#WIPflash – Week 1



Welcome to #WIPflash!

Week 1


It’s a new year, and folks have been after me to resurrect #MenageMonday. Alas, what is dead will stay dead in this case. No soap opera dream sequences or miracle survivals will save it. But… a new idea came to me. Yesterday. A few minutes of brainstorming, some badge-making, and BOOM. That’s just how I roll.

Since I’m also running year two of #WIP500 and because I’d love to see all you wonderful writer types get to the all important ‘the end’ portion of your manuscripts, #WIPflash is here to drive your writing forward.

General Rules:

  • This is a Flash Fiction EXCERPT challenge. Your story should contribute to a Work in Progress (though no one will come to reclaim your winner’s badge if you write a standalone tale).
  • Open: Friday 5:00pm (17:00) Eastern Time.
  • Close: Saturday 5:00pm (17:00) Eastern Time.
  • Word count: minimum of 100 words, maximum of 500 words.
  • Include your word count (or be excluded from judging).
  • Post your story into the comments of this post.
  • Please include your Twitter handle or email.
  • Generally speaking, winners will be revealed Saturday night or Sunday (depending on judge’s time zone, the number and length of entries, Mercury retrograde, etc.).


  • You will be provided a choice of prompts.
  • Anything in quotations ” ” must be used as given. 
  • Incorporate any or all of the prompts into your excerpt/story.
  • Note which prompt(s) you chose. 


  • Winner
  • Honorable Mentions (up to 3)
  • Judge


Our Judge for Week 1:

Writer, student, musician, all around overachiever. Oh… and my favorite blue alien…


Rik Davnall | @eatthepen


Challenge Time!

The Prompts. Do with them what you will and show us what your WIP is made of…

  1. Hangover
  2. “it’s a new year”
  3. 2012-11-25 09.46.22
  4. an eclipse
  5. “change is coming”


And we’re off. The clock is ticking. Good writing and good luck!


20 thoughts on “#WIPflash – Week 1

  1. Marcus slammed the door and marched over to where Simon lay on the sofa. His uneven temper had been apparent ever since they’d met, but Simon had really grown tired of being the subject of tantrums. He’d been the one with the umbrella, after all, and it had only been his general desire to avoid confrontation that had led him to accede to Marcus coming with him during the next Flicker. Now it was 2028, he was more than 200 years from when he’d been born (although, Simon admitted to himself, he’d skipped most of those years), and he felt like he was old enough to not have to put up with this anymore. He started to sit up and protest, but Marcus was already in full voice.

    “Change is coming, Simon, and it’s coming right fuckin’ now! You lord it over me that you’re the one with the special umbrella, but I’m bigger than you, I’m younger than you, and I’m smarter than you, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to be treated like your lackey one more stupid day. Now, are you going to give me the umbrella, or am I going to have to take it from you?”

    Simon sat up, but didn’t make eye contact with Marcus yet. Truth is, he was afraid, and he’d always thought of himself as more of a lover than a fighter, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the umbrella had found him for a reason. Marcus was bigger and younger for sure, but he wasn’t nearly as smart as he thought he was. Simon decided that this was a case where distraction and delay would get him more than outright refusal.

    “Marcus, you’re right. We need to talk about this, and I haven’t been fair to you. You were uprooted from your home the same way I was, and Lord knows, you’re nobody’s lackey.” He walked over to the window and looked out over the city. There were so many sights that were strange to him, even after all his travels. What his family would say if they could see him now, 140 stories above Tokyo, decades after the rest of them were gone?

    “Look, Marcus. It’s a new year, or at least it will be in a short while. Let’s go out, drink some sake, watch the lunar eclipse and some fireworks, and talk about this more tomorrow after our hangovers go away. Whaddya say?”

    Word count: 428
    Prompts used: 1,2,4,5

  2. ‘It’s a new year and change is coming Harry, mark my words, you’ll see’ said Daryl nodding his head.

    Harry had heard the same speech from Daryl every year for the past five years and so far nothing had changed. They were still sipping beers on a Friday night at Cougar’s, they were still working their respective shit paying jobs and they were still talking about April, Harry’s ex who refused to come to terms with the fact that Harry and her wasn’t dating anymore.

