Competition Winners

  

Mid-Life Crisis Poetry Competition

  

1st Prize: £ 100.00  Sue Grant

2nd Prize: £75.00   T. Shaw

  

Midnight Blues

 Cascading memories of younger years, revolve

around my aging brain.

Slumber recedes once again, teasing me with long lost youth and midnight flushes

Who would have thought when youth was strong that anxiety and stricken thoughts would rule my world and at such a cost.

Swamped in feverish pain, I touch my fragile yesterdays with a sigh and dread the future alone, loves lost.

My mid-life crisis rears it’s head when darkeness falls and fear sets in, an overwhelming sense of loss – wrapped in those midnight blues.

 

Design a Writing Competition Winner

   

1st Prize: £50.00 A. Reid

 

 

 

 

 The announcement is open to the interpretation of those entering but the story must revolve around this annoucement. 

 

 

 

 

 

 The Stranger Fiction Competition

  

1st Prize: S. Walsh

2nd Prize: Maddie Barton

3rd Prize: Ruth Ford

 

 

Waiting

There he was again, dark tousled hair, mysterious deep set eyes and that angular shaven jaw. Head lowered, intent on reading his newspaper, she felt safe watching him through half-veiled eyes.

Natalie sighed; irritation welling up inside her. He seemed to be everywhere that she was of late. She would suddenly catch sight of his sullen features out of the corner of her eye, never seemingly looking at her but she could sense his interest.  Somehow, she had acquired a shadow and unfortunately, her shadow had an aura of brooding intellect about it. Glancing again, she noticed how he frowned regularly, as if in deep disturbing thought, the crease line on his forehead told her that much went on behind his creamy smooth forehead.

Natalie leaned her head back on the seat. The air was stifling in the tube and space was limited. Some clumsy clot was swaying in front of her with the movement of the train, his large feet standing on her strappy sandaled toes. She tried to shuffle her feet to the side but was restricted by the large bag the woman next to her had placed on the floor. Natalie curled her toes up as much as she could to try and prevent them being squashed again. It wasn’t his fault of course, the tube was picking up pace and the ceiling straps were not enabling the man to stay still. If he only said sorry..

 At last, her stop approached and she sprang lithely from her seat pushing her way through the crowds, her heart beating rapidly as she prepared for her quick exit. She wondered whether the handsome stranger was following her but didn’t dare look back as she raced out of the tube station. Placing her jacket hood over her burnished gold hair, she melted into the crowd and took the short cut home…alone.

 The aroma of burned baked beans filled her small apartment and Natalie rushed to the cooker to remove them from the heat.  She had so much on her mind that she didn’t really care much about food. Her stomach suddenly rumbling, denied her previous thought, maybe she was hungry tonight but with no more money until tomorrow when her pay check went in, she wasn’t able to buy even a replacement can of beans. Still the charring taste of burned beans no longer crucified her taste buds and she didn’t know if that was good or bad.

 Not even the soft romantic glow of candlelight could detract from the dinginess of the flat but at least it was a place to call her own. The balcony was her favourite though and the double French doors allowed her access to a small space that allowed her to enjoy gardening on a very small scale. From her lofty perch, she could sit amongst the sweet fragrance of lavender and rosemary and view the busy streets below. No one noticed her watching the world go by and she preferred it that way.

 Carrying her last glass of wine, she snuck out onto the balcony, the fresh air playing with her golden hair; and she filled her lungs with the appetising aroma of spices from the Indian restaurant further down the street. Peeking through the subtle green of her plants, her breath caught in her lungs. He was there, across the road, looking so alien in the dirty streets of London, his jacket expensive yet casual, and he was carefully propped against a lamp post looking down the road. He didn’t seem to be looking her way but she knew he was acutely aware of her as much as she was of him. She was reminded of a wild animal sniffing the wind for scent, waiting for a kill. Natalie froze, desperately wanting to peek into his mind and listen to the whirring of his thought processes. Was she in danger? She wasn’t sure. He had a dangerous air about him, sleek build but a contained strength that made her feel like an explosive response was possible.

She was lucky that the front and back of the old property was spread over two adjacent roads, so if she made her way down to the basement, she could walk through the dusty corridor by the laundry room and out into the other street. He would never see her but then where would she go to? If he stayed around he might catch her coming back in and she didn’t have a key for the alternative entrance. Heart beating irregularly, she realised that she had been clenching her eyes tightly shut and when she opened them, he had gone. Relief flooded through her in waves, perhaps he hadn’t been trying to find her, maybe she was just being paranoid, but when she closed her eyes, she could see his face, silently staring at her, mocking her. Natalie hurried in off the balcony closing the door and locking it carefully behind her, shutting him firmly out into the darkness of night that was falling over the dingy London streets.

