Short story competition results

In Miriam McGuirk’s article of November 9, M’s author corner she asked our readers to submit their own short stories by the end of November and the winning entry would be published in Rye News.

I am delighted to confirm that we have judged the following entries as joint winners and their authors, Jane Watson and Bronwen Griffiths will share the first prize with each receiving a signed copy of Miriam’s latest novel, Second Chances, a mystery Christmas gift and to have their stories published as promised. They have both been invited to our Rye News office (above the cricket pavilion) where they will receive their prizes from Miriam in person.

We are pleased to be able to share their stories and to congratulate our joint winners.

A gentle nudge, by Jane Watson

Kate was in her local supermarket, choosing something for dinner that evening. She
lived alone, having divorced amicably during her late 50’s, some 10 years ago.
“Oh darling, please don’t keep kicking me.” Kate glanced at the Yummy Mummy nearby and her tiny offspring, who was sitting in the trolley seat, desperately trying to gain her mother’s attention. “What shall we have for lunch, poppet?” YM simpered absent-mindedly, still gazing at her phone screen. Kate felt her annoyance surfacing and thought it best to change direction to a different aisle.

“Does she not understand how lucky she is to have such a beautiful child?” Kate
pondered as her thoughts flooded back to her own 2 sons, now adults with children of their own. In their mid-30s now, they’d both enjoyed a loving childhood, as they grew into teens, then men. Sadly, Kate didn’t get to see them, as they had both moved to Australia and built up a successful building company together, just over 5 years ago. In that time, they met girlfriends who became wives and they went on to have young families of their own. Of course, there were regular onscreen conversations, but nothing can compare to hugs and kisses, as she rued when they said their farewells.

Kate hadn’t met their families yet, as she felt it was too much to expect for them to
disrupt their lives by visiting her. Her sons had offered to pay for Kate’s flight to
Australia on several occasions, but she felt that she would be an intrusion and made
various different excuses not to accept. Although secretly she longed to see her family and the amazing life that they had built. After a while however, the invitations ceased and she wasn’t sure whether she was relieved or disappointed.

As she popped the last items into her basket, she could hear Yummy Mummy’s loud
voice across the store: “If you behave nicely, I’ll let you play with my phone.” Kate’s
irritation flared but she suddenly had a change of heart – almost like the flick of a switch. Striding purposefully towards them, she smiled at the little girl, who smiled back instantly. Looking YM directly in the eye and gently patting her hand, to distract her from her phone, said, “Thank you so much, and I’m sure you realise how lucky you are to have such a gorgeous little girl – she really is a treasure!”. Yummy Mummy looked stunned for a moment, and smiled firstly at Kate, then her daughter. Kate beamed back at them and headed to the checkout. Hearing the delighted giggling from YM and her daughter, Kate turned to see them sharing a hug, and YM slipping her phone into her designer bag. She was still grinning when it was her turn to pay. The checkout assistant noticed her expression and remarked “Well, you look happy – just won the lottery?”

“No, something far better, I’m going to Australia to see my family!” Kate replied happily.

Jane Watson, November 2023

Where things appear and disappear, by Bronwen Griffiths

This is the beach where things appear and disappear. Ghostly figures emerge from the shore, a dog vanishes into a cloud, lonely voices settle into the fog.

As his aunt searches for sandwiches buried deep in her blue haversack, Joe wanders on his small, fat legs towards the shells and stones, the shifting sand. Soon he is swallowed up by the mist, along with the blue beach house, the dunes, the café and the line of trees.

The sandwich box is found. Banana and white bread, the crusts removed, for Joe. Cheese and pickle for the aunt. A club biscuit for both. A flask of tea and a bottle of water. The aunt is happy. The aunt spreads out the tartan blanket and stretches her legs.

The mist swirls. The aunt looks up. Where is Joe? Where is Joe?

A dog appears, vanishes. The mist is a cataract on the eye of the world. The aunt leaps to her feet. The aunt is hollering, yelling, sweating, then flying along the beach, disappearing into the fog, searching, hollering, running.

Is this a crow on the sand, a heap of seaweed, or someone’s old bag? Where is the shoreline? Why can’t the aunt hear the slip-slap of the waves?

The aunt is crying now, the aunt is praying and Joe has been swallowed up as if he were Jonah in the belly of the whale. The mist is white and clammy. The mist casts a veil of silence over everything.

The aunt wipes away her tears. A bevy of geese fly over, unseen, honking above the swirling air and when the geese are gone there is the smallest of sounds. Plip, plip. A small boy throwing stones in the water at the sea’s foggy edge, the aunt’s relief a solid thing, not misty at all.

Bronwen Griffiths, November 2023

Image Credits: Miriam McGuirk , Jane Watson , Bronwen Griffiths .