    Harry put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the voodoo doll. It had come in the mail today and its likeness to Harry unnerved him. He’d had a pain in his leg all morning and the doll had a pin sticking through the same leg making him think that was the reason why.

    Daryl eyed the doll and stopped talking for a minute. After checking it didn’t look like him, he carried on supping his beer.

    ‘Is that another one of April’s trick Harry?’

    ‘Probably, it came in the mail so it could have been a disgruntled client, I’ve got a few of those but I’m thinking that April’s top of my list of suspects’

    ‘What you going to do about it, seems like the little lady is escalating, first it was following you or turning up here now its scary looking dolls in the post’.

    ‘I’ll go talk to her tomorrow, let her know that it’s getting old, besides if I have the doll I have nothing to worry about’.

    ‘Just as long as she doesn’t have another one, Maybe this is a warning doll, like take me back or I’ll stick pins in some place that will really hurt’.

    Both men fell silent while they thought the places the pins could be stuck in.

    Word count : 303
    Prompts used : 2,5

  3. Prompt: Change is Coming
    WIP: Closing Time

    “Stay strong my brother.” The innocuous comment dropped casually by a man I’d never met before as we crossed paths filled me, for a few seconds, with inspiration. It probably didn’t mean anything, but these days I wonder if anything is “just a coincidence”.

    I took my usual seat on the train, next to my usual acquaintances. Train friendships, like many proximal relationships are deep yet hollow, an echo resounds making them seems larger than they are. They are just people, other commuters who happen to get on or off the train at similar stops around the same time.

    I glanced at the empty seat across the aisle and tried to control the trembling in my jaw. Raya was more attractive than the average woman, but that wasn’t the anticipation thrilling through my veins. The woman just seemed to get me.

    Most of the people I sat with every weekday were little more than caricatures bearing nick names of people they reminded me of. I’d recently taken to asking Honest Abe how he liked vampire hunting, but he just shook his head gravely. I made faces at Data, the IT guy with zero personality and ignored the ramblings of Socrates, our resident philosopher.

    With Raya, I had no idea whether we’d be talking about antiquities, the newest technologies or even about the possibilities of the far flung future. We could talk about internet cat pictures and somehow our conversations seemed to carry weight.

    Lancelot elbowed me gently after I’d missed his greeting a third time. “What would your fiance say?”

    I rolled my eyes but felt the blush in my cheeks. “It’s not like that. I’m just making sure she got on the train alright.”

    “Apparently not today. Maybe she had to work late.”

    “I suppose.” An uncomfortable weight settled on my chest when the doors closed and I knew I’d go a night without her smiling face. “I’m curious just what exactly she does all day. I just realized she’s always been evasive about the subject.”

    “It’s about time.”

    A rush of joy nearly lifted me from my seat at the sound of Raya’s voice. “I’m glad you made it. I’m not sure I understand your comment, I should have noticed your evasiveness before?”

    “Yes, time is more than precious.”

    “I didn’t realize we were in a hurry.”

    “There are a number of things you haven’t noticed. A change is coming and I’m not so eloquent as you think I am. Mr. President. Can you fill him in please? You are so much better at speeches than I am.”

    Honest Abe stood up, yes that Abe. I was about to receive a lesson in quantum mechanics that defied everything I thought I understood.

    466 words by @Wakefield Mahon

  4. Hope He Has Cab Fare

    “It’s a new year with new problems,” Fred bellowed as he slammed the front door behind him.

    Jill looked up from her book and peered over her half moon glasses. “What are you complaining about now, Fred?”

    “It’s been twenty-four hours and that car is still parked on our lawn. I’m sure that blunder head still has a hangover and probably lives in that car, but he is not gonna stay on our lawn much longer.“

    Jill shook her head and returned to her reading. Annoyed by his wife’s disinterest, Fred opened the front door and yelled, “Change is coming, you loser.”

    “Fred, it sounds as if you’ve done something. What was it?”

    Fred laughed. “Oh I did something alright. I mixed kitty litter with sugar and poured it in that guy’s gas tank, and then I called a tow truck! And, oh look! They’re taking him AND his car away right now!”


    “Yes, Dear?”

    “What kind of car did you say that was?”

    “I didn’t, but it looks like an Eclipse.” Fred chuckled as the truck pulled onto the road with the car and its driver in tow. “I am such a genius.”

