PROJECT PEN SEASON ONE

STAGE ONE

PART 3

BLIND IMPRESSION STAGE✨

WELCOME BACK to the third episode of first stage of Project Pen, which is actually the beginning for the Batch B Contestants!

Before we go on, can we take a chance to give a STANDING OVATION to the Batch A Contestants for doing amazingly well during their time!🎉🎉

So, we will just pick up from where we left off. Only that this time, we have a different Sentence Prompt for the Batch B titled: THE PERSON IN THE MIRROR WASN'T ME. What a prompt right? We are really excited to see how they pull it off and we are sure you guys, the fans, are too. 

Let's welcome the Batch B Contestants.

015              Zirachi

016              Little Creator

018              The Wordsmith

019.             Black Rose

020              Temi_Creates

021              Netsuke_Writes

022              Vinylwriter

023              FayWrites

024              Girlinluv

026              JaneTheVirgin

027             CY

028             Paz

030             Kayen

There you have it!

Now, without much further Ado, let the show begin!

Introducing the first set of Batch B Contestants.

Drum Roll Please! 🥁

ZIRACHI 015.
SENTENCE PROMPT: THE PERSON IN THE MIRROR WASN'T ME.

TITILE: GREY CLOUDS AND SILVER LININGS.

The person in the mirror wasn’t me. She had my eye color, my skin and my hair, but no. She still wasn’t me. I didn’t have terrible eye bags beneath my eyes. I wasn’t as pale as this. I was never this thin.

Face it, Ana, this is what you have become. That tiny voice at the back of my mind told me. And as much as I wanted to agree, I couldn’t. A tiny part of me kept telling me that all this wasn’t true. It was just a nightmare, or a bad joke. But the greater part of me told me to suck it up and deal with it. Because it had now become my reality.

“Miss Ziorana, I am very sorry to tell you this, but we lost her. She had lost so much blood, her body couldn’t withstand the pain. She couldn’t make it.” Those were the exact words the doctor had told me two weeks ago. On a very rainy night.

My father wasn’t there. He was abroad. I didn’t know what surprised me more, his cruelty or the fact that he received news that his wife died in labor, and had deemed it fit that today, exactly two weeks after her death, was the best time for him to show up. The only thing my father had done was to name his son from abroad.

And for those two weeks, I had been the one taking care of the son my mother left behind with the nanny my sister, Erinma, had assigned to him. Of course, my father had been overjoyed when he heard that my mother had given birth a boy. After all, he had already gotten the heir he had always wished for.

I sighed, tearing my gaze apart from the thin, miserable looking girl in the mirror to the baby who was playing with his fingers in the cradle. I mustered a sad smile, picking him up from the cradle and rocking his so he could fall asleep. The nanny had fed him with the baby feeder not quite long.

Just when Kainyechukwuekene was starting to fall asleep, there was a soft knock on the door. No matter how gentle that knock had been, Kainye opened his eyes immediately and was now peering at me.

The door creaked open slightly and Erinma poked in her head, “Ziorana, may I come in?” she asked softly. I nodded and she came in, leaving the door slightly open.

“Daddy is back, Ana,” she said, walking quietly to my side.

“He is?” I asked, quite surprised because I hadn’t heard the sound of cars.

“Yes Ana, he is back. And he is waiting for you,” she replied.

“Tell him I’m busy with Kainye,” I answered flatly and began to rock my baby brother to sleep again.

“Ziorana, you know how father can get. Let’s not get on his nerves please,” Erinma pleaded.

“But I’m busy with Kainye, aren’t I? I’ll only come downstairs when he’s asleep,” I replied, sighing. I wondered what part of ‘I’m busy’ she didn’t understand.

“The nanny can…”

“I want to do it myself, Erinma!” I snapped, then shut my eyes, taking a deep breath in the process, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped. I just want to be with Kainye for a while.”

Erinma gave a small smile, placing her hand on my shoulder, “I understand, but don’t take long please.”

I nodded, watching her leave before I placed my full concentration on Kainye.

“You’re so cute, aren’t you Kainye?” I cooed, placing a kiss on his forehead. It took me not less than an hour to put Kainye to bed.

Finally, I put him in his cradle, then I left my room, making my way to the living room. As I descended the stairs, I saw my father raise his head from the bunch of papers he was reading. The man looked very pissed, obviously because I took time, but of course, his pissed off look felt oddly satisfying.

“Good evening dad,” I greeted, getting on my knees.

“Zioranachidinma!” he bellowed, “what took you so long to get down here?”

“I was putting Kainye to sleep,” I answered, getting up from the position which looked so much like a punishment. I took a seat next to Erinma who seemed tense.

“You could have given him to the nanny, Chidinma!” he snapped furiously.

“I did not know where she was,” I answered flatly, frowning a bit. Erinma pinched me, giving me a look I knew too well. She was silently telling me to apologize.

I bit my lip, almost scowling, “I’m sorry dad, it won’t happen again,” I lied.

“It better not,” he grumbled. He gave the bunch of papers he was reading to his PA who was standing beside the couch. My father stood up and immediately, his PA grabbed all the phones which was lying on the couch and trailed after my father.

“Where are you going dad?” The words had left my mouth before I could stop it. My father paused, turning back with a frown.

“I am going to a friend’s house, although, I do not see how it is any of your business,” he replied, eyeing me before he left.

As I stared at the closed door, I could feel the anger and resentment I had for my father rising. He did not even ask to see Kainye, or even talk about my mother’s burial arrangement.

God! How I hate that man!

If I had the chance, I’ll make him die a very slow and painful death. And I would not regret any part of it.

“Ana, are you alright?” Erinma asked, jolting me out of my trance.

“Yeah,” I answered, shrugging noncommittally.

“You know, in every grey cloud, there is always a silver lining. Kainye is our silver lining, remember that,” Erinma said, patting me on the shoulder. With that, she left, leaving me all alone with an empty feeling inside of me.

