CONGRATULATIONS TO THE WINNERS OF THE SHORT STORY WRITING CONTEST!
I want to thank EVERYONE who entered the contest. I was thrilled by all the entries and spent many days reading and enjoying all your stories. They were wild and beautiful and funny, and I hope that each and every one of you keeps on writing, because your imaginations are staggering.
1st Prize: Ramie Morris for "Mina"
2nd Prize: Ashley Xu Huang for "The Fai-ye's Price"
3rd Prize: Kayleigh McCoy for "Sky Oak"
First Place Story:
Mina
by Ramie Morris
“May 28th, 2103,” the monotone voice boomed over the loud crowd, alerting everyone of the date, not that anyone needed to know, “11:50pm,” the various onlookers gaped at the screen looming high above them, mounted on the tall building looking over Times Square. All was silent as they awaited the announcement; the same thing was happening all over the country as thousands pending in awe at whatever was available.
Finally, after an anxious few moments of anticipation of the event, the screen turned to a handsome, slightly tanned young man with messy light brown hair that was carefully styled that way; he wore a pristine navy blue suit with an oh-so-patriotic white undershirt and red tie. Plastered on his face was an unpleasantly smug grin, no doubt highlighted by his sky blue eyes that seemed to glitter in a way that was neither suspicious nor reassuring; but he obviously didn’t have the best intentions. That could be told by the way his voice echoed across the country like a plague, taking its victims and tempting poor unsuspecting people to trust him, very few could escape his grasp, and very few wanted to.
“My fellow Americans,” he said suavely, “I apologize for making you wait so long,” his voice was like a cup of tea with extra milk, smooth, but the teabag brakes somewhere near the last sip you take, and little hard, rough, scratchy herb bits flow down your throat with the hot liquid, it’s soothing until you realize it simply isn’t, then you’re just disgusted with it. “Waiting six years just for the full fruit of our labors to be developed, such a shame we couldn’t bring her to you sooner,” He attempted to smile jokingly, but it was unconvincing, “but anyways, like I said, you’ve waited six long years for Project Illuminate’s completion, and it’s my honorable duty as the Chief Director for Cinder Tech to present to you-“ he stepped to the right slightly but hesitantly as a window appeared on-screen next to him, covered in static, it cleared just in time, and the nation-wide audience drew a breath, “Mina!”
Silence rained amongst the viewers as a single heartbeat resounded over miles of land, the heart beat of the girl who’d appeared after the static faded. The girl appeared to be within a glass tank of sorts, floating in an upright position, suspended within a clear liquid; she seemed to be about eleven or twelve guessing on her appearance. Of which, she had long, straight, silvery-white hair that looked to reach her waist- though it was hard to tell, it drifted about with each passing bubble that floated from the illuminated base of the tank- and pale bleached skin that would only look natural on a cadaver. She was also very thin, unhealthily so; her eyes were closed in what seemed to be a blissful sleep, and she had a clear plastic mask covering her mouth and nose that must’ve been providing her oxygen, a tube ran from it to the roof of the confinement, as well as many other similar cords and tubes that attached to the rest of her body and tucked under the pristine white bandages that wrapped around her body to cover her. The audience gawked at her, at everything, stunned, amazed, and terrified eyes probed the screen for details they couldn’t find.
With a sly smile the man regained the attention of (most of) the viewers by speaking once again, “I’m sure you all remember when we announced Mina’s ‘birthday’ six years ago, well, today, in a few minutes, she will awaken for the first time,” he smiled widely, “this will be a major scientific milestone, creating the perfect, pure being, her DNA manufactured by science, everything about her created without the use of preexisting humans. Too add to all of it, her mind is already highly educated- beyond college level graduates,” he had much enthusiasm as he spoke, his eyes lighting up with each second he went on, “In the next few minutes, this country will behold a scientific breakthrough thanks to Project Illuminate and Cinder Tech, this country will bear witness to what could only be called…” he paused for dramatic effect, “A miracle.”
“May 29th, 2103,” that same monotone voice rang, “12:00am.”
The moment the announcement ended, the tank containing the pale girl suddenly began to hiss as the clear liquid was slowly drained and Mina crumpled onto the base of the glass tube. She leaned against the tube in a corpse-like state with a complexion to match. Again, the thousands of bystanders viewing this event listened intently to the calm heartbeat of the soaking wet girl.
But that steady rhythm sped up suddenly, and her eyes fluttered open, revealing shocking red irises, as she groggily looked up, glancing around. She placed a thin hand on the glass in front of her, pressing on it, and her other hand on the glass behind her, and attempted to stand, she shook violently as she did this, finally standing upright- though she wobbled and had to keep a hand on the pane to do so. She continued to examine her surroundings, looking down at her free hand with mild intrigue, she brought a hand to the breathing mask, then –without missing a beat- she proceeded to remove it, dropping it to the floor with a slight noise that the silent watchers were surprised to hear. Mina look down at herself, moved some of her wet hair that stuck to her scalp before looking dead straight at the camera filming her awakening, and pressing her other hand to the glass before doing the most unlikely thing any of the onlookers expected.