    Jill stood next to her husband as the yellow lights rounded the corner and sped out of sight. “I hate to tell you this, Genius, but that was your son’s car.”

    Greg Nance – @acenance
    226 Words – All Prompts Used

  5. WIP: Dead Sea Games: Exiled

    “Who are you?”

    “I’m your best chance at leaving this hell with your mother alive. I have the answers you’re looking for. To questions you haven’t even thought to ask yet.” Ellethea caught my eyes with hers and I was mesmerized. She had a deep soulful stare in her grey eyes that made me want to trust her. It was unnerving. “Ellethea Van Der Gott is my given name.”

    “Fairy Godmothers don’t usually walk around with swords. So you’ll forgive me if I’m not real quick on the trust thing.”

    Ellethea stepped forward and with a slow measured hand, unbuckled the sword from her belt and held out the hilt to me. “I understand. After the way you’ve been treated, I would expect you to doubt my every word. I apologize for that—again. I gave advice that was not followed.”

    “What advice was that?”

    “Beg for your help. Humbly, sincerely, with open hearts.”

    I took the sword from Ellethea slowly, and took a step back. I had to think carefully about my words. “Yeah, that might have worked. I mean, maybe I wouldn’t have given them all the guns and supplies, but I would have helped. Or tried to.”

    “You need to understand that every one of these young women have been badly mistreated. They loathe to show any weakness in the face of looming dangers. Especially to men.”

    The sword was light and definitely made of precious metals. The gold looked real, but the hilt was also inlaid with small gems and traces of white metal that could have been silver or platinum. I had no idea, but I knew in the old world it would have been worth a house or three.

    “I get it. We’ve all got it rough. That’s no reason to tie someone up and threaten to cut off their nuts,” I said. “OK, I’ll bite. What looming danger is so bad that its got every one of the Sirens running scared?”

    “You were there yesterday when the first warning shot was fired. The Colony’s success has attracted their attention.”


    “They don’t have a clever name like your friends. They aren’t a gang of children playing pretend. You can call them what you like; slavers, pirates, brigands, murderers. They are no different than the Huns and Mongols of old.”

    She had my full attention.

    “Change is coming… whether you like it or not.”

    404 Words

  6. Hey. Cool contest!! This is my first week participating. This is from my WIP, The Veil Walker. The POV you’re reading is that of a 17 yr. old guy, Fen. Here goes…

    Dashing back into my bedroom, I grab a ragged backpack that’s spattered and splashed with so many different colors of paint it’s no longer any color at all. I pound down the steps to see Gramps where he always is, on the beat-up recliner in front of the TV.

    Captain Friendly-Paws is purring loudly from his customary position in Gramps’ lap. The cat lifts one condescending green eye to me as I pass and then contorts himself so I have the perfect view of his puckered black asshole. When he turns his head to look at me again, I know he’s smirking. Gramps is convinced the stupid cat is an angel, but I’m pretty sure the Captain answers to a different boss.

    Hurrying into the kitchen, I boot a mostly-empty box of “Tidy Cats” out of my way. The last crumbs of kitty litter crunch under my feet as I throw open the fridge. I’m not sure why I bother, since I haven’t had the money to go shopping all week.

    My weekend job as a bus boy barely pays enough to get by on, especially when I choose to spend the whole weekend partying at Cal’s instead of actually working. I can’t help the smirk that curls the corners of my mouth at the memory of waking up Monday morning to find myself on Cal’s kitchen floor wearing nothing but a pair of swim goggles and my jockeys. I had a seriously epic hangover and only the vaguest recollections… Something about two or three different girls. A seriously impressive amount of bongs. A Tequila drinking contest that somehow involved hula hooping and streaking…

    I shake my head, vowing to myself that this weekend will not be spent the same. Even though Cal spent all day yesterday hinting about how he planned some crazy shit for my birthday tonight. Given the depressingly empty state of both the fridge and my wallet, I won’t be able to stop working long enough to see whatever he put together. I did warn him, but Cal will take any excuse for a party.

    Gramps yells, “Fen, d’you need some money? I got my Christmas bonus.”

    Since Gramps hasn’t worked for twenty years, I highly doubt this. “Naahh, Gramps. I got it.”

