last sentence in a Megasaga is the payoff which makes the whole story worth reading.

People will be screaming at me from thousands of miles away when I say this: ‘When the ambulance came to collect her husband’s corpse in the morning, life would be perfect.’ Well, life would be perfect and the story would be perfect had there not been a tiny jumble of tenses in that sentence. The smallest change would make the story 100% as opposed to 99.9%. Beulah, try ‘When the ambulance comes to collect her husband’s corpse in the morning her life will be perfect’??? It’s a sudden change to future tense and I’ll bet you agonised over it. The whole story is in past tense, so how to give that last line the punch it needs? I often have this problem. One of my biggest faults as a writer is to jumble my tenses. Very difficult, this one. Still, the story would have won anyway, and in the end only one vote swung the outcome. Which makes you the proud runner-up.

AND THE WINNER IS –

Jacqui Huxham’s ‘Love in the Time of Corona’.

BECAUSE: Each and every one of the Judging Panel had the same visceral, emotional response to this story. When I tried to read it out to them, my eyes teared up – even after several readings! This terrible Corona Crisis has resulted in so many people losing loved ones. We know how it feels to lose a lover, a brother, a parent….I held the hand of a dying woman, a beloved Aunt a couple of years ago. (If you read Sally’s Road you’ll have an idea as to how I attempted a revenge against Cancer). It has scarred me and I suppose may have influenced me to some small extent.

Others, however, had precisely the same reaction.

But I think what has finally decided the result is the innovative structure and poetic language of the story. It reads like a song, a duet. It is so very different from the others and while they are all excellent, it shows how fluid and flexible the Megasaga form can be. Don’t be afraid to experiment!

RE=READ the stories (use the link above). YOU ALL DESERVED PRIZES. But I can only award one.

CONGRATULATIONS JACQUI I will email you regarding how your prize can be sent.

JACQUI HUXHAM

Jacqui’s autobiography :

Born and raised in Zambia,  I came to South Africa for university.  I have taught English, History and French for the last 30 odd years and some 15 years ago I fled the rat race to live in a small village in the Southern Drakensberg near the Lesotho border.

I am currently the Principal of a small school catering to the local community  and this is my passion. Many of our children are Aids orphans from the local children’s home and many come from very disadvantaged backgrounds.  We give them hope and a future. Our matric pass rate every year is 100%.

I  am married with 3 children and 3 step children , all grown up and living far away. I have never published anything. My writing is for myself , usually written in those small dark hours , and this is the first time I have ever shared it. I was assailed with fear and vulnerability after submitting my stories .

Jacqui your stories are terrific. You had two in the Finals, which is pretty amazing. So to you and all my wonderful writers and readers in South Africa and the world:

Keep writing! The more you write, the more you edit, the more you read, the more you are self-critical (without being overly so – be forgiving) the better you will get! Enter competitions but it’s not about competitions. It’s about the CRAFT. You are magicians. You create and describe worlds, real and unreal. Your characters are given life, and you owe them a living! (Please read all my hints and tips on plot, character, etc on the website under Blog and Short Stories.).

(Read my books. Please. So I can afford another competition! 😉 There will be a new one soon. Soon.)

And never forget, I love you all.

…what happened to Part 2? That was the WRITING A MEGASAGA competition! Where have you beeeeen???

We are nearly in phase 2 of the Pandemic. Phase 1, disease spreads, people die, people panic, governments thrash about in utter confusion. The right wing ones generally make a complete hash of it, tens of thousands die. The left wing ones make a complete hash of it, tens of thousands die.

The morons, of course, make more of a hash of it than anybody. Trump, Bolsanaro, Putin and Johnson, highest death tolls in the world. Why??? I guess being morally challenged does make a difference in taking the threat of death to a population you really don’t care about, apart from their votes, seriously.

The latest scandal in the UK – the idiotic Great Trek of Boris Johnson’s minder and puppeteer Dominic Cummings – is the perfect analogy and metaphor for the incompetence of the ruling right in a democracy, when they are so riven by their need to please their big business funders and yet retain the belief and credibility they need to continue to extract votes from the naive and credulous electorate. Who, largely insipid and compliant, fall victim to their every trick.

