Are we ready for the finale set of the JUDGES REVIEWS!🎊

Welcome! To the final batch of ...

And with this final batch, let's welcome our contestants;

031 Peanut Butter

032 Delphinium

033 Myobbo

034 Handsomelad42

035 Aang

031 Peanut Butter

Prompt: Every day, the same thing keeps happening...

Story Entry;

Everyday, the same thing keeps happening.

I close my eyes and try to prepare myself for the next hit. I tell myself that I'm used to it — the blows, the kicks, the whips, the hurtful words — but I lie.

We all do, don't we?

I'd never get used to being treated like this, like a filthy rag unfit for cleaning shoes even. Not even after seven hundred and fifty-three days.

Whack! The next blow comes peppered with quite a number of soul-crushing words.

Slut! Husband snatcher! Animal! Ingrate! Murderer!

When she's done, she spits on me, disgust evident in her eyes. "Go to your room and do not come downstairs until I say so!"

"Yes mother," I mutter and scramble up the stairs.

In the confines of my poorly lit room, I let loose. I slam my body on the cold tiles countless times, wailing and tearing at my hair. I sit with my back to the door and whimper as my head begins to ache.

Crawling blindly to my bedside drawer and yanking it open, I sigh in momentary relief when my fingers curl around the familiar blade. I put it to my thigh and drag through, wincing at the pain.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

Seven, Mother's favorite number. The number of perfection and apparently, the number of slashes I always cut before she barges into my room.

The first time it happened, I thought it a mere coincidence until her personal assistant dropped the first-aid kit by my feet and cleaned the cuts as Mother hurled insulting words at me.

She went on to talk about watching me from the camera and it dawned on me that she — my own mother — had been watching as I cut through my skin.

She wasn't always like this...

It all began a few weeks after my thirteenth birthday. My stepdad raped and accused me of seducing him. Without asking me what happened, she took to maltreating me. My stepdad, seeing that my mother didn't believe me, continued molesting me. The more I tried to speak up, the more punishment I got.

I eventually got tired but the maltreatment didn't stop. Mother had gotten so used to beating me that even when I stopped reporting her husband, she still found excuses to beat me.

Tying my hair in an Afro bun rather than straightening it, gripping the cutlery too hard, scoring 97 in an exam because anything less than 100 is as good as 0. The list is endless.

"Rolari," Mother's voice echoes in the room and I look to the door. "Clean up this mess," she says to Rolari, her Personal Assistant.

Rolari rushes to my side and opens the first aid box. She looks at me in pity as she cleans my cuts.

"I regret the day I had you!" Mother says before proceeding to spit on my face. It's one of her favorite things to do — spitting on me.

"When Rolari is done, I want you to take your bath and get dressed. You're coming with me to the charity ball."

"No," I mutter. "I'm not going."

She chuckles bitterly. "What did you say? I didn't ask if you were coming, did I?"

"I'm not going," I state boldly.

The thrill of standing up to her makes me feel giddy and I smile, ignoring the fact that I'd probably regret speaking.

"Rolari, leave us alone." Rolari scrambles out of the room and Mother stalks towards me.

The impact of her palm on my cheek makes my ear ring and I wince slightly.

She grabs me by my hair and yanks me up. Apologies bubble up in my throat but I do not let them out.

If I perish, I perish.

"You've grown wings, abi? You want to defy me. You are as useless as your dead father! I curse the day I birthed you, you this animal!" Every word is accompanied with a slap.

I remain limp in her hands as she pummels me. With one final slap, she drops me on the floor and spits again as she walks out of the room.

Weak and covered in blood, I crawl to my bed, open the bag on it and bring out the small foil wrap.

I unwrap the foil, empty the powdery content into my mouth and lie on the ground, waiting for it to start its work.

Some minutes later, my stomach begins to hurt. I embrace the pain because it only means one thing.

The moment the cycle breaks. The moment leading to my freedom.

"I'm coming home, daddy," I whisper as I black out.

COMMENTARY: Wow!  👏 Let's hear what the Judges have to say!🔥

JUDGES REVIEWS

Judge Jk Rowling

Okay, the beginning did a sharp twist on me. I thought I was about to start reading the usual abuse stories, only to be surprised by the turn out of events. Nice!

You tried sha. That's all I can say.

Judge Karen Kingsbury

"If I perish, I perish" —that made me laugh. Your plot is shaky. The basis of the beating was unfounded. So, she was just beating her because she wanted to? If you wanted to add substance, give a reason, let it be that the mum hated her dad. Maybe it was an arranged marriage, he was a cheat, something. Yes, this is not a reason to hate one's child. But it's better than your own that has no reason.  The world-building wasn't properly done. And the stepfather's abuse seemed like it was just thrown in there and that shouldn't be so. No emotion whatsoever was stirred within me.

