Welcome everyone to BATCH FIVE of our...

With this batch, we are going to see the reviews of the following contestants;

025 Tsuki

026 ThatGirl

027 Phoenix

028 Bibimbaplady

030 Zoë

Ready? Let's get into it!😍🔥

025 Tsuki

Prompt: Everyday, the same thing keeps happening...

Story Entry;

Everyday the same thing keeps happening. Each morning begins with the loud wails of a mother begging for the life of her son, one she had welcomed into the world the day before. It ended the same way. The child was not spared and the Nile welcomed a new soul. Some days, only one cry was heard. Other days, there were more cries from mothers and babies alike. Many of them prayed but it was like Elohim had turned deaf. Abba said we should wait patiently; He would answer our prayers. I hoped so, considering Ema was soon due and the midwives had predicted a male child. I wish they were wrong. They weren't.

The Nile kept devouring more boys. Families wept everyday because of their children. Some mothers died of broken hearts. Lifeless eyes which had lost hope, lips cursed the Pharaoh and his family, hearts cried out to Elohim; some, in desperation, also prayed to the Egyptian gods. Elohim had abandoned his people. Abba made sure none of that happened in our home. He made sure we prayed to Him every dawn and at sunset. The Lord is still with us," he always said. "We still live, we still have a roof and food and...He keeps your brother quiet." Ema always laughed at his words but they seemed true. As noisy as that newborn was, he became a mute whenever the soldiers were around. That was how we hid him for nearly three moons.

We couldn't hide him forever. He grew more restless and we had to do something. Ema came up with a plan, a one no one agreed with. "You want to feed my son to the Egyptians? Jochebed what are you thinking?!" Abba raised his voice. Moments like this, Aaron and I preferred staying in the inner room.

I drew the curtains to make the place quieter. The child was trying to fall asleep and Aaron was telling him stories. "Amram." Em sounded distressed. "He will come back to us. By Elohim, he will. My son will not be harmed." She did not even sound sure. "Let's give it a tr-" she was cut of by a scream that cut through the air.

"Please! Spare them!" Them. Two boys. My heart broke for her as her sobs filled the air. I heard the sound of metal and the threatening tone of the soldiers.The woman, whose voice I soon recognised as one of Em's cousins', kept pleading, begging. I heard more voices speaking the language of my people. They were telling her to stop from the noise, I knew she didn't. I heard screaming, cursing. It was a discordant mixture of sounds. I cradled the now whining infant to my chest, hoping the din died down soon enough.The silence descended suddenly. A chill ran down my spine. The aura of death spread across. The child whimpered and I held him closer. Across the room, Aaron hugged himself.

"You want my son to be delivered into their hands?" Abba's voice was low, quieter. I heard Em sob. "There will be another way. Don't cry." But mother could not wait; there was no other way. That evening I slipped out of the house and ran towards the Nile. I avoided the flesh and bones that surrounded its banks, being careful not to step on any or alert those large jawed monsters which lived in the river. I was quick,grabbing reeds and tearing their stems. I ran home spreading the reeds on the roof for them to dry. I weaved for three days, continuously. I lined the bottom with tar to make it float. Ema's plan was ready to be executed, but only when Abba would be away from home.

We did not wait long. The day Abba had to go work at the pyramids was the day Ema chose. Abba travelled before dawn so she had enough time to bathe and feed my brother. The reed basket was completely dry and I had laid cloth to make it more comfortable for him. When it was time to place him inside, Ema became reluctant. She could not part with her child. By the time she put him in, her face was a mess of tears. "The Lord be with you, my child." She kissed his face before covering the lid. I sensed her fear. It might be the last time she would see her child, her children if anything went wrong. I hugged my mother and assured her that we would be successful. I didn't even believe my words. I lifted the basket and headed towards the central market.

I was quick on my feet, taking the shortest route to the market which would also keep me close to the Nile. The morning air was chilly and many times, I held back the urge to sneeze. I did not want to alert anyone who might have been around the area. I squinted at the golden glare of the rising sun. I had to be quicker. It wasn't long before I heard the usual screams coming from the village behind me.