For those not entirely familiar with the details of the scandal, here’s a summary:

A CUMMING PLAN Part 1

Dominic Cummings is the evil genius who designed the Brexit win for the Tories and the cabal of right-wingers and extreme left wingers who prefer Little England, without immigrants, and a mythical Albion of 1955 and fish and chips to international engagement and being part of a substantial trade bloc, as brilliantly portrayed in the wonderful Channel 4 film https://www.channel4.com/programmes/brexit-the-uncivil-war/on-demand/65804-001 the Uncivil War. Watch it, Cumberbatch is terrific.

The Cumming Plan strategy for media manipulation consists of 3 words, based on the Power of 3: Repetition, Obfuscation and Distraction. For Brexit, his immortal slogans were Take Back Control; then Get Brexit Done, which landed us with Boris Johnson in the last election and his shower of Rabid Right pro-Brexit loonies.

Then along comes the Pandemic. Cummings immediately leapt into the public information campaign, reputedly advising PM Johnson to rely on Herd Immunity in the early days. Did I mention Cummings and Johnson share a common bond of detestation of the common people or ‘hoi polloi’, or ‘great unwashed’, which phrases are no doubt pretty common amongst Tory grandees. Luckily, some intelligence came out of Imperial College, and it was pointed out to them that if they relied on Herd Immunity – ie do nothing: when most people have had the disease they’ll be immune – could result in 500,000 deaths, an absolutely overwhelmed NHS and lots of dead Tories. So they woke up a little and Dom devised his “Stay at Home. Protect the NHS, Save Lives” The Power of 3, see? Cummings’ signature slogan manufacturing process.

At which point the Government sat back and devised cunning plans. Such as Stay in Government. Forget to protect the NHS by not buying, ordering or manufacturing sufficient PPE (Protective masks and gowns), and Make Sure those who die are the elderly, the sick and disabled. This latter they achieved by sending people with the virus to “recover” at Care Homes where thousands caught the virus and died.

Another bright idea was to not bother getting a testing regime established. Ignoring the excellent examples of South Korea, Vietnam, New Zealand who obviously got it right with testing tracing and isolating, they continued to waffle and piffle and faff. Made much worse when chief waffler, piffler and faffer Johnson was taken very ill with the virus. Well, as he had not hesitated to shake hands, as he had not stayed at home or followed his own scientists’ advice, is not surprising. (My theory is he was following the example of role model Trump, who at this stage believed the virus to be a ‘hoax’! A Chinese world-domination strategy). And of course the people who were in intimate contact with Johnson went down with it as well, including Dominic Cummings.

Proving that the Virus was happy to infect anybody, not just the Hoi Polloi but even ‘us.’ Toryism is, surprisingly, no defence against a pathogen.

Ooooh, major wake-up call!

All of a sudden the Tory establishment started to listen to the scientists, to look at the examples of successful countries, to invest in PPE and tests to establish who has the disease and who has had the disease. Delay followed delay. Excuse followed excuse for delay. By which time the fatality rate had reached at least 30,000, one of the highest in the world..

CUMMINGS’ GOINGS

At this point, Cummings and wife completely panic. Both have the virus. They also have a kid.

When in doubt, flee! Bundling his viruses into the Range Rover Discovery Sport Diesel SUV, he set off for mummy. Mummy would know what to do! (No surprise Dom drives a diesel car, which emits poisons no doubt only affecting common people, proving that the Climate Emergency is not his concern) And it is only 264 miles to Durham and mumsy and dadsy…

(“Stay at home. Protect the NHS. Save Lives”)

(Did he stop to refuel? https://www.thisismoney.co.uk/money/cars/article-8357633/Which-SUVs-best-real-world-fuel-economy.html)

Having arrived, however, despite Dom’s excuse that he was only going North so he could use elderly parents for babysitting, the happy little virus-ridden family settled in to a charming holiday cottage on the family estate for a well-deserved break. And when wifie Mary’s birthday came around, they had a perfectly lovely jaunt to Barnard Castle, and a jolly day by the river.

Sadly, sooner or later even a demented SPAD has to stop throwing a sickie (“Stay at home. Protect the NHS. Save Lives”) and get back to work, especially since his boss had returned to work and is, of course, lost without him. So they drove their viruses the 264 miles back to London.