Judge Acton Bell

Your punctuation is good, but even that becomes redundant when you don't know how to tell a good story. Sighs. The story didn't do it for me, abeg.

Judge Jane Austen

The point of writing a story about repetition is the repetitive event itself. I know it's easier to use a breakout event as your nexus, but resist that temptation. The repetition is in itself the plot, basis and nexus of your story. You weren't the only one who did that. It was nearly everybody, and frankly speaking, you're most likely not to blame for it. What I can blame you for, however, is poor pacing and a lack of fluidity in your piece. Join the current paragraphs together to make larger ones. Protect your continuity, otherwise the piece sounds choppy and rushed.

032 Delphinium

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

Story Entry;

Everyday, the same thing keeps happening, the same game keeps being played. We're all his toys and for some reason, I'm his favorite.

It's been like this for as long as I can remember—as long as I'm allowed to remember. Memories past the time when I became aware of who I truly am are mostly forbidden, excepted to be flushed down a drain or buried far away from any kind of reach, including mine.

I was born by a slave into the same slavery for which she had to bow her head and become the mistress to a married man. I had faulted her once until I was forced into the same fate.

I sigh, dumping a pile of clothes in the corner of the small room I inhabit. I draw the thin curtains—the only privacy I'm allowed—around the edges of my straw mat.

There's hardly any space to stand after that so I stand on my mat, my backache from hours of sweeping most parts of the courtyard with a rafia broom returning at that moment.

I free myself from the strap of material I'm allowed as clothing. The clothing is similar for all the slaves—if I could even call it that. Clothing is meant to cover, at least I'd heard the princess saying that a number of times. This instead exposes, just another way for the men to satisfy themselves.

A light voice snaps me out of my thoughts the same moment my waist cloth slides to the floor leaving me stark naked. I recognize the voice at once and strain my ears to grab the message.

It's the same message I hear all the time, simple and straight to the point.

"The prince needs you in his chambers."

I wait until her shadow recedes before bending down to retrieve my waist cloth. The pain in my back returns but this time I can also feel it in my belly and I hold the ever growing urge to throw up.

I manage to force the lump climbing up my throat down as I tie my waist cloth. It stops just above the middle of my thighs. I pick up the second piece of my cloth, tying it the way I was taught; enough to cover my nipples while making sure the part above that is visible.

The top cloth also doesn't go that far, stopping right underneath my breasts and leaving my whole stomach bare. I glance down for a moment observing for the third time in a row that I've lost a lot of weight.

I frown at the thought before snapping myself out of it. I push aside the curtains, stepping out as I do so. Most of the other curtains in the room are drawn, about thirty of them or so. There's little space to walk since most of the slaves have put down their mats in preparation for the night's rest.

I hasten my steps towards the prince's chamber, leaving behind the noise emanating from the room. My heart thuds faster, the closer I get to his chambers.

I go through this everyday but it never makes it any easier. I wait at the door when I arrive, allowing his guards to announce my presence before I usher myself in.

His chamber is huge, at least ten of the rooms we stay in, if not more. The animal skin blanketing the floor of his room is comforting in contrast to the rough floor I walked on all the way here.

I can feel his eyes on me as I inch my way into the room, dragging my feet on purpose.

"You took your time."

His voice is closer than I expect, forcing me to look up from the floor. His breath hits my nostril, the stench of alcohol causing me to scrunch my nose. It's only then that I notice the slur in his voice.

He mutters something incoherent as he inches closer to me. I steel my mind and body to prevent myself from pulling away as he cups my cheek, running a thumb over it. He leans closer and I shut my eyes trying to ignore how being so close to him makes me even more nauseous.

Usually he doesn't bother with frilly things like this. He goes straight to the point, satisfying himself with me being nothing more than a vessel.

"Chike I've been . . ."

The voice startles me, causing me to jump away from the prince. I turn to find his fiancée, a Fulani princess, darting her eyes between the both of us. This isn't the first time she is witnessing this scene, it probably won't be the last either.

"What are you doing here?"

She knows the answer to the question as well as I do. I would never be here if I had a choice. Before I can speak up, the prince does.

"Amina—"

"Altine. It's Altine."

She's corrected him a million times but he never learns, never bothers to.

"How did you get in?"

His tone is flat, as if he couldn't be the least bothered about what she has to say. For a moment, it seems like he isn't really drunk. There's a slight slur in his voice but his words are still coherent.

Maybe he is sober enough to think.

