Every disgusting stain on those six tatami I can trace back to his giant fat ex-Sumo ass drinking himself unconscious. Blood stains, sweat stains, even sex stains, wanted and unwanted. Every cigarette burn too. I have to take the burning butts out of his fingers when he passes out so he doesn’t set our little shit apartment on fire. I’ve seen him sleep through earthquakes when he’s drunk.

He gets paid a little cash for a job he does every three months, intimidation stuff, and on those nights he buys a bottle Everclear and Bacardi 151. “American Power!” he always screams right before he guzzles one of them. The only upside is he passes out faster. He can never finish both bottles though. After chugging one he attempts the second one and ends up crashing to the floor on our moldy futon in front of the tv with the cracked screen.

He was still a sumo wrestler when I first I met him, Ozeki, in fact. All of Japan thought he would be Yokozuna someday, the first Japanese Yokozuna in almost twenty years was the hope, even though he’s a quarter Brazilian. But his knees blew out and now he’s just a 200 kg slab of stinking meat. Abusive meat too when he’s drinking.

He came into the hostess club one night and I got his table. “Ai-chan, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” were the first words out of his mouth. It was a line, of course, one he used all the time, but it sounded so innocent coming from that flabby Sumo wrestler’s baby face of his. While he had money I became his regular. Wild and happy times mostly. I felt special being with a respected mountain like him. After the knees went and they cut his topknot I took him in like a sad puppy dog.

He was angry at the world then. He would often fuck me hard while wearing his mawashi. I’d always say, “No, don’t do it Tori-chan, Sumo says no women. This is very bad. You’ll anger the Gods.” And he would growl, “I’m not in Sumo anymore. Fuck the Gods.”

He’d do his best to keep his full weight off of me though, another example of his strange mix of sweetness and brutality. But the deep puddle of his sweat was always a part of our lovemaking even though he finished fast every time.

There wasn’t much for a guy like him to do, obese, could barely walk, his size was his only asset. Bringing fear and the threat of violence was something he could do though. When he was offered full membership they sent him in to get his back tattoo, but he couldn’t take the pain. I never understood how he made it so far in Sumo being such a baby when it came to pain. Maybe the desire to be a member of the gang just wasn’t as strong for him. He got one shoulder done and settled for life as an associate.

It was a heavy blow to his self-esteem and he’s taken it out on me ever since. The last time he backhanded me across the mouth my lips were cut and swollen for over a week.

I couldn’t work and we were down to eating Cup O Noodles for a month. He swore off the booze and apologized profusely, but after his next job a month later he was passed out on the tatami again soaked and bleeding from the bottle he broke over his own head in his drunken rage. He kept screaming, “I don’t hurt old ladies, I don’t do that! I’m Sumo!” At least his violence was directed at himself that time. I stubbed out his cigarette as usual but left him in his shit. Told myself, “He can clean up his own mess from now on.” We slept in broken glass for three days before I finally cleaned the futon.

Tonight I wasn’t so lucky and his fist and feet found me again. He’s out though now, half soaked in Everclear. The tip of his cigarette is glowing red and I can already see the small blue flames moving along the tatami towards his bulk. His snoring face is sweet and innocent again in its unconsciousness, but not sweet enough to make me care.

I’m in the elevator lugging my overstuffed gym bag. On the first floor, I wait for a cab so I can go have my ribs mended at the hospital. As the taxi pulls away from the curb I hear the fire alarm wailing.

Happy November Writers and Readers;

Fall is a time of change, a time of ponderance, preparation, and preservation. And with the final month of fall comes our first $100 Challenge of the Month, wherein we explore the bright colors and darkening skies of autumn. Not only will the winner receive the $100 purse, we’ll also be sharing all outstanding submissions with our publishing partners and contacts. When you’re ready to get started, you’ll find the prompt here: https://theprose.com/challenge/7775. Best of luck!

With the arrival of our monthly challenge, we thought we’d shed a little light on how we’ll be judging your entries (and how we’ve been judging your entries in the Challenge of the Week). In particular we look for: creativity, fire, memorability, coherence, proper grammar, and linguistic mastery. Let’s take a closer look.

The First Paragraph

We read a lot of your writing, and usually don’t have the time to give every word and sentence the attention they deserve. As such, we will commonly eliminate entries immediately if the first couple of paragraphs are rife with spelling or grammatical errors, don’t read clearly, or don’t intrigue. Our advice - make your first paragraph your best paragraph. Make it captivating and irresistable. Make it shine. More advice on how to do so below.

Creativity

Written creativity can take many forms, and pervades every category along which we judge. It could take the form of compelling characters, exotic settings, unusual word choice, unique story arcs, and everything in-between. We want to think “wow, I would never have expected/conceived of/realized that.”

Fire

Fire is passion. We want to see your love for the craft of composition shine through. Whether a controlled burn, or a raging blaze, we want to see your dedication to the story, the characters, the poetry, and the craft. Some of the best writing reads as though the author agonized over every syllable.

Memorability

This is related to creativity, but somewhat different. It hinges a bit more specifically on the author’s ability to clearly convey that creativity. As we’re reading challenge entries, we keep a list of the pieces that catch our eye. When we’re done, we go back over that list of top contenders and choose the winner(s). More often than not, we’ll choose the stories we remember most vividly. In addition to compelling characters and themes, little details can go a long way towards making a piece more memorable. A perfectly crafted sentence. A witty title. A surprising interaction.

Coherence

Your writing should be lucid and coherent. If it’s hard to follow the plot, be it theater or thesis, it’ll be difficult to win. Avoid rambling, over-description, and muddled thoughts. Read your work back to yourself as though you hadn’t written it. Ask yourself, “what am I trying to communicate? Did I do so clearly? Is any of this hard to follow?” If we find ourselves lost or unsure of what’s going on anymore, we usually move along.

Spelling & Grammar

Do not underestimate the importance of proper spelling and grammar. Here at Prose, we respect, if not revere, the King’s English. While we forgive the rogue missing letter or misplaced comma (it happens to the best of us), repeated offenses and gross negligence are to be avoided at all costs. You are of course free to make stylistic choices like omitting capitalization; but unless it’s in the service of some artistic vision it’ll generally be frowned upon.

Linguistic Mastery

This is the x-factor, and the thing that sets great writing apart from good writing. This is proper useage of metaphor, descriptive language, imagery, word choice, alliteration, sentence/paragraph composition, overall flow, finesse, nuance, restraint, and everything in-between. For examples of “linguistic mastery,” please read some of the winning entries from our Challenge of the Week. The winners typically demonstrate a high degree of mastery in their work. To further illustrate what we mean, consider the following two sentences:

“The crows’ calls blared through the quiet like a siren, a dreadful cacophony that rose and fell like the tide, under the chilling, pale light of the full moon.”

“The shrieking of the crows sliced the silence, an unholy symphony beneath a cold, ghostly moon.”

Both are more interesting than “The crows were cawing loudly in the moonlight.” But the first exhibits a sort of scattershot approach, calls upon multiple disjointed metaphors, and betrays a lack of restraint. The second, by contrast, by surgical use of words like “sliced,” “unholy,” and “ghostly,” evokes a certain eeriness. It feels more intentional, and reads more clearly.

These are just a few of the things we look for, and we urge you not to think of them as some sort of “checklist” or “rubric.” Hopefully this has been informative, and will be of aid to you as your craft your entries.

Happy writes,

Prose.