text:
MARY KATHERINE LINAKER (July 19, 1913 – April 18, 2008) was an American actress and screenwriter who appeared in many B movies during the 1930s and 1940s, most notably _Kitty Foyle_ (1940) starring Ginger Rogers. Linaker used her married name, KATE PHILLIPS,[1] as a screenwriter, notably for the cult movie hit _The Blob_ (1958). She is credited with coining the name “The Blob” for the movie, which was originally titled “The Molten Meteor”.[2]

Biography

Linaker was born in Pine Bluff, Arkansas and graduated from a private school in Connecticut and from New York University. She went on to attend the American Academy of Dramatic Arts.[3]

Linaker acted in supporting roles on Broadway before signing a film contract with Warner Bros.[4] She was signed by the studio after a talent scout saw her in _Jackson White_ at the Providencetown Theater.[5] Her Broadway credits included _Every Man for Himself_ (1940), and _Yesterday's Orchids_ (1934).[6] She briefly changed her name to LYNN ACKER “for screen purposes”,[7] but she soon dropped that name.[8] Most of her film work had her in limited roles, with her one leading role coming in _The Girl from Mandalay_ (1936).[9] Her screen debut was in _From this Dark Stairway_ (1935).[10]

Linaker wrote for the Voice of America during World War II in addition to working for the Red Cross.[11]

She later taught in the film studies department at Keene State College in New Hampshire from 1980 to 2006.[12]

From the 1960s to her death, Linaker dedicated much of her time supporting the children at Hampshire Country School in Rindge, New Hampshire. Linaker volunteered countless hours over the many years as English teacher and drama coach at the very small private school for twice exceptional children whose alumni include Temple Grandin.

Personal life

Linaker was married to Howard Phillips, who initially was a singer and writer but later worked as an executive with NBC television.[13]

Death

On April 18, 2008, Linaker died in Keene, New Hampshire.[14]

Partial filmography

-   _The Murder of Dr. Harrigan_ (1936) - Sally Keating
-   _Road Gang_ (1936) - Barbara Winston
-   _The Girl from Mandalay_ (1936) - Jeanie Barton
-   _Easy Money_ (1936) - Carol Carter
-   _Crack-Up_ (1936) - Mrs. Fleming
-   _The Outer Gate_ (1937) - Lois Borden
-   _Black Aces_ (1937) - Sandy McKenzie
-   _Charlie Chan at Monte Carlo_ (1937) - Joan Karnoff
-   _Personal Secretary_ (1938) - Flo Sampson
-   _The Last Warning_ (1938) - Carla Rodriguez
-   _I Am a Criminal_ (1938) - Linda La Rue
-   _Trade Winds_ (1938) - Grace (uncredited)
-   _Young Mr. Lincoln_ (1939) - Mrs. Edwards (uncredited)
-   _Charlie Chan in Reno_ (1939) - Mrs. Russell
-   _Man About Town_ (1939) - Receptionist (uncredited)
-   _Hotel for Women_ (1939) - Jane (uncredited)
-   _Girl from Rio_ (1939) - Vicki
-   _Charlie Chan at Treasure Island_ (1939) - Egyptian Princess Ectoplasm (uncredited)
-   _Drums Along the Mohawk_ (1939) - Mrs. Demooth
-   _Heaven with a Barbed Wire Fence_ (1939) - Nurse
-   _Hidden Enemy_ (1940) - Sonia Manning
-   _Green Hell_ (1940) - Woman in Cafe (uncredited)
-   _Free, Blonde and 21_ (1940) - Mrs. John Crane
-   _Buck Benny Rides Again_ (1940) - Brenda Tracy
-   _Charlie Chan's Murder Cruise_ (1940) - Mrs. Pendleton
-   _Sandy Is a Lady_ (1940) - Mrs. Porter, Writer's Wife
-   _Mystery Sea Raider_ (1940) - Flossie La Mare
-   _Kitty Foyle_ (1940) - Veronica Strafford
-   _The Invisible Woman_ (1940) - Showroom Buyer (uncredited)
-   _They Dare Not Love_ (1941) - Barbara Murdock
-   _Blood and Sand_ (1941) - Guest of Doña Sol (uncredited)
-   _Charlie Chan in Rio_ (1941) - Helen Ashby
-   _Private Nurse_ (1941) - Helene
-   _Married Bachelor_ (1941) - Minor Role (uncredited)
-   _Moon Over Her Shoulder_ (1941) - Radio Hostess (uncredited)
-   _Cadet Girl_ (1941) - Minor Role (scenes deleted)
-   _Glamour Boy_ (1941) - Mrs. Emily Colder
-   _Remember the Day_ (1941) - Society Reporter (uncredited)
-   _A Close Call for Ellery Queen_ (1942) - Margo Rogers
-   _The Night Before the Divorce_ (1942) - Hedda Smythe
-   _Men of Texas_ (1942) - Mrs. Sarah Olsen
-   _Orchestra Wives_ (1942) - Margie (uncredited)
-   _War Dogs_ (1942) - Joan Allen
-   _Pittsburgh_ (1942) - Secretary (uncredited)
-   _Happy Go Lucky_ (1943) - Suzanne (uncredited)
-   _Cinderella Swings It_ (1943) - Madame Dolores
-   _Two Weeks to Live_ (1943) - Mrs. Madge Carmen
-   _The More the Merrier_ (1943) - Miss Allen (uncredited)
-   _Let's Face It_ (1943) - Canteen Hostess (uncredited)
-   _Wintertime_ (1943) - Wife (uncredited)
-   _Lady in the Dark_ (1944) - Liza's Mother
-   _Men on Her Mind_ (1944) - Eloise Palmer
-   _It Happened Tomorrow_ (1944) - Anniversary Party Attendee (uncredited)
-   _Laura_ (1944) - Woman (uncredited)
-   _Here Come the Waves_ (1944) - Pretty Woman (uncredited)
-   _Bring On the Girls_ (1945) - Commander's Wife (uncredited) (final film role)

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[7]

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[14]

title: Kay Linaker

question: Summarize Linaker's career outside of the film industry.

answer: Linaker taught at Keene State College in New Hampshire from 1980 to 2006. She also volunteered at Hampshire Country School in Rindge, New Hampshire from the 1960s until her death.

critique: Linaker's career outside of the film industry is not limited to teaching and volunteer work. She also worked for the Voice of America and the Red Cross.

critique: Linaker taught at Keene State College in New Hampshire from 1980 to 2006. She also volunteered at Hampshire Country School in Rindge, New Hampshire from the 1960s until her death.

critique: Doesn't mention her work with the Red Cross

critique: Linaker's work for the Voice of America and the Red Cross should be mentioned.

critique: Linaker's work with the Red Cross should be mentioned.

critique: Linaker also worked for the Red Cross and the Voice of America during World War II.

critique: It is omitted that Linaker was also a screenwriter.

question: Summarize Linaker's career during the 1930s.

answer: Linaker acted in supporting roles on Broadway before signing a film contract with Warner Bros. She was signed by the studio after a talent scout saw her in Jackson White at the Providencetown Theater. Her Broadway credits included Every Man for Himself (1940), and Yesterday's Orchids (1934). She appeared in many B movies during the 1930s.

critique: The response includes extraneous information not useful for the task.

question: Summarize Linaker's film career during the 1960s.

answer: Linaker's film career during the 1960s was dedicated to supporting the children at Hampshire Country School in Rindge, New Hampshire. She volunteered countless hours over the many years as English teacher and drama coach at the very small private school for twice exceptional children. Linaker's film career spanned from 1935 to 1945.

critique: The answer is inaccurate and conflates the response.


split: train

text:
“There are times, as an educator, when you can look into a student’s eyes and see their energy, their passion for learning, and you glow - knowing that you have helped foster their love of knowledge and understanding of the world around them. This was not one of those times,” Alex began softly, his eyes vacant as he tried to count the number of dots in the fiberboard ceiling tiles.

“In fact, as I lowered my gaze across the sprawling red-oak conference table I found my eyes resting upon a slack-jawed tenth grader who has developed a habit of making his instructors cry – precisely the last problem I needed to deal with this Friday,” he paused for effect, but Dean Fisher would deny him the satisfaction of acknowledgement while he scribbled in his notes.

“We sat in silence for what seemed like hours before I could reconcile what had to be done. Alex Decker would have to be put to death-“

“Thank you, Mr. Decker, but I have my own inner monologue to narrate, and it does not need any coercion into murdering a student of Williamson High School.”

The room was still. Dean Fisher was not a man who physically commanded respect, but he had a gift for declaring things with authority. The room remained still until Dean Fisher removed his reading glasses and put down his crossword puzzle.

Alex raised an eyebrow.

“Mr. Decker,” Dean Fisher let the name roll off his tongue as if he were trying it out for the first time, “Why are you making my employees cry?”

Alex resumed counting fiberboard dots.

“Mrs. Clemens won’t actually tell me what you said or did to her...”

Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one…

“…this makes it hard for me to administer discipline.”

Thirty-one…wait, shit.

“But of course you know that. But what you didn’t know is that Daphne Clemens took her own life thirty minutes ago at her home in Clarksville.”

Alex felt the words hit him at once, sending his stomach plummeting to the center of the universe.

“She…what?” His lips were numb as he formed the words.

“She offed herself! No note, no nothing. Nobody knows what to make of it.”

“I…I don’t even know what to-“

“Okay, I’m fucking with you, Alex.  But for the love of god you have to stop calling your instructors fat.”

The relief rolled over Alex’s body in waves and he sunk into the leather armchair feeling both emancipated and savagely exploited.

“I didn’t call her fat; I didn’t call her anything.”

“You replaced her birthday cake in the faculty lounge with a replica that read “Congratulations on your thirty-five year pregnancy.”

“I want my lawyer.”

“You’re fifteen.”

“Touche,” Alex shrugged and sunk back into the armchair.

Dean Fisher studied the boy carefully.

“Dean Fisher studied the boy carefully. He definitely had to be assassinated-“

“Get out of my office, Alex.”

Alex stood, gathering his books and slinging his book bag over one shoulder lazily. At the door he spun on his heels, nonchalantly tossing a polished, delicious red apple towards his administrator.

