Loksfjoer

Microfiction&Poetry contest #2 - voting and feedback

@reaping Adder Thank you for both joining the contest and take your time to critique the other works. I appreciate your contributions.

As a friendly reminder: critique should be constructive and respectful; it's the second bullet point in the guidelines.

It's okay to not like entries and to say that, but try to word it in a way that encourages the writer to continue writing. It's always appreciated when the feedback gives the writer something to work with so they can improve; even a simple explanation of what worked or didn't work helps, just try to be clear about it so the author can learn from it.
And never take a jab at the writer, don't make it personal.

A few things stood out and I would like to address them, but feel free to correct me if I misunderstood anything:

"It had an earthly feel, almost barbarian, but it then instantly changed for the worse.": although a very colourful and creative way to convey your feelings regarding the entry, this kind of feedback probably doesn't give the author much to work with to improve their writing. Any examples of what in the entry comes across as earthly or barbarian would make it more clear what exactly didn't work or why you thought it was this bad, also because worse than barbaric is a rather strong opinion to have for a story without barbarians in it.

"couldn't beat mine even if...": there is no accounting for taste; some people may enjoy the entry or even prefer it over yours. Of course it's good to take pride in your own work and you can certainly have and voice the opinion the entry wasn't good according to your preferences or criteria. Just remember to be respectful to other writers and that people can like different styles. A more neutral way to express this would be "I didn't like this, because...", which is perfectly fine to say.

"Like they never roleplayed truethfully, or had a friend.": Unless you were referring to the boy in the entry or the story itself and forgot to make that clear, you shouldn't say things like this in constructive feedback. Never make critique personal, okay?

Overall the review for Written in the Stars comes across as bashing instead of constructive to me and while it's perfectly fine to not like something, I'd rather not see bashing.

I hope this helps to understand the rule about feedback being respectful and constructive. I'm not asking to only say good things about an entry, that doesn't help the writer, but try to formulate the bad things in a way that it helps the writer understand where they went wrong. And again, thanks for taking the time to provide feedback. I hope you will join some of the future contests too.

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Everyone: thanks for your votes and feedback so far. I'm sure it means a lot to the writers.
There are still 6 days left for voting and feedback :)

Microfiction&Poetry contest #2 - voting and feedback

A total of six entries had been send in, but one was not added to the voting round because it exceeded the maximum word count of 500 with 146 words.

Microfiction&Poetry contest #2 - voting and feedback

Welcome to the Voting and Feedback round for MFP#2!

Voting and Feedback guidelines

• Please take your time to read through all the entries before voting for your favourite work. The reasons you base your vote on are up to you, as long the vote isn’t based on whether or not you like the author.
  It would be nice if you could share why you voted for a specific work.
• Giving feedback is optional but highly encouraged. When giving feedback you should be respectful and constructive. It’s good to point out any flaws, the things you feel could be improved or why you didn't like something, but don’t be mean.
  Make sure to point out what you liked or what appreciated in the entry too.
• Contestant may and are encouraged to vote for and give feedback for the other entries, but don’t vote for your own entry. If contestants wish to withhold a vote and only give feedback, that is good too.
• The entries are anonymous unless the writer asked for having their name added. That being said, writers may claim their work at any time during or after the voting period.
• The entry with the most votes will win, but in case of a tie a Contest Mod will cast the tie-breaker vote.
• You can vote for entries and post your feedback in this thread, but if you rather have your vote and/or feedback be anonymous you can PM it to @Calle.
• The voting period deadline is September 21th, 9:00 CET, which is 7:00 game time (both times are in a.m.).

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The Entries

Stars

<sub>Stars

Swirling in the sky,
Bright, like candles, guiding through the night —
We fall… into the evening veil,
Grasping the memories of your light,
And there you are again, twinkling and shy.</sub>

Hood of shadow

Pink is not orange, but it is green.
X-treme, or not to x-treme? Why 'woe' can be spectral although a halo can not. Therefore it's silver, blue, but not hollow.

Harrowing gets the meadow, like the quantum vectors of a Space-Mercenary defending a Maiden, our Ladies, THE Princess! Queens need just state and a Ranger is borne.

Of the swords pledge to chop dragon flame into two jets sporadical, gut the neck, slash and kill it. And aim virtues each arrow towards an eye by the bys.