"I'm your fiancée, remember?"

There's an edge to her voice, like the question is actually intended, like it isn't impossible for him to forget that.

"Guards, take her away!" the prince yells, grabbing my hand and leading me to his bed while ignoring her as she screams his name.

I chance a look backwards to see her glaring at me while prying her hand from one of the guards. She looks him over before pointing a finger at him and muttering something. She leaves after that.

The prince is the one who made her leave but I'm the one who'll pay for the humiliation.

The entire night, I grip onto the edges of the sheets while the prince does whatever he wishes with my body. I die each time he thrusts into me, my eyes pressed together, stomach churning and a weight other than the shackles I'm used to holding me down—the weight of helplessness.

I bite my lips to muffle the cries, saving them for later when I would crawl into my mat, the few fleeting minutes before daybreak. The only time I can cry to whatever god is interested in listening, as I pray for a change, for some means of escape, with the inherent awareness that my prayers fall on deaf ears.

COMMENTARY: What a masterpiece!🥺 👏Let's see if the Judges think the same!🔥

JUDGES REVIEWS

Judge Karen Kingsbury

Well, I suppose the prompt was executed. Your punctuation and grammar was good and you showed rather than told. You know what you are doing and I hope you make it far so you can hone your skills and become better.

Judge Jane Corry

You sha knew what you were doing.

Judge Acton Bell

Okay, Oracle of Delphi. This is actually a good one. It's not exactly mind-blowing, and at the same time, not mid. So, it's good. You can be way better.

Judge Jane Austen

"I was born by a slave." For revelations, short sentences are best. Couple two or three of those together, you have quickfire barrage ready to blast your reader up, up and away, as in "I was born by a slave. In the middle of a thunderstorm. 9 months after she was raped." Perhaps it's not easy, but neither is getting to stage 2 of this contest. I'm not sorely unimpressed, but my ears aren't perking up either. Victimhood and victimization are always good tearjerker candidates, an easy way to inundate your reader with emotions, but it would seem that that's somewhat hard to do for you, again. Everything else seems easy: you can write, you have a sizeable vocabulary, your syntax is intact.

COMMENTARY: Okay! NEXT UP!🔥

033 Myobbo

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

Story Entry;

Everyday the same thing keeps happening, the fear of the unknown gripping every girl whose sign of womanhood decided to sprout early, the sound of the galloping of horses is one every girl dreaded.

"Ife, Ife", I listened on as my mom called breaking up each word with fits of coughs, her voice quavered as she kept on yelling.
Nestled in my mother's beautiful wrapper,
I listened on, suddenly gaining interest in my abode, the clay jar filled with 'nature cool' water for whenever I returned from the stream and the mud-brick wall filled with old rusty nails causing cracks that housed memories.

Was I going to leave all these?

From that moment, I was aware that my mom would come looking for me. I could already visualize her tilted gait as her stunted stick aided her movements. I closed my eyes, fading into oblivion as I pondered on the events that had taken place these past few weeks.

Everyone was mystified, stuck in awe of the fact that the king kept on taking damsels from each home.
For the average woman in the village, it was a thing of pride. But, certainly not for me. My instincts didn't align with that feeling. I could vividly remember Mummy Dara coming to show off the instant her daughter was taken away.

I wearily placed the creased rag on my head as I walked down the lonely path. I noticed someone trailing me as I turned abruptly and met  the timid face of Dara.

Why she decided to engage me still marvels me but she confided in me.
"Ife, I'm scared, I'm really scared", Dara murmured quietly as I dropped the pot, taking a firm stance.
"A secret messenger came to tell my mom to prepare me but I don't want to go"
It suddenly dawned on me that I might have an inkling of what this was about.
"I want to go intimate with Akanni. Everyone is aware that the king seeks damsels who have not known men"
"I don't want to leave Akanni".

I couldn't do much to help her, I only consoled and hugged her, promising to talk to my brother.
Everyone trusted the judgement of my brother.

  Immediately my feet touched the bare ground of our home, I greeted Maami, dropped the clay pot and hurried over to Pelumi's house.
We both decided to go over to Laide's house to hear the truth or maybe just a side to the truth.
Everyone was aware that Ade, the king's fan bearer had a soft spot for Laide. His mouth is known to have no control once he is around palm wine and a woman he had eyes for.
Laide always filled us up on what was going on but she had been quiet over the weird occurrences recently.
Our ears itched to know the backstory of the girls who had been hit by the unfortunate serial abduction so we decided to probe her as usual.
As soon as we sighted the mango tree that gave sight of her house, our heart beats increased.
We scurried over to Laide's hut.
"How are you people doing", She inquired from us as she gave us a hug.
I guess she noticed our forlorn look as she sat back down on her wooden bench which had aged over the years.
"Ade finally spoke"
We were so excited as we laid down our ears to get filled.
The king had never fallen ill in his sixteen years of ruling 'Werom'.
After the new yam festival, the king was heard screaming out loud from his sleep for reasons unknown to anyone.
After consulting the Ifa ,native doctor, it stopped or so they thought.