JUDGES REVIEWS

JUDGE PURPLE

I get the prompt title was, "The person in the mirror wasn't me." You were asked to start with it, which you did. But it felt like you just dumped it there, and did nothing else as the story progressed. You just dumped the prompt title, and that was it. You didn't do justice to the prompt.

JUDGE SILVER

Simple. I think that's the only way I can describe the story. It was too simple, too laid-back. There was nothing much going on, felt more like the build-up to the actual story and not the story itself. Your punctuation was good and so was your paragraphing. I just really wished you pushed the prompt, I really believe something better could have come out of it. But it was a clean work, I liked that.

JUDGE BLACK

This is a nice story, I'd like to see more of it maybe as a novel, I think you should consider that. Unfortunately it didn't serve the purpose of the sentence prompt given. The story could do without the prompt which is not supposed to be so. It looks like it was just thrown in there at the beginning and that was it. Nonetheless, I liked the plot a lot.

JUDGE WHITE

The story was quite simple and straight forward which is a good thing, but at the same time, it felt little too simple. You didn't work expressly or expatiate on the prompt, you only started with it. I didn't see a build up from of the prompt in the whole story, and with your kind of Storyline, there were a lot of places you could built on and expressed the sentence prompt better. Your punctuations were quite okay and in the correct places, I'd give you that. The story was generally a good one, but it had a lot more potential than what you presented.

LITTLE CREATOR 016
SENTENCE PROMPT: THE PERSON IN THE MIRROR WASN'T ME

TITLE: GIRL IN THE GLASS.

The person in the mirror wasn't me, she was a different person. She looked like me, had the same grey orbs like I did, even wore the same necklace with my initial 'D' on it. She was me, I was ashamed to say it, but the girl in the mirror was me.

"It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see" I looked at the mirror again, what was I seeing, a girl who made horrible mistakes, and whose mistakes had caused her alot. She lost her siblings, the ones she loved the most, all for what, nothing.

  My eyes were filled with tears and regret, my only wish was to take back the hands of the clock, prevent it all from happening, but I couldn't. I was sorry, if only just sorry could fix it. I couldn't look at their faces, I was too ashamed of myself. I was selfish, proud and jealous. What kind of a sister was I, the one who was jealous of her little brother. I glared at the girl in the mirror, she glared back at me,  telling me i was a terrible sister, she was right.

  I thought of Ife, where was she anyways. Since what I said and did to her, I haven't seen a sign of her in school. She was sad, angry, she had every right to. Vicent looked at me with fury, who wouldn't, I would have done worse if I were in his shoes. The tears didn't stop falling, tears of guilt.

Lola warned me to stop. Sean begged me to stop. Adrien brought his pride down for her, he begged me to stop, promised to do whatever I wanted, he loved her so much, I could see that now, but I was too selfish, I hurt my brother, i did this to him. I screamed so loud, I knew the entire senior block heard me, I didn't care, the guilt was killing me. Adrien was in the health centre with an oxygen mask because of me. I should have stopped when he begged, his body couldn't take it anymore, I hurt him.

"Desireé, are you in there?" Lola's voice came through from outside, it couldn't be Lola, she was mad at me, they all were, my mind was playing tricks on me.

"Desireé, come on, do you think he'll wake up by you screaming here, if you're sorry, try saying it" I also heard Sean say.

"Deep breaths Desy, you're okay, you're going to fix this" I said to myself.

"Shutup and open the damn door Desireé" I heard Sean's voice again, were they really there, did they really come back for me, after everything "that's it, I'm breaking the fucking door down" Sean said again and true to his words, the door flung open. They were really there, Sean and Lola. Lola ran towards me and hugged me

"L-lola" I managed to say amidst the tears. She really came back to find me, they both did, after everything I did and said to them.

"Could you stop crying already, you'll irritate Adrien more than you already do" Sean said resting by the door of the restroom.

"He's awake?" I asked

"Duhh, do you think I'll just decide to join Lola to find you, you can go to hell for all I care" Ouch, that hurt alot, especially when it came from my brother.

"Sean, she's still our sister" Lola said glaring at him.

"My sister wouldn't make my brother have to be on an oxygen mask" he spat angrily still glaring at me, if looks could kill, I'd be six feets under by now.

"I'm so sorry Sean, I'm sorry Lola, I don't know what happened, I was selfish, jealous, I'm sorry" Lola hugged me tighter.

"It's okay sis" Lola replied, Sean rolled his eyes, he didn't want to be here, I'm 100 percent sure Lola forced him to help her find me. I looked at him, he avoided my eyes, he was very angry.

"Can we go now, I wonder why Adrien wants to see her of all people" Adrien wanted to see me,that couldn't be good, my head was aching already. I was scared of what he had to tell me, I'm a terrible sister? I already knew that, but I couldn't hear it from him.

"I can't see him" I said, Lola looked at me

"Good. Lola, I'm in the health centre incase you need me" Sean said

"Stay there" Lola growled at him which made him pause, turning around to face us with a frown, Lola faced me

"Sis, look at me, yeah you did alot because of whatever excuse you had, but you're still my sister, you're Adrien's sister, Oceane and Samantha's sister and also Sean's sister whether he likes it or not, he should deal with it. You made a mistake and you're sorry and I forgive you and I know they also will forgive you in their own time. Adrien is awake thank the heavens, you have to show him now that you're sorry. He's difficult, I know, but he loves you no matter what okay, you can do this" I took in a deep breath letting all Lola say get into my brain, I called on strength from wherever, I needed it as I followed them back to the health centre.

  Adrien sat on the bed, so calm as usual, he was reading a novel as usual, everything was so normal about him, like nothing happened at all. Oceane and Samantha sat beside him, telling him whatever, he wasn't listening, he never listened to them. I didn't even hear Sean tell him I was here, the deep frown which suddenly appeared on his face told me he was aware of my presence, the frown turned into a smirk, that brought chills down my spine, I was scared of my little brother, I had to, he was very unpredictable, he could do anything.

