August, 2011 Winners

The judges said that the entries in this contest were the best they have seen! All the entries were well written and they struggled to come up with their top eight, then worked hard to narrow their choices to the top four. I now present to you the four top stories in the first Fiction in Five Contest of the second contest year:

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First Prize, a $25 Amazon Gift Certificate, a canvas tote bag, publication here and in the 2nd annual Fiction in Five Anthology (due out summer, 2012) goes to:

Tunnel to Freedom

By Kim Van Sickler of Willoughby Hills, Ohio. Kim is a former prosecutor, grant writer, and marketing director, who would much rather be creating fictional worlds at her computer with her reading companion by her side. She started writing short stories to tighten her prose. Her ultimate goal is see her mermaid and witch MG novels perfected and published. She’s a member of Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators and active in local and online critique groups. She’s also an active Girl Scout volunteer, gardener, biker/spinner, and mother of two, step-mother of three.)

Here is her story:

The dark didn’t used to be this scary. Krieger remembered when nightfall meant it was time to relax. He and his family would gather for the evening meal. Then they’d play games, read or watch TV until bedtime.

Nowadays nighttime meant hard and terrible work.

Until tonight. If their plan succeeded, they’d finally be free. Dead or alive.

The incessant buzzing surrounding him mirrored the noise in his head. Did those freeman camps really exist out West?  Would the dragons be waiting for them, as promised, to take them there? But he pushed those murmuring doubts away.  Offering up a silent prayer, he wheeled a two-story cage of flies away from the wall, revealing the tunnel.

“Let’s go!”

Their leader, Baynor, motioned the hundred other children to follow. “Last ones through, replace the cage,” he reminded them.

The tunnel was cool, dark, and free from the sounds and smells that ruled Krieger’s days. The buzzing that got under his skin and set his teeth on edge until he wanted to scream for silence. The sickly sweet smell of rotting fruit and nauseating aroma of decaying animal flesh that came with the job of providing food to the Arachtons, massive spiders with voracious appetites who ruled their world now.

Krieger traveled up front so he could light their way. The beam from his precious flashlight caused him to squint. The children moved silently. Everyone knew the Arachtons had an otherworldly sense of hearing. A voice next to him whispered, “You figure we’re safe until the next shift?”

“I don’t figure nothin’,” Krieger replied. But that had been the thinking behind the plan. Since the children were normally locked in with the Arachtons’ food: breeding it, growing it, and dispensing it at mealtimes, they were all hoping their absence would go undetected until breakfast.

Seven years it had taken them to dig out from the food breeding building to the other side of the sticky web fence surrounding the alien compound. In all that time, Krieger had helped grow all sorts of insects to feed the conquering aliens while dreaming of the day he could escape.

The light bounced off a large rock plugging the end of the tunnel. Krieger and the hefty boy next to him heaved it aside and peered out…into the hairy legs of a patrolling Arachton. Krieger froze, but the boy behind him couldn’t help himself.

He screamed.

Instantly the Arachton’s billboard-sized face swooped down. Headlight-shaped eyes swiveled over the trapped children. A humming sound, like the dial tone of a phone, echoed through the night, and Krieger knew they were doomed.

This patroller was summoning help.

“No!” he shouted, shining the flashlight into the monster’s face. The noise stopped and the creature waved its front legs trying to shield its eyes.

“Run!” Krieger yelled. Children poured out of the tunnel, running between raised legs pawing the air. The sound of bones breaking when those limbs crashed down sounded like a hellish stapler. He tried not to look at the bodies of the children who didn’t make it. After the last child scampered away, Krieger darted out, keeping the blinding flashlight beam on the alien’s twisted face. Ducking behind a tree, he flipped the light off and dove into the woods. The dial-tone warning cry erupted again.

Crashing underbrush told him that the Arachton was close behind.

“Oooomphf!” Krieger tripped over a root and backslid into a ravine.

Breathless, he lay with his hands and legs splayed, listening to the thrashing above pass by.  The call of a blackbird broke off mid-cry. Krieger’s stomach cramped. Baynor was supposed to use the blackbird signal to summon the dragons.

Krieger picked himself out of the shallow water and staggered to a log. He knew he didn’t have much time. That Arachton would either double back to look harder for him or new ones would arrive to round up the children. They were too valuable to be allowed to escape.

Not only did the children do all the hard work for the invaders, but they grew up to supplement the aliens’ insect diet. Human desserts.

