WRITING CONTEST
THE WRITERS OF ROHAN
Dear Students,
We would like to thank all of you who submitted a story to our Writers of Rohan First Annual Writing Contest. We were so impressed with the quality of all your submissions that we decided to create 2nd and 3rd place rewards. We were awestruck with all your talent and writing skills. I hope this will encourage you to continue writing. Some of the stories simply blew us away and put us on an emotional roller coaster, some made us cry, some were incredibly ambitious with illustrations and had an aspiration one day to become a full length novel. None of them made us feel indifferent! Great job!
I hope this contest will encourage all of you to continue writing. I hope all of you will continue to challenge yourselves and push deeper to find human emotions. We hope you enjoy reading all of them.
Congratulations to all our winners!!!
The Writers of Rohan
A Note From the Judge Denise:
These stories were so impressive. The authors are only 13? Amazing!
It was incredibly difficult to select a winner. I went back and forth a lot on this one, between I Will Never Leave Your Side and White Cliffs of Dover. After a lot of thought, I'm selecting I Will Never Leave Your Side. I thought the author wrote with tremendous feeling and really let the reader know what it's like to navigate the world without vision. The plight of the young girl and her dog was told simply and well. I was really moved by it.
That said, I felt that White Cliffs of Dover was also very well written -- it's so cinematic and ambitious! I could see it playing out in my head, and was excited by the possibilities. I think the author might also consider this as a screenplay for a short film.
A Christmas Miracle was very good, but there were some story points that needed strengthening in order for it to really work. But there were lots of wonderful elements to it -- particularly the depiction of the younger sister.
Congratulations to our winners!
Third Place and a $50 reward
A Christmas Miracle
By: Camille
Prologue
I wake up with my chest aching painfully. Reaching from my shoulders to my forearms - at least that's what I can see - are patches of red skin. What's happening to me? I wonder, my mental voice shaking. This hasn't ever happened to me, and it's certainly not something a normal 15-year-old like me would have to experience.
I want to ask for help, but something within me just can't. I don't want this to be real, I realize. Maybe it isn't - maybe I'm just in a dream. A horrible dream. I pinch myself, making sure it's as hard as I can.
Nothing happens. My eyes widen when my hand comes away with flakes of dried skin. Since when were those there? I want to scream, but I can't bring myself to. I decide to pretend nothing's happened - a part of me is aching to. I get dressed as I normally do... or I try to.
My whole chest is covered in red welts and scaly-feeling skin. I look down at the outfit I was going to wear - a purple, short-sleeved shirt and jeans. I shake my head - I can't wear this anymore. For good measure, I grab all of my shirts that are three-quarters-length or shorter - I'm not taking any chances, and dump them all in my laundry basket, along with all of my cropped-shirts.
I get dressed in a pink, long-sleeved shirt - which I'm sweating in, since it's summer - and black pants, along with a knitted, blue sweater just in case my sleeves get rolled up or something. I'm not taking any precautions, I tell myself.
When I come down the stairs, breathing in and out to stop the pain, my mom's waiting downstairs, making pancakes. She's wearing a white blouse (also with long-sleeves, but she's a mom) and jeans. When I come down, she stares at me quizzically. "Alicia, honey, go back to your room and change, won't you? It's over 90 degrees outside - you'll burn up. You should wear one of the nice tank tops I got you."
I try not to let my irritated expression take me over. Then an idea pops into my head - I'll just sneak the sweater into my backpack and wear it at school. "Okay! You're right, I don't know what I was thinking." I roll my eyes at myself, but the action is downright fake. "I'll do it."
And so I shovel a few pancakes into my mouth, pack my backpack, and I'm off to school.
Red welts and all.
Chapter 1
Ever since that morning when I woke up... different, my life has never been the same. It's been exactly 147 days - from July 7 to today, December 1.
I wear a sweater every day I go to school - even in the middle of summer, when this all started. Because of that, I've gotten a new nickname from the popular (and super arrogant) Stephanie, who never hesitates to corner me for some extra-satisfying insults.
I'm Alicia Jones, Sweater Girl. The girl who hides behind her long sleeves. That's who I am to everyone now, and my own mother once accidentally slipped and almost called me "Sweater Girl." Maybe that's who I am now.
I roll out of bed and stare at the calendar. Yep, it's December 1, all right. I don't know what I'm expecting, but I'm definitely wishing it was last year again. When I was a normal 14-year-old, instead of who I am now. I haven't told anyone - maybe this is something that just comes with growing up? But if anyone had experienced this, wouldn't they have told me?
