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>>25219178
Cool. I’m still trying for one.

Just under 30 hours left.

Whether spume of white rapid or cloud drifting low, or the substance of man's flesh, the very essence of his being, water, it must be remembered, is ever-moving illusion. It is a ghost at once conjured and exorcised by an immortal fire's warmth.

17 hours.

1 hour and 23 minutes left.

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Their last correspondence had agreed upon the date and location of their rendezvous.

Treacherous, one would have to be insane or suicidal to meet utter strangers in the location.

Clarious fit the bill.

Sitting around a campfire, the pair looked like lost souls surrounded by the mist of the roaring falls.

Crossing over to the duo, Clarious smiled joining their vigil. Ruddy faced, the older sailor offered him with a handshake. "Welcome, glad you made it. Cycnus has been talking nonstop. I took the liberty of snagging us some fish. A last meal of sorts, help yourself."

He offered Cycnus a hand. All he got in response was a forlorn look.

"Don't mind him," Faunterloy said. "He's just a bit depressed."

His laughter could almost be heard over the noise. The fare was simple skewers of fish, well seasoned and cooked to perfection.

"Is this a family recipe?"

"My wife's. I copied it best I could, but she always made it better. The tastiest in town people said."

Water coursed down his face down his eyes down his fingers flowing freely from his wedding band.

"I'm sorry," Clarious said.

"All that time she was worried sick for me at sea and she caught a fever of the brain from it," he managed.

Cycnus reached and squeezed his shoulder in comfort.

Seeing no indication of wanting to speak, Clarious took over. "I sold wares for a time. Business dried up and my family wanted nothing to do with me. I started hearing voices after working with paints. And the headaches. Oh the doctors don't know what to make of it. I won't go to the hospital. It must be God punishing me for my sin. He says I've done the right thing meeting you gentlemen today."

Cycnus and Faunterloy both stared.

"Well, what about you?"

Morose as ever, Cycnus nodded to his pack.

Inside lay a flute, a ribbon, and a portrait. A simple photo it was of a ballerina, her gracefully posed and feathers immaculate.

"You played for her?"

A slow sad blink.

"You fell for her for more than just the music? Came to love her for more than the art of dancing? What happened?"

A sad mournful shake of the head. Cycnus put his hand to his heart then mimed tossing it.

"She loved another?"

His hand clenched into a fist.

"And now you can't stop loving her now that your music has gone."

A thought occurred to him. "Have you spoken at all since she chose another."

Silence.

"You ought been writing poetry," Faunterloy sniffled.

The trio stalled, working up the nerve to drown their sorrows.

~My Best 3~

1st >>25220934
An extremely thought-provoking two sentences, and it had to be two because of the duality of those two elements, water and fire, the former’s sentence getting chopped up (like a “white rapid”) by all those commas to illustrate that material’s slipperyness, its nature of starting and stopping, its being there and its not being there.
Everything but this one burning moment in time is water, under the bridge or about to be.
This was a very existential image, and I am so very glad to have read a piece from an author who made the abyss blink, instead of the other way around.
You earned first place here because this is wisdom I will be taking with me.
Like, I’ve tried sounding out these ideas of matter states before (in writing I haven’t shared) but you went beyond…
“Fire” is not even the subject of second sentence, but “warmth”—something non-physical, a feeling. Thanks for participating.

2nd >>25223083
I’m sorry to give the other author the edge here, when your piece really made the most out of the character-limit, and introduced three whole characters, but it was too one-note—specifically depressing—even with the gallows humor.
There’s an old anime called “Welcome to the NHK,” where a group of dead-enders enter in to a suicide pact similar to this one, only the protagonist of the show is oblivious to it all—he thinks they’re all just fellow losers hanging out and eating tasty food.
I’m not saying you should have done that, but you should have done something LIKE that, where there’s a sharper reveal after the reveal of this being a pen-pal suicide club.
For instance, whether as dramatic irony or not, what if these three characters are actually responsible for one another’s misery?
Maybe one of them stole Cycnus’s girl, another dripped poison into paint cans, and the last one stayed at Faunterloy’s wife’s house while they were ill?
All you have to do is end the story on any of these revelations, and the quality of their plight changes—now there IS someone responsible for their misfortunes, beyond just blaming themsleves.
Like many, I am no stranger to despondency from personal tragedy, so it’s hard to reward your piece with 1st place, despite how competently it’s executed, when the other piece’s main message about taking a big step back is so much more my speed these days.
I like to think your trio enjoyed the hell out of that fish.