"Desy, come closer" he said calmly, he didn't have to say it twice, I didn't want him to say it twice, that would be bad for me. I came closer towards where he sat

"Adrien, I am so…"

"Shurrupppppppppp" he yelled lazily cutting short my apology, Samantha hid a laugh, I couldn't even glare at her.

"Don't let me repeat myself, listen carefully" Adrien said again, he looked serious, the smirk was gone, it was replaced with his calm but deadly look "Find Ife, make sure she's alright, then clean up all the bullshit you had up about her and her family. When I'm out of here, if I hear anything, as tiny as a whisper about what happened, you're dead, got it?" I nodded quickly

"GET OUT" he said, he didn't need to say it again, I was out of the room before he even completed the statement. He had given me the only way to try an get his forgiveness. A very hard and difficult thing to do, but I had to, I had to try, not just for him, or my siblings, but for me also, to get myself back.

JUDGES REVIEWS

JUDGE GOLD

PUNCTUATIONS! You really need to master the correct use of punctuations. You missed lots of commas, full stops, and question marks. If you ask a question, a question mark should end it, not a full stop.

And I don't think your story relates to the prompt at all

JUDGE WHITE

I liked the consistency in the tense. The prompt was in paste tense and you carried it through out the entire story without switching. The storyline was interesting too. I was really curious to know what exactly Desiree did and how bad it was that it caused all the _kasala_ . You tried to portray the emotions well, though not in the best way, but you still tried.

But... your punctuations were off. You used commas where full stops were meant to be, using them before words that were supposed to be the start of a new sentence. You used them a lot, commas I mean, almost unnecessarily in fact. And in most of the dialogues, you didn't end with any punctuation at all before the end quote (").

Another thing is the continuous use of adverbs; said calmly, yelled lazily, angrily, where descriptions should have been used instead.

Also, for someone just waking up from a coma, Adrien seemed to have a lot of strength to shout. He was even reading a book. You never specified he was in a coma, yes, but someone with an oxygen mask on, I can assume he was. This seemed a quite unrealistic. All in all, the story was good, but the off punctuations made it hard for me to complete it in a way.

JUDGE SILVER

I am sorry but I think the forgot about the prompt halfway through your story. Some of your punctuation was off, just the ones meant to be present after a statement. If forgiveness was the basis assigned to create your story then I would have appreciated it more.

JUDGE PURPLE

You didn't tell us what Desiree did, I really wanted to know. Awwn, I love the name Desiree though. You had a great plot but failed to execute it properly. To think it's my favourite genre, Teen fiction. You really  tried, but the  flaws in your work  overshadowed the little effort you made.

THE WORDSMITH 018
SENTENCE PROMPT: THE PERSON IN THE MIRROR WASN'T ME

TITLE: LETTER FROM YOUR SOULLESS SOULMATE.

Dear Omari,

The person in the mirror wasn't me. Neither was he the me I've always hoped to be. The fear and uncertainty ingrained in those eyes weren't just a figment of my imagination. They are the harvests of what I've planted over the years. With grief I realise that as harsh as your words might have sounded, they are not in any way false.

"What words?" I asked myself as I picked up the black inked paper and walked over to the only bed in our flat, sitting on the edge. Something tugged at my heart, subtly telling me to read on. Of course I recognised his handwriting but what could he possibly want to tell me that he couldn't say to my face. Swallowing hard, I took in the next words.

Remember when we had a slight misunderstanding and you had told me in caustic words to 'look into the mirror'. I know you meant it figuratively but I took it rather literally. I looked in the mirror that day Oma and I've come to the fated realisation that the face that pinned me with its double gaze affirmed the truth I've been running from. I am a self seeker.

I hate to break it to you that I might have mopped you one too many times with a tissue of lies. I know the truth would hurt you as deeply as the cut of a knife; which is why I have decided that my reflection is not worthy to be beheld by your lucid eyes. This letter, in all its contents, would displease you. So read at your own emotional risk.

I stared at the black ink as my heartbeat sped up. I didn't know if I trust my emotions to face the bullet this letter might shoot me with or if I should just stop reading and wait for him to arrive. Folding the paper, I placed it under the pillow and began pacing the room. As if driven by an incomprehensible magnetic force, my legs walked back to the pillow and my hands pulled out the paper. Life, they say, is all about taking risks. I might as well take this one.

I am overwhelmed with a defeatist complex; a term the mind doctors describe as 'an acceptance of defeat'. Even as I write this to you, my thoughts have been immersed in self persecution reveries. They pierce through my heart like an arrow, filling my soul with acrimony. It's eating at me painstakingly without even the keen mercy of anaesthesia.

I have come to the bitter conclusion that there's more to life than meets the eye. I'd rather have a coffin over my head than live with too many unanswered questions that life serves as our daily bread. If not, I will purely become what Newton described in his first law of motion; a body at rest tends to stay at rest.

I know you're strong and practical, so much unlike my idealistic self. We are two different bodies entwined with the powerful bond called love. I sometimes wonder how an optimist like you crossed paths with a being like myself whose mind has wistfully found solace in negative thinking patterns. Do not worry about me Oma, for I have now become your past. Neither should you dread tomorrow. I want you to live in the present and relish the breath of every new dawn life gives you. Do not be like me who sits at the back of the commercial bus and watches as life passes him by like trees on the highway.

My hands shook lightly as I pondered on what he meant by saying I should not worry about him. Is he breaking up with me? Flying out the country to abandon us? I looked at my stomach and placed my left hand on the protruding flesh. No, I whispered to myself. He wouldn't leave us alone. There has to be another reason for this letter. With bated breath, I placed my hands on the paper and began tracing the words with my fingers. Right now, I didn't care if that was a bad habit. I just needed answers.