 Dreams were feverish, bedclothes wrapped around her thin body pinning her down. The stranger cruelly dug his fingers into her shoulders holding her down, his immense power visible, through eyes flooding with tears; she saw the sneer, the cruel upturn to his lips, dark eyes boring into her as he taunted his strength over her. Leaning forward, she felt his breath against her tear –stained cheeks…”You know what I want” he hissed…

 She woke with a jump, eyes straining in the half light, frantically searching for signs of his presence in her small flat, but there were none. Breathing rapidly, she wiped sweat from her brow with shaking fingers. Droplets dripped down her spine, chilling her along with the realisation that she was so very scared. 3am, darkness was just breaking and early morning bird song became a distant reminder that in a few hours she would have to get up for another long day shift. She was so tired. Her head ached and her forehead felt feverish.  Unbidden, an idea snuck into her mind, one that would mean she didn’t have to go in to work, one which gave her the opportunity to escape those brooding dark eyes. Curling up in a little ball, she made her plan. She had enough money to last her for a while if she was careful and hadn’t she always been nomadic? A free spirit that had been destined to explore the streets of London, only the streets hadn’t been paved with gold but with grime. Perhaps she would head south, rent a cheap place on the coastline, and feel free for the first time in a very long time. With these thoughts, she succumbed to sleep and this time, only the imagined breaking of the waves on a soft moonlit shore, shared her mind and she dreamed with a smile on her lips.

 By the time she had woken properly, head still hurting, it was too late to go into work and this somehow seemed like fate had lent a hand prompting her to run. Deciding to go with fate, she packed the barest essentials and made good her escape.

There was no sign of him when she left the house, walking quickly, her hood hiding the flaxen wave of distinctive colour. Heart pounding in her mouth, she listened intently for the sound of footsteps but heard none. The side roads were clear, deserted, perhaps uncannily so. Intuition warning her, she quickened her pace, almost running now, her jacket cumbersome and hot.

Then she knew, he was here, she could sense him. Those dark eyes malevolent as they lighted upon her small frame, vulnerable and alone.

The chase was on, she was nimble and she knew the back streets of London well. Hiding for the last two years had enabled her to concoct a million escape plans; she had plotted and planned her way to freedom for so long that now it was time to see if they actually worked.

He was like a gazelle, she realised her chest constricting, legs long, his pace equalled hers but his stride ate away at the distance between them. Twisting and turning, his hand reached out pulling her to the side, catching her off balance and she stumbled, falling back hard against a brick wall and he pinned her expertly to its unforgiving surface.

“Natalie”, he growled, restricting her movements, pushing her shoulder blades against the hard surface of brick “Look at me”

Terrified, Natalie raised her eyes to his, expecting to see hatred and anger, yet seeing only honestly, and relief…

“It’s ok” he was saying, “It’s all over. Your step father pleaded guilty, we know what he did.””

“Who are you?” she whispered hoarsely, struggling to take in the news that her childhood nightmares were over at last.

“I’m a private detective, hired by your mother. She has been desperately worried about you. She wants you to know that he took an overdose; he admitted what he had done and his shame. He can’t hurt you or anyone anymore”. He sighed “Natalie, you’re free:

All her life she had tried to hide from him. His prying eyes and roaming hands. She had felt sick, ashamed and dirty. Worse when she had finally blurted out the truth, her mother had been distraught, unbelieving, and angry as she watched her family falling apart.  The realisation that the truth had only brought more misery had made Natalie run away, desperately trying to bury the truth inside her. But now, she was finally free and he…he was dead. He couldn’t touch her again. No more shame…no more guilt…

Waves of hysterical laughter swept through her and she threw herself into his arms, sobbing with relief as the realisation struck that the ominous stranger was not an avenger but her rescuer from her own private hell…..

“Take me home” she whispered.

 

Descriptive Winter Storm

 

By Paul Taylor

 1st Prize Winner: £75

 

Snow swirling in a myriad of patterns and directions around me, I taste the wetness and tingle of ice against my tongue. The white blanket contrasts with the dark blue night sky and the whole world appears to be cocooned in winter white. Images of summer recede from my mind, they form a distant echo of days gone by, here, alone, the snow isolates me and chills me to the bone, yet there is still warmth from memories eons ago, of childhood Christmases, love and laughter and the security of family.