Navigating the banks was scary! A number of times I had to freeze as I sighted one of those monstrous creatures. Crocodiles. There were more of them as I approached the palace so I had to be more careful. My hands were getting sore from carrying that basket. I breathed deeply and said a quick prayer to Elohim. I placed the heavy basket into the water. From peripheral vision, I saw the nose of one of those crocodiles near the surface. Its eyes seemed to be on the basket. I frowned and pushed the basket away from the banks, hoping the river currents would lead it to where it should go. To my surprise, the animal made no attempt at following it. It sunk back below the surface. Praise the Lord!

I followed the basket quietly, watchfully, getting ready for any sign of danger. I followed the basket a long distance, doing my best to change its direction if it diverted and checking to see if my brother was still there. The sun was bright and as the current sent my brother quickly towards the palace, my heart beat in fear. The Pharoah's princess was with her maids, waddling in the water. She was getting ready for her bath. I hid in the bushes when I saw her whisper to her servant whilst looking at the basket. It went as planned. Elohim was with us.I stepped out of hiding when she mentioned a woman to nurse him. I suggested Ema quickly. She looked at me with a glint and a smile that suggested she knew something, but she agreed.

The killings did not stop and most mornings still began with screams. I wept for my people, but watching Moses( that's what they named him) grow in the palace as a prince, I felt relieved. Plus I had a feeling that my people would soon be saved, be free.

COMMENTARY: This is so creative!😍 What do the Judges think???

JUDGES REVIEWS

Judge Acton Bell

Wow. You took a part of the bible and creatively used it to execute the given prompt— brilliant. But then, you were supposed to write a Nigerian story. Please take note of that and follow instructions next time. Biko.

Judge Karen Kingsbury

I like the way you went about your story. Taking a Bible story and then showing us through the eyes of one of the notable characters what might have gone down while still executing the theme? Great job.

I noticed some grammatical errors in your work though, and a few punctuation issues. No one is perfect, yes, but be on the look out for mistakes that can drag you down. I didn't quite like the ending, it just felt very simple compared to your piece and a bit off. Yes, we all know the Bible story but that piece of information just didn't sit well.

Judge Maya Angelou

I like your Creativity.

Judge Arundhati Roy

You're creative but this piece lacks proper execution, you did not give this creative piece the execution it deserves. I believe you can do better.

Judge Jk Rowling

Appreciate the effort. You brought in an old story and wrote as though from the perspective of one of the people who suffered in that time. But, then again, we ask for something specific here. Nigerian Prose. It was clearly stated in our rules. Still, this basic instruction seemed to be ignored. Please let this not repeat itself again next time.

Judge Jane Austen

When that judge said they wanted to see stories that had been told before in ways that had never been used, they didn't mean shoplifting a story from the Bible and using a first person POV of one of the involved persons to tell it. That's plagiarism, in case you don't know😂. Nobody will prosecute you for plagiarising the Bible this time, except me, because all I can see is a distinct lack of originality and personal input. All of the input in your story is Miriam's. So what is your own place as a writer in this story? Where do we see your essence? Okay, so you know how to write. A lot of people do. I do, too. But what can you write—how can you write—that nobody else can? That's what differentiates a writer from an author—a distinct voice. This thing you wrote has been written before by Moses, and he did it better. It's his own damn autobiography, fukumean? Find your personal story to tell. Don't revel in thievery.

COMMENTARY: Okay okay, let's see who we have next!🔥

026 That Girl

Prompt: Everyday, the same thing keeps happening...

Story Entry;

Everyday, the same thing keeps happening...

Stepping out of the bathroom, Irene let out a long sigh. She had a towel wrapped round her body and another around her head like a turban. Moving towards the dressing table, she soon settled inside the squeaky wooden chair in front of it.

From the reflection of the room in her mirror,  she could make out the figure of her roommate sprawled on the bed with her duvet bunched around her waist. She could not help the chuckle escaping her lips as a thought crossed her mind. Doyin always slept like someone battling demons in her dream and whenever she told her about this, she would laugh it off and say something about strangling her ex to death with a stuffed teddy or clawing out his eyes with her nails. She was that crazy.

Staring back at herself in the mirror, Irene released another sigh, this time longer and more deliberate. She looked like a character straight out of a horror movie, like someone who has not had sleep for months. The dark circles and bags underneath her eyes also did not make it any less obvious. It showed how tired and stressed out she was. This was definately not how she had expected her university life to turn out. She was only less than one year in but was already looking forward to graduating from LASU. Everything and everyone frustrated her; lecturers, people, tests, the never ending assignments, their forthcoming exams. Absolutely everything.

