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Showing posts from June, 2009

Competition 2008/9 winners

The final judging is complete. Exeter Writers would like to thank all those who entered the competition and wrote such a fascinating and varied selection of short stories. We hope you enjoy reading the winning stories. The final line-up is: First prize: Learning to Swim by Anne Summerfield Second prize: Honour thy Father by Tony Matthews Third prize: Swimming Away by Clare Reddaway Runners-up: (not in order of preference) Marigolds in Winter by Linda Mitchelmore Life Class by Anne M Watts The Scapedog by Anne Goodwin Rosie's Kiss by Joan Moules The Dog in the Pram by Maggie Knutson Gaudy by Martin Sorrell Straight A's by Ian Burton Matoose Rowsay by Jenny Knight Flight of the Worm by Janet Edwards Ready to Explode by Catherine Scott

3rd Prize (2008/9) - Swimming Away by Clare Reddaway

Swimming Away by Clare Reddaway She is sitting on the beach, alone. Her legs are curled under her, and her hands are feeling the pebbles at her side. They are smooth, like ducks’ eggs. They fit snugly into her palm. The kind of pebble David used to kill Goliath, she thinks. She looks out over the sea. It is pewter, it is lead. The waves are bloated and sullen. They clutch at the shore and rasp as they retreat, surly as a kicked cur. The wet shore shines with the slug trail residue of the waves. The cliffs, honey and butter in sunshine, are the grey of gravestones and loneliness.

Honour Thy Father / 2nd in 2008/9 Competition

HONOUR THY FATHER © Tony Matthews The Reverend Theodore Makepeace first got wind of his father’s alleged misdemeanours at the Ivydene Home for the Elderly when he received a letter from the local branch of the Social Services. The letter, signed by the Head of Elderly Services, invited him to a meeting to discuss complaints from female residents and staff ‘relating to your father’s behaviour at Ivydene over recent weeks’.

Learning to Swim / 1st in 2008/9 Competition

LEARNING TO SWIM © Anne Summerfield Shanthi is teaching us to swim.       ‘Now,’ she says, ‘show me your best push and glide. Let’s see who can get the furthest. Yes?’       Here in the shallow end, the pool reflects cloudless blue. There’s a ridge of tiles, a bar that we claw with our hands, our arms stretched taut behind us. We put our best chests forward, feet against tile glaze.       ‘Ready? Go!’