Mini Contests
In between our bigger Short Story Contests, we like to run mini contests and challenges. These may include Picture Prompts, 6-word Stories, and anything else to help sharpen your skills.
March 2023
Contest Type: Picture Prompt
Winning Entry (Ages 9-11):
The Great Potato Escapade
© Rock Thompson – Age 11, United States
I breathed heavily. That forest climb was too much. I’m not exactly your mountain scaler. Me? I’m more low-key.
No matter.
I can’t think about that when I’m looking at this sight. Somehow, in the pale light of the moon, two bits of earth were hovering above the ground. And, next to them, partly entangled by vines was a ship.
A pirate ship.
Pirates aren’t supposed to exist anymore. Not here, at the very least. So what was it doing up there, shrouded in mist?
I inched closer, bit by bit, until I was standing directly beneath the biggest land piece. That’s when it hit me. Not an idea. An invisible … something. Unfortunately, it took awhile to understand it was an invisible ladder. A rope ladder.
I have this thing for ladders. I won’t climb unless it’s rope. So, in a few seconds, I was nearly at the top. I was just pulling myself up through a tree when I saw it. And I just about fell to my grave. Standing there, down in the pirate ship, was a monster.
A dragon-like head appeared stuck onto a lion’s body that gave way to iron legs with six-inch claws.
I almost forgot where I was. I scrambled up, and hid behind the ruins of a tower. Then I knew. Adventure was calling. I had to stowaway onto that ship!
The monster stopped below deck, where he was muttering something about moldy potatoes. I took my chance. Scrambling across the rocky ground, I reached the edge and jumped. And when I landed, just wow … BOOM! That was unexpected. I grabbed a nearby crate, set it down on its side on the deck as a decoy, and bolted.
Just as I had jumped behind some potatoes (man, this guy loves his potatoes), the monster came running up. He was turning over crates, hunting. Not good. After all, he is a pirate. He was currently searching the port side and I’m on the starboard side.
But I had to search below deck. The stairs-oddly-were in the cabin. I rushed down to find … potatoes! Then I heard thumping. The monster! I rushed to hide but there was nowhere to hide. I dug through the potatoes, trying to conceal myself.
That’s when I saw the lever. Bright, red, shiny, and tempting. I yanked it. Then, a trapdoor opened right beneath me!
I was falling ….
I woke up with sweat on my face. I was back home in my bed, and it was the middle of the night. It had to be a dream.
But, then, I found a potato in my hand!
Eventually, months later, I traveled back to the place where I saw the ship. But it had vanished. And whether or not I’ll find it again, I’ll never know.
Winning Entry (Ages 12-15):
Do Not Touch!
© Willow Brooke – Age 14, New Zealand
Douglas wasn’t supposed to be here.
But it was only for a few seconds! It wasn’t his fault William had thrown the ball into the shed. The door had been open; he wasn’t sure why. It had always been kept locked for safety. But he’d just get the ball and go. No-one would know.
He saw it rolling under a lawnmower and dived after it. His arm wasn’t long enough to reach underneath, so he wriggled round. The ball was sitting in a pile of screws.
He reached his hand towards it. It was so close, so…
His fingers brushed something behind the ball. It felt smooth, wooden…a box? Then it tilted and he could see it in the sunlight from the window.
A painting.
What was that doing in here?
He could tell that it was beautiful and unusual. But something about the floating islands, brought another word to mind. Fey.
Should he bring it out? It didn’t belong in here. But there would be explanations, and he’d be told off. No; best to just get the ball, and…
Something moved in the picture.
Impossible!
But his eyes were drawn back to the picture in spite of himself.
Flags were fluttering on the ship. Tiny figures scurried over her decks. He leaned closer, fascinated – though of course it was only a dream.
“Do not touch the picture!”
Douglas jerked back, startled. There was nowhere that voice could have come from. The shed was empty. He tried to tear his eyes from the picture to look around, but he couldn’t. The picture must be magic.
Against his will, he peered closer. There was a man silhouetted against the window of the tower, looking out upon the ship. As Douglas watched, the figures became more distinct, and he saw that the man’s expression was sad. And afraid.