It all seemed like an endless cycle to her and a very exhausting one at that. One wakes up, eats, goes for classes, gets back tired, have dinner, read and solve assignments then retires to bed only to repeat the same thing the next day and the day after. She had always looked forward to this phase of her life but was simply not feeling it anymore. Why couldn't the natural schedule of things be altered even if only for a single day? Like a break from the normal trajectory of things or something? Life was so bland and uninteresting Irene took notice of things that were not supposed to be any of her business on a normal day or any other day at that; like how her roommate's latest boyfriend was only using her to get closer to her (Irene) and how Stella, a random course mate blinked multiple times whenever she lied.

Yes, it made no sense but Irene could not just help it. Everything was so frustrating she wanted out. She was tired of living life and doing the same things over and over again.

"Babes, good morning." Doyin greeted with a yawn, and then stretched fully on the bed before sitting up. "You get morning class?"

"You think everyone is like you abi?" Irene replied with a playful sneer on her face before dragging the chair she was sitting on backwards and standing up.

"But it's still 6:35 right now and you don't have classes till Nine naw." The other girl stared at her phone screen with a frown. "Besides, I still have until late noon to prepare for evening lectures."

"Good for you."

"Seriously though, do you have to go this early? Only few people will be around and the lecturer might come late sef."

Irene clamped her mouth shut, she had no response to this. Silence ensued between the two girls and it dragged on for a while before her roommate broke it.

"You take life way too serious darling. You should try calming down sometimes. " For reasons unknown to her, Doyin's statement kind of triggered Irene and she took offence to it. Who the hell did she think she was to advise her anyway? She wanted to snap and say something caustic in response to her but the words stayed at the tip of her tongue. Besides, a tiny part of her felt her roommate was just stating the plain truth.

Maybe she was right. Maybe she took life a little too seriously.

Maybe that was it; doing things at her own pace and being a daredevil once in a while. She might as well take a goddam break. The problem might be from her end, who knows? What could possibly go wrong? What was the harm in risking it? Afterall, life itself is a risk.

With a determined set to her jaws, Irene decided to attempt something she had never done before with the hope that she would not regret her decision.

It was a lie. She was wrong. Absolutely nothing changed.

Here she was, sitting in the middle of her bed as early as four in the morning, clutching her head with both hands like it was about to fall off. Irene had gone to a clubhouse the previous night for a change but the whole idea did not end well. Everything about the place irritated her; the blinding lights, the unnecessarily loud and annoying music, the nauseating stench of weed and alcohol, the cluster of people packed together in one place. The guy sitting beside her also did not make it any less awful with him ogling her body like a pervert throughout the time she was there even though she'd refused his offer to get her drinks, twice. She felt so uncomfortable and had no drink for the irrational fear she might get poisoned or pass out from excess alcohol. (She had never taken any her whole life).

And as if all that was not enough, a fight had broken out and things got escalated pretty quickly. Someone was on the floor in no time, unconscious and with a stab at the back of their head. Irene knew she had to leave immediately.  She ran back to her hostel in the chilly cold with fear and anxiety crippling her whole body and her heart in her mouth. Only when she settled in the comfort of her bed did she feel little relief. It was already past midnight.

She fell asleep almost immediately only to wake up few hours later with a terrible nightmare, cold and a banging head. She would have to start preparing for the day in about two hours time and the endless cycle would begin again.

It made no sense afterall, the same thing would keep happening everyday and there was nothing she could do about it. She might as well go on with her bland, uninteresting life. Things were probably meant to be and maybe remain that way for her.

COMMENTARY: OKAY, JUDGES???🔥

JUDGES REVIEWS

Judge Acton Bell

The story was bland, just like Irene's life. You're gonna have to up your game, That Girl.

Judge Maya Angelou

I'm not so sure what this story is meant to be about. You only started it with the prompt and now, I'm lost. What am I supposed to be looking for? Please tell me.

Judge Jk Rowling

I see what the writer was trying to do, but they did not do it.