Krieger didn’t plan on going back.

Two other children materialized beside him. “Baynor didn’t make it,” one said, his voice tinged with hysteria. “He was trying to summon them when an Arachton got him. What do we do now?”

“The only thing we can do. Summon them ourselves.” Their chance for salvation lay in summoning the creatures who came out of hiding after the Arachton invasion. The dragons would take the children where it was too hot for the hairy spiders to follow. They’d train and mobilize against their common enemy together.

“With your talisman?” A dimpled girl who couldn’t have been older than ten sat with her arms wrapped around herself as if that would protect her.

“My talisman?” Krieger followed her eyes to his flashlight. “Yes.  Why not?”  Since Baynor was the only one who’d perfected the call of the blackbird, he might as well try something else.  “My light will also attract any Arachtons who are close.” Krieger spoke low and fast.

The children nodded. “Do it now,” the pale, skinny boy pleaded.

Krieger pointed the light into the inky night. He flicked it on.  Off…On…Off…

The dial-tone sound punctured the air. Time was running out. The two children screamed and clutched at one another when an Arachton barreled down the hill towards them.

“Run!” Krieger’s hands were so slick with sweat that he was having trouble holding on to the flashlight. Another moment and the creature would capture them in a shower of silky strong web.

The terrified boy looked up at the sky. “Do you hear them?”

The girl’s mouth hung open in concentration. Already the giant Arachton was backing away.

More children popped up beside the log.

“We’re going to be rescued!” a freckled, pig-tailed girl shouted.

The beating of dragon’s wings, like the whir of helicopter blades, was the sweet sound of freedom.

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Second Prize, a $15 Amazon Gift Certificate, a canvas tote bag, publication here and in the 2nd annual Fiction in Five Anthology (due out summer, 2012) goes to:

Off Beat

by Camas Baugh, who has been teaching high school English and graphics design for the last eight years. Prior to teaching, she worked as a graphics designer, writer, editor, and photographer. She earned her undergraduate degree in creative nonfiction writing and literature from The Evergreen State College and her Master’s Degree in Teaching from the University of Phoenix. She is passionate about food, international travel, music and surfing. Currently, Camas is taking a sabbatical from teaching to pursue writing full time; she is working on her first feature length screenplay and a travel blog.

Here is Camas’ story:

Bang…Bang…Bang…The metronomic rhythm of the stapler lulled me into my usual Monday state.  I numbly assembled the market reports for the Tuesday meetings I knew I would never attend. The incessant and barely audible tick of the clock, the hum of the copy machines, and the hushed conversations all blended seamlessly into the perfectly pale, gray office that had become my coffin. If I could have strung an entire thought together, I suppose I would have wondered when I lost my heart. In the recess of my mind, I could almost touch a memory of creativity. Just before the thought became whole, just before it became tangible, just before a touch of color made it to my frontal lobe, however, it dissipated like a wisp of a cloud on a summer day. I could feel my eyes glass over and a tear moisten my crow’s feet. I couldn’t tell you if it was a tear of sadness or a tear of function.

Bang…Bang…RING…The shrill of the phone suddenly tore through my daze like shrapnel. Daniel looked up from his desk, his brow knitting itself into a frown. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it felt as though a clutch of snakes suddenly hatched in my stomach. My hand froze on the stapler when he looked right at me. I had been dreading this day for fifteen years. Daniel’s eyes never left mine as he slowly hung up the phone. He nodded, almost imperceptibly; confirming what my body already told me was true. It was finally over.

Click…Click…Click…The sound of my own high heels guiding me to the elevator, to the lobby, to the street, to the intersection, gave me some comfort, as though walking away needed to have the same rhythm of staying. As I waited for the light to change, I felt my cell phone vibrate in my jacket pocket. I numbly pulled it out and saw Daniel’s name come up on the caller ID screen. I suppose I should have waited for him, but hearing the words would have made it too real. I pressed the ignore button and looked up. A billboard screamed at me to “save for the future.”  Just as I began to wonder what Kelley would have thought about this, a blackbird landed on the corner of the ostentatious advertisement. I wondered if it was the same bird from the day my life fell apart a decade and a half ago. Do birds live for fifteen years? Could this one be the talisman I had been seeking for so long?

