Short Story Contest

It’s so quiet I can hear my own heartbeat.

The cold night breeze gently sways my hair, and my lantern illuminates the wide, green field, calming my racing heart.

The moon is high in the sky, as bright as a lamp, the stars are twinkling like glitter.

The air is cold, but not freezing. I see the town lights blinking, displaying warmth, encouraging me to go home.

The grass waves happily in the breeze, making things seem totally normal…

Shuddering, I look up at the shipwreck, trying to decide if it’s real or not. It seems solid, yet ghostly.

Did they sail for good deeds, or were they pirates?

I close my eyes, letting the thoughts whirl around, and I feel the familiar tingling of my history vision powers surging through me. As usual, a fog rolls in, then it fades away.

I see a young man climbing the rope ladder of a magnificent ship, hovering high in the air, above the clouds. I see others, all occupied with tasks, such as pulling the anchor in, scrubbing the deck, and patching the sails.

The sun shines on the deck, making it gleam like diamonds. The ship moves forward, and the men start singing sea, or rather, cloud shanties.

Oh, high above the clouds we go, high above the sea, ho ho,

Singing songs, as we go, no one can catch us, no!

The sparrows may sing and the rooster may crow, no one can catch us, no!

Thanks to the spell to make us fly, we soar high above the sky,

Instead of the sea, it’s the sky, as you see, now!

We think it’s about time you know, to one can catch us, no!

I like it.

Then they all shout, “there, cap’n! There it is!” Pointing at the peak of a huge, blue mountain poking out of the clouds.

Suddenly, without warning, the ship tips, and the crew slides across the deck, groping out for anything stable to hold on.

Panic rages around them like fire. A loud roar rings through the sky, shaking the ship.

A scaled claw grabs the boat, splintering the wood beneath it. Then a face appears at the side of the boat, a dragon face. It’s black, with bright red eyes, and teeth like swords.

I see it raise its other hand, higher, higher until……

wham!

It slams the boat, tearing the wood.

Before I see anything else, a thick fog rolls in.

Drat, the times out! I think, frustrated. My history vision powers only work for five minutes.

Soon the fog fades away. and the ship is replaced with the battered old wreck, and the endless void below is replaced with the long grass of the field.

Shaking, I look up at the ship. I grip my lantern, and gingerly step forward to the wreck.

As I get closer, I see a small hole in the side of the ship, and climb through it, promptly falling on my face when I come out the other side. (Because every story needs a touch of humour)

Brushing the dust off my knees, I look around, and gasp at what I see.

The walls are falling apart, and I can see the claw marks in the roof. The shipwreck isn’t so creepy anymore, it’s almost fun, and exciting.

I climb What is left of the rope ladder, and pretend to be a pirate. When I reach the top, I look around, at the vast, dark field, pretending it is clouds, high above the earth.

I think about how I was scared of the shipwreck when I first saw it, now I am actually in it. Having the time of my life.

I wonder if other people saw the shipwreck, and how did they feel about it? Scared like I was, or curious?

I wonder why the dragon attacked the ship. Was it protecting something?

I think about how History usually explains most things, revealing secrets that add up to an answer.

Old dolls, ancient forgotten shrines, sunken cities, boxes found in attics, a shipwreck in the middle of a field, for example.

Anything unexplainable has an explanation, hidden somewhere, if you are willing to look for it.

The end for now, hoomans (•⁠ᴗ•✿⁠)

The sun had just set and I was walking home through the corn fields, holding my lantern high. Near the middle of the field, I noticed a massive object looming above me out of the tall weeds.

I stared, amazed. It was a shipwreck, here, in a field, miles away from water.

I heard a voice coming from the wreck. Craning my neck, I peered through the gloom.

“Unfurl the sails,” someone shouted. “We need to be up in the air soon!” Large white sails billowed into the sky.

“Ahoy!” I called.

“What do you want?” asked a man, leaning over the rail.

“What are you doing here? And did you say air?” I was quite confused, boats went in the water.

“Do ye wish for adventure, lassie?” he asked.

The ship jolted under my feet and I lost my balance. Then, in a steady motion, the ship lifted from the ground, hovered for a moment, then shot off at a speed that should have plastered me to the deck. I walked up to the captain and asked where we were going.

“To hang the stars,” he said, and then walked away, as though that explained everything.

I turned my head, and cried out at what I saw. The Milky Way galaxy stood before me, a cloudy band, separating me from the darkness. When I’d finally peeled my eyes away, I heard the captain yelling.