I am consoled because I know that I leave my offspring in good hands. Do not let them become like me Oma, for no matter how strong genes are, positive training and good parental care will break it. As much as I would have loved to do this with you, my deep-seated habits won't let me. Guide them to look at life through rose colored glasses. Teach the twins to go after life, for life won't come to them if they keep their butts on a recliner.

My advent into your life has done nothing but smear your hopes for the future. It is partly the reason why I must leave this world behind. I took your dreams and smashed it into pieces the moment we made love. Your pregnancy has made you a laughing stock in the community. Your mother is ashamed of the daughter she brought up and your father has threatened to outrightly disown you. For all this I sincerely apologise. It is not surprising for me to wish I could turn back the hands of the clock -for me to say 'I wish I never met her'- as regret is one of the many kicks that a dying spirit makes.

You stayed with me even through all this and that has only made the realism of our situation glare at me when I stood in front of my reflection. The sight of my own image haunts me with the bitter truth that I will never be capable of giving you the life that you so very much deserve. Again, do not bother worrying about me as I am prepared to take my own life. The pills are right there, on the very bed we made love, begging to do justice to my life. I will readily allow them.

Just like my life, this letter has come to an avoidable end. I know how much you detest goodbyes so I won't say it. But I do leave you with this; if perchance, I get to live the life I want in the hereafter and pick one person to spend it with, I will choose you Omari. One thousand and one times.

Yours even in Nirvana,
Obi.

I felt stabbed. Mercilessly wounded. My vision became blurred and I could only see duplicates of everything around me. The black ink have now become soaked in nothing other than my own tears that I didn't realise were pouring down in torrents. I felt guilty. All this had happened because I asked him to look in the mirror. It was only a matter of time before I started feeling unbalanced and finally swooned, falling like  a stack of potatoes to the ground.

JUDGES REVIEWS

JUDGE ORANGE

I know we are meant to be professional here and all, but permit me to say…..

UNA DEY WRITE!!!!!!!!🔥

Wow! This hit different! The tension from the beginning of the story to the end was maddening. It was not rushed or dragged too long; it was in a perfect balance. The descriptions, imagery, emotions, grammar, punctuations, everything was on point! This work was flawless in my opinion.

JUDGE WHITE

The concept of this entry was very unique. Beautifully Unique. I mean, doing justice to the sentence prompt in form of a letter was something I didn't expect at all.

Everything was Perfect. I don't usually use the word perfect but I gats tell you, it was. The way you constructed every line and every paragraph of the letter and Oma's thoughts as she read, the use of figures of speech, your descriptions, your punctuations your word play... I couldn't tear my eyes away from the story. The words you used were not complex at all. They were so simple but you still managed to capture every emotion. I felt everything.

I love how you were able to portray two different personalities in such a short story. I felt Obi's pessimistic and idealistic self, and I also felt Oma's optimism as she tried to make herself believe that Obi wasn't breaking up with her. You executed the prompt perfectly.

You are really a Wordsmith, you chose the perfect penname, ngl .

JUDGE GOLD

Your story is the perfect definition of depth and, amazing. You were able to tell so much with so few words, that you were able to evoke that many emotions with such a short story. Your style of writing reeled me in and you did so much justice to the prompt in an exceptional way.

JUDGE SILVER

This was so beautifully heartbreaking. You made magic with your words and blessed me with them. I loved every single second of that.

JUDGE PURPLE

You are so creative, I believe you lived up to your name here, you were so good with your words. This was beautiful. I really loved it.

BLACK ROSE 019
SENTENCE PROMPT: THE PERSON IN THE MIRROR WASN'T ME

TITLE: RELIEF

The person in the mirror wasn't me and I'll tell you why…

Huddled at a corner of my completely trashed bedroom, I rocked back and forth as tears cascaded down my cheeks. I really couldn't believe it happened again. He promised me that that would be the last time yet he broke that promise and had his way with me again.

Mucus ran freely from my nose but that was the least of my worries, he was. The monster was standing before me at this ungodly hour of the night.

“Amara." He called out my name in his deep booming voice which he tried his best to control at this time, “Nnem, I'm sorry. I couldn't control myself when I saw you in such short shorts. Even your nipples that poked through your shirt was too much for me to handle."

I visibly cringed in disgust. How could someone I called my father make such lewd, immoral statements about me? I wasn't shocked but it surprised me each time he talked like that. My night wear wasn't even as provocative as he described it. It was normal night shorts and a big shirt yet, his perverted mind made him see what he wanted to see.

“Nwa m ewekwala iwe." He went on as I tried my best to block out his voice that made goosebumps sprout on my skin.
(Translation: My child don't be angry)

More than anything, I just wanted him to leave my room, to get out and let me be. He had successfully raped me yet again, the least he could do was to just leave and let me breathe.

My body felt broken, used. I felt so useless as I could do nothing but cry without stop. His presence still hovered over me and when he tried to touch me, I veered back with so much speed I didn't know I possessed.

He sighed and straightened from his hunched position, “Let me leave you to sleep, you have school in the morning."

I really couldn't help the mirthless chuckle I gave after his statement. It was already 3 in the morning and he really expected that by daylight, I would be so full of joy to head to school. He really thought I would be able to sleep.

Without another word, he turned and left my room. I remained in that corner, still rocking back and forth trying my best to calm down but I couldn't. I just couldn't. My fingers laced through my unmade hair and I tugged at it in frustration.

I screamed out at the overwhelming pain that hung in my heart, that seemed to weigh me down. Over and over and over again, he would come into my room by 1:00am. It was always by one and he would use me against my will then leave by three. Ever since Mom died early last year due to fibroid complications, this has been a steady cycle.

Until last month, on the anniversary of her death he promised never to do this again and I believed. Only for him to revert back to his old ways barely a month later. I could not refuse him because I feared he would take out his urges on my younger sister. I slammed the back of my head into the wall behind me as my tears continued to choke me.

Things used to be so much better, with me, him, mom and my little sister, Janice. Things were okay, things were good, life was fine but now. Now was a far cry from the life we used to have.