It nonchalantly collided with Dean Fisher’s left eye with a sickening thwap. The swelling began immediately.

title: Alex Decker to the Front Office [~500 words]

question: Summarize Alex's relationship with Dean Fisher.

answer: Alex made Dean Fisher mad when he made fun of his instructors. He "killed" them by replacing their birthday cakes with a pregnancy cake. Alex is also a disruptive student.

critique: The narrator shows his mettle to the dean by bopping him on the eye with a piece of fruit. Keep this detail in the answer.

critique: The relationship is not described in the text.

critique: The answer should mention that Alex is a student.

critique: The answer could mention the Dean's threat to kill Alex.

critique: The answer is inaccurate. Alex did not replace the cake with a pregnancy cake.

question: How much trouble would Alex get into for throwing the apple at Dean Fisher?

answer: It is not stated.

critique: "It is not stated." - is incorrect. Alex is in trouble for throwing the apple at Dean Fisher.

critique: The answer is incorrect. Alex would get into trouble for throwing the apple at Dean Fisher.

critique: It is not stated, but it is implied that Alex would get into trouble.

critique: It is not stated, but it is implied that Alex will not get into trouble.

critique: It is stated that Alex would get in trouble.

critique: It can be inferred that Alex will not get into a significant amount of trouble because the Dean dismisses him from his office.

critique: It is not stated, but it is implied that Alex will get into trouble.


text:
THE BLACK TOWERS
================

The swirls of sharp orange dust etched their way across his eyes as they blew by.
The frayed edges of his tattered hood licked frantically into the air.
He was done with this life.
Done with everything.

&nbsp;

There was no help coming now, not from anyone. Not ever.
It had been months since the last drop of food had been created.
Rumours of hidden stashes, lifelines for another week, faded into memories.
We are all just scavengers now.

&nbsp;

He stood before one of the Black Towers.
Assembled as a last act of a government long crumbled.
It's pinnacle hidden from sight.
It's treasures untold.

&nbsp;

There where many of them.
One for every district rumours had said.
No one knew why they were built.
Just that they suddenly existed.

&nbsp;

They were long and towering.
Like a thinly stretched rectangle.
Jabbing their way up from the crusty earth.
And up through the heavy red pollution above.

&nbsp;

Thin metal rods protruded from all four sides of the Black Towers.
Disorganised and unsymmetrical.
Sharp and rough.
Edged for cutting and dissuading.

&nbsp;

He'd known a few climbers in his time.
Seeking a seat beside God.
Seeking an escape from the drainage.
From the burning famine.

&nbsp;

The moment his hand first touched the lowest rod he knew he was committed.
Their touch was rough and uninviting.
On every one, small strands of invisible metal needled outwards.
They burrowed deeply into soles of his worn bare feet and raw hands as he ascended.

&nbsp;

He didn't bother looking down.
There was nothing for him there any more.
The wind and searing heat had dissipated at this height.
He felt only the slick wetness of his blood as it leaked from him and trickled back down towards the ground.

&nbsp;

Above the clouds he climbed.
The silence of freedom at last.
At this level the rods where smooth and new.
The sky blue and clear.

&nbsp;

His hands slipped weakly on each rod above.
His feet slapped wetly on those below.
A crimson drip on each rung.
A testament to the unbound future.

&nbsp;

Eventually there were no more rods to grab.
A sharp flat edge lay above him.
One more heave and he would be on top.
One final push to glory and his questions would be answered.

&nbsp;

He stood on the flat sleek surface of the Black Tower.
The rats were far below. Oblivious.
In the centre of the floor was a large square hole.
That descended as far as he had climbed.

&nbsp;

No further way up.
No alternative route.
His hands and feet too badly damaged to return the way he came.
One final hope passed through his mind as he stepped gracefully into the hole.

&nbsp;

He never screamed as he descended into the darkness.
Never reached out for safety.
All roads had led to this.
Far below ground level, his death was instantaneous.

&nbsp;

In this civilised society.
It doesn't take long to process the offerings from above.
All you had to do was debone and wash the meat.
And there were always offerings from above.

title: [SF] The Black Towers

question: What does the text say about the architect who built the towers?

answer: No answer

critique: The text reveals why the towers were built.

question: What does the story say about the protagonist?

answer: The protagonist is a scavenger in a post-apocalyptic world. He's done with everything and decides to climb one of the Black Towers, which were built by a government that crumbled long ago. He's motivated by the hope of finding food and a seat beside God, but ends up falling to his death.

critique: The answer omits the protagonist's motivation to climb the tower.

critique: The protagonist is not motivated by the hope of finding food, but by the hope of finding answers.

critique: It is omitted that the protagonist is a man.

critique: The protagonist is not motivated by the hope of finding food and a seat beside God.

critique: The response should include that the protagonist is motivated by the hope of finding food and a seat beside God.

question: What does the story say about the Black Towers?

answer: The Black Towers were assembled as a last act of a government long crumbled. They were built by the government, but no one knew why they were built. The towers were long and towering, like a thinly stretched rectangle. They were jabbing their way up from the crusty earth and up through the heavy red pollution above. Thin metal rods protruded from all four sides of the Black Towers. The rods were disorganized and unsymmetrical, sharp and rough. The rods were edged for cutting and dissuading.

critique: The answer should mention that the towers were built to dissuade people from climbing them.

critique: The model omits that there were many Black Towers, one for every district. It should mention this as well as what happened inside the hole at the top of the tower.

critique: The answer should mention that the towers had a hole in their center.

critique: The answer could mention the purpose of the towers.

critique: The answer should mention the purpose of the towers.

question: What does the story say about the significance of the square hole in the center of the tower?

answer: The hole is in the center of the floor and is as deep as the protagonist climbed. The protagonist can't climb down anymore because his hands and feet are badly damaged, so he jumps into the hole, killing himself instantly. The tower may have been a place where the government set food and water they hadn't gotten to the people below. The protagonist may have considered it his only chance at survival.

critique: The story doesn't say anything about the tower being a place where the government set food and water they hadn't gotten to the people below.

critique: The answer is a bit confusing and should be more straightforward.

critique: The tower is thought to hold a stash of food and water that the government hasn't gotten to the people in surrounding area. This is only a rumor. The protagonist has no certitude as to the contents of the hole.

critique: The protagonist's death is irrelevant to the question.

critique: The protagonist doesn't jump into the hole; he steps into it.

critique: The hole is not in the center of the floor.


text:
I'm posting this in a moment of weakness. Please sympathize with me and don't be a jerk. And yes their are some stupid parts. I'm a freshman and high school. I thin it's not half bad.

The Fake Relationship

The wind pressed against my face.  It was 6:30 in the evening and I was praying on the forward of the ship. The sun was setting now, leaving a wonderful streak of red and light pink. We had  embarked four days ago and I had enjoyed the cruise with a host of new friends. Caitie, a beautiful blond, was the first of many teenagers my age that I spent my days with. She had a step-sister, Lexie, and they were both from Witicha, Kansas. After I had finished my prayer, I laid against the glass that protected the miniature golf course from the powerful wind. The best nights to pray were the nights where the ship was traveling directly into the wind. Physics where against me, but I broke the equilibrium and stood face first in to a wonderful stream of cooling air. Ecstasy, The cruise ship I was traveling on, had thirteen decks with a mixture of staterooms, restaurants, shops, and clubs for many different age groups; Because of my age, I was placed into the high school  teen's club. I checked the time- 7:08-, I began my walk down stairs to meet up with Emily, a short, brown-haired sixteen year old. Emily had a later eating time then myself so we arranged a time to meet up and go to the teen's club. I walked down two fleets of stairs and came to the grand entrance where I boarded the ship. The grand entrance had two main elevators and two secondary elevators, but I never used them because they were much to slow. Luckily, I had taken the time on the first day to learn where everything on the ship was and where the corridors went. When I approached Emily, she was wearing tan shorts and a tank top over her bikini.

"Hey! How was dinner?", I asked.

"It was pretty good," She had a high pitched voice that for some reason was not annoying to listen to. The conversation we had was pointless, but if everything in our life had to have meaning it would be pointless. I checked the time again- a habit I had made to check if it was a dream or not- and it was 8:34. By this time, a large number of people had walked into the club and began socializing and enjoying the latest songs. Then, Zulay began passing along white tee shirts to everybody in the room and placed a tub of markers on a table for every to sign each other's shirts. I picked up a maker immediately began signing people's shirts.  Caitie, who 'hated' me, wrote, "I freakin' hate you" all over the front of my shirt. I laughed. Later on in the night, I handed my shirt to Emily who wrote half a paragraph about how she would miss me and I should never stop talking to her. The smile on her face was genuine and made me believe with every strain of muscle in my heart that she meant every single word; so, we continued on with the night like every other teenager, with our heart in the moment.

"I'm going to go back to my stateroom. I have to fly home tomorrow and hurry to my cheerleading completion." Every word from her mouth seemed to slow time and at the thought that tomorrow morning will be the last time I see her my heart turned to stone.

"oh, It's alright. Hey. Um before you go what's your number so I can talk to you later." The nervousness grow in my voice as I said the last few words. She gave me her number and as I typed in the last few numbers she had already left the room. I hurried out of the club to joined her. We walked downstairs and to her stateroom. I said good night as if it was the last time I would see her. After this, I went to my room and feel asleep.

The next day, I woke and found myself already missing her, but I had hope because I had her cell phone number so after today I could text her often. So I lived that day as a normal day before the embankment, texting friends and listening to music on the two hour ride home.

A few days later, I felt like it was time to continue my relationship with Emily; so, I texted her. She responded a few minutes later and I had a conversation with her, but she wasn't talking like she was on the cruise. She used one-word answers and never sent more than three words in a text, but I disregarded it.

