Hi cribbers 😘, we're here once again with another session of……

I'm very sure you are excited, well, I am 😌😌

For this batch, we'll be havinggggg

005 Mara
015 Thechocolateteen
023 Aurelius
031 PeanutButter

If your favourite is here thenn don't forget to  VOTEEE

Let's welcome the first contestant!!

005 Mara

Story Entry:
I am tempted to lie, of course. I am tempted to say that I have no inkling whatsoever that this task is going to be a failed one.

“What is it?” The sound of a deep baritone voice jolts me back to reality. As I lift my head slowly, I find myself staring into a pair of eyes brimming with disdain, causing a bitter sensation to gather in my throat.

“Are you deaf?” My father berates, his voice laced with aggression. “If you don’t have anything to say, get out of my room.”

“I–my classmates–“ I stutter, struggling to form coherent words. I wipe my sweaty palm on my long-sleeved shirt.

“Your classmates what?” He lets out a frustrated huff, sizing me up.

I take a deep breath, my heart racing. “My classmates have all paid their school fees, and the principal said that if I don’t pay before Monday, I won’t be allowed to take the exam.” I complete, my words tumbling out in a rush.

He raises his brows. ”And so?” His lips curl back in a sneer. “So, because everybody is paying their school fees, you must pay too?”

My eyes fill with tears, but I force them back. I knew that this was going to be the outcome, but why does it feel so hard to breathe?

He lifts his hands In the air, my eyes following his every move. “Look at my fingers, are they equal? He asks, staring intensely at me. I stand quietly, refusing to speak.

“I’m talking to you!” He snaps, his eyes narrowing into slits.

“N-no,” I stutter, my voice shaking.

“Good. All fingers are not equal. I’m not paying any school fees. School is not for everyone, you can stay at home.”

The words echo in my head and tears start to stream down my face. “Please,” I beg, my hands a conjoined fist. My leg weakens and my knee lands on the cold hard floor. “Daddy, please, I want to go to school.”

He stares at me, his face morphing into anger. “Ah ah. What’s the meaning of this?”

“Daddy–“

“I don’t want to hear it!” He interjects, his tone giving no room for further discussion. “You’re not going to any stupid school again and that’s final. Go to your room, osisor!” He says, before storming out of the room.

I rise from the floor, a crushing disappointment weighing down my shoulders. My chest feels tight like a band is wrapped around it.

I walk into my room, the door slamming shut behind me. I lean against the door, my heart pounding in my chest.

It sucks to be you right now.

Shit. Not the voice again. My hands press against my ears, hoping that it could somehow block out the voice.

I’m in your head, not your ears, dumbass.

“Just shut the fuck up!” I snap and clench my fist, my nails digging into my palm.

Easy there, I’m not the cause of your misfortunes.

Just take the knife and do what you know how to do best.

“I said shut up!” I grit my teeth, trying to hold back my anger.

I rush towards the drawer, my steps hasty. My hands fumble with everything inside till they make contact with a familiar object. Maybe I should just do it…

The knife feels cold in my hand as I hold it against my skin. I take a deep breath, and then slowly, deliberately, I make the first cut. I wince as the sharp pain hits me. It almost feels like a relief, a release from the pain I’ve been holding inside.

I make another cut, and another, I feel myself slipping away, my mind going blank. I am numb to everything except the pain in my wrist, and for a moment, It is like I can breathe again.

I watch the blood drip down my wrist. I feel the emptiness taking over. Nothing matters except the pain, and even that is starting to fade. I caress the perfect lines cut across my wrists, not near any crucial veins, but enough to leave wet red tracks across my skin. This is the only way I can live.

Damn. You’re damaged beyond repairs.

“And you’re a jerk,” I mumble and bury my face in the soft squishy pillow.

Commentary: The very first piece in this group ✨, did it win your heart?. If it did, do well to vote.

015 Thechocolateteen

Story Entry:

He’s my husband, my crown; he’s the king of our home, Tabitha repeats to herself as she tends to her wounds, wincing in pain when she massages a swelling too hard. Days of sleepless nights and constant shouting have replaced the melodious, sweet words of admiration said during the first couple years of their marriage.

Perhaps she’s doing something wrong. But Tabitha is clueless about what she did or what she’s even supposed to do. She follows God’s words, attends church service every Sunday, teaches at the teens bible school, bathes and takes the children to school every morning, and she brings—doesn’t bring back the kids…so that might be where the problem is.