Maybe we should all revert back to our old ways, to the habits we tried to stop.

With that thought, I wiped my cheeks clean and managed to stand up before staggering over to my dressing table at the other end of the room. I took my seat in front of the full length mirror and simply stared. I stared at my reflection, stared at what I had become, a shell of my former self.

I looked disheveled to say the least. Swollen eyes, puffy cheeks, unkempt hair and a sickly figure, that was all I was now. A walking corpse.

With a tired smile, I lifted my shirt over my head and tossed it to a corner of the room. Having just been abused, I was completely naked save for the shirt I just took off. I stared back at the broken image in the mirror. My eyes took in every single detail on her equally broken skin, down to the cuts that decorated it like a work of art.

I leaned over to the drawer and brought out my possession that helped in times of anguish. I had safely tucked it away, hoping to never use it again but it's obvious how that turned out.

I fiddled with the small blade that I knew would never leave me. It would always be there for me. My fingers traced over the last injury I had inflicted on myself last month. It was a deep cut on my thigh, a reminder that everything was all over but here I am barely a month later seeking refuge from the same article I had kept aside.

Without a second thought, I ran the blade in one swift motion over the scar. A bit of relief washed over me as it bled again but it wasn't enough. I ran the blade continuously over my thighs.

The burning sensation that consumed me as the blood ran freely helped me calm down. A sigh of relief left me but with it came another round of tears.

My teary eyes couldn't focus on my naked, bleeding reflection as images of my boisterous, energy filled self from before flooded my mind. Everything used to be so much better.

I kept the bloody razor blade back on my dressing table. The tears still flowed down my cheeks and trying to wipe it was futile. One thing I was sure of as I slowly blacked out was that the person in the mirror wasn't me.

It wasn't me. It wasn't who I used to be.

JUDGES REVIEWS

JUDGE ORANGE

This was a gripping read for me. Honestly, the writer's language is simple, yet they are able to perfectly make me feel every bit of emotion from their work. I liked the way the writer did it; it wasn't too much, and it wasn't too less either. It had a perfect balance. With time, I can see that the writer will be able to incorporate more solid words and deep descriptions and imagery to their work, but they did a fair job.

I noticed a bit of mistakes in the punctuations though, but that was something that could be overlooked. However, for emphasis and growth, the writer should take note that commas should not be there where periods are meant to be. If a period is not suitable enough for you, or you feel you don't want to end the sentence just yet, you can make use of this (;), instead of excessive commas.

For example, where they wrote, "Mucus ran freely from my nose but that was the least of my worries, he was."

This could have been better off presented as "Mucus ran freely from my nose but that was the least of my worries. He was."

Or better still, "Mucus ran freely from my nose but that was the least of my worries; he was."

That aside, this is a good read. I like it.

JUDGE PURPLE

This is such a beautiful piece. It got me so emotional. I felt every emotion, it felt as though I was there. Honestly speaking this got to me. Not because it was an emotional story or because of the fact the MC was abused by her own father. It's because it was so beautifully written. I love this work. I spotted a few punctuation errors. You did so well, I am impressed.

JUDGE GOLD

Did your story almost make me tear up? Hell yes! You did a very good job with the story. I could feel all your lead's emotions. Your punctuations and use of tenses were on point and I love how you used your grammar too.

But you were not exactly creative with the prompt. You gave us a literal representation of the book and judging from how good you are, you could have done better and created something deeper than a literal representation.

JUDGE SILVER

Captured the anguish and pain of the character excellently and managed to flow with the prompt till the end. Outstanding presentation.

JUDGE WHITE

This is such a Sad but very Beautiful piece. I was already reading when I saw the title. Then I thought her Dad would die at the end or something and that will bring the Relief, only for me to see at the ending that it wasn't the case and that simply broke me.

Your sentence construction and use of words were simple and accurate. You didn't write lengthy paragraphs or wordy descriptions before passing your message successfully. You used the right punctuations in the right places.

Although, I think your story would have had a better flow if you started the story with when she was in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection, then flashed back to what happened with her father. It would have had a better connection with the sentence prompt instead of you starting like "The person in the mirror wasn't me and I'll tell you why..." . The "...and I'll tell you why..." won't have been necessary. I don't know if you understand what I mean.

But all in all, it was a beautiful piece.

TEMI_CREATES 020
SENTENCE PROMPT: THE PERSON IN THE MIRROR WASN'T ME

The person in the mirror wasn't me.

No, don't get me wrong. I didn't just recover from a facial surgery, nor plaster my face with layers and layers of thick makeup products.

Although I did that a lot. Wouldn't lie.

But that fateful day was definitely not the day to feel this bothersome, it's something I've always wished for. My aspirations which was enough to float me on cloud nine and make me the most worthy and free girl in the world is all of a sudden eating me slowly.

But I'd tune that down a bit, because I'm still here in the dressing room I know too well to even walk in the dark and not get bruised. It's not too big, and not too small either, just white sparkly walls hiding the filthiness of the building.

The door made a screeching sound and I sighed tiredly, dragging my face from my strange looking reflection in the mirror to see who's attempting to enter. Instinctively, I pull up the thin straps of my purple sequin gown, my nipples threatening to pop out due to how revealing the dress is.

“Ewela?”

A familiar voice called as he ducked his head halfway before fully pulling the door. I fight the urge of rolling my eyes as I retreat to the huge mirror in front of me. It's a lot better staring at my blank, expressionless face than looking at the huge bouncer who just walked in. Irritation washes over me and I start to stuff the colours of my lipsticks into a transparent makeup purse, neglecting the sound of his footsteps drawing closer and closer.

“Hey…” He called softly, now standing beside me. I didn't reply though, just kept stuffing the purse even though it's full and the lipsticks keep dropping. I'd pick it up and push it in again and again, frustration from nowhere angering me.

Firm strong hand grabbed mine, and I slowly raised my head to scrunched brows, a huge bodybuilder in all black hovering over me like a giant that he is.