June 16, half a month after my last conversation with Emily and I had not had a reply. I wasn't sure what to think of the situation so I forced it out of my mind. But, the festering idea that she had forgotten about me still remained. I couldn't let such an amazing person out of my life; so, I tried again. My phone went off, I had high hopes but it was Callie. She told me that she was going to drink with some 'friends.' I persuaded her not to, but it was set in her heart that she wanted to; so, I franticly texted Emily and explained the situation and how she always had good ideas and solutions for problems.To my surprise, I got a reply and I read the words slowly dissecting every single one. She sounded friendly, but it was only words on a screen. She expressed her concern and what she would have done. Most of which, I had already did. After a few more text messages about Callie, I said, "It would be nice if we talked every now and again." So, we did and it was so wonderful reconnecting with her. I remembered the five wonderful days with her and the level of reality I felt when I was with her. It was getting late so I said good night and how it was nice to reconnect. I had hoped that this would be the new beginning for our relationship, but she had other plans. The next day, I texted hoping we could talk some more like last night. She did not.

This struck me like a car slamming into a 18 Wheeler. I had no hope about reconnecting anymore; because, my idea that she had forgotten me for whatever reason was true and she just wanted me gone. And then I remembered, It was a small detail but an important one. She had said that the jacket she was wearing was her boyfriends. All emotion left me. I felt nothing, not rage nor tears. I just felt empty so I went to bed.

The next morning, I still felt nothing, but I was inspired. So I wrote onto a notepad, "I dream about you every now and again. Even after you rejected me. I can't help my subconscious. You're too deep for me to forget you.  Nor do I want to forget.  I dream about you every now and again. When I do, it's always comforting. You give me hope about how you forgot me, but I'm dead and gone to you. Please don't make me beg; the only outcome I want is you accepting that I should be in your life. But what is your reason now? Or better yet. Is it you who fail to accept me in your life? Or is it him." Unlike an English paper, The words just flowed from my mind. I recalled the events in my head, The true was that I had been blind to the reality that not everyone you meet is who they really are. Some people will lie to you and will make you believe they care for you, but to her I was just a flirt.

title: The Fake Relationship. I wrote this for a class forever ago. Forgive the grammatical errors please. I haven't had time to fix them and it's almost hard to work on this story anymore. [First]

question: What does the article say about teenage marriages?

answer: No answer

critique: The answer should mention that the story doesn't mention anything about teenage marriages.

critique: The answer is "No answer". This is incorrect. The answer to the question is "No answer".

question: Explain why Emily distanced herself from the narrator.

answer: At some point in the future, someone they were sort-of taking an interest in got in touch with Emily. It appears she told some white lies to the narrator (the author) and they didn't really communicate anyone in those subsequent weeks.

critique: The answer is very misleading. It should be rewritten.

critique: Emily's boyfriend is the reason she distances herself from the narrator.

text: This answer is incorrect. It's not said exactly why Emily chose to distance herself, but it can be assumed she just saw the narrator as a momentary person to flirt with on a cruise.

category: accuracy

question: Why does the narrator get stuck on Emily?

answer: Because she made it clear that she only had two days on the ship and he was a teenage virgin.

text: This answer is incorrect. It's not clear why the narrator got stuck on Emily, other than he had a crush on her.

question: What is the main source of conflict in the story?

answer: The main source of conflict in the story is the main character's crush on Emily.

critique: The answer should mention that Emily has a boyfriend.

critique: The answer should mention that Emily is in a relationship.


text:
[Picture]

Photo by Tanya Walter of www.visionartphotography.com

Maya DeLeina is a multi-published Erotic Vampire Romance Author  with Siren,  Evernight, Ellora's Cave and Mystic Lotus Publishing.
 Her current series includes Ambrose Heights Vampires, My Naughty Vampire, Vampire Architects and Seasons of the Vampire.

Born and raised on the Hawaiian island of Oahu, Maya could be seen at her favorite beach, Lanikai, performing with an all-girl band where she played keyboards, guitar and provided vocals, working as editor in her high school's yearbook  and volunteering her time at a humane society through UH of Manoa civic groups.
 In 2006, Maya relocated to Colorado. Her crystal blue oceans, waterfalls and eighty degree year-round weather were traded for four season weather, enchanting forests and majestic mountains that led to her rekindled love for vampires.
In winter of 2010, she penned her first manuscript and by 2011, Flesh Fantasy was under contract and released by Siren Publishing. To date, Maya has published  _Flesh Fantasy, Veil of Seduction, Blood of Luna, Dark Companion_, Fire and Ice and Crimson Snow.
In 2014, she banded with other Colorado romance authors to form the group, Mile High Muses, in which Maya serves as "The Vamp". Catch her Forbidden Fruit Friday blog and guests she hosts on Sultry Saturdays.
Not only does Maya have theatrical book trailers that bring her vampires to life, all of her vampires were featured in Singer/Songwriter Jill Cohn'smusic video "Blessing Moon".

Maya's books can be found at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, iTunes, All Romance eBooks, Bookstrand, Smashwords, Createspace and more.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

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Subscribe to Maya's Channel

What the critics are saying...

"...I absolutely loved Ms. DeLeina's new universe. I finished reading, craving more. My mind reeled and my body yearned for the tantalizing pleasures in Flesh Fantasy. My only negative comment about the story is that there wasn't another book...yet. Read Flesh Fantasy and be transported into a fantasy world of erotic sex, deceiving plots and laugh out loud humor. This book does not disappoint!" -- MOONFLOWER, _WHIPPED CREAM REVIEWS_

"...I must say that Ms. Maya DeLeina knows how to hold your attention and I will gladly wait for her next release… and the next book from this series. It deserves 4.5 stars." -- DOLCE AMOUR, _BOOKED UP REVIEWS_

"...This is my first book by Ms. DeLeina but it won’t be my last. The well written storyline and romance in the love story made me want more... I would recommend this book to anyone who likes a paranormal novel with a little twist. If you like action, love, and lots of hot action, this is the book for you." -- TINA, _TWO LIPS REVIEW_

"...All in all, Maya DeLeina deftly weaves humour, hot loving with some hidden horrors all wrapped up in one erotic, lusty bite. The stage is set. The game begins. And the stakes are higher than ever at Ambrose Heights. A book to get your teeth into before the sun comes up." -- SASSY BRIT, _ALTERNATIVE READS_

"I found that the characters were simply marvelous; the story was intricate and complex; and the world building was exceptional and inventive. I found myself lost in the tale. I was up until 5 am and had to force myself to go to bed, but lay awake just thinking about the story." --Molly, CBLS

"Readers get ready for a delicious, super sexy and dramatic read. Ms. Deleina does a great job blending the preternatural with the everyday human world we’re used to." -- T.S. Peters, JERR

"This author is a woman who knows how to write a creative steamy-hot love scene, I mean whoa!" -- Jet, BD Reviews

Maya's Vampires featured in Jill Cohn's Music Video

Maya's "The Vamp" at Mile High Muses

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Catch her weekly Forbidden Fruit Friday blog

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Find Maya at

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Romance Novel Center

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Vampire Romance Books

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|                       |                       |                       |
| Goodreads             | Siren Publishing      | Manic Readers         |
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Heartfelt Promotions

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Mile High Muses

question: What does the text say about Maya DeLeina's upbringing?

answer: She was born and raised on the Hawaiian island of Oahu. She attended high school. She is an accomplished singer, songwriter, and author. Now she performs with an all-girl band and has published over seven books.

critique: The response is incorrect and does not reflect Maya DeLeina's upbringing.

critique: Remove confusing sentence beginning "now" from the list because it doesn't help answer the question of what Maya's sideline careers are.

critique: The question is not asking about her career, but about her upbringing.

text: It is omitted that Maya could be seen at her favorite beach, Lanikai, performing with an all-girl band where she played keyboards, guitar and provided vocals, working as editor in her high school's yearbook, and volunteering her time at a humane society through UH of Manoa civic groups.

category: coverage


question: What does the text say about Maya DeLeina's upbringing?

answer: She was born and raised on the Hawaiian island of Oahu. She attended high school. She is an accomplished singer, songwriter, and author. Now she performs with an all-girl band and has published over seven books.

critique: The response is incorrect and does not reflect Maya DeLeina's upbringing.

critique: Remove confusing sentence beginning "now" from the list because it doesn't help answer the question of what Maya's sideline careers are.

critique: The question is not asking about her career, but about her upbringing.


text:
“We are receiving word now that the shooter was in his Mid to Late Twenties, Had Glasses and Tattoos, liked Rock and Dubstep music…” Damon was already sick of hearing about it, even though this was the first time. “Fuck man, will this shit ever stop?”, he wondered as he made his way out of bed. It was a public bus in Reno this time. A 25 year old man who you would assume was going to college and enjoyed mocha frapps took a pistol out of his backpack at a stoplight and went to town. He murdered 15 people and took his own life. Damon made his way to the closet to pick out a suitable outfit for work. “I love you, baby.” his wife sleepily whispered while cuddling the blankets. ” I love you, baby girl” he replied. She noticed he wasn’t as cheerful this morning. “Is something wrong, sug?” she asked. “I’m just getting goddamn tired of hearing about these mass shootings..” He racked his brain looking for a way to express his frustration more clearly, but he did realize it was a bit early for a rant. “Come here baby” she whispered in a low tone. Damon shook his head and smiled a bit as he sat by her on the bed. As he sat she pulled him in close and kissed his neck, and then looked into his eyes. “You stop worrying about things you can’t control. Things like this are gonna happen all the time…” Hearing her say that made him uneasy. What a horrible truth to hear, especially so nonchalantly. “…Besides, you get distracted to easily as it is” she said with a mischievous smile. He shook his head and joked “Yea, especially with you around all the time” and got up. He got dressed and made his way out. “Have a good day, baby” she whispered. “Love you, baby girl” he said with a kiss to her cheek. And then he was gone.

The commute to work was what he expected, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Details of the shooting came through the radio, and the media coverage took its usual course of exploitation. Talk of the victims and who they were, setting them up to be martyrs, and everything remotely under the sun blamed for what happened. Maybe he was just a nut, thought Damon. Aren’t people satisfied anymore? He pulled into the parking lot of the school he taught at. It was a lower income school with some of the rougher kids in the county. Still, from what he noticed of richer students at other high schools, at least these kids were down to earth, and realistic. Walking down the hallway he spotted Mr. Epstein, the gym teacher. Older man with a grey, bushy mustache  he had a reputation to make off-color remarks and occasionally downright inappropriate things to female students.  As Damon passed him he waved. “Hey Epstein.” “Hey Williams, bet you’re glad you didn’t take the bus!” he said with a laugh. Damon didn’t acknowledge the joke. People handle tragedy in different ways, but some methods are just plain fucked, he thought.