SPURTING AND CUMMING

Unfortunately for Dom the Guardian and other newspapers got hold of the story. The fury of the Brits erupted within days. “All right for some!” They cried. “Exceptionalism!” they yelled. “One rule for the toffs!” they spurted.

Poor little Dom dom. His contemptuous snapping at the press lurking outside his house didn’t work, so Boris was told to allow him to make a Statement to the Press from the Rose Garden at 10 Downing Street.

So Dom “explained”. No apology whatsoever. (“Never apologise, never explain”). After all, how could HE ever do anything wrong? Plus, as Spinmeister Central he had always had total control of the agenda, and now all he had to do to Take Back Control was explain. With appropriate spin!

More fury erupted. Even those who had been duped into voting Tory (“Get Brexit Done”) in the last election, the so-called first time Tory voters, began to realise the true nature of the dreadful government they’d enabled.

Memo from Cummings to BJ and Tory interviewees: ‘Pay attention! The word to use is “Explanation”. You will repeat “DC has explained” and VERY IMPORTANT include “Child” and ‘There was a 4-year old child to consider” and “Did what any concerned parent would do”‘

It didn’t work. While Twitter was almost submerged beneath near-identical tweets from Tory MPs and ministers making use of the phrases above, more than 40 Tory MPs expressed disgust and disbelief.

A CUMMING PLAN Part 2

Time to get his Spinnmeister Central self-defence strategy in place! Remember the trio? Repetition, Obfuscation and Distraction?

Memo from DC to BJ and all Tory interviewees: Pay attention! The phrase of the week is “move on”. BJ, unless you repeat “Move on” at least 5 times in the forthcoming briefing, and as often as possible in the media, I will have to resign and where will you be? Finished! Selling the Big Issue outside Westminster. Remember during Brexit how I gave you sweeties every time you said “Get Brexit done”. This time it’s lollipops!

Dutifully, those Tories terrified that Dom, puppet meister without whom Boris would turn back into piffle, paffle and waffle, parroted their given words and phrases.

But alas……so many of the pesky MSM would not move on. By now DomDom was beginning to feel just a little miffed….thinking time….the paranoid android persona had to be resisted! Pacing….muttering….they will not defeat me they will not defeat me…

“I have it!” and lifting his crystal-studded android phone to his mechanical ear, “get me Johnson!” he commanded. Repetition and Obfuscation had failed, time for Distraction. “Johnson! Now but me no buts, piffle me no Pfaffle. When were we to have Test Track Trace in place?” Wiping ersatz sweat from his domed forehead, he listened to the muttered reply.

“Bollox to that, you worm!” he yelled down the phone, which quivered in terror. “Tomorrow!!! That’s when! No, I don’t give a fuck how ready it is. Carpe DM! Bring it forward. To TOMORROW, worm. Get me? And NEXT, ease the lockdown! And NEXT change the Furlough conditions! And NEXT open the schools! Barrage them with news! A new news every day! Watch how quickly they forget all about me!”

And so they did.

What’s next? Will the Crack of Dom sound? Will Cummings going? Is the most exciting story in the news about to end with a whimper? Obfuscated and Distracted out of court so that the Android gets away with it?

It’s one rule for them….

Captions by Peter Blackadder

Who will win £100 in the MEGASAGA WRITING COMPETITION?

BEFORE you check to see if YOUR story made the shortlist, please read this. Take a breath. Ok? Many’s the time I have waited intently for a shortlist, and felt that hollow sinking feeling when coming to that hole where my name should have been.

So I know exactly how it feels not to be on the list. Here’s a message for YOU: A MEGASAGA is so hard to write, and once written, so hard to make perfect. Every word counts. Producing an excellent Megasaga is as much of a skill as writing the perfect sonnet or haiku or aria. Just producing 100 words which make sense, which make a story, which evoke an emotion, is brilliant. You did that. You are brilliant.

And one more thing, before I paste the shortlist below: I discovered very early when I was involved in Karate competitions, and watched football: the ref is blind. So sometimes he or she will miss your most brilliant move. You won’t agree about some of the finalists. The ref is blind. Keep writing. Keep perfecting your craft. Hokusai, the great Japanese printmaker reached his 90’s before he admitted to having approached perfection…

I’ll shut up now.