I sigh. I've been pretty much dying to find out what my condition is, but I'm also dreading it at the same time. But I need to find out, I remind myself. I keep waking up with an aching pain in my chest, and I'm feeling like I'd do almost anything to stop it.
I grab my laptop from my desk and open up Google Chrome.
I begin to type all my symptoms: flaky skin, red welts, headaches. I look at my work. It probably isn't everything I've been experiencing this last half a year, but I click "Search" anyway.
Breast Cancer.
The words on the screen become huge, and I gasp. I know what breast cancer is - Mom and I used to donate to foundations to help all the time! And... I have it? It makes so much sense, but it's surprising at the same time.
The door swings open. My mom peeks in. "What are you doing?" she asks.
"Oh, uh," I search for how to continue, "we're doing this... project," I add hastily, "in class. It's where we are given a bunch of symptoms for a disease or condition and we have to find out what it is." I show her my screen. "Mine turned out to be breast cancer."
Mom raises an eyebrow. It doesn't seem like a high-school project, that's for sure. But she doesn't seem to care. "Okay. Honey, make sure to come down for breakfast soon. I made blueberry muffins last night!" Then she closes the door and leaves.
I get dressed fast - my mom's a cook (she even has her own restaurant, Splendid Spices). Her restaurant might be Italian, but she's amazing at cooking pretty much everything, which includes her tasty blueberry muffins. I come downstairs, the aroma filling my nose.
"Those smell delicious," I say to Mom. I don't feel quite as sad when I bite into one of her muffins - cinnamon, fresh blueberries, and sugar, all in one bite. "And they are delicious," I mumble through bites.
Mom smiles, leaning over the counter to look my way. "Why, thank you. You eat a bunch of those - actually, why don't you pack some in your lunch?" She quickly wraps a few in a napkin, puts them in a container, and hands them to me. "I just want to make you happy. But I have to go do some work at the restaurant, and call up a new porter, since the last one quit."
I nod: I know from Mom that a porter is the person who comes to clean a restaurant. I also know that my mom's a neat freak, probably the reason the last porter quit. She tends to tell them how to do their job, and... let's just say they don't exactly appreciate it. But she makes up for that by paying them extra.
Mom kisses me on the cheek, swings the front door open, stops, then adds, "Oh, and make sure you and your sister get to school. Have fun!" Then she's gone.
"Alicia!" a small voice calls from above me.
I sigh: it's my 5-year-old sister, Lily. "Come down, Lily. Mom left and told me to take care of you. She made blueberry muffins!" Then I remember my sister's strange aversion to cinnamon.
"Cinnamon," she says plainly, sticking out her tongue. She comes down the stairs with her dollie, Sprinkles. Sprinkles has curly, blonde hair that Lily wishes she has, blue eyes, and a pink, strawberry-printed dress decorated with lace at the bottom. At least, that's the look she's sporting today. Yesterday's was a pantsuit - you never know what to expect. "Don you wuv Spwinkle's dress? It's purty, right?"
"So purty," I say teasingly. "I'll get you your Sugar Blasters cereal." That's the only cereal Lily will eat and - big coincidence - it's probably the most sugary thing on the planet. Last time she ate it, she came home from kindergarten with a note saying, Lily accidentally kicked a kid in the face when she was climbing on the jungle gym.
And Lily never plays on the jungle gym! At least, that's what Mom and I thought when we got the note. Our dad died before Lily was born, and we only have two pictures - one where Mom and him were getting married and another when I was with my dad as a baby.
I wish I could remember him. As hard as I try, I just can't envision him. Mom says he had black hair and brown eyes, while she has turquoise eyes and brown hair. He's where we get our hair color.
I sigh, grabbing the cereal from the cupboard. I open the fridge and get out the almond milk...
"Hey!" Lily shouts, pointing at my selection of milk. "That bad milk!" I roll my eyes. Lily can be more than a little picky at times. I get out the regular milk instead.
Then I pour the Sugar Blasters into a bowl with the milk and the tiny, silver spoon that Lily loves. "Here, you should eat this. We're going to be late for school." She eats it slowly, but we end up leaving the house to get on the bus at the right time.
Chapter 2
I don't want to go to school, that's for sure. But I really don't want to disappoint Mom - I probably already have with keeping this new condition from her. It's necessary, I try to convince myself. But for what? I'm just... embarrassed, I guess. Who wants to learn that their daughter has breast cancer? Mom's barely getting on as it is, being a single mom.