“…I repeat, to your life lines! We’ll be exiting the galaxy soon!”

I was handed a rope that was attached to a mast, and told to tie it round my waist, holding me fast to the ship. After I’d been secured, the ship jerked. I stumbled, and would have fallen right off had I not been tied down.

The ship sped towards the stars, getting faster with every second. After the initial jolt everyone untied their ropes and began working.

“Go ahead and untie yourself, girl,” someone said. “We won’t be making a sudden move like that until we reach the Black Eye galaxy.”

“Thanks,” I said. The man nodded and walked off. Instead of untying myself though, I held to my rope. I wasn’t comfortable with the thought of falling overboard.

We flew for awhile, before the man’s words finally sank in ‘…reach the Black Eye galaxy.” I craned my neck, peering into the darkness, but the Milky Way was no longer in sight. I’d left my galaxy far behind.

“Man yer stations!” the captain yelled. “Star off the horizon!”

I didn’t understand what the big deal was, there were stars in every direction, what was different about this one? A blast of heat and light seared through my senses and all my questions were immediately answered. A super nova. As the star erupted in slow motion, waves of fire pulsed towards our ship.

“Prepare the star!” someone screamed over the explosion. A man appeared from below deck, a ball of light in his hand. A sudden pulse rocked the boat and he fell, dropping the ball. It rolled across the ship and landed at my feet. I bent over to pick it up and hand it back to him, but instead watched, terrified, as he toppled off the ship, screaming.

“Where’s the star!” the captain bellowed.

“Here!” I hollered.

“Hang it!” he shouted

“Do what!”

“I’ll walk you through it! Now hurry!” The captain pointed at the crow’s nest. Horror coursed through me, if I wanted to complete this I’d have to undo my safety line. I struggled for a minute with the idea, what if I ended up like that man? I looked around, realizing everyone was relying on me. I fumbled with my rope, careful not to drop the baby star. My whole body trembled as I pulled myself up through the rigging. When I reached the top I strained to hear the captain.

“…lift…hang…hold on!”

Gripping the rope with white-knuckled fingers, I lifted the star like I was hanging a picture. My hands shook, I was about to ask what to do next when the ship lurched and I dropped the star. Scrambling, I tried to catch it. But I couldn’t. The star was gone. Somehow, I knew I’d failed.

I climbed down from the crow’s nest and heard the crew shouting. They were probably angry with me. Hanging my head in shame, I walked over to the captain.

“Oh lass, that was wonderful!”

“I’m so sorry I— Wait, what? I dropped the star, I failed.”

“Nay, but you did exactly the opposite,” he clapped me on the back. “Look.” I looked and saw, where the super nova had been, there now glimmered a tiny new star.

“So, you aren’t angry?”

“Of course not!”

“Oh, great!” I exclaimed. Then I asked. “So you guys hang stars?”

“Aye, that we do, we bring new stars to galaxies, and hang them where old stars have died. And you, my girl, are a natural hanger, we’d be honored to have you as part of the crew!”

I stared proudly at the new star I’d hung. It wouldn’t be that bad to stay here.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m in.” The whole crew cheered.

Sally was not a true girl. She was part fairy; her mother was human and her father was fairy. Sally loved to get up in the night and walk to the sea next to her house where there was a cool breeze. One night when she was out near the sea holding a lamp, she saw a dark shape. Sally thought it looked odd so she held the lamp up.

Sally could not believe her eyes when she saw a ship; a ship of all things was what she least expected. Ships were common but it was so graceful and ships did not come to a shallow place like this in the middle of the night? All her thoughts made Sally feel dizzy. But she could not do anything about it so she went back to her house. The next night Sally saw the ship again, and the next. Then it started to dawn on her that it had come to do something, but Sally didn’t know what. But soon she did.

“No,” said Sally.

“Then why have you been out on the beach each night?”

“I like walking on at night the beach,” said Sally.

Sally’s captor told her his name: Drowsy-Dreadlocks.

“They call me that on the ship yonder. I am captain, and I suspect you of spying on us. We kidnap children and sell them as slaves in other towns like Bagle and Malomo, the slave towns of the country of Likaloss.”

Sally had a horrid feeling that she was going to be sold as a slave. But in one of the towns Sally had an uncle. He had slaves, but he treated them kindly. If she was going to that where her uncle lived she might have hope, but which town? Drowsy-Dreadlocks kicked her in the back and made her stumble.

“Stop dreaming,” he barked. “You’ll be a slave and slaves have no time for dreaming.”