Once in a meeting, the king began shaking and stammering uncontrollably, this is seen as an abomination, the king being unable to coordinate himself before his chiefs.
The Ifa was summoned again and the serial abduction began.
Every market day, one of us leaves the warm breast of her mother to the cold hands of the palace.
We left Laide's place more confused than ever.
We decided that I should reach out to my brother.

After walking down the dusty intertwined roads of the outskirts of Werom for so long, the swaying palm trees being my only company.
I was already exhausted but I was determined to meet Asake, the reported Americana who had the only phone in our village. Well, the only phone I could access.
I wouldn't have faced this stress if my mother did not reject the phone my brother got her after hearing it was a devil's tool from only God knows who, probably her illiterate friends.
They nicknamed Asake, a loose girl because of her possession of this item.
Despite our pleadings, she refused to accept it and forced me not to also.
As I reported the situation to Femi my brother, he asked me the same question, "Why?"
I had nothing to say and he replied; "If we don't know him, how do we make him known?"

After that statement, I convinced Pelumi and we decided to enter the fortress.

We were aware that any moment from now, we would also be taken but we wanted it to be sooner.
So every trip to the stream, we made sure to follow the longer route passing through the palace.
We finally got the radar of their evil antenna.
Pelumi was taken.
Today, it's my turn.

But the disturbing issue is that I was not able to get through to Pelumi.
I couldn't reach her at all.
Every thing seemed futile as I waited at our spot but found no one.
My brother promised to come back as soon as possible but it was already late.
And now, they're here for me.
I have become a victim.
I was not able to stop it.
Tomorrow, It'll be another person
And the next.

I received a jolting knock as I felt the wrapper being yanked away from my body.
"Go and pack your things this instant , you are finally among the chosen damsels"
I knew it was pointless explaining anything to her.
I took nothing with me and continued gazing at the intricate carvings on the carriage as I climbed on.

I was taken through the elegant palace to a wide open field at the back , I was excited to finally see Pelumi but also scared of the unknown.
But I came across a heap of beautifully printed wrappers smeared with blood at a corner of the field.
I was pushed through to a room before I had time to dwell on that.
I could swear I saw Pelumi's favourite wrapper there but I brushed the thought off.
As I looked into the room.
I saw Oma, the girl whose mother was of the Ibo tribe.
I saw no one else.
I tried to scream but only a whimper came out.
Tears of regret streamed down my face.

Later on, I'll get to know that the only reason she was spared was because she was not fully of our blood.
Was I spared ?

COMMENTARY: WOW. Okay let's hear from the Judges!🔥

JUDGES REVIEWS

Judge Jk Rowling

This work seemed to have potential, but the lack or misuse of punctuations and the general disorganization of the work was such a major turn off for me.

Judge Karen Kingsbury

The answer to the last sentence in your work? No, I don't care if she was spared. You did not give me a solid reason to care. The story was 80% telling and 20% showing and for a writer that's bad news. She, her friend, and her brother, all of them are confused. The theme wasn't executed. Punctuation needs serious work and so does the arrangement. The impression the story left on me was. . .nothing. There was no impression. I can only commend you for using Nigerian names.

Judge Williams Shakespeare

Thee hadst me, and then thee hath lost me.  But this is promising.
You had me, and then you lost me. But this is promising.

Judge Acton Bell

Your writing style is generally okay. But then, you need to learn how to put your punctuation inside the quotes when you do dialogue. And yeah, ending the story with a question did something wrong — so to say — with the story. But sha, I believe you can do more.

Judge Arundhati Roy

The good plot once again but the execution? Terrible would be an understatement to describe it. You have mad potential and you just have to work harder to do justice to your creativity.

Judge Jane Austen

Hm. Choppy flow. Stalled in some parts, rushing to meet up with the cadence in others. Uncomfortable, like bad driving. And there's too many one-liners. One-liners are intended for dramatic effect. Too many, and they serve no purpose anymore, only to interrupt the flow of your piece.