    My phone lies on the table where I left it last night, next to an almost empty bottle of Jack. I grimace but chug the last few swallows. Hair of the dog and all of that. I wash it down with a couple of the Ice-Breakers that are always in my pocket. Breakfast of champions. Grabbing my phone, I check the time and bolt out the door, yelling “Bye, Gramps.”

    “See ya, kid! Happy Birthday!”

    452 words
    I used prompts 1 and 3 (I assume prompt three was Tidy Cats litter?)

  7. Prompt 2

    Joined at the Hip

    It is one thing to be executed for a crime you didn’t commit, but I may fry for a crime that hasn’t happened.

    “A brutal murder? Why won’t you people listen?”

    “Tell me again. It’s a New Year, after all.”

    “What’s the use?”

    “I guess because you are in a classic ‘nothing to lose’ situation. If you don’t convince me, Boy, you’ll fry, sure as God made little green apples. So go on, humour me. I’ve got the time, or have you got someplace else to be?” he smiled at his own joke before lighting up a Marlboro and blowing a plume of blue smoke across the table between us.

    He had a point.

    “OK, where do you want me to start?”

    “Let’s start at the very beginning, a very good place to start” he half sang, chuckling again.

    I could get fed up with this guy in no time at all, but I hadn’t had a visitor in three months and even his company was better than nothing; certainly better than the collection of assorted wierdos and psychopaths that passed for company on death row. I stalled.

    “Before I start, tell me again where you fit into this madhouse and why you are only talking to me now?”

    “Board certified State Psychiatrist for the great state of Texas, duly empowered to enquire into any and all circumstances regarding the mental health and wellbeing of our condemned prisoners. You see, Boy, the state legislature is delighted to support the execution of violent felons, eager even, in some cases, but it is kinda sensitive to criticism that we might be killing mad violent felons. Bad for tourism, especially from our more sensitive cousins in the North East. And I’m talking to you now ‘cause your case interests me and it’s a slow day in the office.”

    He smiled, drew again on his cigarette before mashing out the half smoked butt in an ashtray that he had already half filled since we arrived in the interview room.

    “She’s not dead, you know.”

    “So you let me know where we gonna find her and I’ll get this whole business cleared up lickety-split.”

    “You won’t find her. She’s not dead.”

    “So you said already. So all that blood they found in your motel room, the forensics boys messed up? Got it mixed up with some other woman’s blood? Not your girlfriend at all? Help me out here.”

    “You’ll never believe me if I told you what really happened. Hell, I still don’t believe it and I saw it firsthand. And if I tell you, especially you, what I saw, you’ll just end up applying the electricity to my temples instead of my whole body.”

    He smiled his teeth only smile and reached for his cigarettes.

    460 words

  8. One eye opened tentatively, and snapped shut. Hangover from hell. After almost a full year at uni, a hangover was a not-unknown occurrence in Gemma’s life, but she struggled to remember one this bad. In fact, she struggled to remember how it actually got this bad. What on earth happened last night? Slowly, little snippets came back. Law students ball. Dancing. Eating. Far far too much drinking. Gemma rolled over, but her groan of self pity was abruptly replaced with a squeal of shock as the foot she’d been stretching made contact with a leg, that wasn’t hers. Oh hell. Tipping her head in the general direction of the body sharing her bed, trying to make as little movement as possible, she forced her eyes opened, anxious at what, or more correctly, who, she might find. Relief coursed through her as she realised the head on the pillow next to hers was Lauren. Thank goodness. Things must have been bad if Lauren had stayed around to play nurse. Lauren was already stirring, and then a beep came from somewhere under the blankets, and suddenly she was sitting up, and scrambling for the phone. The speed of her movement made Gemma feel ill again. And why the hell did Lauren has her phone turned up so freaking loud? The groan returned.

    Word count: 220
    Prompt used: 1
    Twitter: @thedovenest

  9. This is my first time participating in anything like this, so no idea if I’ve got the wrong idea or not, but I love the inspiration it gave for my WIP. This is now the beginning of it.


    Only the Regent would have the audacity to build an entire building for a purpose that would be obsolete within minutes after being put to use. But Tylen had only ever heard about solar eclipses in his studies, and he’d certainly never been privy to an invitation to Risaeng, so if the Regent wished to waste his precious fortune constructing a facade that would allow his guests to view the eclipse in its entirety, who was Tylen to judge?