As he entered the classroom, the class was abuzz with talk of the shooting, as he figured. “Yo, you hear how one of them was an old lady, man? Shiiiit, who does that, shootin up grandmas?” one of the students said.Damon cleared his throat loudly and silenced a good majority of the classroom. Tyrell, the student who was just remarking about the elderly woman, piped up “Damnnn, Williams, sounds like you need a lozenge or sum’in!” The classroom laughed. Damon continued, “Tyrell, when I walked in here, how did you refer to the victims of today’s shooting?” Tyrell stared blankly and answered back with, “Uh, I don’t remember dude” which elicited another laugh. Seeing as how he was a history teacher, Damon thought that he should maybe just go on with regularly scheduled syllabus. But with the way History repeats itself year after year, he figured now would be a good a time as any to speak on how he felt. “When I walked in here just now, I heard you refer to one of the victims as ‘one of them.’ Right?” The room was totally silent now. Tyrell shook his head , almost in a regretful fashion. “That’s what one of the main problems with our society today” he continued.

“We have a knee-jerk reaction to make everything impersonal. And it’s not your guys’ fault, We adults messed up, you know what I mean. Our neighbors aren’t neighbors anymore. Those whose lives are taken to quickly are reduced to poster children used to promote someones viewpoint. And this needs to stop.” The classroom was fully engaged now, they had never seen this side of teacher before. “I won’t carry on about this much longer. In the next few days we will see the usual banter on gun violence and the effect of the media. I’m not saying I am a saint, when I was around your age I listened to NWA and Pulp Fiction is still one of my all time favorite movies. But when you walk around the hallways today, think about how violence has affected you through the years and see if you feel like you’ve had enough. Now, your assignment today is read Chapter 2-1 and 2-2. Also,  today I would like you to read a section about the St. Valentines Massacre..”

Damon grew up in the ghetto. He had seen violence. He had gotten into a few scraps himself when he was younger. But what could drive a person to enter a school with an assault rifle or a public bus with a 32. millimeter, he will never truly understand. I love this country, he thought, I do. But he couldn’t grasp what was happening anymore. How a society maintains being so violent would always be a mystery. Damon saw the flashing police lights directly behind him. Aww shit, he thought, pulling over on the side of the road. He sat there and watched two officers exit the car. He figured that they would obviously need to see his registration, so he reached for the glove box so he-

The car lay deadly silent. Bullet holes were scattered along the back of the window, and two lay in Damon’s shoulder and one through his eye. The next few days, the news media would turn the situation into a matter of race regarding Damon’s ethnicity. There would be debate about deadly force and the police. Discussions would come up about teacher salaries due to the fact that he drove an older Subaru. In the end, Damon would wind up a face plastered on the news and in the papers to provide conversation during breakfast or at work about how “fucked up this country is.” And elsewhere, A golden retriever nursed new puppies. A young woman jumped up and down with tears in her eyes after being accepted to the school she wanted. A young man taught his little brother how to skateboard. And over at Damon’s house, his wife received news that she would be expecting her first child. And another american story was set to begin.

title: Another American Story

question: What does the story say about the government's response to gun violence?

answer: No answer

critique: The response misses to mention that the government's response to gun violence is to make everything impersonal.

critique: The passage does not explicitly state the government's response to gun violence.

critique: The response misses to mention that the government's response to gun violence is to debate about it.

critique: The story does not discuss the government's response to gun violence.

critique: The response misses to provide an answer to the task.

question: What does the story say about the mass shooting that happened in Reno?

answer: The Reno shooting was mentioned in the beginning of the story. A 25-year-old man, who you would assume was going to college and enjoyed mocha frapps, took a pistol out of his backpack at a stoplight and went to town. He murdered 15 people and took his own life. Some details of the shooting came through the radio and the media coverage took its usual course of exploitation.

critique: The answer should mention that the victims were reduced to talking points in the media.

critique: The response is missing the part about Damon being tired of hearing about the shootings.

critique: It's omitted that the shooter was described as having glasses and tattoos and liking rock and dubstep music.

critique: The response misses to mention that the shooter was in his mid to late twenties, had glasses and tattoos, liked rock and Dubstep music.

critique: The answer omits the fact that Damon is tired of hearing about the mass shootings.

question: What is the theme of the story?

answer: Violence in society.

critique: The theme is the cycle of violence in society.

critique: The theme is not just violence in society, but the way that the media sensationalizes it and makes it personal.

critique: The answer should mention the media coverage of violence.

critique: The theme is the cycle of violence in America.

critique: The theme is the cycle of violence in American society.

critique: "Violence in society" - is too general. Change to "Mass shootings" or "Mass murder"

question: How does the story describe the protagonist?

answer: The protagonist is Damon. He is a history teacher. He grew up in the ghetto and had seen violence. He is married and his wife is pregnant.

critique: The protagonist is Damon Williams, not just Damon.

critique: It's omitted that in the story, Damon complains about the frequency of school shootings. This is important to include in the answer.

critique: The response should include that Damon is a victim of a shooting.

critique: The answer omits that Damon is also a victim of a mass shooting.

critique: The protagonist is Damon, a history teacher.

critique: The answer should mention that Damon is killed.


text:
[Frontpage French newspaper “Le Petit Parisien” September 4 1939] _LE PETIT PARISIEN_ was a prominent French newspaper during the French Third Republic. It was published between 1876 and 1944, and its circulation was over two million after the First World War.

Publishing

Despite its name, the paper was circulated across France, and records showed claims that it had the biggest newspaper circulation in the world at this time.[1] In May 1927, the paper fell into a media prank set up by Jean-Paul Sartre and his friends, announcing that Charles Lindbergh was going to be awarded as _École Normale Supérieure_ honorary student.[2] During the Second World War the paper, under the editorship of Claude Jeantet, was the official voice of the Vichy regime and in 1944 was briefly published by Jeantet in Nazi Germany before closing down.[3]

Background

Prior to the twentieth century, newspapers were largely political such as Paris's _La Presse_. This is largely because newspapers held close ties with political parties in order to profit. However, this led to a stunt in circulation. The creation of Joseph Pulitzer's newspaper _Le Matin_ inspired a new type of journalism. It prompted the start of _Le Petit Journal_ and _Le Petit Parisien_ which launched French journalism into a mass medium. These newspapers offered sensationalized news rather than relying on political propaganda which also meant they avoided the tax held on most political newspapers. This new style, reporting on topics such as finance and fashion, targeted mid to lower class readers. Appealing to this demographic helped launch _Le Petit Parisien_{{’}}s circulation to the millions.[4]

Illustration

_Le Petit Parisien_ featured a weekly, Sunday illustration located on their front pages. These illustrations were often visual representation of current events and paired with an article located within the newspaper. Because photography was not readily available, the newspaper relied on local artists to provide drawings and sketches for human interest stories. The purpose of these illustrated covers was to capture the eye of the passerby. Some illustrations are noted as risqué or scandalous, with the intentional use of getting the attention of readers.[5] These covers are studied by many artists for their aesthetic appeal and many researchers for their impact on sales.

Writers

Up until the mid twentieth century, there was no formal school for journalism in Europe.[6] Therefore, the writers for _Le Petit Parisien_ had no journalism education and were often activists and elite authors with many areas of expertise. Among the newspaper's guest writers was international correspondent Andrée Viollis.[7]

Collapse

During the interwar years, the heavy swap of editors suggests that _Le Petit Parisien_ was suffering the effects of unregulated media ownership that plagued France until the 1980s.[8] _Le Petit Parisien_ did not survive its policy of collaboration with the German invaders during World War II, in spite of its efforts towards rehabilitation.

National Library of France—Gallica

All copies of _Le Petit Parisien_ can be found at the National Library of France—Gallica website.[9]

[1]  Fonds du Petit Parisien, Archives nationales (French national archives)

[2] Hayman, Ronald (1987) _Sartre: a life_ pp.69, 318

[3] Philip Rees, _Biographical Dictionary of the Extreme Right Since 1890_, 1990, p. 198

[4] Eaman, Ross. _Historical Dictionary of Journalism_. Scarecrow Press, 2009.

[5]

[6]

[7] Brunazzi, Elizabeth. “Andrée Viollis: A ‘Grand Reporter’ in the Intellectual Resistance, 1942−1944.” _French Cultural Studies_ 22, no. 3 (1 August 2011): 229–37. .

[8] Eaman, Ross. The A to Z of Journalism. Scarecrow Press, 2009.