Tabitha blows the opening in her skin, her eyes stinging as tears threaten to leave them. Here she is, tending to swellings that shouldn’t be present. Sores decorate her eye bags. The redness of her arms make them look like she applied blush on them. Only if that were the case.

She smiles still, gently massaging her arms. God waits on us when we sin, so who is she to lose patience with her husband’s actions? Jehovah forgives; who is she to hold a grudge?

“Who am I not to forgive? I am no one but a sinner also,” Tabitha’s voice is a whisper in the huge, enclosed room. The words do sound convincing in her little ears. But heaven knows and should question this feeling of relief, a refreshing relief, now her husband is having his bath. If one can  possibly bathe for a whole day, then Emmanuel should try to be that person.

Hearing the loud footsteps outside the door, Tabitha stands up faster than she’s ever done in her whole life. She makes a beeline for the dustbin at the corner of their room and disposes of the cotton wools. Her heart is crashing against her chest, her pulse beating in her ears.

Why am I afraid? Tabitha asks as she goes back to the bed, slipping into the soft mattress. There’s no reason to be scared.

When the wooden door creaks open, Tabitha closes her eyes, her small hands gripping the comforter as tightly as her eyelids are closed. If she could make seconds become minutes and minutes pass like hours, she’ll do it with the snap of a finger. All the while, she should be asleep.

Emmanuel enters the room clad in his bathrobe. For a man who spent his whole day watching football matches and playing games in the living room, he seems proud of himself. He stares down on the half breathing Tabitha, leaning on the grey wall.

“Tabitha,” he calls out. He says her name like a drunk man will, slurring to the point that the name Tabitha loses its holy essence.

Her words of response are caught in her throat. The impending activity weighs on her mind heavily. Sweat pools on her skin, each drop oozing with dread. God knows she doesn’t want this today. Her heavenly father blessed man with this gift. Making it a daily event, especially for a tired woman, isn’t a good option.

Emma’s jaw twitches. “I know you’re awake, Tabitha. It’d be best if you answered me. Unless you want to see my red eyes.”

No, I'm tired, Nuel. Please, she says in her head; however, Emmanuel strides across the room since his patience disappeared into nothing. He peels the comforter off Tabitha’s body, exposing her half-naked self.

“Emmanuel, please,” she whimpers, squirming underneath. “I’m too tired for this. I’m begging you, please. Don’t do this.”

Emmanuel tips his head back and barks out a dry laughter, hovering above her. “Why are you tired if not because you’ve been sharing my property with other men?”

His words hurt, hurt more than the trauma accumulated throughout the year. They get worse each passing day—the intensity of his words. He always finds a way to paint her as the oppressor instead of the oppressed.

“My love, I’ve never—”

“Shut up!” he silences her with his thunderous voice. The only thing Tabitha is grateful for now is that their kids are at her sister's place. Emmanuel can shout all he wants; she’s willing to bear it. He’ll calm down. He definitely will. “Shut up that slutty mouth of yours.”

Maybe he won’t calm down tonight, Tabitha realizes, noting the darkened expression on his equally dark face tonight. The night is young; she’s alone with him. He has her pinned against the bed, so what else?

“Are those tears?” Emma leans down, his cold nose pressing into her soft neck. He caresses it, sniffs in her lavender scent, and releases a satisfied moan. “Wipe them, or you’ll see the other side of me again tonight.”

Tabitha’s shaky hands wipe the tears away from her eyes as she’s unable to form words through the sobs. Emmanuel nods. “Good…very good. Now,” he holds her hands above her head, “keep on obeying my every word.”

“You have to leave.” Sarah tells her only sister.

Tabitha shakes her head, folding her children’s clothes and placing them in their respective boxes.”I can’t leave.”

“How long are you going to deceive yourself, eh, Tabitha?” Sarah lifts Tabitha’s chin, frowning. She takes in the scar forming by her temple, the sight fanning the fire of her hatred into flames. “Look at you nau. No, look at what he’s done to you. Do you think this makes me happy?”

“Sarah, this is a different matter.”

“Different kwa? Tabitha, do you want to die before you know you should leave him? Is that what you want?” Sarah shouts before calming for a moment. “Ok, fine. Where is your so-called husband?”

“At the club with his friends, and so? Look, Sarah, I can handle this.” Tabitha believes this only a bit. She lifts both suitcases and stands, handing them to her sister with a forced smile. “Just let the kids stay with you for this month.”