“Leave me alone, Sylvester.” Aggressively, I tried twisting my wrist from his grasp only for him to hold me tighter, making me almost wince. “God… why don't you ever listen?!” I yelled, my thin voice bouncing off the walls and landing back to my ears.

That I know wouldn't faze him in any way. Instead, he kept his intensively deep looking orbs on me, his eyes searching mine like he's trying to decode what I can't decipher. His gaze softened and he gently release my hand. I breathe sharply and snap my head to face the mirror.

“I told you,” I muttered, not caring if he's hearing me or not, but with how immensely quiet the room is, I'm a tad sure he heard me. “I told you, didn't I? I told you I'm not the same person you knew.” Shaking my head at the notorious memories threatening to slip in, I dropped my eyes on my multi coloured polished nails.

Slv moved even closer, and without my consent, dragged the stool I'm seated on to face him directly. I chewed the inside of my mouth, looking at how clean and moisturise my hands are. Honestly though, if it was seven years back, when I was still proud of my innocence, I'd smile so much. But now, I feel filthy, dangerously out of control, and so shallow with every vein I have in me.

“Look at me…” Sylvester slowly raised my chin to meet his eyes, then placed his hands on either side of the stool. “You're not what you think you are, Ewela.” He whispered, and the buried hatred in me forced out itself and I pushed his sturdy chest. Slyv staggered backwards and I fled up from my seat.

“Say what? I'm not what I think I am?” I laughed humorlessly. “Okay then, I'd clear you. I am Ewela, a girl who was trafficked from my peaceful village to come here and sleep with men for years!” I breath out shakingly. “I was sixteen Slyv, sixteen…” I mutter, my vision suddenly becoming blurry with tears.

No, I won't cry. I can't.

I'm used to it. After all, I'm no longer innocent.

Slv gestured to reach again and I held up a hand to stop him. “No, don't…”

I could see the hurt in his eyes but exactly as I thought, I'm not the same person he used to know. Not the same sixteen year old who shedded tears everyday at the sight of horrifying things she was forced to partake in. Not the naive teenager who pleaded to escape but was caught by the same bouncer standing in front of me.

It was then I knew that it's over…

And today, it will officially be. Why? Because I recently turned twenty three and would soon be finally free from been a sex slave.

“Ewela, how. Many. Times. Do I. Have. To. Tell. you, that you're not what you see in the mirror?” Slyv breaks, his voice stoic as always. He matched to me and before I could stop him, turned me to see my reflection in the vanity mirror.

I craned my neck to see his face but he gently turned me front, huge hands holding my shoulders.

Slyv sighed softly, staring directly at me in the mirror. He leaned to my ear. “I'm sorry for everything Ewela, and even though I know you won't forgive me for what I did back then, and probably won't see me after today, I still want the best for you.”

My shoulders slumped and I lowered my gaze to the table. Slyv raised up my head again, to meet his eyes this time. He chuckled softly. “If only you knew how those men that touched you ended up.”

I bite down my lips. Of course I know, at the end of the day,  he'd make sure to break a bone of any man that had that way with me. Only that he couldn't stop them from touching me.

“The mirror can't judge you, Ewela. You are the one to judge what you see in the mirror.” He said, eyes fixated on me that I could see me in his eyes, like he's suddenly the only mirror I want to see my reflection in.

JUDGES REVIEWS

JUDGE ORANGE

First off, I love the fonts (there was a particular font the writer used to write their font). The work was neat and presentable, and if there's one thing I commend the writer for, is the work they put into making this piece as pretty as it could be. That did not go unnoticed by me. So, Temi_Creates, keep putting in your all into producing the best version of everything you want to do. That's Project Pen star quality!❤️

Now, for the story itself, I liked it because it was interesting. I liked how it ended too. How she saw her reflection in his eyes and everything. I liked that. It was unique and this is one of the only illustrations of the prompt that was a bit different from everything else I have been reading.

The only issue I had with this work was the use of tenses. The writer seemed to generally tell the story using the past tense, but the tenses kept switching from Past tense to present tense occasionally.

For example;

“I told you,” I muttered, not caring if he's hearing me or not, but with how immensely quiet the room is, I'm a tad sure he heard me.

It should have been written as, 

“I told you,” I muttered, not caring if he heard me or not, but judging how immensely quiet the room was, I was the slightest bit sure he heard me.

In another place where the writer wrote;

No, I won't cry. I can't.

As a suggestion, this could have been written this way, but in italics. Something to portray it as a thought.

That aside, I loved this work. I loved the font too!

JUDGE GOLD

Your story was a little bit confusing and I struggled with understanding Ewela's feelings. You misused tenses that I couldn't tell if the story was being told in the present or past tense and your punctuations were all over the place.

JUDGE WHITE

I like the way the story ended, the lesson you passed across by Sylvester's last dialogue and the concept of his eyes being the "mirror" Ewela saw her reflection in.  The storyline is quite good but it wasn't well executed.

At first I was confused on where the story was going. I kinda assumed Ewela was a model of some sort. The emotions she exuded didn't give off that she was in any form of emotional pain or trauma. I think you should have been a little clearer on that aspect before telling us she was trafficked and used as a sex slave for years.

Your punctuations were also all over the place. It was a big issue. Commas where full stops were meant to be. The part where Sylvester went;

“Ewela, how. Many. Times. Do I. Have. To. Tell. you, that you're not what you see in the mirror?”

I get that you were trying to enunciate the effect and impact of his words but the full stops in between the words were unnecessary because they didn't serve any purpose. Also, you were switching your tenses a lot. As a writer, you should have a tense you are comfortable writing with. It's either one or the other, not both at the same time. It will make your work look neat and organized.

JUDGE SILVER

There are a few plot holes here, some things were just not adding up to me. Your words didn't capture her emotions well or the setting.

But I loved the way it ended.