 Tears sting my cheeks as they crystallise in the winter chill and I catch glimpses of my memories playing before me, wrapped head to foot in homemade knits.  The surrounding fir trees shake with the weight of snow and ease their burden by relinquishing the icy mass, and I’m stunned by the silence around me, the snow subduing all life and even earlier animals tracks disappear under a winter white covering. My feet sink deep into the crunchiness and wind-whipped,  I head almost reluctantly to my house, the bright light of a raging log fire, beckoning me home out of the storm and my reverie.

 

 Wedding Dress Fiction Competition

 

Witness to Destruction

Winner – Cliff Marks

As I touch the lace in my roughened hands, I imagine what you would have looked like wearing it.

Masses of white material against your olive soft skin and cascading dark hair. You would have looked beautiful and I feel cheated that I will never see you walk up that aisle, your eyes sparkling and shimmering with tears of joy. The dress bodice would have accentuated your curves and I would have felt a deep ache within, a mixture of love and lust rising with every beat of my heart.

I feel tears threatening to fall and I try to do the manly thing and restrain them, but my eyes are blurring and my hands trembling as I realise what I have lost.

The dress taunts me, I want to tear it off the hanger and shred it into a thousand little pieces but deep inside, my rage burns with the pureness of my love and I know that I won’t, can’t destroy what is left of you, your perfume still lingers on the delicate lacework and I inhale you deep inside.

This all-consuming need to hold you rises up and makes me choke. How long will I have to suffer the pain of a love lost? How will I ever get beyond this emotion to some sort of normality where I feel something over than pain?

I feel a hand on my arm and I turn to see the concerned face of my sister. She looks lost, afraid and helpless. I have always been the strong one in the family, the one they all turned to and yet now, I see her struggling to take on this new role and she doesn’t know how to comfort me. I slip back into the role I have always played and hold her whilst she cries and mutters how it isn’t fair, and I didn’t’ deserve it and she would do everything in her power to help me get through this…but we both knew that there was nothing that she could do. Not unless she had the power to turn back time.

I want to die. I want to sink into oblivion and forget that I ever existed. Forget my whole life, wipe it out in an instant, forget all of the good times, my successes and accomplishments because right now they mean nothing….not even the medals for bravery awarded to me for helping my fellow soldiers. There is no meaning in anything anymore.

I find that I am sat on the bed still staring forlornly at the dress but aware that the mattress on which I sit was our supposed marital bed and that I should have been making her mine in only a few hours. The promise of her sweet lips on mine, the feel of her in my arms, pulling me ever closer and promising me that our honeymoon would be one I would never forget.

The bitter irony sweeps over me. She was right, I would never forget it, the pain, the utter loneliness and I dreaded sliding beneath the new silk sheets, feeling my loneliness swallowing me up whole.

Time passes and the cloudy day starts to turn dark, I finally reach into my jacket pocket and pull out the crumpled note, the one that was supposed to make the darkness less threatening and the uncertainty clearer… I read..

Dearest Glen,

I am so sorry that I could not tell you face to face and that I am such a coward to leave you this note.

It hurts me to admit that I cannot marry you, love you in the way that you should be loved. I’m not sure when the realisation hit me but I couldn’t bring myself to utter the words that would hurt you and see the pain in your eyes.

By the time that you read this, I will be gone and I hope one day you bring yourself to forgive me….

I crumpled the paper into a ball, sheer anger pulsating through my fist. Forgive her? I wanted to kill her! How could I ever forgive the betrayal of leaving me at the altar so that all of our guests could witness the annihilation of my soul and see me crumple to the ground and weep? A former war hero turned to a writhing mass of human emotion.

But more than that, how could I ever forgive her betrayal of loving another man? Not just any man, but my twin brother. The man who was so identical to me in every way, and yet who had been able to bring love into her life when I had been unable to. The double betrayal!

I look over at the wedding dress and want to rip it up into shreds! But as I begin to cry and mourn my loss, I know that I won’t, it will be the only comfort I get through the night, imagining her in it as I hold the dress to me, inhaling her scent and trying to forget that my brother would be making her his that very night.

Christmas Card Poetry Competition

 

 

 

 

 

Winner – Pete Horton

May the sentiment of Christmas be truly yours,

Let the spirit of hope expand and spread so that

Family and friend bonds, become deeper and true.

Let the time tick away the hours towards

A future that is perfect and filled with joy for you.

Dialogue Competition

Winner – Jill Cross

Maria: Who is this man? He looks so familiar? I know it’s an old photograph but I can’t place where I would have seen him.

Ruth: You didn’t ever meet him my dear, he died a long time ago, before you were born.