Interstellar

Oh look to the heavens and despair,
Stare into the emptiness from below,
No distant beauty that was never there,
Fair stars which burned out long ago,

They who once had shined so bright,
Night must come to follow every day,
May stars guide us by their dying light,
Might we too soon lose our way,

Centuries traveled to reach the eye,
Why journey forth as distant memories,
Sentries blinking hung upon painted sky,
Die then in your cosmic serenity,

One by one winks out each star,
Far fates destined to be undone,
None remain reaps the repertoire,
Are certain ends which had begun,

Trust in them who are gone,
Spawn ripples as they combust,
Just as from them we live on,
Dawns a new star from the dust.

"The Stars"

The grass was cool under my skin while gazing up into what could very well be perceived as the heavens. Symbols and pictographs danced amongst the sky, changing, evolving into something so much more wonderful than our minds could ever comprehend. But what are they, those tiny dots of light that I swear are looking down on me as I return an expression of awe. To count them would take more time than could ever be given in our fleeting existence. But to know and understand them, however, could bring so much wisdom in such a short life. Science will tell you that they are merely “balls of gas held together by their own gravity”, and while that may be true, who is to say that they are not so much more?

Beyond their makeup, I see the mighty “wardens”; beings tasked to observe and protect the universe. To preserve its very essence and purity of the wilds in which humanity has systematically repressed and destroyed over countless millennia. But even these billions of guardians, full of light, vibrancy, and resolve to follow their lifelong directives are slowly being snuffed out. A glow that shone so brightly throughout eternity, but had been forgotten over time in our finite minds.

Humanity had better things to think about: Ourselves.

So quickly were the stars dismissed as anything but what textbooks and media told us they should be. And they all took notice and wept as each day another light which had proudly lit a path in the cosmos, faded and eventually fizzled out of existence. No more were they concerned about protecting the planet, but rather wondering if they would live to light another night.

What is seen now as I look up towards the darkened sky, are the lost souls of children desperately searching for a purpose once again. Their luminescence only visible as a reminder of what they once were.

by @Hellion

Written in the stars

He was alone with stars, the sand, and the ocean waves. Even the moon had hidden itself that night, there were only stars in the sky, and when he looked down they reflected off blackness of the ocean. For each constellation he could name the figures and the stories he saw in them. What was drawn in the stars was the only thing that all could see equally, it lived on after men had died and whole nations had crumbled.

As a boy he looked at the stars every night to see if they ever changed. The philosophers had told him that no man had ever seen a new shape in the sky, though they shift and move with the seasons and choose to hide or reveal themselves, the tapestry of the heavens remains unchanged. Every story of the gods painting a new persona in the sky happened so long ago no one could say the number of years that had passed; it troubled even the wisest scholars, and they debated whether it was that none were worthy of the honor or if the age of such honors had passed.

As a young man, before he was due to lead his first army into battle, his father took him to the tombs of those who had come before. He looked at the memorial carvings, inspecting each one, even those where he years had obliterated the work and made it unintelligible. All those revealed was that there was there was once something worth remembering that had been lost to time. That night he looked at the stars again and made a vow to leave his record in a place where it would never fade; if he had to fight and conquer until all the world was his to be deemed worthy, he would do just that.

In the present, on the beach, he was lying on his back in the sand, ignoring any thoughts about how to address his men the next day. He was one man among the grains of sand, the infinite, indistinguishable mass, so many that he told himself no number could describe the quantity of it all. To lose one or a thousand to the ocean was to lose nothing, all remained as it was. Decades later, after the death of that conqueror and the crumbling of his empire, a learned man would come to that same beach and find a flaw in his reasoning. If even one grain occupied space, then must be a number that would represent enough grains to fill all of the creation to the stars above. That number was among the many of his calculations that survived even though no account of his life did. Neither the conqueror nor the mathematician hang in the sky today, and yet both are remembered. Who is remembered more is an unanswered question.

MicroFiction&Poetry contest #2 - The Stars

The time to submit entries is over and the voting thread will be up in about an hour. Thanks for participating everyone.

Edit: The voting and feedback thread is up

MicroFiction&Poetry contest #2 - The Stars

We're up to 4 entries and there is less than 12 hours until the deadline.