JUDGE BLACK

I liked whatever was going on between the bouncer and the MC but I just don't think you did justice to the prompt. Nice story though.

NETSUKE_WRITES 021
SENTENCE PROMPT: THE PERSON IN THE MIRROR WASN'T ME

TITLE: BUTT CREAM DISASTER.

The person in the mirror wasn’t me, but a demon seeking to kill me. I know it’s hard to believe, but I can even swear by my life that my reflection haunted me; literally.

It is a well-known fact that we all can not see our faces. We just see a reflection of it on reflective surfaces, like a mirror and others. But what creeped me out was that I saw a demon I knew was not me.

I concluded when my parents made us move to Abuja that there was something fishy about the place. Yes, it doesn’t seem like it at first glance, but it is believed to be the ‘yam place.’

Don’t tell me you’ve never heard what Abuja does to punish people. It is believed that people turn into yams the moment they insult the president of the country. I heard you can even turn into a yam if you complain about being Nigerian.

I always thought those stories were lies, but the day my reflection spoke to me, I believed it.

It all started when I entered my new house in Abuja. I had been living in Kenya all my life, but my Nigerian parents decided it would be best to move to Abuja for a change. Of course, I wasn’t against the idea at all.

When we had finally settled, I went into my room and did what any female loves to do. I looked in the mirror.

And damn, my butt looked sexy. I don’t mean to brag, but I have an amazing behind. I glanced at it and I couldn’t help it, so I smacked my booty and watched as it jiggled.

I’m sorry Japan if the vibrations of this booty caused an earthquake there. It’s just too much to handle.

“Oh Amara, you are blessed with a lovely behind,” I said to myself. That was a daily statement I would say each time I looked in the mirror. I smiled to myself and decided it would be smart of me to go for another round of booty smacking.

Just when the palm of my hand neared the two planets I call my booty, I couldn’t believe what I heard.

“You’re so pathetic and prideful.” I looked around to see where the voice was coming from, but I couldn’t see anyone apart from me in my bedroom.

“Look at the mirror, stupid.” The voice ordered, and I turned my head to see a reflection of myself dressed in a red satin gown. My face looked different from the reflection I’m used to seeing. It was covered in white face paint and my eyes were completely black, with no hint of white in them.

I screamed as fear froze me to one position. My leg muscles tightened but could not help me run. My breath burst in and out and through my rapid blinking; I could still see the demon before me.

“Your pride is disgusting, so I curse you to never have the ability to see your reflection. If you dare see your reflection on any surface, you shall die. Now let’s see what will keep you prideful. Get out now!” it commanded, and I didn’t hesitate to run without looking back.

I slapped a hand over my mouth to silence the uncontrollable whimpering I was producing. The moment I got out of my bedroom, I ordered the maid to get rid of the mirror in my bedroom.

Two weeks; two damn weeks of never seeing my reflection passed. I avoided looking at any reflective surface, including water. I drank my water with my eyes closed and bathed with a blindfold. I never wanted to die.

Each day was torture, and my fear kept growing. I couldn’t go outside for fear of suddenly seeing a reflective surface. What if a mirror was before me? Then I would die! So I stayed in the house and pretended to be sick and I’m sure my unkempt appearance was enough to convince my parents.

Eventually, I felt myself lose my sanity. I couldn’t take a selfie and my followers were definitely waiting for an update from me and I couldn’t even look at the camera or any of my pictures for fear of randomly dying.

I got fed up, and that motivated me to get up from my bed and run to my parent’s bedroom. In their bedroom, my mom installed a large mirror, so I thought it would be best if I face this demon once and for all.

Yes, I was being prideful about my appearance, and what exactly is wrong with that? I’m simply commending God for his hard work so why should I be punished for that? Wherever that demon came from, it needed to go back and mind its own business!

I entered my parent’s room without caring if anyone was there. I approached the mirror and stared at my reflection. I needed to talk to this demon to lessen the punishment.

But when I did, something surprising happened. There was no demon looking at me and I was still breathing fine, meaning I did not die.

“Oh Amara, you have an amazing behind,” I said, smacking my buttocks to trigger the demon to appear again so we could talk since I clearly was spared from death.

“Amara, are you mad? Is that how you reassure yourself for not having big buttocks?” My mom laughed from across the room. I didn’t realize she was watching me the whole time. I looked at the mirror and the demon reflection still wasn’t appearing.

I tilted my head to the side and pursed my lips. "Mom, I’ve been using a booty growing cream to improve it. Don’t tell me you don’t see a difference?”

“Why would you use such? Don’t you know those things do not work and they only have adverse side effects?” My mom asked, her eyebrows squished together.

She was right! My booty growing cream could have side effects. I saw them on the tube the time I bought it, but I did not want to get discouraged so I didn’t read them.

I ran back to my room to look at the tube again. I needed to see the side effects.

Slight rush, drowsiness, headaches...

I stopped reading because there were too many. Until my eyes saw one that caught my attention.

Constant delusions

My hand flew to my mouth, and I slowly shook my head. So I imagined that demon the whole time?

JUDGES REVIEWS

JUDGE ORANGE

So, I have to commend this writer's creativity. I like how they went for a different comedic approach to the prompt, and delivered it so flawlessly. I was laughing all through the story, I loved it!

It's clear this writer is a born writer. They are a natural. This work wasn't the best but it was actually my favorite so far!

Also, one suggestion I would like the writer to take note so that their work is a hundred percent superb? The ending of the story where we got to find out about the "Delusions", I think that was enough for the readers to decipher what was happening. The writer didn't have to go ahead to be like 'So, I imagined it all?' and all of that. Leaving it at the open kind of ending where they saw the after effects was more than enough to pass the message across and leave it open for the reader of the work to come up with conspiracies on it. It makes it more mysterious even while making it clear what happened, yeah? I liked the hint of uncertainty in the main character's tone when she discovered the After Effects of the cream though; it still, in some way, creates that mystery.

