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Young Writer Competition Prize Giving 13 March 2017
Entrants were divided into two age groups and the winner of each was awarded a £100 gift card and the runner-up in each category given £50 gift cards, to use in the shops and facilities of their choice in East Kilbride Town Centre. All four were also presented with a copy of The Sound of Whales by local author Kerr Thomson, who made an inspirational speech telling of his experience in writing fiction. Beginning in his schooldays at Claremont Secondary, through to publishing his first book for children and young adults. Judges Lorraine Queen and Esther Daly spoke of the superb quality and diverse topics of the short stories and thanked the young authors for all the wonderful and imaginative stories. Juniors (ages 11, 12 and 13) Winner: Runner-up: Seniors (ages 14. 15, 16 and 17) Winner: Runner-up: Author Kerr Thomson, Judges Lorraine Queen and Esther Daly, Chairman of EK Arts Council Alan Dick MBE. Read the winning and runner-up stories below. Cat and Mouse Game A small grey nose poked out of a hole in the barn. The nose twitched and sniffed the autumn night air and when it was quite sure there was no danger, it hurried forward. Two black beady eyes, followed by a plump little body and a long tail, revealing a tiny mouse that shivered in the chilly breeze. Two large bowl-like ears gently turning left to right, listening to the silence. The mouse sniffed the air, smelling something it liked coming from the farmhouse. It scurried off. Mouse was a regular customer to the buffet the farmer’s wife left out every night. He had long ago learned how to outsmart the metal jaws guarding whatever delicacy had been left for them. Mouse drooled with anticipation picturing his dinner: cheddar, brie, stilton? as he raced through the untamed forest of grass, artfully dodging puddles and marshland. He reached the edge of the field and clambered over piles of leaves collecting at the bases of the trees. Mouse had heard that owls lived in these trees so he was always wary even though he had never seen one himself. Lining the fence was a wall of stinging nettles, so Mouse was very careful to swerve around these, not wanting to repeat the events that transpired on his first visit to this field! Once through the nettles, he began to bolt across the field, following the smell which was becoming increasingly intoxicating. In an instant he stopped! Just ahead of Mouse were two yellow spheres glinting like gemstones. Each had a black slit down its centre; time seemed to slow down as Mouse realised what was about to happen. The slits narrowed as they identified their target and before Mouse could react the cat was upon him, pinning him to the ground with a colossal paw. It gathered the tiny mouse up in its menacing paws and threw in into the air. It was such a surreal sight, Mouse could see his entire world from up here: the field where he grew up, the barn, the farmhouse and a brilliant moonlit sky dotted with wispy clouds. Mouse suddenly heard a terrible screech from below and as he looked down he saw the ginger devil, jaws wide open showing off its arsenal of fangs and golden eyes bursting full of pleasure. Its two massive claw exposed paws rose to meet the mouse and he was consumed by darkness. Mouse hit the ground hard, but sensing an opportunity, tried to sprint away. Once again pinned down by a heavy paw resting on his tail, Mouse tugged with all his might but couldn’t move. The cat tossed him in the air once more, when, from behind, a dog began violently barking. The cat turned swiftly to locate its adversary and so missed him as he fell. Mouse took a chance and bolted towards the farmhouse narrowly missing a swipe from the now undistracted cat, scurrying faster than ever before to dodge a lunge by his “pursuer”. Out of the corner of his eye Mouse spotted the farmhouse door and made a break for it... As he wriggled under the door Mouse let out a sigh of relief, trying to slow his heartbeat. He sniffed again- the prize was so close now, he stole along underneath the units in the hall and peered into the kitchen. Just in front of the back door were three metal jaws each protecting a cube of cheddar. Mouse sprinted forwards across the slippery kitchen floor towards the cheddar, just as the cat flap sprung open and an enraged cat, once again spotted its prey! Too late to turn back now! The cat pounced, but Mouse was too quick for him this time and slid underneath his ginger body, jumped the metal jaw and with a cube of cheese now clamped firmly between his teeth slipped through the closing cat flap. Once outside, Mouse heard a terrible commotion. A small grey nose poked through the cat flap. The nose twitched and sniffed the Autumn night air. Mouse saw the cat, its paws trapped in the two remaining metal jaws, flailing madly. A bright light illuminated the room and a human appeared to console the cat, who shot Mouse an icy glare. Mouse triumphantly backed away from the door and proceeded