With the warmth of the sun on my back, my mind languidly drifted back to the day my sister Kelley, our neighbor Daniel, and I played tag in the field below my house. We had invented our own “Dragons vs. The Wizard” version of freeze tag in honor of Daniel’s recent obsession with Dungeons and Dragons.

“Daniel!” Kelley squealed as she ran through the shoulder-high, wild grass. “You can’t keep picking on me!”

“Stop being a sissy, Kelley,” he shouted back, still chasing her. “You know you chose to be a dragon!”

I always felt a little left out when the three of us played. Daniel and Kelley were the same age, but I was two years younger. Even though no one was chasing me, I ran frantically through the golden tipped grass savoring the feeling of it brushing against my arms. I loved the freedom of believing I was a dragon with magical powers. Kelley leaped gazelle-like through the pasture as I watched in awe while Daniel closed in on her with ease.

“Hey,” she wheezed, “Look at that blackbird!”

“No way, Kelley. You’re not going to trick me again!”

Daniel had gotten used to Kelley’s wild distractions, but I never had. I expectantly raised my eyes to see a blackbird flying erratically through the crisp blue sky.

“Look, Daniel! Look!” I yelled.

Kelley had stopped and was shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked up. Daniel finally stopped and looked up as well. We watched with child like awe as the bird suddenly fell limply from the sky. Wondering what possibly could have happened to this poor creature, we ran toward it. We stopped just short of the stream that ran through our kingdom of magic. With the same abruptness as the bird, Kelley slumped to the ground.

“Kelley? Kelley! Wake up!” I screamed, near hysteria. My feet wouldn’t move. My body had frozen in place, as though I was finally a part of our game of tag. I watched helplessly as Daniel ran to her side.

“Kelley,” he said weakly, shaking her shoulders, “Kelley, what’s wrong?”

I felt a tear slide down my cheek. I was only seven years old. How could I possibly know what to do?

“Kelley,” I heard Daniel say, louder this time. He slapped her cheek lightly. “Kelley, wake up!”

I felt oxygen fill up my lungs when I saw her eyes flutter open. My body released its hold on me, and I stumbled forward to help Daniel pick her up. We carried her to the log next to the stream and sat down, her arms over our shoulders.

“Look, guys…the bird,” Kelley whispered, almost inaudibly, pointing up at the sky as the blackbird flew away. From that moment on, Kelley’s heart defect ruled our lives.

I jumped when Daniel put his arms around me. Suddenly, the city rush, the incessant honking, and the smell of diesel buses overwhelmed me.  I don’t know how long I had been standing at the intersection.

“She got the page, Liz. She’s going in for the transplant today. She’s going to be okay.”

“Me too, Daniel,” I replied. Tears slid warmly down my cheeks as the gray veil finally lifted from my life. “Me too.”

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Third Prize, A canvas tote bag and publication here and in the 2nd annual Fiction in Five Anthology (due out summer, 2012) goes to:

Believe
by Kellie Haze Klocko, nineteen years old, who lives in a suburb outside of Chicago, IL.  She is the oldest of four, and was homeschooled K-12, along with her siblings by her mother, an elementary teacher.  “Believe” is dedicated to her great grandmother, Ruddie, who passed away April 2011 at 99 ½ years old.  Kellie and her family are forever grateful for the memories, love, laughter and wisdom they shared, especially the last three years, making every night a writable experience.  She was an admirable lady full of love and inspiration.  Both Ruddie and Kellie’s mom have instilled in her to always believe. Kellie is pictured here with Ruddie.

Here is Kellie’s story:

Can Grandma see us from up there?” Charlie asked, pointing up at the fluffy white clouds.

“Yep, she can fly too,” Julia said, sitting next to Charlie on the oak log.

“Like a superhero?” Charlie said, his eyes widening.

“No, not a superhero.  Mommy says Grandma is an angel now,” Julia said, the soft breeze blowing her blonde curls.

“Angels aren’t real,” Robert said, throwing a pebble into the stream.

“Yes they are!” Julia argued.

“You can’t even live in the clouds!” Robert yelled back, taking a step towards them.

“If you’re so smart, where is she then?” Charlie yelled.

“She died and now she is buried under the grass, not in the clouds,” Robert answered, throwing his hands out to the side.

“That’s not true!” Charlie and Julia both yelled together, their eyes filling with tears.  Julia grabbed Charlie’s hand and they took off running.

Once they reached their house, they found mom in the kitchen frosting the cookies for the memorial.  Hearing the back door slam, Mom turned around to find Julia’s and Charlie’s rosy cheeks covered in tears.