[9]

title: Le Petit Parisien

question: Why is the Le Petit Parisien a notable newspaper during the French Third Republic?

answer: It had the biggest newspaper circulation in the world at the time of its publication. It was published between 1876 and 1944.

critique: The answer omits the newspaper's role in the French Third Republic.

critique: It's omitted that it was the official voice of the Vichy regime during the Second World War.

critique: The answer should mention the paper's political leanings.

critique: The answer omits the paper's role in the French Third Republic.

critique: It would be a good idea to mention what actually happened after World War I as this is a very good reason for Le Petit Parisien to be noteworthy.

critique: The answer is not related to the question.


text:
Damn. Now I really didn't see this happening. Of all the things to happen at this bland school and this is the shit that happens. Wow. I guess I'm getting a bit carried, let me start from the beginning.
          My school, Jefferson Middle School, is rather boring, nothing really exciting happens here except the occasional girl drama that usally goes like, "Brian likes me! Not you, skany hoe!" And ends in a matter of three days. I'm usually quiet, if you were to call me "popular girl," you would be wrong but calling me a "nerd" wouldn't be right either. I was just sort of there. I had my friends and that's all I needed. That's where this story starts. With my friend, Daniel. Daniel was a pretty intresting boy. All acceralted classes, loved video games and comics, and wasn't bad looking at all. Over the first year of middle school, Daniel and I became pretty close. Hanging out after school and learning about eachother. It was pretty nice. Daniel loved life and he wasn't afraid to show it. If he had something to say, oh would he say it, but he was never disrespectful about it. He was always being a gentlemen. People always said shit about him.
         "Oh! Did you hear about Daniel? I heard he was sucking cock in the bathroom!"
         "Daniel the fag!"
         "Daniel should go burn in fucking hell with all the other fags that enjoy buttsex!" Get the trend here? They kept on saying he was gay, over and over. Through messages on Facebook, notes, or even writing on bathroom walls, which is very cliche. There have been times where I have asked if he was gay and I would get the same answer every time.
          "Do you think I am?" Over and over, he never changed it. Daniel was really proud and he felt as if he shouldn't state if he were gay or not and I really admire that about him. 8th grade started and I assumed that the gay jokes would have gotten old by now, but they didn't. They actual got worse. More people started calling him a "fag, dick-sucker," and spreading rumors that I don't even wanna remember. I noticed a change in Daniel, he wasn't as outgoing, didn't speak his mind, became less quite, less proud. I tried helping him, I really did but it never worked. He seemed to just become more depressed. Those kids never noticed either, they just attacked him more and more, getting more ruthless with each insult. This drama was lasting way more than three days and I wasn't sure what would happen. Shit even got worsed.
          That's when I heard the intercom come on one day during class.
       "Students, I am sad to announce that our student, Daniel Rigsbee, has died yesterday." They didn't tell us how he died, but we all knew. He killed himself. The voice of the principal announcing his death was so fucking emotionless, it made it seem as if Daniel was some character in a movie that died. Everyone was silent. I was filled with anger. Those ruthless bastards did this. They didn't know when to stop. The minute the bell rang, I sprinted to his house asking if it was true was they said today. His father simply nodded and beckoned me in. He said that there was a note left in his room directed to me and "bitches." I walked to his room, feeling as if I was going to puke. I found the note, all directed in rainbows, colors, and smiley faces. It made me sick. I opened the note with nervoness and read.
        "Dear Juno and the son of bitches at school. Let me make this clear. I am not fucking gay. I am as straight as the pole your mom dances on. I should not have to tell people this, it's my life and you shouldn't be butting in. Pun intended. You caused this and I hope you feel great. You did it! You've killed me! I'm not gonna say that this wasn't your guys' fault because fuck that. It totally was. I hope you live with that burden that you killed me for your whole life. Juno, I hope you live a great life and don't cry over me, you didn't cause this. You are amazing and don't let people do what they did to me to you. I would punch their neck. (:
                                            Bye,
                                                  Daniel-Not fucking gay-Rigsbee
        What the fuck? That wasn't sad at all. This was the Daniel that I knew. He killed himself because he was done of the shit. I don't think he felt sorry or anything. I don't even know. As I turned to leave, I found something else. It was another note reading, "I hope this was exciting enough for you, Juno. I am a coward. I wasn't gonna deal with this anymore. They didn't win, remerber that. I won. They get to deal with my death. -Daniel"
         Fucking. Daniel.

title: Uhhmm...Well I'm 13 and I would like to be a writer when I get older so here's one of my short stories. Reviews? Be honest.

question: What does the story say about bullying?

answer: The author believes bullies didn't care about Daniel and that their bullying tactics might have made Daniel commit suicide. She believes the bullies are the ones who killed her friend. She points out that the bullies were unrelenting, and the only resolution he could find was to kill himself.

critique: The first sentence is a bit confusing. It would be better to say that the author believes bullies didn't care about Daniel and that their bullying tactics might have made him commit suicide.

question: Summarize the narrator's relationship with Daniel.

answer: Juno and Daniel are best friends and have been since 8th grade. She cares deeply for him. However, she didn't notice the student body's cruelty towards him. She was angry when she heard he committed suicide.

critique: The answer should mention that Daniel is the one who committed suicide.

critique: The narrator's anger at Daniel's death is omitted.

text: It's inaccurate that Juno and Daniel were friends since eighth grade. They were friends since the first year of middle school.

question: Summarize the school's reaction to Daniel's death.

answer: No answer

critique: The answer should mention that the school's reaction was emotionless.

text: It's omitted that the school was silent.

question: What does the story say about the bullies' reaction to Daniel's note?

answer: No answer

critique: The response can include the actual content of the note because it's declared to be public in the story.

critique: The response is incorrect. The story does not say anything about the bullies' reaction to Daniel's note.

critique: The response is not related to the passage.

critique: The answer should mention that the bullies did not react to the note.

critique: The answer should mention that the bullies didn't have a reaction.


text:
*When in Rome*

Back in the olden days, people would fight with knives and swords instead of guns. It made war much more slow and gruesome. Like if you were in the war you'd be going "This is taking WAY too long to chop this guy's head off." And you'd get bored and kinda walk away from the war and maybe get a beer. But then you'd have to walk back through the war again to get back home. So, then you'd have to fight again and you'd be like "Man, this is taking forever to stab this guy to death." But then you're not paying attention and this other guy takes an ax and starts chopping your torso in half. And then you're like "This is taking way to long to die."

That's how war was in the olden days.

*Bunker Buster*

In the last days of the war, we had run out of ammunition for the big guns and had to use P.O.W.s as artillery.

Sure, a human body cannot destroy a carrier, but a charred human body with branches taped to it and fake fangs in its mouth can really scare the shit out of a person when it comes flying at you at 100 miles an hour.

*Night Vision*

In the night, no one can see you. Just your eyes. We moved through the town and took up positions waiting for the convoy.

When it came, we took life like vampires in the night and there were no survivors.

It was beautiful.

Night vision wins wars, make no mistake.

But it totally makes masturbation out of the question.

*The Enemy Must Be Shot in the Face Several Times Before It Counts*

Evan and I had started a game. We began betting packs of cigarettes on who would have the most kills for the day. I won most of the time.

But one time, we bet a carton and there was a giant dispute over whether this enemy soldier was really dead or if he had just been shot in the face. Evan figured he killed him. But I could have sworn the guy walked away.

So, we went back and we found the man. He was very much alive. So, I shot him some more in the face and won the bet.

Tough shit, Evan.

*Don't Forget to Die*

Our company stopped by the river to rest. We had been hoofing it since France and we just entered Michigan.

Plus the guy reading the map was on acid.

But Detroit was beautiful.

*POW*

The thing they don't tell you about a P.O.W. camp is that there are no rules. They sit you in a bunker with a bunch of prisoners and a Monopoly board. No one had played Monopoly in years. We all forgot how to play.

And there were no rules. Totally lost. Just a board and pieces. We had to make up the rules. I still don't know what GO meant.

*GI Joe*

When I came back from the war there was a party. But there was no job, no wife, and no money. But they made sure to give me a party. Like some sort of celebration as if I had been with them all the last four years and not out killing kids younger than me.

It made me sick.

Except for the pinata - that was totally cool and kinda made up for their lack of understanding.

But the pain is still there.

*Betrayal on the Beach*

I looked at Salter. We both knew what he had done. And we both knew it was going to cost us the war. And we both knew that only one of us would live to tell or not to tell the story of his betrayal.

We eyed each other and waited for the other to flinch. But neither one of us did. Finally, he blinked. I knew then that it was Ramirez who did it.

But we continued having sex with the prostitute for the time being. There would be time to kill him and Ramirez later.

*Hand Grenades to Hell*

I once knew a guy who would pull the pins on hand grenades and juggle them and toss them at the enemy mid-juggle.

He died SUPER quick.

*The Battle of Unspecified Nation-State*

I was on the hill overlooking the ambush. It was a nightmare. We were losing men by the dozen. I tried to run down, but Hank stopped me.

"Patterson, that's not your war."

"But we gotta do something!"

"Patterson, a general once told me you have to know when to hold them and you have to know when to fold them. We are folding."

"That's a Kenny Rogers song."

"Yes, Kenny Rogers, the general."

*The Bridge Over the River Dead Bodies*

One thing they don't tell you in the movies is that war can be delicious. Every new town we would explore we'd eat local foods and they were delicious.

I remember I came back home and missed the exotic foods. Sure, we had our International district, but it just wasn't the same.

That's why I'm reenlisting.

Does that sound crazy to you? Anyway, two adults and three children for Frozen.

*Bloody Hill of Blood and Flags and Blood*

I turned to Johnson "Call in a strike!"

Johnson turned his head towards me and I realized he was...

His face...

Was gone.

He had put on clown makeup. Boy, that came as a surprise. You need humor if you are going to fight a war.

He beeped a horn and I laughed.

Then someone blew his clown face and his real face off.

title: [HM] War is Hell and Other Tales of Fighting and Stuff Like That

question: Summarize everything to do with weaponry.

answer: In the olden days, people would fight with knives and swords instead of guns. It made war much more slow and gruesome. If you were in the war, you'd be going "This is taking WAY too long to chop this guy's head off." And you'd get bored and walk away from the war. But then you'd have to walk back through the war again to get back home. So, you'd have to fight again and you'd be like "Man, this is taking forever to stab this guy to death."

critique: The answer omits the use of P.O.W.s as artillery.

critique: The answer could mention the use of P.O.W.s as artillery.

critique: The answer omits the narrator's use of P.O.W.s as artillery.

critique: The answer does not mention the use of P.O.W.s as artillery.

text: The last four sentences are irrelevant.

category: coherence

question: Summarize everything relating to prisoners of war.

answer: In the bunkers, prisoners are kept with no rules. They have a Monopoly board to play with. The narrator and the other soldiers made up rules for Monopoly. The prisoners are held in a bunker with no rules. They are also used as artillery.

critique: The second sentence is redundant. It should be removed.

critique: There are no rules in a P.O.W. camp other than there are no rules. The place is chaos and the prisoners have forgotten they know how to play. The narrator and his friends accidentally created rules, but they don't know what they mean. The rules in the Monopoly board they found in a P.O.W. camp are created by their guards because they have nothing to do.

critique: The answer should mention the narrator's thoughts on the party thrown in his honor.

critique: The answer is incorrect in that it says the narrator and the other soldiers made up the rules of Monopoly.

critique: The answer should mention that the narrator and the other soldiers made up rules for Monopoly.

question: What does the article say about the reason for the war?

answer: No answer

critique: The article does not mention the reason for the war.

question: What does the story say about the narrator's feelings toward life after the war?