Judge Maya Angelou

My biggest pet peeve when it comes to writing is a writer's inability to use punctuations properly, and I saw a lot of that in your piece. You kept snaking a particular mistake with your comma. The comma is meant to come before the end quote (",") not after it like you did ("",). I saw; "Ife, Ife",. That's a big no for me. Not only that, you misused a number of punctuation, and most times, you didn't even use them at all. Also, I'm not sure I understood what your story was about. There was so much going on and nothing was going on at the same time. I wasn't impressed.

COMMENTARY: Alright, who do we have have up next?! ✈️

034 HandsomeLad42

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

Story Entry;

THE STORY OF MY LIFE.

Every day, the same thing keeps happening. I wake up, brush my teeth, take a shower, get dressed, and head to work. It's the same routine, day in and day out. I've been doing this for years and it's become monotonous.

I work in a small office with a few other people. We all have our own cubicles and we spend most of our day in front of our computers. It's a quiet office, and everyone keeps to themselves. I don't mind it, but I sometimes wish there was a little more excitement in my life.

One day, as I was walking to work, I noticed something strange. There was a man standing on the corner of the street, holding a sign that read, "The end is near." I didn't think much of it at first, but as the days went by, I started to see more and more people with signs like that.

It was as if the whole city was preparing for something. I didn't know what it was, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something big was about to happen.

One day, as I was sitting at my desk, I heard a loud noise outside. I got up to see what was going on and saw a huge crowd of people marching down the street. They were chanting and carrying signs that read, "The end is near."

I didn't know what to do. I had never seen anything like this before. I decided to go outside and see what was happening. As I walked down the street, I saw that the crowd was growing. There were people from all walks of life, all ages, and all races. It was as if everyone had put aside their differences and had come together for a common cause.

I joined the crowd and started chanting with them. I didn't know what I was chanting, but it felt good to be a part of something bigger than myself. We marched for hours, and as the sun started to set, we arrived at the city center.

There, on a stage, stood the man who had started it all. He was dressed in a white robe and had a long beard. He spoke to the crowd, telling us that the end was indeed near. He said that we had to prepare ourselves for what was to come.

I didn't know what to make of it all. Was this man crazy? Was he a prophet? I didn't know, but I couldn't stop listening to him. He spoke with such conviction that I couldn't help but believe him.

As the night wore on, the crowd started to thin out. People went back to their homes, but I stayed. I wanted to hear more from this man. I wanted to know what he knew that I didn't.

He saw me standing there and motioned for me to come closer. I walked up to the stage, and he took my hand.

"You're one of the chosen ones," he said. "You're meant to help prepare the world for what's to come."

I didn't know what he meant, but I was intrigued. He told me that he had been given a vision of the future, and that he knew what was going to happen. He said that there was a great evil coming, and that we had to be ready to fight it.

I didn't know what to say. I had never been a part of anything like this before. But something about this man, and what he was saying, made sense to me. I felt like I was meant to be there, like I was meant to help.

Over the next few weeks, I spent all of my time with the man and his followers. We trained, we studied, and we prepared. We knew that something big was coming, and we had to be ready for it.

And then, one day, it happened. The sky turned black, and a great wind swept through the city. People were running and screaming, and I didn't know what to do.

But then I remembered what the man had said. I remembered that I was meant to fight this evil. And so, I stood my ground and prepared to fight.

The battle was long and hard, but in the end, we emerged victorious. The world was saved, and the man who had led us was hailed as a hero.

Looking back on it now, I realize that it was all just a dream. The man, the battle, everything. But it was a dream that changed me. It made me realize that there was more to life than just going through the motions. It made me realize that sometimes, you have to take a chance, and believe in something greater than yourself.

COMMENTARY: Wow😭 Oya let's hear from the Judges!!!🔥

JUDGES REVIEWS

Judge Jk Rowling

This one is going to be long...

So, grab a pillow or something .

First off, I'll be honest, I was thrown off guard many times by this story.

Especially, because I didn't expect half the things I was put through. We started off regular, waking up, which was not the most catchy way to stay a story, but however, the next thing I knew, we were fighting battles and saving the world. No preparation whatsoever for such a heated event.

And then the end? Could have been constructed better. If you wanted to use this plot, there are better ways it could have been delivered. The atmosphere, the tension, the suspense; it was lacking in this piece. With stories like this, there should be an effective build up. You could have started off, for example, hinting at the fact that the MC feels like there is something unusual about them. Something that makes them know they're different from others, but maybe can't pin it. Give examples how. For instance, maybe they learned to spell big words at age two. Or they could read solfa notations, without ever being taught. Or maybe, they could always hear sounds that only dogs could hear. Something unusual, but light. Not exaggerated, yeah?