“Help…” She muttered in a voice that cracked from nonuse, and tears began to roll down her cheeks rapidly.
The nation sat in shocked silence as the transmission ended, leaving only static in its place; though the terrified expression of that little girl still burned vividly in their minds.
THE END
Second Place Story:
The Fai-ye's Price
by Ashley Xu Huang
They say the green ones live in trees that hold elaborate domes the color of a tiger's eye, strange structures that shimmer under the eerie lights of the full moon. They say the fai-ye host mystical banquets filled with laughter and music and food fit for the royal court. The fai-ye can lure men from their villages in the dark of night, never to be seen again. Even the emperor himself fears the green ones, the enchantingly vindictive fai-ye, for they can destroy bridges, bewitch livestock, and steal a person's true self.
Old man Nangong, withered and elderly, swore they possessed another great power: the ability to grant someone's deepest wish. Xianshi would spend hours listening to Nangong lecture in his hoarse, croaking voice about the green ones and their habits. "But remember, young one," he once whispered to the curious boy, "Everything has a price, especially wishes."
The gangly youth, too sickly and pallid to wrestle with the other local children, knew what he would wish for. Xianshi's family was incredibly impoverished. His father toiled day in and day out over their miniscule rice paddy, futilely striving to coax grain out of the barren soil. Xianshi's mother was a laundry woman to the richer inhabitants of the village and took care of him and his sister, Jieshi. "All I have to do now," Xianshi resolved as he trudged up the dusty path to his parents' farm, "is find a fai-ye."
Slowly and apprehensively, Xianshi nudged open the door to the cottage and peered inside, as timid as a scholar clutching a particularly rare folio. His mother, worn like the dirt road he had just walked, seemed to blend in with the grimy gray of the house. Wearily, she queried, "Xianshi, where were you? Have you been listening to Nangong again? He is not quite right in the head."
Xianshi fixed his mother with an exasperated stare. "I am truly sorry, honorable Mother," he replied in a drab monotone, "I cannot help Father in the fields today." Coldly, Xianshi turned away and removed a crisp sheet of paper from his bedroll. Jieshi, his four-year-old sister, beamed at him from her chair in the corner. She always carried with her the scent of childhood, ginger mixed with tea and a hint of mud. Long, ebony hair, dark as a raven's wing, framed her angelic face. "I will be going out now," Xianshi stated after returning his sister's jovial grin. Still stiff as an imperial delegate, he strode crisply out the door.
Xianshi turned his attention back to the map in his hands. Nangong had meticulously sketched every detail, careful not to make mistakes. The fai-ye's haven was marked clearly. "Soon we will be unimportant no more, Jieshi," he murmured under his breath.
The sanctuary was in the middle of an forest filled with peach trees that completely obscured the sky, their blush petals drifting down like spring rain. Xianshi stopped suddenly at the base of an aged alter carved out of a dull teal stone. Bright cobalt runes shimmered on the rock, capturing the essence of azure seas and early twilight. Nervous, Xianshi knelt and sent out a silent prayer, a plea for his family and his future. A faint breeze ruffled the foliage, sending him to his feet and scampering away in terror.
When Xianshi returned home, he glimpsed his father holding a gleaming chunk of yellowish metal between his grubby fingers. "We are rich, Xianshi!" he exclaimed happily, a beatific smile stuck on his face. "I found gold in the rice paddy!"
Over the next few weeks, the once poor family purchased a refined mansion in the midst of town, several servants, two grand stallions, and a brand new dress for Jieshi made of fine lavender silk. The children who once berated Xianshi for his aloof demeanor and scrawniness now respected, even admired, the changed boy. He and Jieshi no longer went hungry, but instead gorged on roast duck and fresh dumplings every night. Life was good.
It happened on a sun-drenched afternoon, when the first signs of spring were leaking into the air. Xianshi had just returned from school when his mother burst through the gate of their fine manor, grasping him firmly by the shoulders. "Have you seen her?" she screeched with a tang of fear in her voice. "Where is Jieshi? I cannot find her!" She broke down into sobs and shook Xianshi even harder. "Where is she? Where is she?"
Xianshi felt the iron fist of fear take him into its grasp, wringing all hope and reason from his mind. Without a word, he spun and ran for the fai-ye's haven, Nangong's words blazing in his memory like the noon sun over a desert. His mother lay there weeping in the street, her calls for Jieshi fading into the distance.