I didn't enjoy this story, to be honest. The writer is good. They seem to have some knowledge and background in writing, and aside for the little punctuation errors, they aren't so bad at writing per say. However, this story did not seem to have a plot for me. It was beating around the bush from the beginning to the end, and I was trying to figure out where it was eventually going and what the plot was leading up to. It didn't lead up to anything, and in the end I got disappointed. The writer should not be discouraged. Maybe next time, try to plot out exactly what you want your story to be about, before delivering it.

Judge Maya Angelou

I'm not sure what this story is supposed to be about? Can you help me out of this confusion?

Judge Shakespeare

Th're art two things this st'ry and irene has't in ingraft.  Bland and unint'resting.  Th're wast nothing.  I desire this shall changeth in the coming stages.😔

There are two things this story and Irene have in common. Bland and uninteresting. There was nothing. I really hope this will change in the upcoming stages.😔

Judge Jane Austen

Judging this contest is honestly finding different ways to say the exact same thing😂. I'm tempted to copy and paste a particular review from up there, but let me do a judge's work—finding synonyms. Come with me, and imagine cooking a stew. There's oil, plenty of oil, and there's pepper and blended tomatoes. You even finely chopped onions into it. But there's no seasoning, no salt and no protein of any sort. I know you're grimacing in near disgust. Yes, that's me typing this after going through 1090 words of nothing. There's words, and there's paragraphs and there's dialogue, but there's no story. Not a heartbeat or a whisper. Not a flicker of life in the thing. There's too many pleasures in life for me to be eating stew without meat.

COMMENTARY: 💀Um okayyyy! Let's see for the next contestant!🔥

027 Phoenix

Prompt: Everyday, the same thing keeps happening...

Story Entry;

Everyday, the same thing keeps happening.

Every day, for the past two years, I've woken up from the same nightmare panting and drenched in my sweat. The feeling of guilt still hasn't gone away. Am I supposed to feel guilty about surviving alone? I sit up and examine my surroundings. Everything still looks like it was a year and a half ago. Cold, bare, and so annoyingly white. If it wasn't for the messy bed, you'll think no one was living here.

     "Chizaram!" a shrill voice yells from down the hallway. I can recognize that voice anywhere. Even in my sleep. It belongs to Aunt Melanie, my mom's sister. I've been staying with her family for over a year now and let's just say she's not thrilled about it. If it were up to her, I'm pretty sure I'd be out on the streets. I jump out of bed and open the door quickly knowing fully well what'll happen if I don't.

        "Good morning Aunty" I greet. She just stands there clad in her blue silk nightwear, glowering at me. What's the problem this time around? Does she need me to unnecessarily clean the bathroom again, even though there are maids for that? Or to clean the oven that looks like it hasn't been used in years?

        "The twins are up and they're giving me a headache. Take care of them for me" she says and I nod. I'm about to close the door when she says, "Don't use that as an excuse to be late for therapy. I don't need some strange woman talking to me about you" and with that she leaves her slippers padding softly on the tiles. You guessed it. I'm an orphan. My parents died in a car crash two years ago leaving me behind to find my way without them. 

       I make my way to the bathroom and freshen up. I quickly pull on a pair of blue jeans and a red off the shoulder shirt before making my way down the hall to the twins' room. They're five years old and are both girls: Natasha and Alisha, but as I like to call them, Nonye and Naza. They aren't exactly identical so it's easy to tell them apart. I come into the room to see them fighting over a toy.

         "Okay. You know the drill girls. We don't have time to play with toys today" I say moving over to them and stretching out my hand to collect the toy. They both pout, accentuating just how cute they are. Irrespective of how Aunt Mel treats me, I love my cousins. They're the only things keeping me sane right now. I hurriedly dress them so I can start on breakfast. I haven't seen the cook or nanny since the week after I came here. Coincidental, or maybe I'm their replacement. I wish I could just stay with my grandparents. I loved the six months I spent there but grandma thought it was best to send me here. If only she knew. I wouldn't say my aunt hated me. It's too little a word. She despised me. My mom got pregnant with me before she got married and married my dad regardless of what her family thought. It's not like he was poor or anything, he just wasn't from her tribe. I guess since they're gone, I'm the one to bear the brunt of my aunt's resentment.

