The fantastic Toby Litt set and adjudicated our competition this month:
Brief: The phrase they should respond to is: “‘A story in which a character shows great patience?’
And the winners were…
First place: ‘The Ox’ by Mike Sedgwick
The waning moon was two nights past full when old Mbele arrived outside Desalu’s hut, assegai spears in one hand and his shield in the other.
‘You promised to return my ox by full moon, Desalu.’
‘I’m a busy man, Mbele, come back in the morning.’
Mbele remained outside Desalu’s hut, standing first on one leg, then on the other, sometimes leaning on his assegai. The moon set, and in the darkness, he heard animals roaming around outside the kraal. As the morning sun rose, Desalu appeared, hustling and bustling, always in a hurry to be somewhere else. ‘Maybe tonight,’ he said and went to his fields.
Mbele stood. Desalu’s wife, wearing her largest earrings and many beaded neck bands, motioned him to enter the hut, but Mbele knew he would never see his ox again if he went with her. The sun’s heat scorched his skin. Desalu pushed Mbele aside when he returned that evening.
Two dawns later, Desalu emerged gingerly from his hut, avoiding Mbele’s gaze.
‘You still here?’
Mbele stood, waiting, expecting, hoping. To pass the time, he scratched patterns into the dusty earth with his assegai: home, food, and ox.
The next night, he heard raised voices inside the hut. At dawn, Desalu emerged scowling and shoved Mbele to the ground.
‘Get out of my way, old man,’
Desalu’s wife shouted after him, ‘You should be ashamed of yourself, treating him like that.’
Desalu’s wife brought Mbele water and a bowl of mashed beans to eat. As the crescent moon rose, he picked up his assegai and shield and prepared to leave. His ox was lost. Desalu would never return him. As he left the kraal, he saw Desalu approaching from his toils leading the ox by a tether. He handed the tether to Mbele without a word and firmly touched his shoulder.
Second Place: ‘The Patience of a Saint‘ by Dominique Hackston
Our first visit to the dementia assessment ward proved scary. Mum and I were sitting in an awkward silence when an old man barged in, a doll in the crook of his arm. He hid behind my chair.
A nurse in close pursuit knuckle grazed the door. ‘Sorry!’ she mouthed. ‘Common on John this isn’t your room.’
John thrust the doll at me and dug his bony fingers into my arm. ‘Protect me! She’s trying to hurt me.’ His voice trembled.
‘Oh? I side-eyed the nurse, wanting help.
The nurse edged forward. ‘John you can’t give Baby Mary to strangers.’
John’s eyes darted from me and the doll, to the nurse and back. I proffered Mary. He snatched her with his free hand and smothered her in a hug.
The nurse motioned for her support staff to back off.
‘Help me.’ His vice-like grip dragged me.
I winced and allowed him to lead me into the corridor. We wandered up and down, trying every door at least three times. The nurse followed, reassured me, kept the staff away, and cooed at John.
‘John,’ the nurse tried again, ‘why don’t you let the lady go.’
‘So, you can hand cuff me?’
‘No handcuffs.’ She eared her trouser pockets.
John glared at her tunic ones.
‘Just tissues,’ she said. Her hands slowly provided the proof. ‘How about a cup of tea?’
I winced as nails stabbed my biceps. ‘She comes too.’
‘She wants to go to the toilet, first.’
‘Do you?’ He demanded.
I nodded. Just like that, I was free.
The nurse shooed me away with her eyes, guided John to a chair, and handed him a cup of tea.
Relieved, I returned to Mother. ‘That nurse needs to polish her halo.’
‘Indeed,’ replied Mum, munching her invisible sandwich. ‘Paciência Santos is my favourite nurse.’
Third Place: ’Uile-Bhèist’ by Dave Sinclair
When I came to this place, both it and I were young. I met many creatures in the ancient seas and watched them take their first steps onto the sandy dunes, then into the swamps and beyond. Gradually they learned to colonise their world, to cross the arid deserts, to climb the fiery mountain ranges and even spread their wings and soar from one land mass to another. I watched over them, like a patient and doting parent.
While I waited for their minds to grow, I took their form. I was cautious, for many of them were violent. Time passed, and the creatures became more cunning, more violent, more agile and more malicious. They ate flesh, even if it was their own. But their minds remained dull, incurious and ordinary. I could not talk to them, for they had nothing to say. They were easy prey. I ate well, hunting in the seas and on the margins of the river, making the cool darkness of the waters my home as I watched and waited.
One day the asteroid came. The skies grew dark, and the creatures choked and died. Safe, hidden in the deep abysses of the oceans I slumbered for many years. When I awoke, new creatures ruled the land. I sensed their intelligence, their determination to explore, to understand and command their world. Surely there would be one amongst them who could sing my song for me. And yes, there she was – a mind so crystal clear I could hear her thoughts half a planet away.
And thus, I travelled to the land she called A’ Ghàidhealtachd, to the shore of Loch Nis, the place of her home. And she sang for me a song, so pure, so shining bright, it could be heard across the stars – the song of a siren, beckoning, inviting, calling to those from afar.
Soon, the silver ships will come. Then will be the time for breeding.
A huge congratulations to our winners and thank you to everyone who submitted!!