“Tabitha…”

Tensed air moves around them, the sisters looking into each other’s eyes. Sarah clutches the handle of the suitcases. “Tabitha…”

“I’ll be fine.”

_

Glasses kiss the ground in a loud shatter, Tabitha’s wail resonating in the kitchen. She lifts her hand which touches exposed, white flesh as blood gushes out of her cheeks.

“Where did you take my kids to, you ashewo!?”

“Emma—I…I can explain.” Tabitha’s lips tremble. Forgive me Father for this lie, she says to herself. “I don’t know where they are.”

“You don’t know what?” Emmanuel crouches to glare at her, the rage evident in his eyes. “Oh, they just magically disappeared into the thin air, abi? Shebi?!”

He struck her bleeding cheek thus multiplying the sting in it. Tabitha bites on her lower lips, still holding back her tears. It’s worth it. He'll realize right from wrong soon.

While she isn’t looking, Emmanuel reaches for the butcher’s knife. The one he specially asked Tabitha to buy since he’s a meat lover.

“You know,” Emma tips up Tabitha’s jaw, showing her the sharp edge of the knife. Her round eyes widen. Her reality check has finally come. “I can end you anytime I want. Did you think I married you for you? Now…before I close my eyes and reopen them, I want to see my kids.”

Emmanuel actually closes his eyes, and while he does it, Tabitha crawls away, like a child away from a stranger. He beats her, but no, the glare in his eyes, that threatening light…she’s never seen it before. This isn’t the man she married.

As she tries crawling forward to the counter, something holds her back. She prays that it’s her trouser being held by a loose nail. She prayed like never before. But Emmanuel’s hand is a part of him she can never forget so easily.

“You think you can just run from me, eh?”

Within seconds, a hard object hits her head. Ringing noises fill her ears as she falls onto the ground with a groan. I’m sorry, Sarah, for not waking up soon. I’m sorry, Emma, for not bringing you back. I’m sorry kids, for not resisting hard enough.

Emmanuel’s rageful eyes and butcher’s knife are the last thing she sees before her whole world goes black.

Commentary: This is a situation of this or that….sooo did this catch your heart? Vote her if it did 😌 while we welcome Aurelius

023 Aurelius

Story Entry:

The last guest closes the door with a soft thud, leaving him to an empty house. Quiet and devoid of life like the mausoleum he was earlier. He sits alone in eerie silence contemplating morbidity. His beloved, Beth’s death. Naturally, Ndukwe’s mind was turned towards ruin and damnation after loss. With a sigh, he rises from the rocking chair. The echoing advice from the last guest was to keep busy. To drown the pain. To keep it from swallowing you.

“Off to keep busy then,” he mutters to his mute home. House, he corrects in his head. House, not home. Beth is home. Home is decomposing in a quartz coffin at the edge of town.

He walks to the vinyl player sitting atop the coffee table. An old thing Beth found in the garbage at a yard sale. He puts it on and a sweet ballad pours forth from the speakers. The same song they had their first dance to on their wedding day.

The soulful baritone of Ebenezer Obey, stirs up well worn memories of Beth. Beth at eighteen. Young, dewy, promising forever with a chipped smile. He returned her vows. Hoping he would be the first to break forever.

With another sigh, this one longing and wistful, he leaves the player for the liquor cabinet. He grabs a bottle of Scotch, downing the brown fluid in a few gulps. He isn’t much of a drinker, a night out of drinking even in his hay days always messed with his constitution. This situation however called for a little bit of self destruction. Liquid fiery courage down his guts, he took a steeling breath. There was no use avoiding the inevitable.

He walks down the wallpapered halls. Slowing losing speed with each door. He finally stops at the last door at the end of the grey walls. He is at the precipice of their room. The room he hadn’t slept in since the night of his wife's death. He takes a mournful glance at the pine door covered in reliefs of cherubs attending Zeus. An anniversary gift from their long gone first child, Maduenu. Acute reminders of losses.

He turns the brass knob, pushing it inwards. His nose assailed with the cloy sweetness of cherries and lavender. The signature notes of Beth’s perfume. He hadn’t expected a phantom of her in the room. He takes another forceful step into the cozy room. Now fully submerged in her essence. Suddenly his hard-won will, resolve, evaporates into the cherry soup he stands in.

He realises It isn’t necessary to rid the room of her ghosts. He is simply going to let the phantoms of her fade like her memories did, the last days of her life.