        I make breakfast quickly and head out without eating. The earlier I go, the faster I can get this done. I absolutely hate therapy. It's not working at all. I'm still having the same nightmares like they're on repeat in my head, I still wish I was six feet under like my parents because I feel so alone and worst of all, I have to sit down and try to talk out my 'feelings' to a woman who couldn't care less for an hour and thirty minutes every single day. It's the worst.

      I make my way into the building and quickly locate her office on the third floor.

    "Zara, how're you doing today?" my therapist asks once I'm seated across from her. It's always the same question. I look around the boring office thinking of how to answer. I'm not fine, I want to say. I'm constantly living with the pain that I'll never actually see my parents again. I just want to curl into a ball all day and slowly become invincible and disappear, but even if I did say all this, what use will it be? It's not like anyone actually cares anyway and especially not this woman sitting across from me who hasn't even looked at me since I got here. I think I'm done for the day but I'm pretty sure if I leave she'll call my aunt and I can't have that.

     "I'm great" I answer forcing my lips to smile. She nods and continues typing loudly on the computer in front of her. I just stare at her and it gets to a point that I think she's forgotten I'm here. "I wish I had died with them" I say and that seems to do the trick because she stops typing and actually looks at me.

      "Are we done here? I missed breakfast so I'm starving" I say sitting up and she takes off her glasses and sets them on the table.

      "How are you feeling Chizaram? Be honest with me" she says softly. I don't know whether it's the genuineness of her voice like for the first time my answer matters, but I open my mouth and tell her exactly how I'm feeling, not leaving out the nightmares. A promise to be confidential and a box of tissues later, I'm walking out  the building feeling a tad bit lighter than when I stepped in. Everything may not be fine now and I'll probably still have nightmares of the accident for a while but I'm going to take things a day at a time.

COMMENTARY: Okay!🔥 Let's hear from our Judges!❤️🔥

JUDGES REVIEW

Judge Karen Kingsbury

Okay, Phoenix. You need to work on your punctuation. I can see, in that department, that you're weak.  The places lacking punctuation marks are too much for me to list them out for you, if not I would have.

There was not much creativity here. The only new thing is this character goes for therapy and isn't a pure slave. The ending part seemed rushed and the therapist wasn't fleshed out properly. Overall, you can do better.

Work on your punctuation, story flow, and be creative.

Judge Acton Bell

Well, the story was just there. You need to work on your punctuations. But then, you have potential. So, I'm gonna tell you to try harder and do better.

Judge Jk Rowling

The punctuations were a major turn off, to be honest. It made it difficult for me to read through this. My head was just doing gbi gbim dim doom doom via via. However, it was an okay story. Please just make your work readable next time.

Judge Jane Austen

Take things a day at a time, I see. What an unimpressive end to something that was looking alright at first. You need to learn finishers in addition to starters, middle portions, punctuation and just about anything that makes a story excellent, because that's exactly what your story wasn't. I have no idea what you have against commas, but you better settle that beef fast, because the one who'll suffer will be you, not commas.

COMMENTARY: Oof! You heard them! Next up!🔥

028 Bimbimpaplady

Prompt: Everyday, the same thing keeps happening...

Story Entry;

{The writer refused to send in their work as a docs so we will post screenshots of their PDF😑}

JUDGES REVIEWS

Judge Acton Bell

"Natalie had one purpose: to protect Emily at all costs." You should have written that statement this way. With a colon. Alternative punctuation marks are the comma, em-dash and semicolon. That said, you didn't write a Nigerian story! Your punctuations need work! I didn't really see the prompt in the write-up. And please, always go through your work before you submit.

Judge Karen Kingsbury

You decided to take a different route, good for you. What's not good is the errors that accompanied you along this path. Let's have a look at them, shall we?

You wrote:

•Natalie had one purpose to protect Emily at all costs.

There's meant to be a punctuation mark between 'purpose' and 'to'.

•Haven't you done enough already.

That sentence is not meant to end with a period. It's a question and it should end with a question mark.

•Do you understand what is saying.

You did you understand what you wrote here?  Also, it's a question. You end with a question mark.

• "Let her go stone." Natalie screamed.

It should be "Let her go, Stone!" Take note of the comma and its placement. 
And if she screamed, an exclamation mark should follow it. It's a scream.

•. . .eyes pleading to he saved.

It's 'be' not 'he'.

• but tears eyes. Eyes pleading to be saved.