“What’s the matter?” Mom asked, grabbing a tissue to wipe them up.

“Robert says Grandma is gone and not coming back!” Julia cried, her blue eyes pleading for reassurance.

“And he says she isn’t even an angel,” Charlie added, his shoulders and head lowering as he sighed.

“Well, he just doesn’t believe yet.  He’s just upset and misses Grandma, like we all do.” Mom comforted.  “Let’s leave Robert alone and you both can help me frost these cookies.”

“Why are all the cookies shaped like butterflies?” Charlie asked.

“Because Grandma loved butterflies,” Mom smiled lovingly, handing them each a cookie to frost.

“Mom, will Robert ever believe?” Julia asked worriedly.

“Sweetie, even though Grandma can’t talk to you, she can still send you special messages.  You just have to look for them.”

Just as they were finishing the frosting the cookies, the phone began ringing.

“Hello,” Mom answered.  “Hi Kelsey….yes the church is on Stapler Street….okay we will see you there….” Mom said, hanging up the phone.  “Kids, please go find Robert and tell him we are ready to leave.”

Soon they were all buckled in the car and Dad began driving to the church.  As they drove, the kids looked out the windows for any special messages from Grandma.

“Look!  On the billboard, it says ‘soft as an angel’.  Grandma’s trying to talk to us!” Julia shouted.

“I want Grandma to wave to me.  I wonder which cloud she lives on.” Charlie said, his brown eyes scanning the cotton balls floating across the sky.

“All I see are clouds shaped like dragons,” Robert said smirking.

“You just don’t believe yet,” Julia snapped.

“Yeah, you’re just jealous because Grandma hasn’t sent you a message yet,” Charlie added.

“No I’m not.  That isn’t a message from Grandma.  It is a sign for toilet paper!  And how many times do I have to tell you, Grandma doesn’t live in the clouds!” Robert yelled.

“I hope Grandma sends you a message and proves you wrong,” Julia answered back.

“She can’t!  She’s dead!” Robert said, just as the car pulled up to the church.

The kids were still arguing as they got out of the car and began walking up the sidewalk.

“Hey, hey, what’s all the fighting about?” Aunt Kelsey asked, walking over to the entrance where the children were standing.

“Robert is jealous that Grandma hasn’t sent him a message yet,” Julia said.

“No I’m not!  Grandma can’t send messages.  She is dead!” Robert reminded.

“No she’s not!  She’s an angel!” Charlie yelled.

“How about Robert and I go outside and chat?” Aunt Kelsey said.  Robert rolled his eyes as Kelsey led him outside into the church’s garden.  They sat on the stone bench underneath a flowering tree, where a little blackbird was perched.

“I want it to be true,” Robert admitted, trying to hold back his tears.  “But I’m not a little kid.  I know she is gone,” he said kicking at the grass below him.

“But she isn’t gone.  You can talk to her whenever or wherever you want to.  Just because you can’t see her, doesn’t mean she’s gone,” Aunt Kelsey said, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“You really believe that?” Robert asked, looking up at the sky.

“Yes, and deep down, I think you do too.  Here, I think you should have this,” Kelsey said, placing a stone, with a butterfly engraved on top, into his little hand.

“What’s this?” Robert asked, his face puzzled as he studied the gray stone.

“It’s called a Talisman.  Grandma gave it to me when I was a little girl.  You see, when my grandma died, I was like you.  I thought she was gone.  But Grandma said that this stone had magical powers, and if I wished hard enough, my grandma would send me a special message.”

“Did it work?” Robert asked.

“Why don’t you find out for yourself,” Kelsey said, getting up and walking back into the church.

Robert sat alone on the bench, squeezing his eyes shut and gripping the stone in his small right hand.

“Grandma can you really hear me?  I miss you and I love you.” Robert pleaded, staring at the ocean blue sky.  Nothing.

Defeated, Robert stood up and began walking back inside the church.  Just then an orange and black colored butterfly caught his eye.  It flew out of the garden, landing onto Robert’s clenched hand that was holding the stone.  Robert stared in disbelief at the beautiful butterfly as it gracefully fluttered its wings.  A smile slowly lit up his young face.

“Grandma?”

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Honorable Mention, publication in the 2nd annual Fiction in Five Anthology (due out summer, 2012) goes to:

The Fishin’ Hole, by Lori Quiller