He lies on the compact, orthopedic bed, one they switched to after his hip replacement. He shuffles to her side of the bed. The side near the windows. Smothering her pillow over in his face. Breathing in the bergamot of her hair oil.

Obey’s voice quietly prattles out. Plunging the echoing house into a heavy silence. The silence, those terrible types preceding thunder, was as quickly broken as it was started. The door swings open with a grating creak of its hinges. Beth always reminded him to oil it. He never got around to it. At the opening of the door, a bright light pierced through the pillow branding its floral patterns on his retinas.

“What are you doing with my pillows, silly?” a voice giggles from the light.

It can’t be. That voice was Beth’s voice only different. Too young, too soft to be hers but sure as day it was hers.

He jerks upright, blinking a few times to adjust to the light. In the light is an impossible sight. Lilybeth. It is her at 18 in her wedding dress. The light is her and she, it.

“What. . .” Ndukwe manages in confusion, before she comes to sit by his side. He shakes his head. This apparition must be from the ethers of intoxication and sorrow. He had been warned of instances like this by the grief counselors from the hospital.

Instances of drowning grief and paralysing pain when the ghost of your loved one comes waltzing through the door, giggling like their body wasn’t decaying in a gilded grave.

‘I would need to call the support group later,’ he thought, worrying his lower lip.

“Don’t worry about it, Ndukwe,” she says, her voice lulling like flowing water over smooth pebbles.

She reaches for his hands, saying, “I made a vow of eternity and I’ll fulfill it.”

Her hands are warm and solid in his. He looks down at them, to see if they are as real as they feel.

He gets the second shock of the night.

He is made of the same bright light.

Commentary: Aurelius Aurelius 👀. Was this the perfect piece for you?. Vote Aurelius if it was!!
To our next comtestants

031 PEANUT BUTTER

STORY ENTRY:

I stepped out of the hospital in time to see the Uber I ordered pulling up. I walked briskly towards the car and got in. “Good afternoon.” The driver hummed his response and drove off.

Some minutes later, I started to feel a little lightheaded so I closed my eyes a bit. The sound of horns blaring and loud voices woke me up. I must have slept off for some minutes and now, we were stuck in the Third Mainland Traffic. The traffic soon cleared up and we were heading to Leon’s apartment in Woji Estate. On a good day, I’d have stopped at the market by Trans-Amadi junction but not today.

“Madam…we’re here,” the driver said at the same time my phone beeped, indicating the end of the ride. I paid him and made sure to give him a five star review for being chill and not creepy like most of the Uber drivers that paraded themselves around these days.

As I walked into the compound, I noticed that there was just one car parked in the garage — Leon’s — which meant Tega, his best friend and flat mate, wasn’t home. I never liked Tega right from the day we met. He was too lousy.

I had met Leon and Tega at their company’s end of the year party. Lani — my roommate who happened to work in the same company with them — and I had just started staying together then and she invited me for the party. Being the social butterfly that I was, I couldn’t decline. Tega came unto me first but I rebuffed his advances mainly because of his looks. He was a short, light skinned guy — when I say light skinned, I mean ‘organic’ skincare bleached — and he kept going on about his daddy’s achievements. Imagine, a twenty five year old man going on and on about ‘my daddy has this, my daddy can do this’.

Leon, on the other hand, was a tall glass of steaming hot chocolate. Tall, dark, handsome, perfect dentition and that mesmerizing smile that no daughter of Zion couldn’t resist. I’d admit that I had my eyes on him even before he approached me. Virtually, all the ladies wanted to be around him — that should have been a red flag but apparently, I was colorblind. Two years down the road, I knew better.

“Leon?” I called out as I opened the door with my keys, “I’m here.” I didn’t get any response so I started to ascend the stairs when I saw him coming down in just his boxer briefs.

Ladies and gentlemen, Leon Ahalonu. I plastered a fake smile on and gave him a light peck. “How are you my love?”

“Hungry,” he looked around sleepily, “you didn’t buy things to cook?”

“You know I’m not your house help, right?” I masked my anger with an amused tone.

“You know what I’m talking about na. You always buy groceries to stock up the freezer anytime you’re coming.”

Ori omo Igbo yi o ma pe o.

[This Igbo boy is not okay]

I smiled at him. “What happened to Sonari? She can’t cook for you?”

“My cousin?”