A comma should be between 'but teary eyes' and 'eyes' instead of a period and then 'her' should be written before the word 'eyes'.

And that shotgun? Excuse you? The thing did me like what? And not the good one. You should have allowed her to describe inside the stall or something or make an allusion to the gun earlier. Yes, you painted a nice image with the gun echoing and disrupting the silence but the ending was not it.

Judge James Hardley Chase

If you get into the next stage, you should try to do better. Because this wasn't it.

Judge Jk Rowling

I can't tell if this was a Nigerian set prose as we have been resounding that Project Pen is all about, but that aside...

The only thing that calls me to this work is the writer's writing itself. They sure know how to craft words on paper. But then again, the plot raises some questions in me, and the most pressing one, though, is how does this story connect to the given prompt? Ponder on that in your free time.

Judge Jane Austen

The tenses are mismatched. You used a different set of tenses in your first paragraph than the rest of the story. Made me wonder a little about the timeline. You also seem to not like question marks a lot. Do you ask questions the same way you make an offhand comment. Exactly, it don't make no sense. So next time, try using some question marks when you ask questions. There's too many loose ends to be tied up in your story. Nearly tripped over one on my way home. The old shotgun, never oiled, never cleaned, just happened to not jam after years of disuse? Also, Natalie lifted a shotgun and just fired it without ever having used one? You obviously have never handled a shotgun. I'll recommend something to you, love. It's called research.

COMMENTARY: NOW ONTO OUR LAST CONTESTANT FOR THE NIGHT👏

030 Zoë

Prompt: Everyday, the same thing keeps happening...

Story Entry;

"Everyday, the same thing keeps happening...."

The 17 year long routine of waking up, bathing, going to the mess hall for food, heading to the kitchen to work and coming back to sleep and repeating the cycle over and over was about to be disrupted by a visit from the past.

The door opens with a soft hiss to reveal a crumpled man in the corner of the cell, shielding his eyes from the blinding lights pouring into the cell from outside. The abundance of light makes his eyes hurt and he winces from the pain as he struggles to pull himself up.
"108, there's someone here to see you" the guard calls out to him and steps aside for prisoner 108.
108 looks as surprised as he feels because in his 17 years behind bars, no one has come to see him and has settled for a solitary life. His family couldn't even cast him a second glance since he muttered "Guilty" at his court hearing almost 18 years ago. Someone coming to see him now makes him just as curious as it makes him scared. He shuffles out of his cell into the bright blue hallway of the prison to face two other guards as one slaps the handcuffs on his left wrist. He slowly follows them to the visiting room and he smells her before he sees her.
The heady scent of the mixture of "Her" by Burberry and Tom Ford's "Lost Cherry" tickled his nostrils. It was a scent he was so involuntarily familiar with. He walks into the room and sees his visitor in the corner of the room, her legs perched on the table and one of her hands bedazzled with bracelets dangling lazily by her side while the other is high up in an angle for a good selfie.
"I thought phones aren't allowed in here" he could barely recognize his own voice, barely a whisper as it bounced off the walls with an even smaller echo.
"I have my ways" she said, adjusting her legs so she could sit and face him as he settled in the chair opposite her.
"Could you at least drop your legs from the table?" 108 sighed at her.
"I didn't come in Louboutins to set them on this floor" she punctuated the space between "this" and "floor" with an exaggerated eye roll.
"Why are you here?"
She reached for her bag and pulled out a Manila envelope and slid it to him.
He eyed her cautiously and took it. He opened it to find a bunch of pictures of a girl.
He looked from the picture to his visitor's face over and over again till he started to feel nauseous.
"Who is she?" He finally asked
"Your daughter" she breathed with evident disgust.
108 breathed out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.
"I had a daughter? How old is she? Does she know I'm incarcerated? When did you find out?" His words are jumbling together but it doesn't even compare to how he feels inside.
"Yes you did. She turns 18 tomorrow. She doesn't know you exist. I found out the night she was conceived" she answers coolly while shooting looks of daggers at me.
108 looked down at the pictures again and stared deep into the black doe eyes that stared back at him.
He started to look through the pictures. Slowly caressing each one. Each picture different from the last and progressed as the baby in the picture grew.
First a blue bundle of flaying limbs and a shockingly abundant amount of hair, then a little girl who smiled so bright despite her front teeth missing. A tween with pop socks and bows. A teenager with a peace sign in every picture and then he got to the last picture. Standing with her bags and throwing the peace sign again with the "Welcome to Pine University" sign board behind her. The young woman standing in that picture morphed from the image of his daughter to the image of her mother. The exact picture he had of her mother, the one where she threw the peace sign in front of Pine University's welcome sign as well. The one picture of her mother that he hid in my dresser back at home.
108 didn't have to ask who her mother was. She made her mark on her daughter all right. He already knew.
He didn't realize he was crying till he saw the droplets of tears on the table below.
108 hadn't shed a single tear since he was convicted. He felt he didn't even deserve to feel guilt after what he did. "I'm such an awful person"he said in court, but today, after all these years, the tears can't seem to stop.
108 weeps.
He weeps for his mistakes, for all those stupid decisions, for his parents, for his friends, and now for the daughter he never knew he had until now.
"If I could take back all those years, I would just to feel my little girl in my arms" he muses.
His visitor rose to leave after clearing her throat.
"I want to meet her please" he held her fingers and tugged gently.
She let his words hang in the thick air between them and finally she looked down at him and for a fraction of a moment, the smile on her face was a glimmer of hope, a fraction of joy ahead and seemed genuine until she said "you won't be able to" and stomped out of the room.
108 followed in a sprint and was pulled back by the guards.
He thrashed and pulled only to be met by her retreating figure and those goddamn hips swaying leaving behind the waft of her scent marking the hallway with her presence and absence.