    It was spectacular, though, towering over the low-slung, stone edifices that made up the capital, like it wished to reach and grab the sun before the moon could lurch into its path. The polished walls scattered glints of silver and gold onto the city streets, unbroken by anything as vulgar as windows. That glass was saved for its domed roof, beneath which only the Regent and a privileged few would witness what the augurs already called the greatest rarity of the next dozen lifetimes.

    Tylen only cared about his lifetime. And the fact that he’d finally achieved status to warrant an invitation.

    He had to twist his neck and hunker down in his seat in order to see the whole building as his private tram zipped by. Its front was smooth, too, no indication of a door anywhere to be seen. “How do you think we get in?”

    Beside him, Dourack’s heavy sigh was as depressing as his company had been ever since they’d left Lereld. “You’re not going to do this in front of the Regent, are you?”

    “Do what?” When they sped around a corner, leaving the object of his fascination behind, Tylen straightened and turned back to face his brother. “A building like that, you know the Regent wants to show it off.”

    Though only his elder by two years, Dourack was often mistaken for his uncle by strangers, with lines carved into his wolf-like face from years of needless worrying, his attire tight and dark when current fashions screamed for color and freedom. The high collar he’d worn for the journey was still as stiff as when they’d left.

    “Questions like that will embarrass the family, not to mention get you written off every invitation list for the next twenty years,” he said. “It’s a matter of decorum.”

    “It’s a matter of boredom.”

    Dourack’s smile was dry. “Welcome to your station.”

    Tylen scowled. “It doesn’t have to be like that.”

    “Really? Are you willing to test that theory and risk social exile from the Circle?”

    The argument died on his lips. He’d tolerated every banality, every lesson, every criticism, just to reach his twenty-fifth birthday and enter the upper regime where anything was possible, where he wasn’t confined to the borders of Lereld. He couldn’t throw it away now that he’d finally attained it.

    As they twisted around another curve, he caught a glimpse of the tower out of the corner of his eye. Soaring. Majestic.

    He’d behave. The rewards would be more than worth it.


    Vivien Dean: @VivienDean
    Words: 499
    Prompt: #4 (eclipse)

  10. “Change is coming.”

    “What?” I stopped short and turned to look back at the cashier, a pimply, sour-faced teen with the pained look of a hangover.

    “I said your change is coming.” He banged on the register until the drawer popped open, then stuffed crumpled bills in my hand as though I were the ebola monkey.

    I stared at the money in my hand, the bag of clearance-priced pine-scented kitty litter dangling from the other, and wondered for the fiftieth time if it was worth all this. It’s a new year, she’d said this morning. She’d said it like a promise, like this time, this year, things would be different. Of course that was just like her, making sweeping promises she didn’t have the power to keep, her and her busy life, and me sitting there frail and foolish with all my cats, sucking it in like it was the water of life.

    Cold rain splattered the store front windows. A lunar eclipse was forecasted for tonight, not that I’d get to see it, nor anybody here in the Pacific Northwest.

    But I liked the sound of a new year. Different. Wouldn’t happen if I kept waiting on her, of course. Guess I’d have to bring it on myself.

    I stepped into the rain, looking up, grinning, as the rain fell on my wrinkled face.

    Oh yeah. You just wait, kitties. You just wait, Daughter. You just wait, world.

    Change is coming, for real.

    244 words

    All the prompts. Doggone overachieving tic.

  11. Corlith rolled to his knees and took a deep breath before pushing to his feet. His head pounded as if he suffered a hangover from too much Winterberry Wine. Damn, the woman had wallop. Thomlin appeared to fare the same, although he only grunted when he rose. Bastard.

    Siriana set off at a fast clip and Thomlin strode after her without complaint. Corlith considered resisting, but the rope tied to his wrists jerked taut and he lurched after her, gritting his teeth. Bitch.

    They marched in silence for several miles and nausea threatened with each throb of his head. When he’d started this quest for the gryphons and a cure for his affliction, he’d expected to encounter obstacles, but never strange people living in inhospitable lands. Arrogance had cost him his gear, and possibly his life. Nice job, jackass. So much for curing your perpetual blue balls.

    He stumbled in a haze of pain and exhaustion until screaming agony tore through his shoulders as they yanked him to a stop. He growled a curse and swayed as he took his bearings. Ominous black clouds boiled through the sky and the breeze had picked up.