I scoffed. The nerve of this man to lie to me. “Your cousin? The same girl I saw you all over at Es Lavida two nights ago when you stood me up because — what was that reason you gave again — your mum’s cancer had deteriorated.”

He had the decency to look remorseful but only for a few seconds. “Are you stalking me now?”

“Stalking you? I was already dressed and ready for our dinner date hours before you deemed it fit to cancel. Lani didn’t want my makeup to waste so she suggested that we went to Es Lavida and honestly, I’m grateful she did.”

“It’s not what you think, Kashope.”

“And how do you know what I’m thinking? See Leon, I’m tired. I’m tired of this sham of a relationship. I’ve tolerated all your bullshit from day one but I don’t think I can continue.”

“What do you mean by my bullshit? Haven’t I been the best boyfriend you’ve ever had in your pathetic life?!”

“You see what I’m saying? You turn everything into a fight, you cheat, you emotionally abuse me, you’re too toxic — and to crown it all — you turned me into your punching bag. I’m sick and tired of it all.”

“So what? You’re ending the relationship?”

“Yes Leon, I’m done—”

The sound of his palm connecting with my cheek shut me up instantly. “You’re sick in the head if you think you can just leave me like that.”

“Leon,” my voice cracked, “I can’t do this with you anymore.” I picked up my bag and was about leaving when his fingers curled around the tip of my ponytail, yanking me back forcefully. “Leon! Stop it!”

The words had barely left my mouth when he shoved me to the ground and started pummeling me. “You’re not getting out of this relationship until I say so.” Each word was accompanied by a punch or a slap.

“Stop it, please!” I continued begging because fighting back wasn’t an option. I had learnt that when the beatings had first started. My barely five-feet-two frame was no match for Leon’s six-feet-six. I was literally a dwarf compared to him. “Leon, I’m pregnant!”

His fisted hand stopped midair and he stared at me. “What did you just say?”

“I’m pregnant,” I cried. “I came here from the hospital.”

“You’re pregnant?” I nodded. “F**k! Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He sat on the floor and pulled me into his arms. “Baby, I’m so f**king sorry. You know I love you, right? I didn’t mean to hurt you, I swear.” He kissed my already swollen eyelids.

“Let me be,” I cried, “just let me be.” I tried to pull out of his hold but he wouldn’t budge. “I’m done with this sham of a relationship, Leon. I can’t anymore.”

“Baby, Kashope…please. Please don’t leave me. I swear, I’ll change, I swear. Baby, please…”

“Leon…I can’t. Not anymore.”

“Baby, I’d die if you leave me, please.” His voice quivered and I remembered what happened the last time I tried to break up with him — he overdosed on crystal meth and had almost died. I couldn’t bear having someone’s death on my head.

“Promise me that you’ll change…” I cupped his face. “Leon, promise me that this will be the last time you’d ever hit me.”

“I promise, baby. I promise,” he hurried out and I sighed. “I’m sorry for hurting you, baby. I’m sorry for hurting our baby too.”

I nodded and winced slightly from the pain. “What do we do about the baby?”

“We can’t have a child out of wedlock…will you marry me?”

I thought carefully. Was I ready to settle down? Was I ready to settle down with someone like Leon? Did I want my child to grow up in that kind of environment?

What if I never got married? Did I want my child to grow up without a father figure?

“Kashope?” Leon called out, “will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

Commentary: Dear Audience, do you know your vote could be the jelly to add to the peanut butter? 🌝 Vote PeanutButter if this entry was the best in the group for you.

Noww…to our Judges

JUDGES REVIEWS

JUDGE JK ROWLING

Aurelius, thank you for giving me what I want.👏 I thought this was going to be a regular grief story, but you took a shocking turn at the end. It dropped my mouth to the freaking floor and I had chills spread through me after I read your work. (Didn’t help matters that I was alone in the dark 😂)

Nonetheless, you worked with sadness/grief to evoke emotions and to me, you did it the best in this stage. I don’t care what anyone says.😂🤝 No one did this stage better than you, Aurelius.

The end? Perfect. You not only created another emotion of shock, but you absolutely broke me; you made me see just how deeply this man was affected by the loss and it absolutely broke my heart to pieces. Good job, Aurelius. Your shone no dey here.

The rest of the contestants in this group?🥲 You tried, but it dinur do sha. My only advice? Be more deliberate about where your story is heading. Be sure. Have a goal: know your plot’s point, the effect you are going for on the readers, and a steady sequential series of happenings that will lead up to it. Only then can you be certain that you have written a solid story, and most definitely, nailed the theme given to you.