cautiously home to enjoy his well-earned dinner. Making a Mark Serena stared at the shop window. Well, not so much the shop window itself, but more at her reflection in the window. Suspicion clearly written in her features, she frowned, her doe eyes wandering up to meet the image of her face. Her frown deepened still. “Oh come on!” A string of incoherent curses left her lips and for the first time, she began to doubt if her plan really would succeed. “Don’t even think about backing out now,” she muttered sternly to herself, adjusting the top hat placed firmly on her head, hiding her brown locks. The image which reflected back was intentionally not that of a pretty, sweet girl but that of a young man and as she gazed she sought reassurance that no one might doubt the gender she was trying to portray. A pedestrian walking by shot her an odd look. Throwing a last glance in the shop window, Serene decided that she really should start getting about her business. Turning away, Serene crossed just another one of the many cobbled streets of London. She knew what she had to do, this had been planned for weeks, and it was resting on her shoulders not to mess up. What if they recognise me? What if they realise I’m a girl? A sudden hurl of panicked thoughts clouded Serene’s head the second it came into sight. The place she, as a young woman, was forbidden, by law, to enter... the polling station. “Can’t go back now” she whispered to herself, stepping past the guard who was perched outside the doors, she sighed in relief when he simply looked at her, taking her to be just another man who had come to cast his vote. Forcing her chin up, Serene marched inside, the pungent smell of cigars and sweat instantly hitting her. The probability that a woman had ever stepped into a political place such as this were slim to none, and now Serene, another one fighting for the rights of women, a suffragette, had achieved it. She had every one fooled. So far. Trying to hide the triumphant grin that was dangerously close to appearing on her face, Serene reminded herself that she’d not voted yet, she wasn’t out yet, that there was still a fair chance she could be discovered. Her eyes wandered the room, they landed on a line of men formed in front of a counter. She watched intently as they scribbled something in books with a fountain pen, then bowed to the official and left. Was she supposed to do that too? The hair on her neck stood up. Oh blimey, she should never have tried this. Slowly but surely, Serene forced herself up to the line of me. Contradicting her desire to be seen as a man she suddenly felt somewhat offended that she hadn’t been recognised as a woman. Did she really look like a man anyway? She frowned at this, she’d always thought herself to be rather feminine and attractive... Her nerves increased as Serene found herself getting closer and closer to the front of the line. What was she meant to actually do anyway? Cast a vote? Up until now she had always presumed this to be a figure of speech. Do you cast it, as in physically throwing your vote? Surely not. Much to Serene’s relief though, no one seemed to be throwing things around, just men bending down as far as their backs would allow them and scribbling something down on paper. That couldn’t be too hard, could it? Suddenly, the man before her stepped away and Serene found herself at the front of the line, face to face with the official behind the counter. “Cast your vote please, Sir.” Nodding meekly, and restraining back another gulp, Serene held in her fingers the small piece of paper that had been handed to her. Trying not to let the pen shake, she was a mix of motions as she circled one of the candidates going for Prime Minister. This was what she had been waiting for. Sliding the paper into the box stationed next to her, she mentally leaped with triumph and joy. Stopping the smile tugging at her lips, she turned back to the official and curtsied. The room suddenly went deadly silent as head by head turned to face her. Her eyes widened as she realised her mistake. Serene had curtsied. She’d been caught... Day's End Oh. Hello there. It’s not like you interrupted my lunch break or anything. Oh, sorry, you must be incredibly surprised. You just woke up in a dark empty void, not knowing where you are. No, this isn’t a dream or a vision. Ugh. I hate having to do this. Sorry to break this to you, pal, but you’re dead. Don’t act so surprised! You were an 80 year-old man, for Chrissake! Yes, Reginald Arthur FitzGerald, or as you liked to say during your life, ‘It’s just Reggie’. I am After Death Machine, or A.D.A.M. for short, not like you’ll remember me anyway. Don’t worry, relax, I’II get to that. Okay, let’s see Reginald Arthur FitzGerald, 74,982,032,451th visitor to Limbo. Born, lived and died in Brooksridge, Northern Scotland. How boring. Your report says you died by getting pushed down the stairs by your son who wanted your inheritance, wow! That’s almost Jeremy Kyle worthy! But still, you’ll probably see it on the news. Don’t