She said, “I was thinking. A captain of a ship should have slaves. I could be your slave. Such a clever captain like you should have a girl to keep you company.”

Drowsy-Dreadlocks was not clever, so he fell for Sally’s plot.

“Why of course, you would be perfect,” he said. That was just what Sally wanted, but she did not show it. Then she would have time to call her fairy friends for help. It had to be soon, or otherwise Drowsy-Dreadlocks would find she was part fairy and give a huge ransom for her (since fairies were rare). Her friends would help, definitely, if she could call them in peace.

Then her thoughts were broken off. She was boarding the ship. The crew of the ship were rough, but the captain made sure they didn’t man-handle her. He shut her in a cabin that was next to his, which served as a dining room for the pirates. It had a portal in it, and this would make it easier for her fairy friends to come and rescue her. But she was working for the rest of the night. To be a personal slave of the captain, you were hurrying back and forth serving beer to the crew. Then, at last, she was locked in the cabin as the crew prepared to set sail.

This was her chance. She opened the portal and whispered, “Lusia, Marika, Lykenin. Come, please, and rescue me!”

She waited for what seemed like a long time. Then there was a gentle tap at the portal. She saw a tiny face looking in. It looked like Marika. And there was Lusia! And at last there was Lykenin.

“You can get me out of here, can’t you?”

They nodded their heads and closed their eyes. Sally closed her eyes too. She didn’t want to see them fail in case the spell didn’t work. She heard them chanting the words of the old fairy rescue song: Millalok hatipo, shillicu nee (which means ‘Help me, O magic, and whisk me away’). It worked. She was being pulled out the portal, through the glass. The glass didn’t even hurt Sally. She was so happy to be away from the pirate ship, and a free girl again.

When they reached the beach, she thanked the fairies for helping her.

“It’s nothing,” they said. “You’ll always be our friend, and we will always help you in danger. Good-bye.”

“Good-bye,” said Sally. She ran up the beach and saw her front door open, and her mother standing there, with her father behind her. Sally ran towards them and hugged her mother and father.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” said her father.

“So am I,” said her mother. “Come indoors and tell us all about it.”

The End

If you had been in a certain English wood one afternoon in May, you would have seen two girls of about fourteen taking a leisurely stroll. Their dresses would have shown you they were from rich families.

The girls were cousins. They were staying with their Aunt Margaret for a month, and they were now in the wood behind her large country house. It was a pretty place, with tall, straight trees and picturesque stone wells.

The girls had been talking, but now there was a lull in the conversation. The dark-haired girl looked up to say something and gasped.

“What is it, Mary?” asked the other girl, whose hair was golden.

“Look behind you! Cicely, I’m sure that valley wasn’t there before!”

Slowly, the girls walked forward. When they entered the doorway, the chill took their breath away. After a few steps, they had to cling to each other for warmth. Before they had gone a dozen paces, it was hard to breathe in the dagger-sharp cold.

Mary’s foot bumped against a wall. The disappointment of finding a dead end vanished swiftly when the girls realized the corridor had merely taken a turn. They turned and immediately felt the difference.

The first thing the girls noticed was the marvelous, gentle warmth. Then the fog cleared, and they saw that they were in an enormous, orderly garden.

The very strange thing about this garden was that it was a garden of people. They were planted, feet downwards, in neat flowerbeds. Up and down the paths hurried flowers of every description possible. They walked on something that was either feet which looked like roots or roots that worked like feet.

Even as the girls saw these things, a flower, a red rose, was coming toward them.

“Oh, look,” she said pleasantly (don’t ask me if she had a mouth, some things I just can’t explain) “the new cuttings we ordered. Lilium, would you help me plant them?”

A tall lily looked up from covering a lady’s shoes with soil and nodded.

Cicely was indignant. “We’re certainly not cuttings. And don’t you know it’s a crime to keep people prisoners?”

The rose raised the eyebrows she didn’t have and said, “They’re quite happy. We water them every day and twice on Sundays. And the weather here is lovely.”

“Shall I plant them now, Rubiginosa?” asked the lily, who had just come up behind them.

“Yes,” began Rubiginosa, but at that moment Mary grabbed Cicely’s hand and they began to run as fast as they could.

Finally, they came to a stop behind a thick row of Dutch-looking people. They were facing away from the two girls, who, hoping that the Dutch people’s own hearty conversation would shield theirs, began to whisper.

“Oh, this is a mess,” said Mary. “I wish we’d never come into this valley!”