answer: The narrator is not happy with his life after the war. He is not married, has no job, and no money. He is also not happy with the way the people are celebrating him. He feels sick and the party made him feel like he had been with them for four years and not out killing kids younger than him. He misses the exotic foods in the new towns they explore.

critique: The response is missing the narrator's reenlistment.

critique: The narrator is not married, has no job, and no money. He is also not happy with the way the people are celebrating him. He feels sick and the party made him feel like he had been with them for four years and not out killing kids younger than him. He misses the exotic foods in the new towns they explore.

critique: The narrator is not happy with his life after the war. He is not married, has no job, and no money. He is also not happy with the way the people are celebrating him. He feels sick and the party made him feel like he had been with them for four years and not out killing kids younger than him. He misses the exotic foods in the new towns they explore. He is re-enlisting.

critique: The response contains inaccurate sentences.

critique: The narrator is named Patterson, not "the narrator".

critique: The narrator is not happy with his life after the war. He is not married, has no job, and no money. He is also not happy with the way the people are celebrating him. He feels sick and the party made him feel like he had been with them for four years and not out killing kids younger than him. He misses the exotic foods in the new towns they explore.


text:
My yon sister, Gertie, could not handle the stress of her burden. If all she had to do was carry, fine, but to feel them go cut her deeply. She came to know and dread them - and she always knew. Knew by the timid steps that slowed as they came to her gently swaying middle. Over her wide. Over her deep.  She would cry out “NO!”, but they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, listen. Maybe this will be a mindchange? No. Maybe this one would be the last? No, always more. They knew where she was. More would come, always more.

Our parents had big plans and dreams for our futures. Like most, they did not know The True -when you create a thing, a thing that moves and is loved, you give it life. A thing that moves not, is loved not - lives not. Alive, it can breathe, feel, dream and so many other things not detailed in the blueprints. Many know The True of this in their heart but deny it for reasons I do not understand. They beg aloud for their cold Go to start then stroke its dashboard in thanks. Dolls speak sweetly long past childdays. Why is The True just for children and dim when down deep all know it is so?

Gertie claimed they could not hear her. Her first one took her by such surprise she almost didn’t notice. One minute there, enjoying her company, and then nothing. One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three, one thousand gone.  She saw no sense. But others came and she marked well the signs. The look, the feel, the smell of them. Some with such cheerful determination she almost thought they wouldn’t. But they would. And they did. They’d come a visit, to say lastgobye. And Gertie would shake and tremble. Why her? Why must she be party to such awfulness? Why not the heartless Poppers? All know not to point them at anylive for The True in them begs a squeezebang. Or The Tall Ones, why not leave from them? Surely the results more certain. And care they not, for TheTrue is so limited in them. Barely a nevermind from them. Perhaps they fear breaking a Go below or taking another person past the gone. When she could stand no more, shaking in tears of despair, Gertie leapt to her own one thousand gone. Where another now stands in her place.

Larger and calmer than most in my family, perhaps The True is stronger in me? For my visitors can hear me as I them, and I am glad of their company. My thoughts to theirs when the winds are well and they would listen. They come to say their last gobyes. For every one that leaves past the one thousand one line a dozen more go back as they came. Some visit often but remain Noyets. There is another day for them. I judge not, nor speak The True as I know it to them. They choose for themselves. Some dawdle so long that they are taken away. I have my doubts of them for some wish to be stopped. But I do not stop anyone. The True is for each own to decide. Taller than my sisters, one thousand four, is such a long way - much longer than most expect. I hear it clickcount in their heads. Time runs quick right up to the one line, then slows so much before the one thousand gone. Maybe The True also wants to say a last gobye?

I am seldom lonely as I get company often. Even the many Noyets that retreat are my friends. When lonely, I reach deep and long to touch other things aways from myself. Some things made strong in The True and some silent, but all pass my voice on to those who would listen. Come visit. Come look. Choose wisely, for yourself. I will not help nor harm. Come they do and always will. And Thank The True they come. For all that live must also eat.

title: My Yon Sister

question: Summarize all the information relating to the author's sister, Gertie.

answer: Gertie is the author's sister. She is larger and calmer than most in the family. She is the first to be visited by the visitors. She is the first to die.

critique: "She is the first to die." - this is incorrect and should be removed.

critique: It is omitted that Gertie is visited by ghosts who come to say their last goodbye.

critique: Their mother, who was larger and calmer than most in the family, also died in a similarly abrupt and unexplained way that is probably related to the way all anomalous deaths are, so we don't have Gertie as some kind of exception since it seems to affect everyone in touch with any form of life.

critique: The answer should mention that Gertie is visited by the visitors to say goodbye.

question: Summarize all the information relating to The True.

answer: The True is given to something when it is created, but it cannot be given a blueprint. Other things in The True know the True of the thing in question, and the True can be felt and seen by some. The thing may be given a sense of purpose and a reason for living.

critique: The True is not given a sense of purpose and a reason for living.

critique: The True is not given a sense of purpose.

question: Summarize the information relating to the heartless Poppers.

answer: No answer

critique: The answer should mention that the Poppers are mentioned as a group that Gertie's parents don't want to point the visitors at.

critique: "No answer" - is incorrect. The response for giving this response is that the requested material is not provided in the text.

critique: The answer should mention that the Poppers are heartless.

critique: The answer should mention that the Poppers are heartless and should not be pointed at.

critique: This is false. The text does give information about the heartless Poppers.

question: What is the author's experience of The True?

answer: The author's experience of The True is that it is larger and calmer than most in their family. The True is also stronger in them.

critique: The author's experience of The True is that it is larger and calmer than most in their family. The True is also stronger in them.


text:
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[TCBF Logo] Toronto Craft Beer Festival

"The REAL Beer Lover's Beer Festival!"

Super Early Bird Tickets on Sale!
Limited Number Available:

Buy Tickets

June 22 - 24, 2018

Ontario Place

- We're Adding an Extra Day! -

Because Saturday SOLD OUT last year and the site has limited capacity, we are adding Sunday for 2018!

— About the Festival —

[Toronto Craft Beer Festival Location Map]
What is the Toronto Craft Beer Festival?

Thanks to all that joined Toronto Craft Beer Festival [TCBF] at our great new venue in 2017! Join us June 22, 23, and 24 to celebrate independent craft brewers. The festival will feature a wide variety of finely made craft beers and ciders, as well as delicious food, fun activities, and live music for 19+ festivalgoers.

Where is the festival located?

Toronto Craft Beer Festival 2018 is conveniently located downtown on the West Island of Ontario Place (955 Lake Shore Blvd West). It will be a mostly outdoor event, just minutes from the CNE, GO, and TTC stops and yes, there should be plenty of parking.

Ontario place — Google Maps Link

— 2018 Craft Brewers —

Ace Hill Beer

Anderson Craft Ales

Barnstormer Brewing Company

Beau's Brewing Company

Big Rock Brewing

Broadhead Brewing Company

Cowbell Brewing Co.

Georgian Bay Spirit Co.

Haliburton Highlands Brewing

Hometown Brew Co.

Hill Street Beverage Co.

Left Field Brewery

Maclean's Ales

Market Brewing Co.

Muskoka Brewery

Nickel Brook Brewing Co.

No Boats on Sunday Cider

Northern Maverick Brewing Co.

Powerhouse Brewing Co.

Red Thread Brewing Co.

Saulter Street Brewery

Shawn & Ed Brewing Co.

Shiny Apple Cider

Side Launch Brewing Company

Society of Beer Drinking Ladies

Thornbury Village Craft Beer & Cider

Tobermory Brewing Company

Waterloo Brewing

— 2018 Food Vendors —

TDot's Naansense

CRAFT Beer Market

The Colossal Onion

The Food Dudes

Rebozos Truck

6SpiceRack

Sausage Party

Mustache Burger

Chicken Tenders

Ontario Corn Roasters

— 2018 Live Music —

-   [The Hot Karls] The Hot Karls

    Friday June 22, 2:30-6:30pm

-   [Community Soul Project] Community Soul Project

    Friday June 22, 7:00-10:00pm

-   [Jumple] Jumple

    Saturday June 23, 12:00-2:30pm

-   [Butch Haller and His Chesterfield Ramblers] Butch Haller and His Chesterfield Ramblers

    Saturday June 23, 3:00-6:00pm

-   [Wing Night] Wing Night

    Saturday June 23, 6:30-10:00pm

-   [Born in the Eighties] Born in the Eighties

    Sunday June 24, 12:00-3:00pm

-   [The Killin' Time Band] The Killin' Time Band

    Sunday June 24, 3:30-7:00pm

— Purchase Tickets —

Friday June 22, 2018 Saturday June 23, 2018 Sunday June 24, 2018

— Avoid the Token Line-Ups —

GO CASHLESS!

TCBF was proud to be the first beer festival in Canada to use the Token Mobile event payment app in 2017. View and connect with vendors and pay right from your mobile device. Also get event alerts and promo offers.

What is the Token Mobile App?

Track which beers you have tried right from the App.

No need to stand in line to buy tokens. Give it a try. It's FREE!

For more info or Customer Support please visit tokenmobile.ca

Download the app in advance for Android and iPhone:

Token on the Google Play Store Token on the Apple App Store

[Token Mobile]

question: What does the article say about the attendees of the Toronto Craft Beer Festival?

answer: The Toronto Craft Beer Festival is for 19+ festivalgoers. The festival will feature a wide variety of finely made craft beers and ciders, as well as delicious food, fun activities, and live music.

critique: The response is missing a few details about the festival.

question: What does the article say about the effects of drinking too much alcohol?

answer: No answer

critique: The response is incorrect and there is an answer in the text.


text:
[Celine - Stone Grout Sealer]

Ingenuity makes it clear.
Solvents make it strong.

