NYC Midnight 100-word microfiction, round two
Genre: Fantasy or fairy tale | Action: polishing metal | Word: possible
This story didn’t place in its group.
The judges’ generally felt this story didn’t have enough depth and I agree. With more editing, I would have drilled deeper into it.
BUT producing a story — any story — was an achievement owing to the 24-hour deadline and where I happened to be at the time.
I wrote this story in the midst of 200,000 partying people. I had only my phone with sketchy internet access. I was by the Pyramid Stage at Glastonbury.
Judges’ feedback:
I love the descriptions of this odd bunch of people — not just the band but also Aaron, in his "shorts, trainers and glitter." I also liked that you put us in Aaron's shoes when describing the band; the "fake tusks" and "realistic gossamer wings" not being so fake/replicas, as we know in the end.
This story has a fun premise and some interesting descriptions. It's a nice dream-like narrative (perhaps helped along by something). The writing is clear.
The language — specific, referential and vivid — is immediately inviting and engaging, and the early sections of the narrative nicely offset the more grounded, lived moments to follow.
Human error
Aaron reaches Glastonbury’s Avalon stage as the solstice sun sets and Arcadia start to play.
They are legends.
The giant bloke with fake tusks and a guitar shaped like an axe.
The squat, sweaty drummer who uses his long beard to polish the cymbals until they gleam.
And her. The realistic gossamer wings. The ethereal voice.
He’s not the only lad wearing shorts, trainers and glitter. Yet she singles him out. Handsome. Clueless.
Moments later, he is alone with her at the festival’s stone circle.
His breath catches. ‘Are you – ’
‘Real?’ She kisses his lips. ‘Do I taste possible?’