“They must be away from the door by now,” said Cicely. “We can make a run for it.”

The girls waited a moment to catch their breath, then managed to get nearly to the door. But a geranium and a tiger-lily caught them at the last minute.

They tried to struggle, but the flowers were too strong for them, and soon they were planted in a raised bed (about eight feet high) between an old lady with a parasol and a governess with spectacles. The girls waited for night to fall, but soon it became evident that night never came in this place. The flowers never slept, and the people dozed whenever they felt like it.

It felt like hours until they could come up with a plan, but finally they did.

***

Rubiginosa was quite pleased as she walked through the garden. It had been a lovely day. Two new cuttings had arrived, and though they’d been a bit rambunctious at first, they were settling in nicely. Their mineral-water provider had just lowered his prices, and some plants who’d been droopy lately were reviving nicely.

Suddenly she heard a great thud…

***

It had taken a while, but finally Mary and Cicely managed to knock the edge off the raised flower bed. The plank fell with a thud onto the path just below. This deeply distressed the orderly flowers and brought them running.

Amid the turmoil, Cicely pulled her feet from the soil and jumped off the raised bed. Mary followed her example with slightly more apprehension. They raced for the door.

But the rose saw them and got there first. She grabbed Cicely, who tried to push her away. Mary waved her sash wildly at a crowd of ferns, delphiniums, and every flower imaginable.

Suddenly there came a shock of cold and the girls found themselves just outside the doorway again. Cicely was gripping a handful of rose petals and Mary was waving her sash at nothing.

They looked at each other for a moment and then Mary said,

“I suppose that’s what you call an adventure.”

Blank memories before me. Scarred pasts behind me. And yet here I stand now. Returning the hundredth time to see the one thing holding me together. My eyes sting and I turn to stare around my surroundings. There, the lake shining with its wrinkling flaps of glimmering sheets of water. Spires of rocks jutting up from a soft turf. And the mist rising from the ground, blending into the mesmerizing purple crown of the sky. The vapor a harsh but warm gray. Reminding me of the color of her eyes. My Rosalie. My Rose. The memory of her name tearing at the crack in my heart. My body stiffens and I close my eyes. Then the flashback begins.

Again the scene changes. I’m lying on the ground. I’ve been robbed and I’m starving. Blood seeps from my head into the growing puddle. I hear approaching footsteps and a whistling tune.

“Help,” I croak, and it all goes black.

When I wake, I see a girl with a pair of gray eyes and a whole lot of flowing dark hair hovering above my face. She wears a simple gray dress and wears a single pearl on a string around her neck.

“You’re awake!” The girl smiles. I’m not exactly sure what to say, but she keeps talking. “I’m Rosalie, but my friends call me Rose. You’ve been out for three days. Your head had a huge gash. You’ll be fine, though.”

I smile with some effort since my face feels so stiff and say, “Thanks.” And as we launch into conversation, I have a strange feeling that we’ll be friends.

A year later, and we are in love. She is my soulmate, and I love her more than my own life. We are planning to get married soon, and these have been the happiest times of my life. She was the light of the village. She was always the first one to dance. The one playing with the children, or telling them a story. The one singing to a crowd. The one comforting a sad friend. She always told me to make the world a better place.

My memory begins to quicken, and I tense for the darkest.

It’s the night before our wedding, and I feel nervous but absolutely blissful. I’m asleep and dreaming happy thoughts, until a flaming wooden beam from the ceiling falls, crushing me and burning my face. I wake up to hear screaming in the village.

Despite the pain, I think only one thing. Rose! I squeeze out from the burning house and scream her name.

I run past the flames that formerly were our village and spot a person lying in the rubble of a building, face cupped in hands.

“What happened?” I shout.

“They took everyone,” the man whispers.

“Who!”

“Pirates. They raided the village and set it on fire. They just left for the dock.”

I run straight for the dock, terrified. I see the ship leaving, and shout.

“ROSE!”

“Silas!” I see Rose on the deck of the ship, flailing while being chained.

The ship shoves off and I fall on my knees on the end of the dock. The ship disappears into the distance, and I bury my face in my hands.

A storm soon followed, and the ship washed up on land. When searched, there were no survivors. My Rose was gone.

The flashback ends, and I approach the wreck of the ship, lying in the field. I have a light in my hand and the fireflies blitz around it. It reminds me with a pang how everyone always acted around Rose, who was like a light. I enter the wreck, my eyes bleary, and something sparkles in the dark. It’s a pearl like abandoned in the dust. I recognize the pearl. The one Rose always wore around her neck! I pick it up gently from the dust and cradle it in my palm. A new hope dawns on me.