The haven was still. Blossoms littered the forest floor and the midday light was suddenly nowhere to be found. Xianshi tripped over a stray branch and fell, only to stagger on doggedly. He couldn't bear with the thought of his little sister gone from life, to be trapped with the green ones forever. Dull and faded, the alter stood like a menacing guardian, watching over the ruined boy. Xianshi finally broke down at the foot of a lofty tree and screamed for Jieshi with all his strength. He banged his hands against the pillar, cursing the fai-ye and their wicked grove. A voice echoed through his head, young as the new day yet wise and sad. It was too melodious and trilling to be human, and brought with it visions of rites under the full moon and songs sung by the creatures that lurk in darkness. "The price has been paid," it chorused, faint as the imprint of Xianshi's boots on the carpeted grass. "There is nothing for you here."
THE END
Third-Place Story:
Sky Oak
by Kayleigh McCoy
I had always liked that old Welsh oak. It seemed to share a sort of deep companionship with me because of the way both our lives were fixed in Nature’s order of things. Upside down.
I called it my Sky Oak, which now seems like a cruel joke, because no plant was farther from the sky than it.
By some freak of nature, when the tree was a sapling at the edge of a mountain, its roots had become twisted and the whole thing had flipped over. Maybe a flash flood. Or maybe it had always been like that. I didn’t know, and probably never would. The tree was that way, and I liked it.
My life had always been that way. I had never felt that non-upside-down feeling most people had. My father was a gambler, and either he gambled away all our money, or used it to pay off his gambling debts.
My little sister Rosie had leukemia and just lay on her pallet. She was only three years old, but was in a bad way. We didn’t even have enough money to get her to the hospital. Anyway, if we did, my father would snatch it all up and buy the latest iPod.
My only release from my sister’s whimpers and my father’s yells was to get on my bike and pedal until I was far away from our cemented, demented city. I would go to a little abandoned farm in the middle of nowhere that held my biggest secret. In one of the pastures pranced Storm, my talented storm-gray mare.
I had bought her as a filly for $250 from a crusty old man who seemed to be running from the law. Sometimes I would be gone for days on end, with no one noticing except Rosie. I would build fires and eat nothing but berries, sleeping in my Sky Oak.
Today was one of those days. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I rode my bike to the farm and climbed onto Storm’s back. Bareback, we set off in a slow canter, which soon became a gallop. I laughed at the wind in my hair as we headed off toward Sky Oak.
When we got to the tree, I knew something was wrong. Another horse grazed under it, and a girl rested on a branch. But not just any branch. The only way to get to that branch was to climb up a few hidden steps nature had carved out of the mountainside.
The branch curved inward and outward in such a way that it fit the contours of a 12-year-old body perfectly. It was my branch, and I did not take kindly to someone else’s using it.
“Hey,” I shouted from Storm’s back. “Hey! What are you doing there?”
The girl jumped. “What are you doing here by my Mountain Oak?!”
“Mountain Oak?” I tasted the words with my tongue. “I’ve been coming here since I was 6 and now you’re going to take over?”
“So have I,” said the girl. “How could we have missed each other?”
After the first surge of anger, I was cooling down a little. “Who are you?” the girl and I said at the same time. We both fell over laughing. It turned out her name was Serena, and her horse was called Dream Whisper on paper, but she called him Dreamer or Wisp.
Storm and Dreamer nuzzled each other. Serena and I agreed to share the tree and swore not to tell anyone so tourists wouldn’t swarm it. We couldn’t agree what it should be called, so we compromised and called it Sky Mountain Oak.
I, Afon, was happy enough that I hummed as I pedaled home, even as soft grassy fields gave way to cracked, graying buildings and tar-patched streets. But my happiness crumbled as I rode up the narrow, decaying sidewalk and saw the thunderous look on my father’s face.
“All right,” he said. “Where are they?”
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb,” he roared. “You know where the papers for that darned horse you were riding are!”
I knew better than to play dumb.
“I’ll get them,” I said.
“You better!” he yelled in my ear. I scurried up to the room where we all slept. I grabbed the papers from underneath my pillow and held them out teasingly to my dad. He walked toward them, and that was all I needed. I turned and jumped out the window onto the tiny patch of concrete out front.
My dad cursed and clomped heavily down the stairs. I started running, and kept going until I came to a dead end. My father’s big strides pressed in on me, as city walls closed in around me.
I heard a small pattering of feet, and saw Serena running toward me. My father didn’t even try to stop her, he was so intent on me. I knew Serena couldn’t help me now so I looked for a way out. I couldn’t get by my father, and I was soon to be incarcerated in a concrete prison.
There was only one way out. Up, the way my life should be. I grabbed a drainpipe and started climbing. I could hear my father behind me, puffing. I didn’t have much time, but once I got on the roofs I could probably get away.
And then the pipe ended. A section had broken off and the next section was five feet away. I couldn’t reach it. All I could do was let my father get me and hope he wouldn’t make me fall. Then I heard Serena’s blessed voice.
“Afon! Jump!”
I looked at the ground, so far away, and at my father, so close. I prayed Sky Mountain Oak would envelope me in its branches. Then I closed my eyes and did the only thing I could do. I leapt.
THE END