It was lovely to hear Yarrow Townsend, children’s author, speak about her journey to publication and how passion for nature and experience of New Forest inspired her new novel, Map of Leaves; this, in turn, perfectly linked to our February competition, adjudicated by Yarrow:
Write the opening of a story with a mix of magic and nature. 300 words.
And the winners are…
First Place: A Cloak of Feathers by Catherine Griffin
Second Place: The Cost by Ben Culleton
Third Place: Raglan by Jane French
Highly Commended: There Be Magic by Anthony Ridgway
Highly Commended: A Kind of Magic by Natalie Morant
First Place: A Cloak of Feathers by Catherine Griffin
I was really captivated by this opening. The natural landscape is vividly painted, and within a few lines the author depicts a strong bond between Lin and the birds.
Yarrow Townsend
The thrush left Lin’s shoulder and swooped ahead to land among the gnarled branches of the Loa-tree. Charms swayed, all the straw dolls whispering prayers against the mossy bark.
Lin followed, her bare heels sinking deep into the leaf mould. In the shelter of the sacred grove, the air felt warmer and smelled like spring, urgent with green growth.
Most villagers feared the forest. Beyond the clearing, past the stone-marked boundary, the trees stretched on forever, home to bears and wolves and pale-eyed nixies. But Lin knew how far she could go, and here was safe.
Here were no sly glances, no muttered insults. She didn’t mind the crowding silent trees. They weren’t friendly or unfriendly, only interested in tree-things, in wind and water and sun, not girls or their errands.
Her thrush-friend flicked his tail: Are you coming?
Before she could answer, a family of sparrows exploded from the undergrowth. The rowdy little flock scuffled for space on her head and shoulders with gleeful chirps of Me! Push off, runt! I was here first! Me!
A sharp beak tugged her hair. ’Ow. Stop that.’ As she turned to bat them away, she saw someone on the far side of the clearing, watching her.
It was Rob, the orphan from Darrow, staring with his brown eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.
Lin flinched. Too late to hide, to run — he’d seen her. He’d seen her with the birds and now the whole village would know. All the old gossip would be back. They’d call her witch, and worse, much worse.
He raised his hand. ‘Lin—’
But whatever he meant to say went unheard. She was already running.
Second Place: The Cost by Ben Culleton
In this opening page, the author sets up an intriguing premise (that using magic can have an impact anywhere on the globe). The writing is confident and controlled and there were some subtle descriptions that made me hope Professor Cranston would take a leading role in this story.
Yarrow Townsend
A murmur reverberated around the auditorium as a solitary green shoot appeared out of the ceramic plant pot. It grew ten inches tall and bloomed into a fully grown blue freesia. Professor Cranston’s slender manicured fingers waved above the petals and a small grey cloud appeared above them.
“I shall give it some nourishment,” said the professor, her fingers wiggling. Droplets of water trickled delicately onto the flower, the audience members at the back able to see the drops running down the stem to soak into the soil courtesy of the large screen behind the professor.
Cranston smiled at her creation, soft eyes betraying a hint of sadness only noticeable to the first few rows of seats in the expansive auditorium. She waved her hand dismissively at it and it burst into a short explosion of flames before dissolving into ash, plant pot and all.
The crowd reacted exactly the way the speaker expected. Professor Hennessy Cranston had shown this demonstration to countless students over the years, and it never failed to make the desired impact. Conversations rippled around the room, its acoustics adding to the effect. Cranston raised a hand and the voices subsided.
“Today is day one of your learning here,” she said. “You might be wondering why I destroyed the flower. To create magic, causes implications elsewhere. To create a flower, a thousand year old tree might wither and die. To give it water here, it might create a drought on the other side of the world. There are five years and many lessons ahead of you, and if you remember one thing, allow this demonstration to sink in and remind you that every single magic spell comes at a cost. Remember that, and you might do well here.” She paused for effect. “Welcome to the Magic Academy.”
Third Place: Raglan by Jane French
I’m captivated by stories featuring birds (there can never be too many!) and this one really had the essence of an old myth. I was drawn in by Blodwith’s character and wanted to see where the story would go.
Yarrow Townsend
“I’m going to tell you a story,” Blodwith said, settling a black wing over her chick and re-arranging her arms and legs. “It’s about the world before we had wings. In those days we lived on the ground, we had skin that burned in the sun and eyes that looked down, for fear of falling over. It was the time when the world drowned.”
The chick was too young to understand but Blodwith’s song would soothe her to sleep and sometimes it helped to speak aloud in a world inhabited only by the survivors. They were one of the larger flocks – too large for what the land offered – but there was safety in numbers.