POV - 108.

I was left alone in my cell and once again with nothing new but the information I had a daughter out there somewhere. I took out her picture from below my pillow, the one where she looks like her mother with the freckles and doe eyes. I always loved those eyes when I saw her mother.
I pulled out a paper and a pen and started to write.
"Hi dear, I know you don't know me but I'm your daddy. I'm sorry you have to go through life knowing your father is a criminal....."
I stopped writing only because the tears staining the paper was disrupting me.
I knew I had to get out. I knew I had to see my daughter. I always wanted to live out my days here but now, with my daughter out there, I knew I had to live. Not for me, but for her.
Night after night, I would start the letter to my baby girl and would be punctuated with tears and my heart hurting like I was being stabbed over and over.
I finally completed one of the letters.
"Hi dear. Everyday, the same thing keeps happening when I start to write to you. I shed shameful tears and crumple the papers up each time. The guilt of not knowing you were out there and the pain I know you go through when you think that your father is a criminal is driving me crazy.
I don't know if I have the right to refer to you as my daughter but I would really love to meet you.
I got a few of your pictures and I'm glad you took after your mom a great deal. You wouldn't be happy to look like your old man. I hope you're happy and thriving. I hear you turned 18 a while ago. I'm so sorry I wasn't present in your life. I promise I'll make up for all this time we've lost and I hope you'll let me and forgive me too for being such a disappointment to you. I work a lot of jobs in here so I've traded my tokens for cash from the warden. With this letter is 1000$. Get yourself something pretty as a late birthday gift from your old man. I love you and I hope you come visit me soon."
I was proud of myself for finally completing the letter and hurried off to the postal office and sent the mail out.

Later that night at the mess hall, a commotion broke out and while plates and plastic cutlery were flying, I turned to retire to my cell for the night but before I get very far, I was turned around on my heels to face a tatooed man.
I started to lift my hand in surrender to show that I wanted no part in the riot but the man was swift with his hands.
I felt the slash before I saw the blade. A small toothbrush with a blade at the end.
I put my hand to my neck and felt the blood leave my neck in heavy spurts.
I started to see dots before a blue haze ran towards me. I fell against the police officer.
I knew it was over already.
I couldn't fight it.
This is the end for me.
I did what I could only do.
Pray.
For my daughter, my parents and my friends.
Then it was black.

COMMENTARY: Now let's hear it from the Judges!🔥

JUDGE MAYA ANGELOU

One of the two things I had against your story was the lack of spacing. If you check my other reviews, you'll see that I don't like it when a work is not properly spaced out or paragraphed. It makes everything look muddled up and clumsy, gets pretty hard to read.

The second thing I had against your story was the lack of punctuations at the end of your dialogue. You didn't put a full stop or comma at the end of every statement before closing the quote. I don't know, maybe it was a slip of finger while typing or maybe you were rushing so it skipped your mind, but you need to be conscious next time.