Zombies! (Lyly & Calle - Dutch RP)

Andy haalde zijn schouders op bij de opmerking dat hij zo lang gebleven was. Dat was waar en waarschijnlijk niet de meest verstandige beslissing, maar hij had de mensen niet aan hun lot willen overlaten.

Hij reed langzaam naar het tankstation toe. Het zag er niet uit alsof er nog veel was en het was onmogelijk te zeggen wat zich in de donkere winkel verborgen hield. "Ik wil in ieder geval even de pompen nakijken, eens zien of er nog wat benzine in zit of dat ze nog stroom hebben. Ik haal het wel tot het volgende tankstation, maar hoe meer er in de tank zit, hoe verder we komen.

Als laatste vertrekken had natuurlijk wel het nadeel dat anderen al voorbij dit tankstation waren gekomen, dus de kans was groot dat er niets meer was. Net zomin er nog veel te vinden zou zijn in deze verlaten en opengebroken auto's. Tot nu toe klonken er geen geweerschoten vanuit de winkel, dus het leek er al op dat er geen bende in zat die hun territorium wilden verdedigen.

"Wat wil je doen?" vroeg hij, terwijl hij parkeerde naast een pomp. Het display was onbelicht; zijn mond vertrok toen hij dat zag. Hopelijk was alleen het display kapot, want zonder elektriciteit werkte de pomp niet eens.

A Trainers Ambition [SporkoBug and Calle]

Andy looked at Frosiien when she talked about her dream. He didn't reply, but smiled and put an arm around her shoulders so he could pull her against him. Hearing her talk about a dream about him just made him happy, but admittedly, it also scared him a little.
"Must have been a stunning dream," he eventually stated with a grin. "Because, you know," he added, using his sandwich to point at himself.
Maybe she found it funny, maybe it killed the mood, but joking was a coping mechanism and as much as he liked Frosiien it was hard to react in a serious way to her confession.

A Mime Jr. entered the Pokémon Center, staying near the door for a moment before coming in further. He quickly made his way to Soul and the others.
"Good morning," he greeted them.
"Morning!" an invisible Penalopy chimed, before floating towards Gavin. "Don't you worry, she'll come when she's ready." Then she floated to Niccia to wrap her small arms around her neck to hug her.

Michael put his arm around Niccia and just stayed with her. With Dialla gone and Rosh's positivity in the place, it felt better again. It felt they were among friends again. He looked up when he heard the melodic voice of the Meloetta.

MicroFiction&Poetry contest #2 - The Stars

The weekend will start, maybe you'll find some inspiration to write about the stars.

Nobody Will Believe It [SporkoBug and Calle]

"What is it then?" the doctor asked. "I have work to do, so if you could make it quick I would appreciate it."

Benjamin looked into the first room, but that was empty. He looked back to see if Ray was still with him and moved to the second room. So far the staff was more interested in the interaction between Dia and the doctor than they were in work. It was probably a calm day for them.

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Marc gave a coin to Sara to insert in the machine and he walked to the machine next to it. He returned her grin; seeing her loosen up and enjoy herself made him happy.
"You know what," he said as he inserted a coin, "instead of a restaurant, how do you feel about getting some street food?"

The electronic scorebord came to life and Marc picked up the first ball to throw through a hole.

Paranormal Activities [SporkoBug and Calle]

"Tomorrow I'm going in town," Benjamin said as he picked up some clothes from the ground. "I have that breakfast appointment with the other succubus. After that I can go look for some materials to fix your clay figure, there has to be a hobby shop somewhere."
He looked around to see what else he could pick up for Steph, but most of the destroyed things were the furniture belonging to the company. "Do we have everything?" he asked her.

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Stuart opened the door and invited Rose to come along with a gesture of his arm, holding the door for her until she was through and then closed it behind them. "The small meeting room," he said as he gestured to the open door. "I was there a bit earlier with ehm one of your fellow agents. You're the second person to transform today, it's quite remarkable."

Rudrig didn't wave back and when the door was closed he and mr. Johnson started talking about what they could do about Rose.

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"W-well," the agent began, "we, uhm, we don't just kill other creatures. Only when they are a threat. If you don't hurt us, we won't hurt you. And if you want to help, sure. We're just putting poles in the ground and put some barbed wire around your territory, with signs that claim this is a military testing area. That should keep people away from your habitat."

Another agent typed a small report about the encounter to send to Rudrig, so he was up to date with the developments here.