“My grandmother told me this story – about how she escaped in the great exit flight.”
If she closed her eyes, Blodwith could see the old bird now – feathers plucked from her breast like she was preparing herself for roasting.
‘Stress dears,’ she would say. ‘You never get over it.’
Grandma Feathers was a survivor, right up until the night she was taken by the Great Marlin.
It was near light death now when the giant bird herself, Marlin, would spread her wings over the world and cover it with darkness. Those stragglers foolish enough to fly too far in search of food, now returned. The penalty was to be forced to the outer edges. You had to be in the centre of the flock to be safe. Those on the edge slept fitfully, scared that Marlin would wake and snatch a sacrifice.
Blodwith searched anxiously for Raglan. Raglan, who everyone made fun of, her brave red-feathered boy. He no longer required a mother, had passed over into the flock in the Spring, but Blodwith knew his place was as fragile as the fruit on a cherry tree. Raglan was different and it made him vulnerable.
Highly Commended: There Be Magic by Anthony Ridgway
I really enjoyed the narrator’s voice here and I loved the unexpected and surreal ending. This page could stand alone as a short story, but I’m intrigued about where the discovery of the eye could lead.
Yarrow Townsend
I am not one for gardening as a general rule.
When I moved into my new house, a hundred year old cottage, with a large garden, the prospect of doing any gardening filled me with dread.
You see what normally happens is anything that I plant in my garden usually ends up dead.
The garden was derelict. It looked as if no-one had cared for it for years. Tangled bushes, drooping fir trees, moss laden grass, brambles protruding everywhere. Sighing, I imagined the garden as a country cottage garden.
Foxgloves, aquilegia ,geraniums, pinks, roses, phlox- according to Gardeners World. Fat chance, I thought. I’ll have to get someone in.
That night, as I drifted off to sleep, I imagined a sun dappled garden bursting with colour, busy bees humming, birds singing. Wonderful.
When I woke up in the morning, I couldn’t believe my eyes. My garden was a wash of colour with plants of all shapes and sizes as far as the eye could see.
But who could have put them there? One of my neighbours? Unlikely as I had barely passed the time of day with them.
Exploring, I discovered that one or two areas were still wilderness.
I had an idea. Tonight, I’ll set up the time lapse on my camera. Photography being one of my hobbies. I’ll find out who is behind my garden makeover.
I couldn’t wait for nightfall and was very tempted to stay up and see for myself, It was not to be. My eyelids began to droop and before I knew it, morning sunshine streamed into my bedroom.
I leapt out of bed, hardly containing my excitement. I went straight to the camera pressed playback.
At first the footage showed the garden in darkness. I could just about make out shapes of foliage, Then I jumped back in alarm.
A huge globular eye filled the screen. It slowly blinked. Then the screen went blank.
Highly Commended: A Kind of Magic by Natalie Morant
Another entry where the protagonist caught my eye. I think many of us would like to be the heroine here – still cycling at a wild speed later in life. I think this character could have some spectacular adventures.
Yarrow Townsend
The chill of dusk was getting into her bones now. Give it ten more minutes, then she would go for it anyway. Lift her feet onto the pedals and let the gentle slope carry her through the tunnel of trees. Hope that somewhere along the way, before you had to start slowing down, another free spirit would arrive.
Usually, it was a sparrowhawk, effortlessly keeping pace in the air above her, beside her, around her. Once it had been a buzzard, unusual in this narrow space. And the tawny owl – that had been special. In those days she had pedalled like mad but she didn’t know if she was up to that now, not with the arthritis and the varicose veins.
There – a shrill kee-ee from behind. She gave a little push with her feet. Her heart leapt in her chest as the very real possibility of a fall returned to jab at her mind. But if she was too slow, too wobbly, too full of doubt…she resisted the impulse to squeeze at the brakes. She found that she could still pedal hard, so that the wind tugged at her wispy hair and her clothes fluttered.
She sensed the sparrowhawk alongside and knew it could go much faster but was choosing not to. They flew together down the shady lane, leaves crunching beneath the wheels of her bike and the last of the day’s sunlight flashing through gaps in the branches. Her heart sang with the joy of it, she was grinning, couldn’t help herself. Even if the magic didn’t happen, this was a kind of magic in itself, wasn’t it?
Then a thrill as she realised it was going to work, it was happening, the air shimmered in front of them and together, she and the hawk plunged into that other place. The world she hadn’t visited for too many years.