On a normal day, I'd have stopped reading because of all this, but I'm glad I didn't... because your story was BEAUTIFUL. I didn't cry, but I was moved and that's enough for me. Why did 108 have to die? What did he do that landed him in the prison for God's sake?

I think the best part of your piece was that you weren't even trying hard to impress, yet you did impress. You didn't have to use big words to make the story "emotional" and "deep" because your simple words went a long way in doing just that. I felt it.

While I want you to be mindful of the fact that this is a Nigerian based competition and we only allow Nigerian themed stories (because the $1000 kinda put me off), you are a good writer... but you can be so much better.

JUDGE ACTON BELL

Whatever figure you're writing, let it be in words. 108 will be, one-oh-eight. Get it? You need to work on concord. As in, subject-verb agreement. For example, in this part, "I stopped writing only because the tears staining the paper _was_ disrupting me." The correct auxiliary verb should actually be *were* for the plural subject, "tears", do you get? That said, I don't see how the end of the story correlated with the given prompt. Do better, please.

JUDGE KAREN KINGSBURY

Ah! That's what came out of my mouth when I finished reading your work. I know I didn't expect it, it's painful. He might be unconscious or dead but I think you're leaning towards dead. He and his daughter never got to meet and that's sad. 🤧

Okay. Now, that the emotional stuff is over. Your work needs to be thoroughly edited and is filled with a lot of question marks ( not in the punctuation mark sense).

Firstly, why did you switch the POV? It was the same person but one was First POV, the other was Third POV. The work could have done fine with just one. The switch made it look messy and didn't necessarily provide new information because it's the same person.

This even affected your Third POV because a 'my' slipped in there.

Secondly, who was the woman that came to show him the picture? Is that the girl's mum? I doubt it, so who is she? And why did she decide to show him the picture now? She couldn't just have woken up one day and say, "Today is the day. He must know of his daughter! And I won't allow him meet her even if he does." It doesn't make sense.

Thirdly, the guy that killed him, why did he kill him? And, why wait eighteen years to do it? It wasn't mentioned that there was any sort of conflict between him and his fellow prisoners. So, that death was totally baseless. I know what you were going for but you didn't give it substance.

I didn't feel much because of your punctuation issues. Ellipses are three dots. Just three. Anything other than that is just dots and a waste of space. Commas and full stops only showed face in 20% of the dialogue and it's not fair. They are meant to be there. Can you imagine speaking without pause or full stop? Just going like a tap? No? Good. Don't omit them from speech marks again.

Your descriptions still need to be worked on and I don't see the prompt execution in your work. However, you do have potential if you work on yourself.

I hope you will.

JUDGE ARUNDHATI ROY

Your entry is so emotional and sad. I was already expecting some sort of happy ending for 108 but then, it is what it is. I love how you were able to portray all the emotions right and you were able to do justice to making us feel 108's despair and ache for his daughter. The only missing thing in your entry is not telling us why he was convicted.

JUDGE JK ROWLING

Jehovah nisi. You have something, Zoë, but present your work better next time goddamit.

JUDGE JANE AUSTEN

You've obviously done your research into how prison fights work, although somebody is rarely just killed randomly like that. Never, in fact. There's always a vendetta. A death in prison has to mean something. The emotional impact you tried to create there? Forced, so it's lost on me. Also, nobody learns they're pregnant and then waits for the father to spend 18 years in jail before going to tell them. In fact, if the pregnancy was unplanned, and in such a situation as that, the first thing they do is panic and go running to the father. Raises a lot of questions. Where was the kid before now? Where was the woman? Because it looks like she'd never been to the prison to see him before. And it wasn't unrequited love. You don't have a kid with someone you don't love back. And you don't ghost someone you love for 18 years and then act superciliously when you see them. Uhn-uhn. Too much, too many, I'm gonna stop talking.

COMMENTARY: There you have it!!🔥

A/N: THE JUDGES REVIEWS IS SOON COMING TO AN END WITH ONE BATCH LEFT FOR TOMMOROW NOOOO!😪🤲🏾

Nonetheless, who impressed you the most tonight?? Comment! See you tomorrow with the last batch of Judges Reviews!🥳🔥