Then, build up! Build up to the battle thing. Impute the suspense, the tension, all of that! And since you are going for the twist that everything would be a dream, you slowly bring us to that point. You don't just announce that it was dream; let us experience every bit of it until we awake with the character, and slowly, realize it was all a dream.

Then, there should be that open ending effect in my opinion. Remember the MC still has his weird gifts that make him 'different' from other humans, right? Great! The MC tells us they have awoken from their sleep, and it was all a dream, but create this lingering effect within them as though they were unsure. It could end with them saying that ever since that night of the 'dream', something has felt off. But, again, they can't pin it down.

This is a better intriguing storyline, but then again, it doesn't exactly have anything to do in connection with the plot. Unless somehow you wanted to connect the ending to the plot, but I won't go into that, because I have already talked too much. All in all, this story could have been better crafted.

Judge Karen Kingsbury

I'm just going to list out some things instead of talking too much. Shall we?

Prompt execution? No.

Plot? No.

Wordplay? None existent.

Punctuation? Ok.

Creativity? No.

Showing? None existent.

Description? Bland, if any at all.

Story flow? Precarious.

Overall impression:  This reminds me of the stories I read back in primary school during English class. I'm sorry to say, but if you continue like this, you would not last long here.

Judge Jane Corry

First, what is this? They clearly told you to write one thing and you wrote about a dream. haba na, why don't you listen to instructions? They legit gave you "Every day, the same thing keeps happening." Not about you dreaming about being the chosen one in a dream, does your character dream this every day?

Secondly, what the fuck did "One day" do to you? You could have used any other word apart from one day. The one day made the piece kinda childish.

Judge Williams Shakespeare

All thee didst wast narrate.  Thee didn't alloweth us exp'rience ev'rything happening.

All you did was narrate. You didn't let us experience everything happening.

Judge Acton Bell

Well, thank you for teaching us that there's more to life than monotony. The punctuation was okay. But it's so basic. Not particularly intriguing. But again, it was okay. Just do better.

Judge Maya Angelou

Your story is rather... interesting. I wish there was more details to the fight. Although, I'm not sure how the title "The story of my life" comes to play here. I don't get it. You seem like someone that understands the basics of writing but you were not very explicit. Asides the fact that I like your plot, your execution was quite bland. I believe you can do better.

Judge Arundhati Roy

A better execution and you'd have given us a very enthralling piece. You did not make your entry captivating at all. No twists, no turns, everything was just straight to the point as if it was an article. You could have made the revelation of everything being a dream more intriguing but you just... I'm not even sure how to put it.

Judge Jane Austen

Ugh. You spent a lot of time writing, and not enough time planning. You need to alter the ratio. You came up with something with the innate essence of a masterpiece, but the execution of a grade 4 essay. You need to change your diction.

COMMENTARY: OKAY NOW OUR FINAL CONTESTANT FOR THE ENTIRE JUDGES REVIEWS FOR PROJECT PEN 2023😪🎊👇🏾

035 Aang

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

Story Entry;

Title: What hits the hardest?

