‘Create a character for a children’s story’
1st Prize – Susan Piper for her character, The Colour Thief
2nd Prize – Kristin Tridimas
3rd Prize – Gill Hollands
Highly Commended: Hazel Donnelly, Di Castle and David Eadsforth.
Tag: winners
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March Competition Winners 2012
‘Write a 750 word opening chapter of a village saga’
1st place – Celia Livesey with ‘The Ad-Man Cometh’
2nd place – Jenny Brooks with ‘The Fete of Lynton Village’
3rd place – Hazel Glenholmes with ‘A Village Saga’.
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February Competition Winners 2012
‘Love letters’
1st Hazel Donnelly
Gorgeous Dan,
I’m just home. Sorry I left like that and I can’t face speaking to you on the phone, so here it is in writing.
I’m sorry I embarrassed you as well as myself, but Valentine’s Day always makes me nervous. I knownow that you only went down on one knee to clear up the cat dish I’d knocked over.
Sorry I misread the situation, sorry I overreacted, and sorry I shouted yes so loud your mates heard. Sorry you had to explain.
Dan, I can honestly tell you that you are the most scrumptious boyfriend I’ve ever had, even though I get cross when you always pinch my bum – and I really must show you where the laundry basket lives.
You introduce me as your‘special girl’, you make me laugh in an ‘I can’t breathe’sort of way. You tell me I’m beautiful when I am perfectly aware I’m not.
I know I’m clumsy and awkward. My thighs wobble when I run and I admit I am a teensy bit needy.
So I’ll understand if you say no, but it’s a leap year, and I love you, so, I am asking ifyou will marry me.
OMG – just had a delivery of red roses – not my all time favourite flower – but yes to your question in the little card. Yes I absolutely will!
Love from your ecstatic, future wife.
Megan
xxxxxxxxxxxx
PS. Ring me when you get this and you can ask me out loud!
©Hazel Donnelly 2012
2nd Hilary Gregory
Dear Terry,
I was clearing up the mess after you left, and I looked again at the knickers I’d found in your pocket on Friday. I remembered that Aunty Flo’d given me a pair like that – with the red dots and the white bow – for my 16th birthday and that on Tuesday, on the way back from the twins, I’d handed them to you, to wipe the windscreen.
Mum told me you dropped Poodle off at hers on Saturday. Then, all of a rush, Robin confessed he was lying about how you’d taken him to Christopher Hills and the vodka and the 15 film. Later, I had a talk with Dolly and she doesn’t hate you. She quite likes you and she says it’s not your fault you’re a male. Seven’s not her best age. I think she was cross I’d made her stay in to tidy up her room.
And, about your not being – cool… I looked at the photo again. The one you tossed on the floor with: ‘I love Karina’ on it. Honestly, I had to sit down. My eyes went all cloudy and then I got through one and a half boxes of Kleenex tissues before I could stop. Don’t try to imagine what I looked like. In any case, the puffiness has died down now, but I don’t want it to start up again. … I can’t go round with a hole in my heart Terry.
Please come back!
Your loving Karina
©Hilary Gregory 2012
3rd David Eadsforth
White Ford Cortina Mk1, 1600cc. Pristine condition internally and externally (all chrome fittings original and perfect), Boot large enough and interior spacious enough to take two adults and three children on long vacations in comfort. Very reliable; never broken down. Many original spares are included. Garaged for the last twenty years and very little used. Lovingly maintained by one careful owner.
Death of elderly relative forces sale.
© David Eadsforth 2012
Highly Commended – Grethe Ridgway
My love for you lies deep inside my heart. It’s wrapped in soft downy folds. Unwrap each one and there will always be my love. Your heart came from my heart, grown in velvet warmth. Beating softly in enveloping dusk until at last you lay in my arms.
I watch you now as you sleep. One arm curls around your heard. Little poppy lips purse in your dream. Soft silk cheeks like living roses. Your fingers so tiny, your nails so perfect.
My heart overflows with joy. I hold my breath as I watch you breathe. Your nostrils flare in gentle rhythm. My lips brush your brow. Your skin feels peachy soft. Eyelashes touch your cheek. You stir. Legs stretch and flex.
This moment will stay forever in my heart. In my memory, which not even a photograph can capture.
I can’t believe you are here at last. My perfect diminutive miracle. Sleep my little one. Your sweet innocence is fleeting. My dearest wish is to help you be the man you’re meant to be. I cannot protect you forever. All I can do is to show you the way. The rest is up to you.
One day, I may share this with you. Maybe, not until I am gone. When that time comes, as it will I want you to remember that my love will always surround you. You will never be alone, my son.
With all my love, now and always
Your Mother
© Grethe Ridgway 2012
Highly Commended – Jenny Brooks
Rise up Love
I am expected to write a love letter, but to whom?
Will he remind me of your touch, will he look and give me our knowing?