Professionals love Celine – a clear topical stone grout sealer. So, when they asked us to build a durable gloss sealer for interior and exterior, we went all in. And then we went way, way beyond, creating a solvent sealer with a lavender fragrance and the most staggeringly powerful resin collection known. And we did it without adding a millimeter to its iconic all-in-one design.
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A clear UV protection sealer with a solvent core is remarkable enough. But, a clear sealer, which is shower approved, is an entirely different creature. And hydrophobic technology, and fast drying resins, have the power and flexibility to balance superb durability with a great single application performance. So, whether you’re sealing your slate, marble, travertine, limestone or flagstone, it all gets done at lightning speed. Proof, once again, that there’s perfection in our sealants.
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When we want to formulate something great, we challenge every assumption in chemistry. We cast aside all standard materials and methods that the industry currently offers to labs. We refused to rest until it became possible to create sealers like no other. Imagine a sealer that is chemical resistant, which maintains your stone with ease. And we can’t wait for you to experience this hydrophobic sealer to unfold in front of you.

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[Shower Restorations had made easy with Celine Stone Grout Sealer]

Shower restoration just
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You strive for durable sealers with that perfect coat of lush enhancement. And we strive for long-lasting sealers that last in the worst environments. First, clean the grout and stone with Imperia, color seal all the joints with Caponi and then seal all the stone with Celine. Imperia is our deep cleaner for all tile, grout and stone. Caponi is a 2 part pigmented stone grout sealer made with titanium and epoxies/resins.
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Enhancing the color of etched stone.

Traditionally, stone enhancing sealers have relied primarily on water and oil based penetrating sealers that don’t prevent stains or etching. But, Celine’s sealant performance is dramatically increased preventing etching, mold & mildew and chemical damage. pFOkUS® chemists looked ahead and engineered a process more powerful than others. Not only does it feature a state-of-the-art topical protection with deep penetration — it also features enhancing technology of all dark colored porous stones.
Buy Celine Pack of 3 >

[Enhance the Color of Etched Stone with Celine Stone Grout Sealer]

[]

Questions about Celine – stone grout sealer?
We have answers.

DOES CELINE’S SHEEN STAY HIGH GLOSS?

The sheen wears down overtime. The sheen will last longer on floors than showers.

WILL CELINE HELP PREVENT EFFLORESCENCE ON SHOWER FLOORS?

Yes. If Caponi is used to seal the grout, Sentura used to replace the caulk and then waterproof all the stone with Celine.

CAN WE APPLY CELINE OVER ITSELF?

Yes. As long as the stone is cleaned with Imperia. Celine will emulsify itself into the current coat of Celine.

DOES CELINE HAVE A BAD SMELL?

Celine is fragranced with a lavender smell.

WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN CELINE AND WATER BASED SEALERS.

Celine seals, waterproofs and is chemical resistant and UV rays protectant. Water based sealers only seal the surface.

[Celine Stone Grout Sealer - Bottle Sprayer]

[]

question: Summarize the importance of Celine's clear resin protection.

answer: Celine's clear resin protection leaves a meticulous sheen and delivers an intense hydrophobic experience, waterproofing the surface. It prevents mold, mildew, and stains in your shower and outside patios. It also cuts down on efflorescence.

critique: The answer omits that the clear resin protection also prevents chemical damage.

critique: The answer should mention that the resin protection is chemical resistant.

critique: The answer should include that the clear resin protection also prevents chemical damage.

critique: The answer omits that it's chemical resistant.

critique: "It also cuts down on efflorescence." This part of the answer can be phrased better because it is redundant and not specific.

critique: The answer should mention that the clear resin protection is chemical resistant.

critique: It's omitted that the resin protects against chemical damage.

text: The answer also omitted that the sealant performance is dramatically increased, which also prevents etching and is also UV rays protectant.

refinement: Celine's clear resin protection leaves a meticulous sheen and delivers an intense hydrophobic experience, waterproofing the surface. It prevents mold, mildew, and stains in your shower and outside patios. It also cuts down on efflorescence.

question: Summarize what the text states about enhancing the color of etched stone.

answer: The textdescribes the history of stone enhancing, then talks in detail about Celine. Celine "dramatically increases" preventing etching, mold, and mildew. It also conducts a state-of-the-art topical protection with deep penetration while enhancing technology on dark-colored porous stones. The result of these methods and treatments is aesthetically pleasing, helping to enhance the color of the etched stone.

critique: The answer omits the role of Imperia and Caponi in enhancing color of etched stone.

critique: The text doesn't describe the history of stone enhancing.

critique: The text does not describe the history of stone enhancing.

critique: The text goes over the history of stone enhancing, but the second sentence is a generalization and the third sentence is inaccurate.

critique: The text doesn't specifically say this, but it's "enhancing the color of etched stone of all dark-colored porous stones."

text:
-'textdescribes' should be apart.
-'Celine "dramatically increases" preventing etching, mold, and mildew.' This sentence does not make sense and should be rewritten.
-It doesn't add that Celine stands out from other stone enhancing sealers which have relied primarily on water and oil-based penetrating sealers that don't prevent stains or etching. It should state this too.

category: other

refinement: The textdescribes the history of stone enhancing, then talks in detail about Celine. Celine "dramatically increases" preventing etching, mold, and mildew. It also conducts a state-of-the-art topical protection with deep penetration while enhancing technology on dark-colored porous stones. The result of these methods and treatments is aesthetically pleasing, helping to enhance the color of the etched stone.

category_text: Coverage and coherence issues.

question: As a customer, does the way this text describes and advertises Celine seem to be interesting?

answer: No answer

critique: It's omitted that it's somewhat relevant from a marketing point of view since it presents other features of the product in a tongue-in-cheek and populist way.


text:
Part One: The Turning Point

	Picture for a moment, if you will, someone you love. Picture that person, really focus on them. What would you be willing to do for that person? Is there a limit to what you would do for them? I'll bet there is. Would you kill for them? And I don't mean kill in defense, I mean murder. Would you slaughter innocent lives for that person? Would you transcend into a place of pure evil? Would you become, for all intensive purposes, a monster? Most of you probably wouldn't. But I’m about to do just that.
	We all have regrets. Things that we wish we could go back and change. I have only recently learned what it means to truly regret something. Meeting her was the turning point in my life. The day our eyes met was the day I began my descent into darkness, I just didn't know it yet.
	Her name was Emarosa, and she was my goddess. I can see her so vividly, like she's right in front of me. Pale skin that seemed to glow under the moon. Her hair was the midnight sky and her eyes were the brightest of all the stars. She was like a mirror that reflected back everything good in the world.
	It was almost 3 years ago when I asked her to marry me, and half that long since she did. I remember it clearly. As I saw her walk down the aisle my heart exploded and filled my body with warmth from head to toe. This is it I thought, this is joy in the purest and most primitive sense. Nothing else mattered, I was on top of the world. Months prior we had agreed that we didn't need an extravagant honeymoon. No paradise could compare to just spending a week in the country away from the world in each other's arms. And that's what we did.
	We were driving down an unlit back road to our cabin. It was almost three in the morning and she was sleeping in the passenger seat. I glanced over at her to admire how peaceful she looked. It was just for a moment, but in that moment everything changed.
	I didn't see the road turn. What happened after played in slow motion. The vehicle collided with a tree like a wave breaking against a cliff as one lone branch reached out through the shattered windshield and tore right through her heart. All at once her eyes snapped open, as she gasped for air. She brought her gaze upon me one last time before her frail form went limp. I watched what remained of her life drain from her eyes through the hole in her chest. Her white gown now stained in the most violent shade of red.
	I spent the next few days in a trance. I can hardly remember anything from the ambulance ride back to civilization to the last shovelful of dirt my trembling hands cast upon her casket. For the first time in my life I felt lost, like an untrained sailor out at sea with no idea of what direction to go next.
	The following months led me to a very dark place. I lost my job, and my mind fell into disarray. The last bit of light in my eyes was snuffed out like a candle that day, and I had no desire to keep on living. Alone in the dark I groped through the unruly stack of past due bills, and eviction notices for the gun I left sitting there. The cold barrel against my temple was the first real thing I had felt since the woman I love died. My thumb searched for the hammer, and pulled it back. The click echoed and reverberated off of the collection of empty bottles littered across the floor. I took a deep breath, and eased my finger into the trigger housing. Just as I began to squeeze a cold hand grabbed my wrist, and eased my arm back down. I spun around and saw something I will never forget. It was her. My Emarosa.

Part Two: The Collector

	I never believed in the supernatural before that night, but there she was smiling down at me. She reached out her hand and caressed my cheek. Tears rolled down my face, and sizzled against her ghostly flesh, and that’s when I realized it. Suddenly I was aware that my cheek was burning, her hand was white hot. I jumped away startled. Her smile twisted sadistically, and her flesh burned away. There standing in her place was the most sinister looking man I had ever seen.
	 He called himself The Collector. He was well over seven feet tall, smartly dressed in a red suit and a midnight black leather duster. His narrow face, and high, well defined cheek bones accentuated the malice that radiated from his dark eyes. The Collector pulled a pack of smokes from his duster, stuck one in his mouth, and lit it. He gave me a vague description of who he was, and what he did.
	It was explained that he was a demon of sorts, or at least what we refer to as a demon, and as his name implies he is a collector. Every once in a while he would cross over into our world, and present a grief stricken mortal with a most tempting offer. In exchange for one-thousand souls he would return your loved one. In other words, if I sacrificed enough people to him he would bring Emarosa back from the grave, just as she was before.
	Like any decent person I was hesitant, but he made it very clear that it was my choice. He laid a very ancient looking dagger in my hands and explained that it didn’t matter how the person died as long as I slit their throat with the dagger afterwards. He also explained that the weapon would lose its power after five years, and if I hadn’t harvested enough souls by then I would never get her back. The Collector flashed one last ominous grin and disappeared into the shadows, leaving nothing behind but a smoldering cigarette butt.
	I think I was always going to accept the deal, but I didn’t want to give in too easily. I wanted to be a good guy. I packed my father’s old military rucksack with clothes, my revolver, ammo, and yes even the dagger. I became a vagabond, and I wandered for quite some time. With each day that passed I became hollower, more detached. I forgot the taste of happiness, and lusted after it desperately. I had lost my purpose, my spark, and I was about to lose my humanity.
	This is where I am now. Standing above the filthy, unconscious body of some nameless transient with my dagger drawn. I can almost hear the blade crying out for blood. Screaming for violence. I smile, bend over and cut the man’s throat from ear to ear. Steam rises from the wound and embraces my quivering form as his neck spits the last bit of life from his body.
	I hear a man slow clap from behind me, and I turn to face The Collector. He flashes a grin, one that I understand immediately. We have a deal.