COMMENT! Cheer! Boo! Here are the stories the Judges chose. Which should win?

1. By Cindy Field.

State of Emergency 

For years wearing my mask and going to work, social distancing was my reprieve. Hide from the virus “stay home” they say.  Pretend it’s sunshine and roses, sing from the rooftops.

As the patriarchal mood inside grows more menacing; be patriotic he demands, on your knees.  Withdrawing from his cigarettes and booze I am confined an arm’s length from his frustrated fist. Black eyes and rings around my neck as I cower in my cage.  

Appeal for help may result in weeks of his revenge. ”Stay inside,” they say or it will be the death of you.

A very sad fact about this ghastly lockdown is the rise in cases of domestic abuse, as cabin fever brings out all the tensions between people. This story vividly portrays a relationship based on control and cruelty. Emotive and powerful.

2. By Beulah Lee Harris

Megasaga 

Her crossword lay wordlessly neglected as she sipped her chardonnay – the glass was half full, like her attitude to life.  She sighed contentedly, listening to John Lennon singing the most beautiful song ever written, and to the gentle snores of the two golden Labradors nestled at her feet.
She did feel for the less fortunate but there was nothing she could do about them.  Cocooned here in her own world, she had everything she needed including the solitude she had often craved. 
When the ambulance came to collect her husband’s corpse in the morning, life would be perfect.

A great punchline, very much in the classic Megasaga tradition. Like a good joke the punchline must deliver a blow, preferably drawing blood! Not sure about “the most beautiful song ever written”, rather than just “Imagine”! Again, maybe putting word count first? If so, a compliment to some very tight writing.

3. By Tessa van Aswegen

Knocking Bird

Saw a bird this morning. Knocking at my window. Old folks would say it’s the bearer of bad news in an already scared world. Sometimes it was just sitting there staring inside, looking at me with its yellow eyes when I was close by. Came knocking for three days, then it was gone. Could it have been someone visiting from heaven? Telling me that I’m not alone. That just like this little bird is not scared of this virus, I should not be scared. That I will be free again but for now stay inside and stay calm.

We liked this because we have all felt this alone, this abandoned during the Corona pandemic. It’s a good evocation of an emotion. I am wondering why three days? Let’s ALL stay calm…

4. by Jacqui Huxham

Covid Tale

Below me, the city is silent.  I shouldn’t be up here, it’s against the rules, but really?  It’s been days since the last broadcast.  No power since? Not sure.    Time has no form.

Hungry.   For food, information, touch.  A scurrying shadow.  Human? No, a coyote slunk down from the hills.

From my hoarded stash of toilet paper I tear off squares and painstakingly write my President’s reassuring words: “It’s a hoax”, “No need to panic”, “It will soon be over”.

I drop them one by one into the once sparkling pool, watching them sink below its scummy surface.

As a fan of dystopian stories, novels, films, plays I enjoyed this. The image of the hollow promises of our leaders in this crisis written on toilet paper and dropped into a once-clear pond is delightful. Great imagery and perfect metaphor.

5. by Jacqui Huxham

Love in the Time of Corona

He said: Daily, I watch you dance on the roof. Your beauty and grace uplift me, give me strength.

She said: The song of your violin floats skyward and gives me wings.

He said: Watching you dance. I dream of one day, holding you close and breathing in your scent.

She said: Where are you? I miss your song.

His final breath was the scent of roses on his nurse’s skin. A dream of dancing in the summer sun.

She closed his eyes , wondering at the strains of music in the sterile air.

Much as we resisted shortlisting two stories by the same writer, we found it terribly difficult not to include both of them. There is an insouciant mastery in Jacqui’s decision to use a repetitive theme as a formula in a story of only 100 words, and to pull it off so well.

6. by Lorna Macleod

The Envelope 

Two months, isolated from the world.  Today is the day. ‘Starry night’ painted on my black walls wont help anymore. The needle and syringe lay waiting, ready. On the windowsill, lays the envelope. 

Today I open it and find the strength to fight, for the only thing I did right in this life, my son. John, my beloved husband had mailed this here two weeks into my isolation.

I open the envelope and pull out a single paper folded in half. “In loving memory of Gregory Fold.” Starry night, liquid through my last available vein. Today I died.