As soon as Lily and I get on the bus, I tell the bus driver, "Sunny Acres Elementary."
He smiles at me. "That'll be our first stop. Then, Valley Fields High School." I feel a large weight drop in my stomach. Does that mean... Stephanie's here - or did her fancy daddy drive her? But this bus usually only goes to Sunny Acres, Lily's school, and I normally have to take another.
"Hey, Sweater Girl!" comes a voice from behind me. "Brought Mini Sweater Girl, now did you?"
It's Stephanie. I scoff - Lily's recently gotten a new My Little Pony jacket that she won't go without. "Find us a seat, Lily," I say to my sister, who nods and finds one. I don't sit yet, though. I have a bit of business to take care of with Stephanie. "Hey, at least my daddy didn't dump me today." Then I realize just how horrible a comeback that is.
"Yeah," Stephanie replies, "he dumped you a while ago!" She turns around for a moment to high-five a few of her minions.
My cheeks are red, and I don't feel like arguing anymore. Lily looks close to tears, and my chest is throbbing harder than ever with pain, so I go to sit by my sister. "What happen?" Lily wonders. "That girl scary." She starts pulling her jacket even further around her.
I sigh. "She's a bully. You should eat something - the Sugar Blasters are going to come back and haunt you."
Lily giggles. "Okee!" Then she opens her lunchbox and eats her green apple slices. For some reason, Lily absolutely loves sour things. You give her a lemon - she'll eat it straight down to the peel. Same story with any other acidic fruit, and she once devoured a whole box of Warheads. "Mommy says for Christmas I get new dresses for Spwinkles! She look so purty!"
"Yeah, Lily, yeah," I say, and I'm suddenly out of breath. I start hyperventilating, trying to gather as much air into my lungs as possible. At this point, I can't talk, and I know I'm close to blacking out.
"You okee?" I hear Lily's voice ask, but it feels like she's from a distant planet, somewhere far, far away....
I close my eyes and let the darkness take me over.
I wake up with my head spinning and my vision is tinted with black. "Lily?" I ask weakly.
A figure leans over me, helping me sit up by adjusting my pillow. I'm on a bed, I realize. When I look down, it has thin, white covers and the mattress has springs. I'm in the nurse's office - in high school! Then the morning comes rushing back to me: my weak comeback and Stephanie's witty reply. And then passing out.
"She left. It wasn't her decision, but as soon as your mother found out about you blacking out, she immediately rushed to see you and Lily. At first, your mother insisted upon staying, but when you kept your unconsciousness for over three hours, and Lily needed to return home, she went," the nurse explains, sitting down on her chair and twisting her dark curls. Her dark skin was pale with everything that had happened.
"Oh." The three hours thing is a huge deal to me. Now everyone knows. Everyone knows about my weird condition. It's not a secret anymore. "Why do you think I fainted?"
The nurse looks at me. "Well, I'm uncertain. I think I'll run a few tests to see what it is, but I have to first run that by your mom. Otherwise, it could just be that you woke up too early or something minor like that."
I direct my blue eyes at the floor. I'm relieved, but at the same time I'm panicking. Mom doesn't know - but she will when the test is conducted! "Do I have to do the test?" I ask, trying to make my face look as sad as possible, but it isn't hard.
"It won't hurt," the nurse promises, taking my question the exact wrong way.
"That's not what I'm worried about," I say, but it's a huge mistake.
The nurse raises her eyebrows. "Huh?"
I decide to play dumb. "Oh, I just thought you said something else. I just didn't want you to syringe me or something horrible like that."
"Of course not! Just a few minor tests. I'm going to call your mother to ask if it's okay." I nod, my brain far away. "Oh, and meanwhile?" the nurse adds. "You should get to class."
Just as I'm opening my locker to get my books for my first period, a note falls out. I'm startled - no one ever sends me notes! Not even my old friend, Leah - apparently I'm not good enough for her attention anymore. I unfold it, half-expecting it to be a rude letter from Stephanie.
Alicia,
I know everyone thinks there's something wrong with you now - but I don't. There's nothing wrong with wearing sweaters. Not if you ask me. It's pretty stupid that Stephanie's such a bully. I'm not inviting you to my New Years' Party for sympathy, or because it's a dare or anything. I don't pay attention to those things.
It's on December 31, at the local pool, at 10 o' clock 'till 2.
I'd love it if you could come.