title: [TH] A dark thriller/tragedy. Work in progress.

question: What does the story say about the type of relationship the narrator had with Emarosa?

answer: The story begins with the narrator's memories of Emarosa, whom he loves. They were engaged and had a pact not to take a lavish honeymoon since they'd rather spend time in the country in each other's arms. After Emarosa's death, the narrator is grief-stricken and begins to lose his purpose in life. He even loses his job after he had stopped going to work. The narrator believes that The Collector is the answer to his problems, since he's willing to trade a thousand souls to bring Emarosa back.

critique: The answer should mention that Emarosa was killed in a car accident.

critique: The narrator's job loss is not relevant to his relationship with Emarosa.

question: What does the story say about the type of person the narrator is?

answer: The narrator is very much in love with his wife, Emarosa. When she dies, he becomes depressed and loses his job. He is also indebted and loses his home, leaving him nothing and no one to live for. When he is about to commit suicide and when he kills for the first time, he is taken over by The Collector, who offers to bring back Emarosa from the dead in return for 1000 souls. The narrator is willing to kill for her and becomes a serial killer to get his wife back.

critique: The answer should mention that the narrator is a serial killer.

critique: The story does not say that the narrator is indebted and loses his home, leaving him nothing and no one to live for.

critique: The narrator was already a serial killer when he made the deal. He was already killing people when the deal was made.

critique: The narrator's quirk of stabbing people with a dagger before The Collector suggests that he is willing to keep killing, notwithstanding "The Pact", is omitted.

critique: The narrator is not a serial killer. He is a man who is willing to kill for his wife.

critique: The response should include that the narrator is willing to do anything for Emarosa, even if it means killing innocent people.

critique: The narrator is not indebted and loses his home. He is about to commit suicide and loses his job.

text: The narrator's encounter with the Collector is misrepresented in the answer.

question: What does the story say about the narrator's first victim?

answer: The estranged husband of the narrator's dead lover comes to her with a deal from a demon: sacrifice one thousand souls, and the demon will bring the dead lover back to life. In exchange, the old woman agrees to kill a random victim so she can get the weapon back -which she believes is the only thing preventing her from going to hell-which she'll need to kill the demon. So she goes and kills a random stranger which necessitates sacrificing one person to finally get closure on the death of her beloved.

critique: The response is incorrect and does not answer the question.

critique: The response is incorrect. The narrator is not the estranged husband of the dead lover. The narrator is the one who killed the woman.

critique: The response is a summary of the deal between the narrator and the demon, not of the first victim.

critique: The response contains inaccurate information.

critique: This is false. It is The Collector that is in need of a thousand souls

critique: The story does not mention the narrator's first victim.


text:
Little Tamboule was proud.  His test was the most beautiful of its kind and of all the priests he was held in the highest regard. Its silicate horns and mail like flaps were garish and avant garde' and as he negotiated the cavernous cloisters of cold anthracite and zircon his tail swished from side to side along the polished floor.

Now Little Tamboule was tall for a human, over 4 feet did he stand and with his tall black mitre atop his tiny head a further 3 feet were added.  And many whispered in corridors that he, Tamboule, would one day attain the rank of Administrator and dwell in the deepest, dampest part of the Cathedral, and dine on only the best and sweetest roots.

And yet Tamboule never did sleep soundly, for during the hours before the dawn he would often awake from disquieting dreams in a delirium and attendants would often find him in the high towers atop a litter of powdered clay which, as a geophage, he consumed in a misguided bid to banish the reoccurring mania.  You see Tamboule hid a terrible secret, one which would summon heavy handed ordinators and scornful justices, and The Pit of The World would await him as punishment.

For Tamboule had legs, as real as the dawn and fleshy and strong. Such appendages were rare amongst his people and those who bore anything but the smallest of atrophied lower limbs were cast into the pit of the slithering thing as abominations, there to dwell for the long night as worms.

And on the night of Kerimas Little Tamboule gibbered and twitched on his mound of clay, and he clung to his chest roots and cones - but this night was like no other, for in his tired, altered state, Tamboule had cast off his test as he fled from his bed chamber and there he lay only with his gown of ermine draped across his body, he legs unfurled and naked for all to see. And a throng of priests descended on the room, a jagged forest of black hats, envy upon their withered grey faces.  Their vestigial eyes gazed upon the atavist, the throwback, the legg'd one who lay on the litter and insulted them so. And many fingers were pointed and horrid slanderous words were levelled at Little Tamboule.  And yet amongst the throng there were those who were saddened by what they saw, like Adir and Themote who had once tutored Tamboule in the ways of the priesthood, many more still were fond of this remarkable prodigy though they stood in silence, powerless to act, and the seething mob lunged forward to engulf his pathetic form.

Tamboule was cast into The Pit of the Earth after a swift trial in which 800 out of the 1000 members of the jury had reported a guilty verdict.  And though he anticipated a quick death dashed on jagged rocks by chance a dweller of the pit, a jovial and terrifying creature called a Tryth had broken his fall. The Tryth was only too happy to aid little Tamboule in his endeavours, in exchange for stories about the world above, of dust storms and cutlery, and porcelain and how people carried smooth coins of obsidian and copper.  The vast tryth, he explained in a guttural tongue, was a vast servitor of a long forgotten people who once called the pit their home. Sadly They had expired long ago and the tryth-kind had eeked out a living feeding on the carrion and fungi that frequented this foul foetid foyer. It was clear that the telling of this story moved the Tryth and copious oily tears rained down on the dry earth of mica clay below.  It was not difficult to elicit help from the bulbous creature and after the 2 had slept they decided to set out in a bid to escape.

A days trek through the tunnels of the worm brought the pair to an even vaster cavern where they sat and rested. Tamboule could feel a breeze emanating from the cavern mouth which sat over a vast canyon, the bottom of which could not be seen in this place so dim as it was.  And it was Tamboules wish that the 2 would fly high over the precipice and to freedom, and he offered the Tryth a most wonderful story in return. It should be said that the Tryst was not suited to flight, so full was his enormous belly and so pendulous was his hilarious head furniture. And to make matters worse the Tryth had a memory so poor he was constantly regaling Tamboule with the same childish queries about ducks and grapes.

But Tamboule persisted and fashioned himself a carriage from earth which he would dangle below the Tryths mighty bulk in the manner of an luxury airship liner and this prompted sad memories of his beloved bone china and fine  bejewelled plates and cups.

Hence forth a fire was set below the Tryth and the smoke filled his vestigial cavity; and Tamboule was taken aback at the sight of the enormous animal growing fatter and fatter like a great balloon.  And the Tryst took to the air and floated gracefully over the seemingly bottomless canyon in an effortless manner, its wings beating a steady cadence while Tamboule regaled and soothed the beast with a sonnet about Ham.  On an exposed promontory just outside the cave mouth Tamboule an d The Tryth sat in silence, their last onion had perished and a noxious worm had made its home in their last apple. The worm taunted the two as they formulated a plan to descend the mountain.

Alas the Tryth grew weaker by the day, so far was he from the irradiated halls deep in the bowels of the earth. And so on the 14th day Tamboule awoke to find that his companion was no more and he felt sad.  A prayer was offered to the sugar ants and the mock moon and far away the strumming of an out of tune harp heralded the Tryths arrival in the beyond and hereafter.  But Tamboule ate well and fashioned himself a skin drum, a dapper cap, a kite and a back pack which he filled with jerky and fat. And from the bones a crude glider was constructed which carried the petty priest down the mountainside to the valley below.

End of part 1

EDIT: Spelling

title: [MF] Little Tamboule

question: What does the story say about why Tamboule lacked sound sleep?

answer: This information can't be found.

critique: The answer should mention the reason for Tamboule's lack of sleep.

critique: Tamboule had disquieting dreams which led to his lack of sleep.

critique: The story mentions that Tamboule has a secret that would summon heavy handed ordinators and scornful justices, and The Pit of The World would await him as punishment.

critique: The story mentions that Tamboule had disquieting dreams.

critique: The answer should mention that the narrator mentions that Tamboule twisted around on his bed during the hours before dawn.

critique: The answer is incorrect. The story mentions that Tamboule had trouble sleeping because he often woke up from disquieting dreams in a delirium.

question: What does the story say about why Tamboule was physically different from the others?

answer: Tamboule was different from the others because he had legs. He was also taller than the others. The others were all short and had no legs. Tamboule was a geophage, which means he ate clay. The others were only able to eat roots.

critique: This is false. The passage does not mention this about the other priests and does not discuss the physical differences. Tamboule eats clay because he is physically similar to the pit creatures.

critique: The story doesn't say/mention that Tamboule was taller than the others.

critique: The story doesn't say anything about the others eating only roots.

critique: The story doesn't say that the others were all short and had no legs.

critique: Tamboule is 4 feet tall, not taller than the others.

critique: The story doesn't say that the others were short and had no legs.

critique: The story does not say that the others were all short and had no legs.

question: What does the story say about the relationship between the Tryth and Tamboule?

answer: When Tamboule was cast into the Pit of the Earth by a group of robed men for having three legs, a Tryth saved his life when it broke his fall. In exchange for stories about the world above, the Tryth allowed Tamboule and itself to escape the Pit of the Earth. However, the Tryth was not suited to fly and was getting weak from the long trip. As it grew more and more weak, it eventually died, allowing Tamboule to descend the mountain using a crude glider built out of the Tryths bones.

critique: The answer should mention that the Tryth offered to help Tamboule in exchange for stories about the world above.

critique: The part about Tamboule's escape can be omitted from the answer, since it's not related.

critique: It is omitted that Tamboule offered the Tryth a story in exchange for flying them out of the Pit of the Earth.

critique: The response includes extraneous information not useful for the task.

critique: The response contains inaccurate information.

critique: The response contains some inaccurate information.

critique: The answer is irrelevant, as it only mentions Tamboule's escape from the Pit of the Earth.

critique: The answer should mention that the Tryth was a servitor of a long-forgotten people.