This story made the hair on the back of our heads rise. One feels the tragedy seeping in from the very first sentence and by the punchline, we were drawn in to this dark world.

7. By Pavlova Maharaj

The Miscarriage.. Or Not?                    

Yesterday- I popped the “pills.”

Today- We’re on our way to my appointment, to see if the baby is okay. Dave is as nervous as a kid taking a pop quiz the entire drive. I sit as still as a chameleon. 

This was the wait.

Finally, the doctor calls us in. I’ve had a miscarriage. I can see the devastation in Dave’s eyes. I feel all the guilt build up inside me like a gas pipe about to explode. 

I did this.

What else could I do?

How could I tell him the baby wasn’t his? 

Another great punchline, which I did not see coming. Pavlova won the first ever Megasaga competition and I’m glad she’s still developing her craft! But hang on – should she tell Dave?

8. By Shaun Harris

 MegaSaga 

War to end all wars, Great Grandpa smiled. Millions dead, he groaned. He did not lie. Never again. He lied.

Horrors of a hundred and two years. A million dead. The virus has been contained, world governments declared. Few more will die. They lied. Worst plague ever. They did not lie.

Millions more will die, I cried. Vaccines will fail. I lied. The vaccine arrived, it worked. Humanity was saved, the world rejoiced. Lockdown was lifted, celebrations, dancing in the streets. 

It is not over, I lied. Recant, people cried.

But millions more had died. I did not lie.

This is more a bitter poem than a Megasaga. I’m left a little confused by the message! Nevertheless, an interesting piece of creative writing. I suspect rather stream-of consciousness? We had to include it, because it’s so different.

9. by Miss Pretorius

The stranger 

He knew everything; my deepest, darkest, dirtiest secrets and what I considered my biggest flaws. My reaction to everything before I even decide on it, one would swear he was psychic. He claims to have loved me since he laid eyes on me yet I don’t remember him. Forever was promised yet everything about him is strange to me; not even a familiar flicker. I can’t quite place him and that leaves me at an unfair disadvantage. “Will you be mine forever?”,my “no” sounded meek. As the light drained from my eyes I realised; he was my creator.

This sums up well one person’s spiritual journey and one of the judges identified with it a great deal.

10. by Isha Bramdow

Lock Down, Break Up

While the paranoid hordes out there are donning their home-made floral face masks (courtesy of YouTube), complaining about the price hike in groceries…..I sip this wondrous freedom in the early morning light. Just before lock down, he left. Up and flew away, like a kite with no tail. I’m quiet, no resistance here. Go. Be free from my loyalty. Relish in the disaster of what you used to be, before me. Before Us. Meanwhile, I’ll wait for the courier with my delivery of fresh apples, still moist with morning dew. Eyes closed, smiling, I sip again.

This is less a Megasaga, more reminiscent of a haiku. It perfectly depicts a moment in time, a reflective hiatus in a life. Some excellent imagery made this piece for me.

11. by Jeremy Isaacs

Collapse

He leant down and removed her mask. Her so-well known and remembered face was frozen into an expression of dismay. She had deserved the virus, just not to die like this! She had been utterly unbearable while she was raising him. Admittedly it wasn’t easy for her all alone, on her wage as a hospital cleaner. She had controlled every aspect of his life for his 41 years. With a sigh, he uncoupled his own mask from around his ears. Free at last! A moment’s thought. Then, leaning forward, he kissed her deeply on the lips.

Another Dark Tale – why are there no humorous finalists? Ask the judges. My only stylistic comment is, why the repetition of “she had…”? Every word in a Megasaga has to work for a living. Nevertheless, a powerful story.

FOR YOU, which was the best one AND WHY? Let me know by commenting below!

CONGRATULATIONS FINALISTS! You are all wonderful.

CONGRATULATIONS even if you didn’t reach the finals! You, too, are wonderful.

THE WINNER WILL BE ANNOUNCED ON 31ST MAY!

…and, needless to say, I love you all.

OVER TO YOU:

NOTE:

The winner won’t be decided according to the sheer number of votes! The important thing is to say WHY you love the story. This gives the judges something to think about when they decide which is the best. Insert smiley emoji. 🙂Reply