    “A weather change is coming.” Thomlin sniffed the air.

    “No shit, Sherlock. What was your first clue?”

    “Quiet, both of you.” Siriana scanned the barren landscape and Corlith grimaced. Nothing offered them even the hint of shelter from the oncoming storm. “We make camp in the Catacombs to wait it out.”

    “The Catacombs?” Thomlin’s voice filled with wariness. “That’s a sacred place. We can’t take a goblin in there. We’ll offend the Ancient Ones.”

    Siriana shrugged, her face revealing nothing. “We will have to take our chances. Unless you want to face that?”

    Lightning cracked the sky, leaving the scents of scoured stone and burnt ozone. Corlith’s arm hair rose and he inched closer to the rocks. Better than being the tallest thing out there. He just hoped he survived the night. Between the storm, his captors, and his aching balls, he wouldn’t lay odds on what would finish him first.

    345 #WIP500 words

  12. Prompt 4.

    Feeling the coldness of the snow and the small relief that came with it. There was the deeper ache of her wings, the phantom feeling that they should be there and the absence of their weight. Xyserra puffed out a breath of air and closed her eyes before getting up.

    Her arms flailed as she fell forward, turning at the last minute to land on her side rather than go face first into the small fire. She gave a howl at the jarring of her arm, laying there to get her breath back before pushing up. Xyserra braced one foot forward to avoid toppling forward again. The stumps that had once been her wings flared out, sending fresh pain around her back. She was going to train hard to readjust her balance. Since she didn’t know where she was or how she was getting back.

    Xy puffed out a breath of air and glanced up when the land darkened. She looked over to the trees of ice to see them darken from bright diamonds to darken and lose the gleam. She shielded her eyes as she gazed towards the sun. A shadow was sliding over it, the eclipse sending the brightness of the snow into a blue tinged wonderland. There was something else there, it felt strange. An electric current that had the hairs on the back of her neck raising up. The blackness was TOO dark. An emptiness that was ready to suck everything in.

    246 words

  13. From WIP entitled: SLEEP.

    There was a short recess, or ‘tea break’ as Lizzy liked to think of it, where she was left in an empty room to stare out of windows that were too high to see anything but clouds, while nursing a single cup of tea. It was a large, majestic room that echoed every breath, and since she was now cooped up in a small cell for 20 hours a day over at the psychiatric wing of the prison, she indulged in its size by walking round it, listening to the sound that such a large space made.

    She used the time to regain her strength and prepare herself for whatever came next. It would be a day of witnesses, or character assassinations, and she had no idea who would be called next, but after having his family sprung on her that morning, her overtaxed mind reeled at the possibilities.

    When they finally called her to return she had zoned out a little, trying to distance herself mentally from all the possible people that would be taking their pound of flesh. She shuffled along between the two Court Security Offices staring blankly ahead of her, keeping up despite the restriction of the ankle cuffs that they’d left on. Despite her aloof manner, court days exhausted her and she just wanted them over; she didn’t really care about the outcome, she just wanted to stop having to go over the last ten years of her life – especially the last five, and being made to face people who had let her down.

    This time Lizzy caught a glimpse of the next witness before she entered the court room. Sue’s blonde hair and large size were unmistakable as she squeezed through the double door. Lizzy felt her stomach lurch on sight of her, and knew this was going to be a difficult one to listen to. She had expected Sue to show up at some point in the proceedings, but that didn’t make it any easier. She could already hear the stream of lies that would spew from Sue’s mouth; in her experience two-faced bitches never told the truth no matter the oath that they swore to.

    Once Lizzy was in her seat Sue was called to the stand, and Lizzy was given a moment of respite, her mouth twitching for second in appreciation. The pallid tone of skin and scrapped back hair Sue displayed were a clear description of Sue in a state of hangover – some would say she was even a little green at the gills. Lizzy considered that maybe Sue did have a conscience after all and had needed some Dutch courage the night before. How else could she have found the nerve to come today and talk against a woman who was once been her best friend? And not just any best friend, but one who had laid herself on the line time and again for her, until she had uncovered the ultimate betrayal.

    494 Words

  14. Shame I missed this one, I had issues with the spam blocking when I tried posting last night. Once I work out the time differences, hopefully I will be able to get on board for next week 😀

    Good luck to all the entrants!

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