- Bill Engleson | @billmelaterplea
- Anna Lund | @AnnaLund2011
- Siobhan Muir | @SiobhanMuir
- Sheilagh Lee | @SweetSheil
- Madilyn Quinn | @MadilynQuinn
- Kelly Heinen | @Aightball
- Mary Decker | @mishmhem
- Bunmi Oke | @bunmi_oke
- Cara Michaels | @caramichaels
Kelly Heinen | @Aightball
Vivien says: I really like the contrast of the quiet resignation of the circumstances with the metal session setting. Plus, while it was a complete moment in and of itself, this made me want to experience and learn more about its characters. I'd easily read a book about Shawn because I've already probably fallen a little in love with the character.
Mary Decker | @mishmhem
Vivien says: The real treat in this was the last line. Sisters who look out for each other are always a win. Go, Elaine! :)
Bunmi Oke | @bunmi_oke
Vivien says: Second person POV is so hard to pull off, and yet it's done very well in this. Tightly paced, evocative details, then the twisted ending. This is the type of ballsy writing that reminds me how much I love to read and that stories are worlds of constant surprises.
Bill Engleson | @billmelaterplea
Vivien says: So much emotion packed into such a short piece! I love the visceral details that bring the beginning to life, putting the reader right there on the bench and then painting a tragic picture in Old Man Morrow. This one lingered long after I was finished. Well done!
Old man Morrow sits on the bench outside the Bakersville Train Station. The morning mist is still clinging to the autumn earth. The tracks glisten with a hint of dew; the whistle blows.
“G’morning, Harry,” I offer, unsure if he knows that I am even here, so intent is he on the approaching train.
His head turns. The black eyes, the old mackinaw, the running shoes, ancient Adidas, black and white and ripped, all take the heart out of me.
“Hello, Stationmaster.” His breath fails. “It’s coming.”
“Yes sir, it is. The S and O is always on time. The rest of the world may be going to hell in a hand basket but you can always depend on the S and O.”
He barely grins at my tired repetition of the advertisement from head office. He never grins but I keep trying.
“You know he’s coming back today?” I ask the same question I have asked almost every day for over two years.
He looks away from me, towards the distant whistle, as if it is a song he knows and is trying to name.
I turn towards the parking lot to see the 16 year old Chevy. Instead, there is the hearse from the Bakersville Mortuary. Clint Samuels is behind the wheel. Margaret Morrow is leaning on the open passenger door.
The steady Silver Commute pulls in to the station.
The coffin is unloaded.
Lost to the war; lost to peace; Bryan Morrow has finally arrived home.
Congratulations Three Time Winner Bill, Kelly, Mary, and Bunmi! Don't forget to claim your badges and display them with pride. You certainly earned it!
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