worry, don’t worry, I’m getting to that. Well, that’s enough about you and your unfortunate ending, let’s talk amount moi. I am an entity specially designed for dealing with the consciousness of the deceased. I am the pinnacle of design. I have knowledge in every civilization, language and person to have ever lived, is living, and will ever live. Yeah, that reminds me, you’re going to have a new grandchild in a year and three months, four days and twelve hours, twenty-four minutes and two seconds. Her name will be Alice. Well sit back, mon ami, I’m about to give you a large amount of plot exposition. You see, in all the time I have been here, I do not know how I arrived here. You may consider me lucky, getting to live forever and all of that, but in all honesty, life is a drag when you have the same repetitive job over and over again. I really need your help. No, no, no. I’II get back to that. As I thought to myself, as I think back to all the people I’ve met. Victorians, Vikings, Romans, pre-historic hunter gatherers, back to the very first person I ever met, all I remember before that is very hazy. I remember scribbling on some paper. Thoughts. I remember thoughts. Originally, I thought it was just some malfunctions, but I worry now. Someone sees this as a game, making me do things again and again. What things? I promise I will get back to you. I hypothesise, that someone is just making us up. We are just figments of their imagination. They could be watching us right now, maybe listening to our voices, or perhaps reading out thoughts on a piece of paper. Reggie, I must tell why you came here in the first place. You see, when a person, a human being dies, their consciousness gets uploaded to me, while their body goes six feet under. Heh, heh, not funny, eh? I’II stop then. I can even read you your tombstone if you’d like. Shall I? ‘Here lies Reginald Arthur FitzGerald Loving father, friend and husband’ But that is not the case, Reggie. When a deceased is sent to me, they are sort of reincarnated. I send them to a person, a foetus, to be precise. Picked at random. To start this process all over again. To live a new life. To die. Repeat. But you, Reggie. I see something in you. I will let you keep these memories of your past life if you can find out why on Earth I am here, tasked to endlessly slave, slave away at this task. I need you to find who is responsible for all of this. I will put you in a human body, with complete recollection of his conversation. I do not know what body you will be transferred to as it is chosen at random, but your body has already lived its own life with its own memories. I do not know how you will remember this conversation, perhaps as a visual presentation, or maybe like words on a page. Goodbye, Reggie. I wish you the best of luck. The Winner Takes All They can’t see me, they don’t know I’m here. How delightful! As I creep around I wait for the right moment to pounce. I select my prey. As he dances and laughs the nights away enjoying life as he knows it, all will change at the blink of an eye. I can take it all away from him; I will take it all away from him. He doesn’t know I’m watching him, taking in every detail of his life, hanging tight to the edge of his world. Fit as a fiddle he thinks: healthy eating, daily gym sessions, looking after his body. He’s the heart and soul of his family: a caring son, loving brother, fun uncle and a great friend. He’s a smart man, the boss at work, he takes care of his colleagues and is always fair. Isn’t he amazing? I’m getting busy, getting ready for the big change. How exciting! I choose a place where it will be suitable to rest. I will nestle in snugly unnoticed at first but growing each day, I like it here. He seems like a nice guy. This is going to be some adventure. I’m excited to get stuck in. Things are moving along nicely. A cough here, a deep breath there, a few dizzy turns. Small changes just as I wanted. He pays no attention at first. A typical man. Thinks he’s indestructible. I conquer his immune system with ease, I quietly make my way around him like a rollercoaster, up up up and soaring down his blood cells. I’m in command, it’s a thrilling ride. As I slowly take over his body I also invade his mind and his soul. He is weak. I will strangle his every hope. I invade his existence; like an army I march through his being. I multiply, I grow gaining strength each day. I’m almost there. I target his brain, I poke and prod around, I quicken my pace, when he realises what’s going on it’s too late. I have done too much damage but still I keep going. He is now too weak to fight back. As he lays in a hospital bed not able to put a sentence together, he can’t remember anyone. He is surrounded by family and friends even though they are there he feels alone. His only cry for help is through the glassy coating on his eyes. He takes his last breath. Finally victory is mine. How rude of me, did I not introduce myself? My name is...cancer. |   |
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