And angry.
“Do not touch the picture!” he repeated.
Douglas could make out the features of the people on the ship. A crooked nose. A twisted lip. No-one he recognised, unsurprisingly. Why would he expect to see someone he knew?
Elizabeth!
His little sister was tied to the mast. He didn’t need the flag crawling up the mast to tell him what he already knew: this ship was a pirate ship.
His blood boiled. But, simultaneously, his head whirled with confusion. How was Elizabeth in the picture?
Then she caught sight of him. Her mouth opened, and tears filled her eyes. “Yuggy!” she screamed.
That settled it. She was real, and he had to rescue her.
“Do not touch the picture!” the man in the tower called again, his voice holding a note of urgency. “Illusions! Illusions!”
But Douglas’ hand inched forward until it was only a centimetre away from the picture. He paused, considering for one last time.
“Don’t!” the man counselled.
But he pushed his finger forward until it touched the canvas.
And then there was darkness, and screaming, and he was falling, falling, falling…
Honourable Mention:
© Karena Christen – Age 14, Latvia
Rain slapped against the panes of the windows and dripped down them in disappointment at being denied entry. The gray sky swallowed up the moon, and, inside the house, two angry voices tore at each other. Their tones were muffled by distance and walls, until the words weren’t that different from the sounds of the raindrops on the windows. The room looked small, but the child knew better than that. She pulled her heavy blue quilt around their shoulders and buried her face in the soft pillow. Then she closed her eyes, blocked out everything except the smell of her pillow and the firm feeling of her blanket.
“There is an island in the sky, and it is perfect. The stars shine bright, the moon is full and big. It never rains on the island.”
A flash of lightning cut the sky in half.
The child jumped and stifled a cry in her pillow.
“Children don’t wear shoes on the island. They run and laugh and play and pull huge fruits off of the trees when they’re hungry. There’s a big tower, like for a bell, and the children sleep in there but only when they want to.”
Through the walls and blankets and distance came the sound of shouting. The child had learned by now the words she heard were not kind ones. She felt the words slide under her door and towards her bed like snakes through the grasses.
“A big boat floats by the island, and sometimes it goes away. It sails through the big beautiful sky and eventually it comes to a little house where the rain wants to come in and snakes circle the bed. The boat comes through the walls and scares the clouds away so that the moon can light up the child. The snakes hiss in fear at the boat, and the rain runs away. The child isn’t afraid. She stands up, goes to the boat, and it carries her to the island.”
The child smiled and let the blanket loosen around her shoulders.
Outside, the rain stopped.
September 2022
Contest Type: Picture Prompt
Winning Entry (Ages 9-12):
The Flight of Acceptance
Elena Filatov – Age 12
Today is the day. The day I will win acceptance from my town, Delagon. I, fifteen-year-old Aliyah Thornburg, an orphan, have a chance. A chance to win. The way I can do this is by winning The Annual Air 5000. This event has a reward of five thousand deschans, enough to live richly forever. Because I am an orphan, everyone (literally EVERYONE) hates me. The only way for anyone to accept me is for me to become richer than them. Then they will finally respect me. The only reason I haven’t flown in The Annual Air 5000 is that the minimum age limit is fifteen years. Now that I’m able to enter and win, that’s what I’m doing right now.
“Get ready, get set, GO!” the announcer yells.
I slowly float into the air. About fifteen other hot air balloons rise with me. “Here goes nothing!” I say to myself.
Winning Entry (Ages 13-15):
The Crimson Dragon
Ike Jake – Age 15
Nathan woke up with a start. Fire filled his vision, and the smell of burning wood filled his nostrils.
Darn, did I set something off in my sleep? he thought to himself.
He jumped out of bed and saw his tower wall had collapsed. Grabbing his sword, he dropped out into the camp. Hot air balloons marked with a brown leaf were dropping explosives down on the camp.
“Prince Nathan!” A man in a red uniform called. “The Autumn Leaf, here for the princess, no doubt.”
“Victor! Where are the men?” Nathan inquired.
“In the block.” He gestured to a black stone building. The soot covered the crimson banners so thick, you could barely see the dragon design.
