Round One: Challenge Seven Voting
Welcome to the challenge Seven voting.
The Rules
- Anyone can vote, you don't have to be participating or even a member.
- All comments will be screened so that voting is kept anonymous.
- You will be voting out the two drabbles that you think are the weakest. You will also be voting for the drabble you think is the strongest.
- You must give one reason for each drabble you voted for. It can't be something personal, ie, "I didn't like that drabble because it had Inara in it." If you state that something is wrong with the drabble, please, try to tell us why you think it's wrong. Same thing, if you're stating something good.
- Positive and negative votes will be added together for each drabble and the final total will determine their score. EX; Drabble # 3 get 3 negative votes and 1 positive vote. Their final score is -2.
- Again, it's the drabbles with the most negative votes that gets disqualified.
The very last challenge! For Round One. :)
Lets see if we can get lots of votes in here. Know it's...impossible to choose, though.
Good luck writers! You all did awesome.
Votes need to be in by Monday, 7pm mountain time!
1. Jayne never got the damp-lung. Breathed it in plenty of times, but it never did take.
"You aren't predisposed," some doctor told him once.
He ain't no dictionary, but he figures 'predisposed' means sickly around the edges. Weak. It's a word for them you might as well start building a coffin for, soon as they're born.
Years later, a pretty little thing snuggles up to him in a bar. Breath warm on his cheek, she says, "You'd make a fine soldier."
He shrugs her away. Alliance recruiters will try anything nowadays.
But Jayne figures he ain't predisposed to stupidity, neither.
2. He knows it’s the place. Still isn’t sure he can bring himself to go in, though.
He’d left right after the funeral, eyes still red from crying.
They almost fill again when he thinks about his mother, gunned down during a peaceful protest, and the other ranchers, losing their land to the injustices of the Alliance.
Almost nineteen, he reminds himself. Too old for crying. He touches the cross he wears, a gift from the father he never knew.
The building looks innocent--hardly like a recruiting station for an insurgency.
Breathe, he thinks. And he steps over the threshold.
The Rules
- Anyone can vote, you don't have to be participating or even a member.
- All comments will be screened so that voting is kept anonymous.
- You will be voting out the two drabbles that you think are the weakest. You will also be voting for the drabble you think is the strongest.
- You must give one reason for each drabble you voted for. It can't be something personal, ie, "I didn't like that drabble because it had Inara in it." If you state that something is wrong with the drabble, please, try to tell us why you think it's wrong. Same thing, if you're stating something good.
- Positive and negative votes will be added together for each drabble and the final total will determine their score. EX; Drabble # 3 get 3 negative votes and 1 positive vote. Their final score is -2.
- Again, it's the drabbles with the most negative votes that gets disqualified.
The very last challenge! For Round One. :)
Lets see if we can get lots of votes in here. Know it's...impossible to choose, though.
Good luck writers! You all did awesome.
Votes need to be in by Monday, 7pm mountain time!
1. Jayne never got the damp-lung. Breathed it in plenty of times, but it never did take.
"You aren't predisposed," some doctor told him once.
He ain't no dictionary, but he figures 'predisposed' means sickly around the edges. Weak. It's a word for them you might as well start building a coffin for, soon as they're born.
Years later, a pretty little thing snuggles up to him in a bar. Breath warm on his cheek, she says, "You'd make a fine soldier."
He shrugs her away. Alliance recruiters will try anything nowadays.
But Jayne figures he ain't predisposed to stupidity, neither.
2. He knows it’s the place. Still isn’t sure he can bring himself to go in, though.
He’d left right after the funeral, eyes still red from crying.
They almost fill again when he thinks about his mother, gunned down during a peaceful protest, and the other ranchers, losing their land to the injustices of the Alliance.
Almost nineteen, he reminds himself. Too old for crying. He touches the cross he wears, a gift from the father he never knew.
The building looks innocent--hardly like a recruiting station for an insurgency.
Breathe, he thinks. And he steps over the threshold.