Giselle

Untitled

‘Gobsmacked’ the inelegant word that came to mind when I read the letter. What else would you expect , being told your three year-old daughter’s poem had been awarded first prize ?  A prize  which earned her up to three sittings with well-renowned portrait artist Bernard Broom. Especially when I’d not an inkling she’d  written any…[Read more]

Thank you Janette – you did us proud with thoughtful comments, and well done for every other entry, all of which fitted the remit  much more closely than my hastily-grabbed from a long-ago hidden in the drawer novel.

Simple, I thought – judge a few stories for the March competition while Ath is out of action (Ath, if you’re reading this, sending BIG healing vibes and willing a speedy recovery). But – what a dilemma to be handed. These are all excellent and worthy to be winners in their own right.

But judge I must, as promised, so here are my thoughts:

Jill -…[Read more]

Thank you, Janette!

Janette has kindly volunteered !!

That’s a great shame. All best wishes to Ath.

How about finding another judge?

Could anyone else reading this be willing to judge the comp? Five delightful entries. Then the winner can set the April comp.

Having heard Athelstone indisposed again, it’s unlikely he’ll be be judging  this any time soon

Damn! It messed with my formatting 🙁

The madness is all mine for thinking I could do this!

All words taken from Rod Judkins’ The Art of Creative Thinking.

DRIBBLES AND SPATTERS

Inner demons

chisel

creative confidence

Ideas so strange

wither.

Radiate defiance

Salvage mistakes with freedom

and

transform the message

Come alive!

Running

499 words

My sister’s boyfriend dumped her so she booked a day at a willow-weaving workshop – in the countryside, calming and therapeutic. She’d make a sculpture of a hare though she’d never seen one in real life. Ironic, I thought, as she’d never seen herself either.

I admit the dumping had been nasty. Sis waiting to meet the…[Read more]

Not yet mad enough …

Wine-heavy eyes and naked, she was cleaning her teeth in front of the bathroom mirror when he came in through the door behind her.   He stood behind her, serious-faced, saying nothing, but unignorably attentive.   She finished brushing. Spat, rinsed and spat a couple more times then put the toothbrush back in the glass on…[Read more]

Thank you for such a satisfactory February topic, Libby, and for your generous appraisal! I loved the other two entries; they could easily have won.

Congratulations, Ath – more Teabreak always welcome, and well done Jill for so richly regarding the rules. Thanks Libby for appreciating my desire to take part, but this extract the only one I could recall which specifically mentioned ‘loving’

The February comp has drawn a delightful selection of stories.

@jillsted Jill, you do an evocative encapsulation of Isabel’s memories of different kinds of love. Her memories are compelling, a sense of her moving through a full life. The ending has a twist, if I’ve read it correctly, that adds a shiver to the story, a question of whether Lydia’s…[Read more]

Teabreak in love

Maureen Chapman. No, tell a lie, it was Chaplain, like a vicar. Her name, I mean—she wasn’t like a vicar. Anyway, Maureen Chaplain was perfect from my ten-year-old point of view. But I’m getting all jumbled up about how to start, so I’ll take a breath. See, it really began when the Brazells moved out from next door and the Cha…[Read more]