“And my sister, is she safe?” Nathan said.
“Yes, sir, we will not let your father, Arthur, harm her.” Victor replied.
“Oh, is that so?” came a deep voice.
September 2021
Contest Type: Picture Prompt
(Picture via Pinterest)
Winning Entry:
Sojourner in the Mountains
© Willow Brooke
I shouldn’t have done it. I realise now I shouldn’t have done it. But when Fate knocks, it’s only someone strong and saintly who can resist it. And, whatever other things I might be, I’m not strong and saintly.
I glance down and tuck the fur-lined blanket closer round Jeanette. It’s bitterly cold up here in the mountains, especially when there’s an icy wind whipping up snow around you. Underneath me, Rhedda’s sides are cold, and she is breathing heavily. Mountain ponies are surefooted, but all the same I don’t look down as she picks her way across a bridge without railings over a deep mountain ravine. I am tense in the saddle, but force myself to relax and return to my train of thought.
Stephen was a good man. He was handsome, polite, and a hard worker; it was difficult for even my mother to find fault with him. But in the end she did: he was a commoner. And I was a nobleman’s daughter.
“Still round the corner there may wait, a new road or a secret gate.”
– J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings
The Flight of Acceptance
© Elena Filatov, 2022
Today is the day. The day I will win acceptance from my town, Delagon. I, fifteen-year-old Aliyah Thornburg, an orphan, have a chance. A chance to win. The way I can do this is by winning The Annual Air 5000. This event has a reward of five thousand deschans, enough to live richly forever. Because I am an orphan, everyone (literally EVERYONE) hates me. The only way for anyone to accept me is for me to become richer than them. Then they will finally respect me. The only reason I haven’t flown in The Annual Air 5000 is that the minimum age limit is fifteen years. Now that I’m able to enter and win, that’s what I’m doing right now.
“Get ready, get set, GO!” the announcer yells.
I slowly float into the air. About fifteen other hot air balloons rise with me. “Here goes nothing!” I say to myself.
The only thing with me inside the balloon is a leather backpack. It contains a compass, map, food for five days, and a few other little items.
With the sun high in the sky, sweat begins to pour down my face. I realize that this will be the longest five days of my life, but know it will be worth it.
Later, after it is dark and I am already asleep, I jerk awake. “What was that?” I ask myself, confused. As I look around, I see what woke me up. A stone hand bumped the balloon. I check the map to make sure I am still going in the correct direction. I am not. Currently, according to the map, I should be seeing a castle, but all I see is a stone hand. My blood pressure skyrockets as I panic. I frantically look at the map in confusion because there is absolutely no stone hand anywhere on the map. After I calm myself down, I decide to land on the stone structure for the night and figure out my plan to get back on course the next morning. I throw down the rope as I slowly descend. I land.
Crack.
“What was that?” I ask myself. I decide I am only hallucinating. I hear another crack. Then, as I tie my hot air balloon to the ground, someone taps my shoulder. I shriek.
“Shh,” a low voice says as they cover my mouth with their hand. Suddenly, the world goes dark.
The next morning, I find myself deep in a forest, tied to a tree, and my mouth gagged. “Where am I?” I attempt to say.
A tall middle-aged man walks out from behind a tree. He speaks in a quiet, low voice, “Hello, Aliyah. We’ve been looking for you for a long time.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
The Crimson Dragon
© Ike Jake, 2022
Nathan woke up with a start. Fire filled his vision, and the smell of burning wood filled his nostrils.
Darn, did I set something off in my sleep? he thought to himself.
He jumped out of bed and saw his tower wall had collapsed. Grabbing his sword, he dropped out into the camp. Hot air balloons marked with a brown leaf were dropping explosives down on the camp.
“Prince Nathan!” A man in a red uniform called. “The Autumn Leaf, here for the princess, no doubt.”
“Victor! Where are the men?” Nathan inquired.
“In the block.” He gestured to a black stone building. The soot covered the crimson banners so thick, you could barely see the dragon design.
“And my sister, is she safe?” Nathan said.
“Yes, sir, we will not let your father, Arthur, harm her.” Victor replied.