All in all, this writer was good, biko. I LOVE this work.

JUDGE SILVER

Loved how you went imaginative with this and steered it into an unusual yet creative path. Hilarious.

JUDGE WHITE

This entry was completely a comic relief for me. I laughed so much while reading. It was just as funny as it was interesting. A beautifully written piece, I must say. I loved the way you used the prompt in such a different and unique way and was still able to do justice to it. Your punctuations, word use and grammar were also on point.

VINYLWRITER 022
SENTENCE PROMPT: THE PERSON IN THE MIRROR WASN'T ME

The person in the mirror wasn’t me.

I looked at my makeup free face, covered shoulders and at the green head tie, sitting proudly on my head.

Mama would call me a “daughter of Zion,” but I knew who I really was, the mirror didn’t show me, but I saw behind the maxi dress I wore, to preserve the image Mama had of me in her head.

I took my Bible from my tabletop, its pages as new. There was nothing I had been looking for in them, contrary to what everyone believed.

Holding it in the same hand with my book and pen for pretending to jot down things during the service, I left the room.

“Ifeoma, are you better now?” mama asked me, lightly touching my face, her aging fingers caressing my cheeks.

I had complained of a headache the previous night, telling her it was from the study session I had in the afternoon with my friends that day.

Making it to church this morning wasn’t because I wanted to, it was because Mama would be happy.

She would walk in with her head held high,  her face would animate with laughter and radiate pure joy when the other women in the church came up to her after the service, telling her how they were impressed with her daughters  academic and spiritual life.

They would even offer to send their daughters to Mama, so she could train them. She would make a show of contemplating if she should accept their daughters, asking me what I thought of the idea.

Me? I would bend my head lower than it  would already be, allowing Mama  bask in the praises I brought her, and the women would chuckle and change the topic.

I closed my eyes, and breathed out lightly, taking her wrinkled hands off my face, “I’m  better Mama, Let’s go to church.” I said, slipping my arm into the crook of her elbow.

We walked to the cream and red painted building, a banner for a program hung on the gate, the bold letters mocking me, Chastity and Godliness. Bile rose up in my throat, Mama was supposed to be the main speaker for the program, I cursed myself silently, I used my hands to jeopardize it, while trying to impress everyone.

She gently tugged on my arm, and took me inside.

After the service, I greeted our church members, giving careful hugs and lies, telling them what I had received from God this past week. Mama glowed with pride when I informed my pastor’s wife of my decision to serve in the church full time once my exams were over.

I convinced myself that I would do it, I would volunteer until more people noticed me. I wanted to give Mama the respect she deserved, the same respect and honor she had been stripped off when my brother -Jacob- was arrested.

That familiar ache grew in my chest again, I knew I had failed her.

Mrs Ikechukwu, the pastor’s wife, offered to take us home. We accepted and went with her.
“Ifeoma,” Mama called, I stopped on my way to the medium-sized room I slept in, to change out of my maxi dress that was beginning to cling to my body from too much sweating.

Walking over to me, she held my face in wrinkled hands, her eyes twinkling.

“Thank you for wiping away my tears after what your brother did, Nne. You make me very proud to be your mother. ” Her English came out in Englibo.

Englibo was the word we used to describe the English of our parents whose Igbo accent dictated their words and pronunciations.

My shoulders slumped visibly, the weight of everything I had been hiding, to make Mama happy was getting too much for me to handle.

If this secret came out before I figured out a solution, then Mama would put two and two together and find out what I had done to get good grades.

I gave her a brief hug, avoiding any contact between my abdomen and her own, and told her I needed to go inside and change, so I could prepare lunch for both of us.

My maxi dress fell to the ground, I stood in front of the mirror in my room.

The mirror told the truth this time, I turned sideways in front of it to view my growing bump,  this was the Ifeoma I was.

This was who the mirror hadn’t shown this morning, the real Ifeoma that had gotten pregnant from sleeping with her teachers to pass subjects just so Mama would be happy.
Lying and pretending to be holy and chaste,to impress people and make them believe Mama hadn’t failed to train her children.

I rubbed a hand over my taut belly, something was bound to go wrong.
Mama for one would die from the shock of this news. I hung my head in shame, unable to look any longer in the mirror.

I didn’t want to look at the person who wasn’t the Ifeoma everyone saw, the person staring back at me from the mirror, was me this time around.

JUDGES REVIEWS

JUDGE ORANGE

My favorite thing about this work was the build up. It was perfect. I was waiting to see what the issue was. I wanted to see where the almost sadistic and self sabotaging undertone was going, and even if I knew there was a twist, it still hit me hard. That's the magic of build up. This writer knows what they are doing!

My second favorite thing about this work is the character execution. It was short story, but I grasped the character of the main character and even her Mother. Even the random church characters and the Pastor's wife, I was able to get a quick grasp of their personalities. That's talent, abeg! This writer tried!!

The only issue I had was the use of commas where periods should be. This, as well as tenses may be the focus of our lecture night because it seems like a lot of writers have issues with it. However, the comma/period confusion was not that bad. It was almost unnoticeable.

This writer is talented. I love this work!

JUDGE PURPLE

I really wanted the story to continue. Honestly, it was at the end I got gripped. I couldn't help but wonder how her Mum and church members would react when they found out. It's a beautiful piece. I enjoyed the story.

JUDGE WHITE

I loved this piece and I really enjoyed reading it so much. You made use of the prompt effectively and delivered quite well. You had a few lapses with the punctuations, just a few misuse of commas, but not enough to mare the entire story. Amazing!

That's all for now! So far so good right!

Our Contestants have written their best works and our Judges have given their Reviews.

Which work is your Favourite? Which one was your 'IT' factor?? Let us know in the comment session!

Remember to stay tuned for the Judges reviews of the works of Contestants 023 to 030 that we will be coming in tomorrow! And also, we have another session of hot Diary/Confession Night coming up before the announcement of Judges Verdict!

We'll see you soon✨.