“Rose,” I whisper into the dark, “I’ll always remember you, but it’s time for me to move on.” I was assured this is what she would want me to do. And thinking such thoughts, I step out into the light.

I sit beside my father’s bed, holding his hand as his chest rises and falls. With all my heart I will him to get better and open his eyes. But he lies still, the same as when the healers first brought him here. No change, except that every breath he takes makes the crack in my heart wider.

The door opens. I look up when the healer enters. She feels my father’s pulse and touches his forehead before saying, “He won’t make it.”

Words well up, and I want to spit them at her: a good healer you are if you can’t heal people! But I choke them back, knowing they’d make things worse. I stand, releasing my father’s hand.

“I’m going out. I’ll be back soon.”

“You cry, child,” she says. “What ails you?”

I swallow, pictures of my father flashing into my mind. “My father’s dying,” I say. My words sound hard, but they’re how I feel at the moment. Shattered into tiny pieces, too small to fit together again.

The fairy shakes her head, rising from my shoulder to hover at eye level. “The world is hard, little one.” She doesn’t say more, and I nod. Looking around for the first time, I notice a ship stranded in the marshy grasses and leaning to one side. Its sails hang loosely from the yardarms, and it looks long-deserted. But it’s from there that the clouds of fairies, which I mistook for fireflies, are coming.

“That’s our home,” the fairy says, following my gaze. “People don’t intrude because they say it’s haunted.”

It’s so peaceful here that I wish I could stay forever. But if my father’s dying, I should be getting home. I farewell the fairy and turn away, but she flies into my path. “Wait.”

“What?” I ask.

“Hold out your hand,” she says. I do so and she twirls above my palm, letting clouds of golden fairy-dust fall into my hand. Then she bends my fingers over the pile.

“Fairy-dust,” she says, perching on my knuckles, “can heal many illnesses. Not all, but it might help your father if you blow it into his face. You must promise me one thing, though: never tell anyone about us.”

“I won’t,” I say. “Thank-you.”

“It’s my pleasure. Never forget,” she adds, “that sometimes the greatest victory comes by surrendering.” She flutters away and is lost in the throng of fairies before I remember that I never asked her name.

As I turn to go, the fairies wheel above like a cloud of stars.

*

When I reach my house, the healer opens the door. She tells me my father hasn’t much longer, and steps aside to let me pass when I rush inside.

His face is ghostly-pale and my heartbeat matches the rhythm of my footsteps as I rush to his side, plopping into the chair beside him. I uncurl my fist, bringing it closer to my father’s face. Drawing in a breath, I whisper please let this work, before blowing the fairy-dust over him.

Each grain hangs in the air, shimmering with a star-like glow. Then they descend, landing on my father’s face and sinking into his skin. He shivers, and I’m about to scream for the healer when his eyes open.

“Lucia?” he rasps.

“I’m here, Father,” I say, tears in my eyes. “You’re going to get better.”

He smiles, his eyes full of such wistfulness that I know something’s wrong. “What?” I ask.

“My Maker is calling, and it’s time to go.”

At first the words don’t register, but when they do, my head explodes with a thousand different emotions. “It’s not! You need to stay here and look after me! I need you!”

My father shakes his head, his eyes straying past me. “Not any longer. Whatever you gave me brought me back here, but only to say good-bye.”

“No!” I yell, but I know it’s no use. I thought the fairy-dust would work, but it was my last hope. Now there’s nothing left.

Suddenly, the last words the fairy spoke fill my mind: sometimes the greatest victory comes by surrendering. Did she know how I feel about losing my father?

“Let me go, Lucia,” my father says, like he’s guessed my thoughts.

For one long moment a struggle rages inside, my mind chanting victory through surrender the whole time. Finally my mind wins. I sniff and attempt a smile.

“I love you, Father,” I say.

Emotion chokes his voice. “I love you too. Live your life to the fullest before you join me; your mother and I will always be waiting.”

For a few seconds we sit. Then my father draws a breath. “Lucia?”

“Yes, Father?”

“Thank-you – for – surrendering – me.” His voice is barely a whisper. “It – means – the world – to me.”

He sighs, his eyes slip shut, and I know he’s gone. Before I tell the healer, I kiss his forehead. I feel a mix of happiness and sadness as I cross to the window, looking outside.

“Good-bye, Father,” I whisper.

In the night sky, I see a falling star.