“Oh, is that so?” came a deep voice.
Nathan looked and saw a huge man. His face was covered with burn scars.
“Let me have my daughter, Nathan.”
Victor retreated as Nathan pulled his sword out of his sheath, its gold blade shining orange in the firelight.
“Why would I do that? She’s been unconscious for months from your last encounter.” Nathan questioned.
“Give her power to me and together we could make a new era!”
“This ‘era’ killed my mother and unless I stop it, will kill my sister!” Nathan snapped.
“Your mother was a needed sacrifice for the greater good. But there is still one more sacrifice needed.”
Nathan threw his hand out at his father and a burst of fire enveloped the king.
It felt good using the power the royal blood line gave him.
A shadowy hand flew towards him.
Nathan swung his sword and slashed the inky hand. Nathan came barreling down on his father. He sent a stream of fire directed down his sword as it met Arthur’s shoulder. The smell of burning flesh filled the air as Nathan leaped back.
“You just had to add another scar to remind me of you. How sweet,” Arthur said as the smoke cleared. Part of his tunic had fallen away and revealed a body covered by scars.
“Why don’t I return the favor?” he said, launching himself at Nathan.
Fiery sword met corrupted blade, and a huge explosion filled the air. Nathan’s ears and body were pummeled by the blast of sheer power. A shadowy fist sent him flying to the other end of the camp and he lay there. Arthur came up to his son and kicked Nathan’s gold sword away.
“Good bye, my son,” he said, raising his sword.
Nathan looked up and saw his sister there, standing, looking with terror. Quick as lightning, Nathan sent a blast of fire out to propel him just out of the way. Sliding onto his knees and blasting a plethora of flames, so big and bright it could be seen for miles.
The great man hit the ground.
And the new king stood.
Winning Entry:
Sojourner in the Mountains
© Willow Brooke
I shouldn’t have done it. I realise now I shouldn’t have done it. But when Fate knocks, it’s only someone strong and saintly who can resist it. And, whatever other things I might be, I’m not strong and saintly.
I glance down and tuck the fur-lined blanket closer round Jeanette. It’s bitterly cold up here in the mountains, especially when there’s an icy wind whipping up snow around you. Underneath me, Rhedda’s sides are cold, and she is breathing heavily. Mountain ponies are surefooted, but all the same I don’t look down as she picks her way across a bridge without railings over a deep mountain ravine. I am tense in the saddle, but force myself to relax and return to my train of thought.
Stephen was a good man. He was handsome, polite, and a hard worker; it was difficult for even my mother to find fault with him. But in the end she did: he was a commoner. And I was a nobleman’s daughter.
By that time, I was beyond caring whether she approved or not; my heart belonged to Stephen. We loved as two people had never loved before, so when my mother forbade us to wed, we agreed to elope.
Elope. Once the idea would have filled me, Lady Eirwen, daughter of Catrin and Edgar, with horror and fear, but now I had a man I loved and trusted at my side, whom to live without would be like Hell on earth. So we ran away.
We knew my mother would send soldiers after us as soon as she found we had gone, so we each took a pony from the stable, and we escaped.
Stephen had arranged for us to wed in the village chapel. After that, we followed the path out of the mountains where I had been born. Until now, I had never looked back.
I come back to reality as Rhedda steps off the bridge. The castle is only a few metres ahead. I sigh, settling in the saddle, and my thoughts return to my marriage.
We led a happy life together. Stephen found work as a woodcutter, and I learned to do housework, a thing I would once have scorned to do. But now I did it without a murmur; there was no-one else to.
Five years after we married, I discovered I was pregnant. Soon our daughter was born, and our cup of joy was full.
But then Stephen was killed by a falling tree, and I realised I had nowhere to go. Nowhere except my birthplace. So I started back, not knowing whether Mother would receive me with joy or icy hatred.
We reach the castle door. I dismount and knock. A page opens it, sees me, and calls over his shoulder.
“It’s your daughter, milady.”
Mother comes into the light. Her hair is grey, but her hands are outstretched in welcome.
“You’ve come back,” she says.
“I’ve come home,” I answer.