~Readers’ Choice~

Do you all agree with me, or not?

~Next /lwc/~

>[countdown to /lwc/ May 2026]
https://countingdownto.com/?c=7027773

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>>25223287
>t was too one-note—specifically depressing—even with the gallows humor.
>I’m not saying you should have done that, but you should have done something LIKE that, where there’s a sharper reveal after the reveal of this being a pen-pal suicide club.
I'm surprised at this because I was inspired from Paranoia Agent's episode which dealt with the same concept, which is where lots of the early phrasing is meant to be ambiguous if they were gathered to die or had already done so. I will say I took advice from prior competitions and heavily toned down the bird levels. While I did not connect them, I played their plights to various aspects of their species and names. For instance:
Clarious is a "Clamator glandarius" and is cuckoo for hearing voices.
Cyncus is more blatant as a mute swan, and his swan song being the last song he played for his beloved
Faunterloy was not just a wink at Donald Duck's middle name but the actual Ruddy Duck.

I actually struggled most with Clarious' reason because I figured he needed something better than simply being sad which felt too modern, especially compared to the vague time period I alluded to going off when the painting was set.
Still, thank you for the critique as always. One day my schedule and the due date will align.

>>25223083
>like lost souls…crossing over…[God] says I've done the right thing meeting you gentlemen today.
I see the attempt at ambiguity now. Maybe I only chose to see them as still being alive because, if they’re already dead, wouldn’t Faunterloy already be with his wife?
Keeping the anime comparisons going, there was that moment in “Nartuo Shippuden” where Kakashi crossed over to the other side and immediately met his father—at a campfire, no less.
He didn’t have to wait in limbo with folks he barely knew beforehand.
Not that that isn’t a really interesting concept, getting a kind of penalty for taking a shortcut to the other side and passing the night with other red-carded players in the sin bin, but there’s nothing you wrote that hints at those rules.
Coupled with “date and location of their rendezvous,” it seemed like we were still in the physical world.

>I will say I took advice from prior competitions and heavily toned down the bird levels.
My advice is to write in the style that you enjoy. I’m a big fan of the avian flavor of your pieces, and, if memory serves, last time I think I actually recommended sharpening the vernacular/terminology your characters use with one another.
It’s a icky to call your or any author’s style/format/content preferences their “signature”—it’s just how they want to write, and I dig that from you.
If what you write needs its “bird levels” soaring, go for it, not because I said so, or because someone else from before took umbridge, but because you think it is special.

>I played their plights to various aspects of their species and names
Well done with these. I’m sorry I was too thick to get them, but I knew “Cyncus” sounded familiar from my wetlands class. I’m am learning Latin, but I’m not species-deep yet (except for “vulturis”).
>Clamator glandarius
“Acorny screamer,” but the word “glandarius” comes from (“glans, glandis”) is also New Latin for “bullet,” which is so appropriate for this subject matter—“bullety screamer“—even if the modus operandi is drowning.
>his swan song being the last song he played for his beloved
Bittersweet stuff. I wonder if real swans realize that their last song is their last song.

>I figured he needed something better than simply being sad which felt too modern, especially compared to the vague time period I alluded to going off when the painting was set.
I mean, getting an altered state of mind from art pigments is basicaly what /wibac/ is about, and this image definitely makes one feel small and insignificant, so I think you chose well.
The voices he hears could also be those on the other side.

>Paranoia Agent
I only watched a few episodes; my sister watched the whole thing.

>>25223287
Hey, glad you liked my two sentence tour de force! Shame not many entries this month. Would you consider reverting/diverting to the random wikicommons comp? That seemed to get a bit more traction, and it's fun to reroll until something speaks to you. Alternatively, you could pick 3 or 5 images so the writer has more choice/mood. Bene scribe, ingenio!