Category: Competition

Poetry Competition anyone?

Did I see a comment about restarting the poetry competition, anyone?

How about a Roald Dahl-esque poem, telling a fairy tale, but not one he did in his Revolting Rhymes Collection…. so not ‘Cinderella’ – ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’ – ‘Snow White and the Seven Dwarves’- ‘Goldilocks’ – ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ – or the Three Little Pigs.

Closing date December 10th. Post a link in comments below…

 

 

Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow

Brunfelsia pauciflora

They’re lovely, aren’t they, I have perhaps 5 or 6 bushes in my garden and they flower all year round.

It’s not just the beauty of the colours in their floral display that attracts me (and mine flower for the full 12 months of the year) but the scent.

I have them in my driveway, no matter what time of year nor what time of night, as I get out of my car I have this wonderful smell of the plants reminding me that I’m home!

But this isn’t a gardening post, oh no, I need a bit of help. Continue reading “Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow”

Bloomers and Bodices: November Short Story

Bloomers and Bodices: November Short Story

Ambrose had the feeling that the Extraordinary General Meeting of the Board of Grace Emporium was spiralling out of control. In all his years as Chairman, this was a first. Must be getting old, he thought as he listened to the increasingly angry exchanges between his two sons. Miss Phelps had abandoned her scribbles and looked hot and ill at ease as she gazed helplessly in his direction. He mimed raising a cup of tea, and was relieved when she slammed her shorthand pad on the boardroom table and fled the room.

They were still in full flow when Gladys, pushing a trolley through the heavy oak door, shouted “Tea’s up gentlemen, and by the way, Miss Phelps sends ‘er apologies. She’s gone ‘ome, she came over all poorly again.”

Continue reading “Bloomers and Bodices: November Short Story”

Partnership (for Creative Writing competition November 2011)

“Embezzlement, Max?” I heard, and my interest, having wandered, was immediately refocused. “A financial fraud accusation is very serious,” said John, speaking in his measured way. By now I had all my attention on Max. What was all this about?

“I don’t use the term lightly,” I heard my husband say, “and it pains me as Andrew is my oldest friend.”  I glanced at Andrew, who looked so shocked and uncomfortable. “But the figures just don’t stand up,” said Max. “There is a very big anomaly. And I’m surprised,” he said turning to Jackson, the accountant, “that you hadn’t identified a problem yourself, Ian.”

“I’m sure it’s a mistake,” Andrew said, looking around the room. He wouldn’t look at me. He wouldn’t now,in public. Then turning to Max he said, “You know me, Max, I’d never put the partnership in danger. This can all be sorted out with another look at the figures, I’m sure.”

“Just what I arranged,” said Max, “I have hired an independent firm of auditors. In fact they are looking at the books as we speak.”  There was uproar at this. How could he go behind everyone’s back and arrange an independent enquiry? When I looked around the room Andrew and Ian were silent. Ian’s face was like a storm cloud. Continue reading “Partnership (for Creative Writing competition November 2011)”

Results, for ‘Perspective Competition’ (which closed 4th November 2011)

Potential perspective photographs have been presenting themselves to me, or literally pouncing out at me ever since I set the challenge.

I took this one in Weston-Super-Mud, for example!

Continue reading “Results, for ‘Perspective Competition’ (which closed 4th November 2011)”

November’s Creative Writing Competition

Thanks Pseu – I’m somewhat overwhelmed by your choice – “like a stunned mullet”, as we say in Strine – but thanks again for your kind words, and for the congratulations from other Charioteers.

I could think of nothing to write about until I remembered visiting the Berlin suburb of Wedding a couple of years before the wall came down.   As soon as that popped into my head, the plot materialised fully-formed, and I could set to work.

I loved all the stories, and would have had great difficulty choosing between Bilby and Ferret if I had been in the hot seat.

The challenge for November –

We begin in a boardroom where a fierce debate is in progress.   The words ‘dahlia’ and ‘crescent’ must appear, and the story must be less than 2,000 words – and more than 1,000 ❗

Closing date is UK midnight on the 27th of November 2011.   Have fun! 😀

Competition results: ‘Short Story’ closing 31st October 2011

DON’T READ THIS YET –  IF YOU WANT TO VOTE ON THE POLL FIRST!!!

SEE BEARSY’S POST

These were the parameters:

“….up to 2000 words long on the theme of ‘wedding.’ The first scene will start with two people in a room. There’s a key on the table. During the story you should include the words ‘football’ and ‘armchair’. The closing date is October 31st at UK midnight.”

Well, The Royalist (https://charioteers.org/2011/10/25/newly-dead/) surpassed himself, of course, going off-course with a surrealist mis-interpretation which was vair amoozing. (It’s time to get your eyes tested, young man.  The theme was wedding. Not weeding. At least it wasn’t about welding.) He had the other bits… two people and a key on the table, plus football and armchair. So not ‘nil points’! Continue reading “Competition results: ‘Short Story’ closing 31st October 2011”

Just for fun

Because Pseu has received such a gratifying response to her Creative Writing competition – eight entries – I’ve added a Poll.   Menu Bar -> Polls -> Creative Writing Poll

Of course, Pseu’s adjudication remains the genuine article – she is the sole judge and her decision is hers alone – but the poll is there in case anyone feels like giving a tick to their favourite author.

If you’re not happy with this, Pseu, I’ll remove it immediately.

Havisham

They stand, hand in hand, in the fading entrance. Dust spins, twirling gracefully in the weak sunshine; a tarnished chandelier winks lazily above their heads; cobwebs hang listlessly like strips of glimmering gossamer.

‘Wow,’ says Lindsey; her voice echoes unsteadily. She turns, flushed and breathless. ‘Oh it is just perfect. Imagine living here after the wedding…’

‘Hmm’, says Peter, shuffling his feet nervously. ‘How much are they asking for it?’

‘Not sure. But the potential…’ she says. ‘Oh; where did you put the key?’

Peter rummages fretfully in his pocket.

‘Is this what you are looking for?’

He turns; his eyes lock with those of an elderly woman, standing behind them. He shivers; she has a sort of silvery pallor; her eyes are a clear, cold blue.

‘It was on the table,’ she says, holding the key up.

‘Sorry, we let ourselves in…’’ gushes Lindsey, apologetically.

‘Not at all,’ says the woman. ‘Come,’ she says, waving one spidery blue veined, hand. A cold prickle runs down Peter’s back. Continue reading “Havisham”