JUDGE WILLIAMS SHAKESPEARE

Thee all hath tried, but I wasn’t very much humour thee guys.  But aurelius stoodeth out f’r me in earnest, and I loveth t.  Thee guys needeth to putteth in eff’rt in thy w’rk next timeth.  Yond’s if ‘t be true thee maketh t to the next stage.  Tehehe.

You all tried, but I wasn’t really feeling you guys. But Aurelius stood out for me honestly, and I love it. You guys need to put in effort in your work next time. That’s if you make it to the next stage. Tehehe.

JUDGE MAYA ANGELOU

Omo! It is well sha. Aurelius, well done! Your work was quite beautiful and had so many emotions interpreted quite well. You are a good story teller. Chocolate teen, this was an improvement. I’m proud of your growth and how far you have come in this competition. Mara, what happened? Your story was so shallow and bland. I mean, I understand what you were trying to do but the execution was so poor. Suddenly he wants to kill himself because his dad won’t let him go to school? You should have given more. What were the chain of events that led up to that moment? Peanut Butter, I have no words for you, it is well with you sha.

JUDGE JAMES HARDLEY CHASE

Evoke emotions and some of us are invoking spirits. What’s all these? Some works here are just bland, like what’s going on? You can’t invoke me to give you marks you didn’t merit oh, so stick to “evoke my emotions”
With the lack of efforts some of you put into these works, I feel like you have plans to invoke me spiritually, but it won’t work, because I can’t give you marks you didn’t merit, I repeat. Juju doesn’t t work on me😩 So you should have put more effort in evoking emotions. Mara are you allergic to actually thinking outside the box? Aurelius, Hmmn, can I know my offense? Peanut butter, are you sure you understood the assignment? Chocolateteen, are you sure you understood the assignment? Because I don’t think so. Only one person in this group understood the assignment, good luck with guessing who it was, because the rest of you did nothing.

JUDGE ARUNDHATI ROY

Not really an impressive group. Chocolate Teen and Peanut Butter tried but Aurelius and Mara were so comfortable and didn’t really impress me with their entries. I expected better.

JUDGE JANE COREY

Okay, Aurelius be giving us sadness, back to back. I have never lost a loved one though, and I pray I don’t lost one, or rather we 🙂. But not gonna lie, if I should see or feel a ghost, I’m sure gonna freak the hell out 😭. I have many fears and ghosts/spirits are at the top 😭. I love your work Aurelius. Peanut Butter, your entry was… it was not sad but annoying, that’s the word I’m looking for yeah? Okay, toxic relationship is what no one prays for, we all know that. But dude, if you experience one, you run for your life. What does the Kashope think? That even with her pregnancy he won’t hit her? YOU LIE! Once a man lays his hand in a woman, he feels good and wants to make it a routine. He feels like since he can’t go to the gym to punch an actual punching bag, he can as well use the one in his house. It is now left for you to run away. But y’all just feel like, I don’t want my child to grow up without his dad, ogbeni you will traumatize that kid. Yes, the piece annoyed the fuck out of me.

JUDGE ACTION BELL

Only Aurellius stood out for me in this group. Like, did all of you plan to write about sorrows, sorrows, prayers? Yes, sadness is an emotion. But man, it gets cliché when that’s the only thing we keep seeing. But you guys tried.

JUDGE KAREN KINGSBURY

I’m just. . .wow! I wonder what Aurelius was thinking of when he wrote this story because awwn! AWWN oooo. I didn’t expect the ending, though I was suspecting and that was just awww. I recently watched a film where a guy tried to kill himself because he lost his wife and life became black and white for him, because she was the colour and things like that just get me. 🥹 Especially because the man was old. So that story was just awwn. TheChocolateteen your story had potential. Really did. But the ending seemed to have sucked it out. As for the rest, you could have done better and you know it.

JUDGE DANIELLE LORI

My favorite was Aurelius. Gosh. It pulled at my heartstrings and the end was unexpected. The remaining submissions didn’t elicit much of an emotion from me. It all felt over exaggerated and cliché, it left me feeling meh about them.

Ahhh… Aurelius here and there.

Cribberssss I’m sure we’re here 😌. Let’s go back to the main crib, the voting link will be sent to us. VOTE! VOTE!! VOTE!!!

This will be all for this group. Till later cribberssss ❤️