Every day the same thing keeps happening, I thought to myself as I stopped in my tracks and stared at the text on my phone for the third time, my brows drawn in together in utmost confusion.  
You need to find the truth!
You can never guess it!
What would you do, Kim, if you found out that... a shrill sound came from the phone making me drop it, my hand shooting up to my chest, waves of shock rippling down to my toes. I picked it back up only when the ringing had stopped and glanced at the caller ID, relieved when it turned out to be Camilla my best friend. I glanced around the dark and back to the text curious to find out what it was about but that was the end.
Just that? the text had ended with the ellipsis, leaving me pissed off. I was getting tired of all these. This was the ninth time I was receiving this kind of text. They came off as spam texts at first, but it kept coming, daily, with one text per day till it gradually increased to two. Staring at the phone again, I was getting a bit scared especially with what was going on in town recently. The recent murders and the warning not to stay out late. The memory lapses I've been having were not also helping matters. My life was such a mess at the moment and the stress was getting evident with my cranky and anxious behavior, even Camilla had said it. I looked at my watch as I noted the time and hurried into my car, desperate not to spend another minute in the dark lot. The psycho could be anywhere, watching me and the thought of that sent shivers up my spine as I hurriedly drove out of the parking lot. 9pm was definitely not a time to wander about.
-----------------------
"Where the hell were you! It's almost 10 fucking pm" My best friend Camila yelled out the moment I got out of my car. She stood before the door with folded arms while I made my way towards her, my mind occupied with the latest text I got but something caught my eye making me stop on my tracks.
My tyres were muddy.
Was the road here muddy? It didn't rain today though. I shut my eyes and opened them to see normal dusty tyres and felt my heart breaking at the stress I was going through. Has it gotten to the point of hallucination? I turned back to Camila and sighed as I got to where she stood.
"My meeting ran late cause the clients arrived late." I replied, my voice coming out strained. She narrowed her eyes as I took in her appearance. With dark circles under her eyes and her disheveled hair, she could pass for a zombie, the life of a hotshot lawyer.
You equally look like a zombie a voice in my head said as I mentally rolled my eyes.
"You have every idea of what's going on in the... wait why do you sound that way? Did something happen?" I thought it would get past her, however it increased my curiosity as to why she chose law instead of psychology or even being a detective.
I shrugged, raising the phone, she was the one helping me investigate the texts after all. "Well, it's just the usual"
"The texts?"
"It was three this time around" I rubbed my forehead, feeling a headache building up "what about the IP tracking?" I asked, she looked so worried as she dragged me inside, shutting he door and putting on the security systems, staring out into the dark streets before closing the curtains and turning to me.
"Alice said it'd take about 48 hours, I'm trying to find a pattern, a leak somewhere in the texts"
"I doubt if anything would come up, I mean why me? Why does he keep sending those texts to me?"
"I have no idea, to instill fear maybe? See, why don't you go to sleep? You look so stressed up from everything" she said. I opened my mouth to argue but realized she was right, I needed it. And I needed some motherfucking Aspirins.
"I think you should also get some sleep, you look like a zombie, I feel bad for getting you involved in this whole shit when you have your own work"
"I know, but you're my best friend, I can't let anything happen to you. Now save the sentiments for later, go get some sleep" she said. I flashed her a smile of gratitude before going upstairs to my room.
As my head hit the pillow, I couldn't help wondering why they chose me. Why the murderer chose me.
I swear if I find you, I'll kill you. I muttered, closing my eyes.
I'd love to see you try.
Where did that come from? Before I could comprehend that, the throes of sleep dragged me into its darkness.
And then...
It was like a finger snap. The voices were hazy and unclear and while I tried to make out a few words I felt it. The unfamiliar cold metal like snap on my wrists. That was when I looked up to see him. A handsome young guy who looked like he was in his early thirties, I would have drooled over him on a very normal day however, the case was different today because he was holding my wrists together, with a stone face as he clasped the cuffs onto it, reciting the Miranda.
"...You have every right to an attorney, anything said here will be used against you in the court of..." I zoned him out as I looked around, trying to recognize my environment and familiarize myself with the scene of medics running around, camera shutter sounds and the yellow wrap of "POLICE LINE, DO NOT CROSS" being used to wall off the far end of the room. This was definitely not the room I slept off in, hell this was not even my house.  The familiarity of the place however plagued me vaguely but that was not my problem at the moment. I turned to the officer.
"Hold on what is happening here? Why am I being arrested? What's going on?" he looked at me like I was stupid, fear was slowly creeping in. Where is Camilla?
"I do appreciate your attempt at ignorance however like I said, everything you say here will be used against you in the law court..." I was about to reply when a uniformed officer rushed to his side, casting a disdainful look at me before raising up a bloodied knife in a plastic evidence bag.
"We found the murder weapon sir" the officer turned to me, his expression hardened more.
"Your fingerprints were found on the murder scene of Mr. Evans, we have cause to believe you're also responsible for the murders that have been going on in this town and so Miss Evans, you'd have to come with us to the station." My head was spinning, Mr. Evans? It couldn't be... That was when everything made sense, I looked around the living room I was standing, making out the picture frames of a man who was hugging the tall frame of his 25 year old daughter, Kimberly Evans.
Me.
My father was dead.
And I was being framed for it.
How did I get to his place? Why would I kill my father? Nothing was making sense, I felt tears rushing into my eyes as another officer inched me forward, snapping me out of my reverie as I immediately shook my head, refusing to move, the reality hitting me hard in the gut.
"Hold on! Hold on! I have no idea what you're talking about! I need my lawyer! You can't do this! I'm innocent, I'm being framed!" once again, I wondered where Camilla was, then I remembered she was with me till I slept off, I turned to the officers, a look of desperation written all over my face.
"Camilla! She's my Alibi! I swear I have no idea what you're..." and that was when Camilla ran in, looking distraught and panicked. Relief made me fall to the floor as tears rolled freely down my cheeks. She came forward with reluctant steps, before placing two phones in front of me. I recognized mine but not the other as I looked up to see her staring at me with eyes of betrayal.
"How could you?"
"What are you talking about! You don't believe them, do you?" tears were also flowing down her cheeks.
"It was you all along, the IP address made its way back to our house, all those murders, even your own..." her words trailed off as a smile made its way on my face.
"You were about to be the next sweetheart, I was just stupid to be sloppy this time around, urgh! I hate this girl!" the smile was gone and I was back staring at her shocked face, the officers were done with the whole drama as they yanked me up and led me away while I tried to comprehend what was going on. It was as though I was fighting with someone inside me. we walked past a mirror and I stopped to stare at myself, my bloodied clothes and with a shock, the wide smile on my face.
THAT'S NOT ME! I wanted to scream but no words came out, rather the smile turned into a cackle, and then a laughter. I was watching myself laugh at the crime I had committed but I knew that wasn't me. I was not laughing. Then the same voice came again.
I told you to find out the truth because you can't kill me sweetheart.
BECAUSE I AM YOU!
And then it made sense, the whole memory lapses I've been having for months, the muddy car, the texts, everything made sense as I stared at my other self.
My second self.
Then I was back again to the tear filled girl who was so lost. As they led me to the police van, I stared at the faces of the crowd, of everyone who knew me, who trusted me, their looks of betrayal not hidden. The camera flashes and voices drifted past me as I couldn't help but wonder speechlessly, how my life just toppled over. And then I LAUGHED.