Maria: I don’t think you have ever shown me these photos before Mum, I just don’t understand why I feel as if I have seen him, it’s uncanny.

Ruth: Well….it’s easy to think that someone…might look a little familiar….

Maria: Is there something that you’re not telling me? I can feel you trembling Mum, what’s wrong?

Ruth: I wasn’t ever going to tell you but…

Maria: What is it?

Ruth: This is your father. Douglas Allenby. He died my dear without ever knowing that he was going to be a father…by the time that I found out I was expecting you, he had died in the war…

Maria; But he can’t be….I have a father…

Ruth: I met Richard shortly after I heard the news and we started courting. Oh my dear, don’t think badly of me, by the time I found out, I realised that Richard would look after us, I couldn’t have you on my own, the scandal……it would have been awful

Maria: Did Dad know that I wasn’t his….

Ruth: I never told him…I couldn’t…I tried..but the joy in his eyes was so wonderful, he loved you….you know that…he was always there for you and for me…such a wonderful man. How could I break his heart?

Maria; I can’t believe I’m hearing this… I don’t understand….how could you lie to us both for all these years?

Ruth..But Maria…

Maria: Poor Dad, this will destroy him……

Ruth: You must never tell him my dear, this is our secret. Your father does not have long to live, please let him die safe in the knowledge that he has a beautiful….caring daughter…..it’s just one more lie for such a short time…….

Maria: So many secrets and now I lose two fathers and…….. I’m brought into your web of lies….oh Mother, how could you?

Diving Fiction Competition

 

 

 

 

 

 

1st Prize: £100 – Sue Parks

2nd Prize: £75 – L. Carlton

3rd Prize: £50 – Sue Timms

 The Mission.

by Sue Parks

Elaina was sure the instructor could hear the heavy hammering of her heart underneath the tightly fitting scuba diving gear but if he could, he didn’t say anything just merely smiled as he walked past after checking everyone in the group was ok. She swallowed hard. No one could have any idea of how much courage she was having to summon just to stay here let alone take that first dive into the depths…She needed to though if she was going to beat her fears and achieve her goal.

 

Stood on the boat waiting to plunge into the murky depths, Elaina felt the swell of the water lurch her ungainly for a moment before regaining her balance. She focussed on the grey horizon where sky blended with sea, trying not to think of the deep scary depths beneath the boat.

 

She had always enjoyed watching deep sea documentaries marvelling at the myriad of colours that flitted in and out of the coral reefs, playful, elegant but forever watchful of the grey shadows patrolling the reef, forever hungry predators on the prowl. Elaina had never once thought she would be here contemplating diving into unknown territory especially when she had been here a year before enjoying a peaceful vacation with her husband. Little had she known when they hired the luxury yacht that he was having an affair and how his gambolling lifestyle had got them into so much debt that they would eventually lose their house. It was only through over-hearing a conversation Gerard had made to his banker whilst on the boat that light had eventually dawned on the man she had married and she had seen through his affluent veneer and realised her beloved husband was a complete fake.

 

What a fool.

Now she was returning to the spot where she had made her discovery and was facing the worst fears of her life, but she had to do this…..her future depended on it. Finally the moment came and she sank deep into the ocean depths, carefully remembering all of the signals and safety precautions that she had been taught during her lessons. She calmed herself and focussed only on her mission before swimming deeper towards the reef, carefully watching for any sign of movements from the shadows….

Time was limited and she felt the pressure bearing down on her…she had to succeed…gain her bearings and swim as if her life depended on it….time seemed to race by as Elaina rummaged on the sea bed…….desperately searching.

 

Finally her efforts paid off and she sighed in relief as she spotted the object that had laid almost hidden for a year…..the weighted jewellery box that she had thrown at her husband on over-hearing that he had lost all of their money. Fury had overwhelmed her and she had lost control. Having knocked him unconscious, the box had bounced over-board and had disappeared from site, uncaring as assuming the  jewels were mere fakes,  Elaina had rolled Gerard overboard to pay his penance for all his lies. It was only some months later that she had discovered that the jewels had been real and were the only items of value that Gerard had left. Sadly, the small fortune was sat waiting at the bottom of the ocean but she had to learn how to dive before getting her hands on the gems.

 

The fact that his fat, over-bloated body was also hidden away down here somewhere made her shudder but she didn’t regret rolling him off the boat that day. He lied and had cheated and he deserved to be made into a meal for any passing sharks.

Clutching the jewels tightly, she made her way back up to the surface, the sunlight heralding the way, now having pierced through the grey overcast sky, sending shimmering rays of light through the water.

