I am so delighted to have won first place in Carousel Creates competition with my opening to a short story. Best of all, my prize is a free workshop with Susan Lanigan on the 7th of February at Carousel which I can’t wait for.
Here’s my opening of my short story and what Carousel Creates had to say:
Carousel Creates turns inspiration into script, for writers from four to a hundred and four, offering the writer a life enhancing experience in relaxed settings.
Learn to look at life under the lens of the written word. Let us infuse you with energy and focus to fire your imagination.
Carousel Creates; offering writing experiences to writers of all ages and lifestyles.
Congratulations to Emmaleene Leahy who won first place in Carousel’s February Competition with her opening 250 words to a short story:
“Are ya listenin’ to me old man?”
Like most of his teeth, his hearing was almost gone. He was a man who didn’t say much.
“You owe me,” he whispered fumbling with the top gold buttons of his uniform.
Shiny eyes glanced around the stone shadows of a forgotten community.
“As usual I’m the last man standing.”
As the hues of twilight deepened, a stillness settled on the place.
“I brought us a little snack for the journey. What a man has to go through to survive around here.”
The old man in the uniform muttered as he removed from foil, bones dripping with fat juicy freshly cooked chicken. He made himself comfortable despite the inappropriateness and proceeded to eat them all, like a child, licking and slurping and sucking each bone down to the marrow. Having savoured the last of it, he seemed prepared.
“Sure,” the wind seemed to whisper through the cherry blossom trees that framed the picture.
“Come and collect me.”
The old man in uniform then hunched himself up and lay down in a foetal position on the grave of his old comrade. With a shudder, the cherry blossoms shook out a flurry of snow-white petals to float and descend like silent notes of music from the air. He was blanketed in a dusting of cherry blossom petals and didn’t resist. Laying still waiting to be covered over and merge in, become part of the clay of the place.
I couldn’t leave him there.