COMMENTARY: Ouu! Spooky!💀🔥 Let's hear what the Judges think!🔥🔥

JUDGES REVIEWS

Judge Jk Rowling

Heavens. Again with another creative person with a wide imagination, but cannot effectively use their words to deliver their stories better.

Aang, you're creative. But execution? That's a different story entirely.

The whole second self thing is brilliant, but your delivery of this piece was very scattered, from the lack of punctuations to the disorganized phrases and sentences and jampacked paragraphs. This is a good story that could have been better written.

I see potential in this work, however, and with effective grooming, I can tell that this writer could become a force to reckon with. That's why you're in Project Pen anyway, to be drilled into becoming a better writer. I already know what my verdict is.

Judge Karen Kingsbury

You can't glance around the dark but you can glance around "in" the dark. Your punctuation needs work. In your writing, most of the CAPITALIZATION was not necessary. Like, that one. I didn't need to capitalize it to pass my point across to you. There were errors —if you move on, I would point it out in the future. Your ending was simple. This might make for a good novel if time, energy, and good planning are put into it. Nothing was shocking here. I have read so many entries today that are similar to this that I'm starting to wonder if you people read a particular book or watched a movie that gave you this inspiration. For your sake, don't go for this again in the competition. There are more ideas out there. One of which, I'm sure, you would execute better.

Judge James Hardley Chase

You are creative, but with execution, you are battling. Project Pen isn't just about the competition, but grooming too. I believe you can do better, and I hope to see you up there. We learn every day, I believe in you.

Judge Acton Bell

So, I think I understand what you were trying to do with your story, but you didn't do it well. I dunno sha, everything seemed odd. And it's not Nigerian. Nawa oh. Please follow instructions. Your execution needs work. Punctuation, too. In fact, you really need to work on everything. Please, do that. Thank you.

Judge Arundhati Roy

You have a very brilliant story but the execution is so POORLY done, I was completely disappointed with how you executed it. Everything was just all over the place that I couldn't even feel the suspense or thrill at all. This is a competition, please. You need to go all the way. I want to believe you'll improve in the subsequent stages so I'm not going to take a risk on you.

Judge Jane Corry

I don't even understand this.

Judge Williams Shakespeare

Po'r execution, but brilliant and creative.

Poor execution, but brilliant and creative.

Judge Maya Angelou

The number one issue I had with your piece was the lack of spacing. I completely detest when everything is all clustered up and muddled up. It makes reading very hard. I think another thing you need to be conscious of is punctuations and their functions. There were places where a sentence should have stopped and another started, but you kept using conjunctions to join them.

Also, I'm not sure how the title came to play or even what those messages meant. The hints you tried to drop all the way to the climax were overlooked because they weren't vivid enough. I guess you were trying to give the mystery, then serial killer vibe but you didn't pull it off at all.

Overall, your piece was pretty mid.

Judge Jane Austen

Pfft. You wrote a story to answer an entirely different prompt. And you should read a lot more mystery. You have a smidge of potential in it. Polish it, but until then, I'm afraid I'll have you stay back.

COMMENTARY: WHOOSH!🔥

So there you have  it! WE HAVE COME TO THE END OF OUR JUDGES REVIEWS!🥳👏

SEE YOU TOMORROW NIGHT 8PM ON THE MAIN CRIB FOR OUR JUDGES VERDICT NIGHT! GHEN GHENNNNN!!!!🎊