Sheer joy surged through her as she realised that she had faced her worst fears, not swimming, not diving or even the fear of sharks, but the thought of encountering the fat, blubbery ghost of Gerard who would have been watching over his beloved gold but who had failed due to the perseverance and determination of his beloved widow.

 

Open Poetry Competition

1st Prize £300 Ruth Hall

2nd Prize: £200 Simon Lee

3rd Prize: £100 C. Richards

4th Prize: £50 Jill Downs

5th Prize: 6 month subscription to the Creative Competitor, providing unlimited free entries to the competitions listed on this site.  S. Potter

6th Prize: Critique of story of choice.  Alison Peters 

 Love Stripped Bare

 by Ruth Hall

 Time fractured, the day I left

Patterns swirling with forgotten trust and days gone by

My memories intact, perceptions paled against the bitter

truth of a love stripped bare.

Do we not see the reality of those we love? Blinded by the hopes and

dreams of potential paradise…

One day, the misperceived walls came down and I stared at the monster lying in between….

Was that vile creature of selfish intent always there? Eyes wide open and

 love stripped bare, I turn away, faith crushed but hope intact

 

Flash ‘3 in 1′ Fiction Competition

Best Crime

Ist Prize: £ 100 P. Masters

 Revenge beyond the Grave

Lady Lara Hawthorne was fed up with her husband’s adulterous ways. Fury raged through her as she realised his latest affair was with the guttersnipe Linda Fartingbury. For years she had put up with his selfish irritating ways, but now, the worm was turning. She placed the cyanide in the whisky that he had poured for her and drank quickly. This death sentence was quicker than the cancer that was eating her alive but best of all, she had laid a meticulous trap and knew that dear old Bertie would get the blame and face life in prison….alone!

 Best Twist in Tale.

 1st Prize: £100 Jen Waters 

 Passion

Joy marvelled at her ability to dupe her husband, if it wasn’t’ for his money, she would never stay with him. The lure of the passion she had with Alberto made her skin tingle and she knew she would keep going back for more and why not?  When the door bell rang and Alberto walked in with her husband, Joy suddenly realised her husband was not that stupid after all…. why else would he have arranged for the gorgeous P.I Alberto to test her loyalty. Alberto smiled apologetically as he pocketed his cash…”You were good eh? Just not good enough”

 Best Humour

 1^st Prize: Alison White

 

Flash for Effect  

 Proud Willy Johnson the local celebrity flasher knew that his days of flashing were numbered because gravity was having a marked effect on his physique so Willy reckoned one last flash before retiring.  He decided the local artists exhibition was ideal so Willy sneaked into the display area when no- one was looking and naked, waited for his big moment. Two hours later showed poor Willy defeated, the ice sculptures had cooled his big moment and wet and shivering and slightly inadequate, showed Willy was not quite so proud or as prominent as people had once thought. Poor Willy.  

 

Blogging Competition

1st Prize: £100 Suzie Richards

2nd Prize: £50 Tim White

Yoga for the Faint-

By Suzie Richards

I have never considered myself a fit or even athletic person but after watching a yoga dvd one day, thought how hard can it be?

I soon found out following a moment of enthusiasm!  I had tried to mould and bend my less than supple hips to allow for the lotus position, I realised that to be good at my new found passion, I was going to have to undo all those years of abusing my body through drinking and eating and that my days of over-indulging were going to be well and truly behind me.

 

Fit at forty sounded good and it would only require a little dedication, a whole lot of enthusiasm and a very understanding husband. Squeezing into a leotard after bearing two children meant that I preferred to strut my stuff in relative privacy and I was sure that although the postures felt like I was toning up my body, I wasn’t at all convinced that I managed to move more than a few inches or look anything like the svelte lady on the video.

 

My husband started murmuring ‘ If women were meant to get their right leg over their shoulder, they would have been born like it’ every time he heard me grunting or huffing and puffing.  I kept repeating the mantra that yoga is supposed to be good for you over and over, every time I stretched my body into a new position.

 

For all that my yoga practise was far from effortless, I have to admit, I really was enjoying it. Ok, I hadn’t lost any weight, still had my flabby belly and no waist but it was early days. I did feel that I walked taller though and some of the tension around my neck and shoulders were starting to disappear.

 

Although my body protested…loudly, I did find focussing on the breath and the postures the hardest as my mind kept racing ahead and thinking of the weeks food shopping and what my next job was for the evening, still, nothing ventured nothing gained, and I am determined to stick at my yoga until I become like the woman on the DVD. I may have years ahead of me!