Can he know the pride of our brood that binds us?
The smile that could melt away my darkest mood, can he deliver.
Will our boys tumble with this new love when the moment is there?
Can our girls see again the adoration mingled with laughter that once showered them?
The silent times of memories will he manage to make mere shadows of those former passions?
Will I forget? And in the losing bring forth again anguish of the day that God took you; oh, too soon and oh, so young from me.
Can I write a love letter? Yes, but only to you.
©Jenny Brooks 2012
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January Competition Winners 2012
‘Write the blurb for a children’s book’
1st Prize – Kirsty Applebaum
It’s weird, baby birthing.
For fifteen years you think your heart pump’s made out of blood and cells and flesh – then bam! Twelve hours screaming and sweating on a labour farm, and a good mother’s saying I’ll take baby now: your job’s done.
And you realise your heart pump’s not made out of blood or cells or flesh at all. It’s made of glass. Frail, flawed glass. Extra fragile.
Worse, it feels like your extra fragile heart pump is clutched in the tiny fist of the newborn boy.
So, as he’s lifted away, you swear, certain hard, you’ll find him again.
But step careful.
The newborns are guarded tight.
©Kirsty Applebaum
2nd Prize – Louise Pears – Moon Dust on Pyjamas
What would happen if a tree grew so tall it poked the moon?
‘MOON DUST ON PYJAMAS’-is a story about William, who just can’t sleep and is transported by a pear tree to meet the grumpy moon. He finds moon bugs with the flu and stars that are fading. So can he save the night?
This cosmic adventure sees William trampolining between the stars, dining on lunar ice-cream and whizzing down the biggest helter-skelter the world has ever seen!
‘MOON DUST ON PYJAMAS’is a story about being open to magical possibilities.
©Louise Pears
3rd Prize – Gill Hollands – FORGETTING
Tim snapped awake. Something smelled funny. Gummy eyes flicked around the bare room. Hospital! What happened?’
His mind was a snowy blank. He touched a finger to his hot head, felt bandages. His heart started to thunder against his ribs.
The door slammed open. Tim jumped. Strangers walked in.
‘Tim! I’m so glad to see you awake!’
The woman perched on the bed. There was no kiss, no hug, a plastic smile. The man grinned, hands in pockets rattling change, eyes like wet pebbles.
‘Who are you?’
Lost in terror he knew they were going to lie to him…
© Gill Hollands
Highly Commended
Celia Livesey, Janet Ellison, Pat Kerley, Ean Richardson, Sandra Curtin, Loveday Copeley-Williams, Hermione Laake, K.M.Lockwood, Stephen Edger. And ‘well done’ to all those who submitted entries.
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December Competition Winners 2011
Competition were Celia Livesey (1st), Lynda Murphy (2nd), Gill Hollands (3rd)
Celia’s winning carol to the tune of We three Kings
A Christmas Nightmare.
I love Christmas – what a mistake!
Too much turkey and too much cake
On line shopping – eyeballs a-popping
Must go and have a break
O Granddad’s scoffed his paper hat
Bloke next door has killed the cat
I’m not joking – Dad’s back smoking
Mum hates that she’s getting fat
Carol singers call at the door
Dim the lights – then dive to the floor
Baby’s crying – no denying – that
We’re not here anymore
O double Eastenders every night
Stars of ‘Strictly’ shining bright
Fill your stocking – nothing shocking
You might give the kids a fright
Nan is sick she’s been on the juice
Sister Susie’s out on the loose
My head’s spinning – think I’m winning – but
Now Granddad’s turning puce
O spent the night at A & E
Boyfriend dumped me after tea
Lost all feeling – head is reeling
Dad’s just torched the Christmas tree.
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November Competition Winners 2011
My favourite School memory
1st Prize Celia Livesey
My favourite school memory is when I ran home shouting,’ Nan, there’s a new boy at school called Paul Small-Hamburger-Bones, he lives in a sweet shop.’
Nan laughed. ‘ You mean Smallbones.’
‘No! Paul Small-Hamburger-Bones,’ I insisted.
Next day he gave me a Chinese burn. Heaven … Paul Small-Hamburger-Bones loved me too.
2nd Prize Hermione Wilds
My favourite school memory is the day I stole ten pence.
Some of us believe that to write well you’ve got to write the truth; dead people like Samuel Taylor Coleridge and William Dean Howells. Maybe they’re right because that was also the day I learnt I was a writer.
3rd Prize: Helen Adlam
My favourite school memory is: Mr Lancaster – dedicated teacher and passionate believer in the freedom of choice. Misbehaving boys could choose the shoe with which to be beaten from an array of volunteered footwear; chatty girls could be tied to a chair or locked in the stationery cupboard. In the sanctuary of darkness I filled my pockets: pens, pencils, rubbers, paperclips. Revenge – sweet, innocent and deliciously satisfying.