~ Nico
Nico? Why on earth would the most popular boy at school want anything to do with me? This has to be a prank from Stephanie. There's no reason why this note wouldn't be fake.
"She's really outdone herself with this one," I fume, crumpling up the note and throwing it in the trash can nearby. "Hey, Stephanie the Sweater-Hater!"
Stephanie starts flouncing up to me. "Oh, I see you've taken up insulting as well. Bet your daddy would be proud - wait, he's dead!" She laughs cruelly. My face turns red.
"Oh, yeah? Then explain this!" I get the note out of the bin and show it to her stupid face. "Oops, I forgot it takes a while for those rusty gears to start working." I could've sworn that one took the witty little smile off Stephanie's plastic face.
She puts a hand on her hip, but her confidence is easily fading. "Um, yeah, well, your sweater... looks stupid."
I smile - now I have the upper hand. "You just realized? How long did it take your pea-brain to figure that out? Want me to take you to the auto shop? You can borrow my sweater you love so much!" Stephanie directs one last pathetic glare at me, twists on her 7-inch heels, then clacks down the hall.
I won that battle.
I might feel weak.
But I am strong.
Chapter 3
Ever since I came home on the first of December, Lily's been counting the days up until Christmas. And me? I've been counting down the days to Nico's party. Here's how it started...
On December 1st, I got home from school and Lily skipped up to me. "24 dayees 'till Christmas! You happee?"
I nodded, but then my eyes narrowed. "Yeah, I'm happy. What happened at school today?" Once again, she'd gotten picked up - this time by me, since Mom was at work. "I know something happened..."
"Nothing happen!" Lily insisted, crossing her arms. "I sure!"
"Fine..." I dragged out the word. "I'll hear about it from Mom later."
As it turned out, she'd "consumed great amounts of sand," as the note from the yard teacher at her preschool proclaimed. She didn't behave any better the next few days, and ten days later, Mom comes home with news...
She hangs her coat on the rack. "Well, you know how your father, er, left life when Lily was a baby?" I nod skeptically, knowing exactly where this is going. "I found... someone else," she finished.
"You did?" I ask her, outraged. I stand up from the table, forgetting my manners. "You found someone to replace Dad? What happened to loving the man you married, and respecting him? I have to go." Then I charge up the stairs to go to my room.
To cry.
Our conversation was short, but it definitely wasn't sweet. A few days later, on the 15th, I tell her that she's not allowed to bring the new man into the house - I won't let her marry anyone else. I thought she loved our real father. That same day, before returning home from school, I stop by the graveyard.
Walking alone over the hills, I run into Nico. "Oh, hi! What are you doing here?"
He doesn't turn to look at me. "My mother died. I came to honor her for the holidays. What about you?"
"Similar. My mom's trying to marry another man - my father died 5 years ago. In a way, I also came here to honor him. And to be alone - away from my mother, at least." I cast my eyes down.
Nico's green eyes stare into mine, framed by his brown hair. "If you want me to go, I can..."
"No," I tell him, my voice as soft as I intended it to be. "Please don't. I just want to say that I'm definitely excited for your party. I want to get to know you a little better." Then a message pops up on my phone, and I add, "Sorry I have to go."
Just as I do, he says, "I want to get to know you a little better, too. And I think I'm going to like it."
Even though I'm sure he can't tell, I wave goodbye and smile all the way home.
As soon as I get home, my head starts spinning. When I'm in the entryway, I hastily set down my coat, empty my backpack, then charge up the stairs. I get to my room before long, where I run to the bathroom.
Suddenly all my muscles feel weak, and I can't support myself. I lean against the counter, then, forcing myself up, run the tap water and douse my face with it. If I had any more energy, my face would've been red, and tears would've been streaming down it. My chest hurts more than ever, like someone's set it on fire.
My face is pale with the pain, and I stretch out onto the bathroom rug. Breathe, I instruct myself, but my heart is racing so hard that it's impossible to.
At about this time, my mom sprints into the room. "I saw how fast you moved! Is something wrong?"
The truth has to come out one of these days, and it's already been half a year. "Ever since July, something's felt wrong. I keep waking up in the middle of the night from a nightmare, and my head keeps throbbing. And I'm always feeling like my chest is burning. And... I know what it is."
Mom motions for me to continue, and I do, reluctantly:
"I have breast cancer."
"Oh, honey..." Mom begins, "I didn't know that! You know, Alicia, you can tell me anything, no matter how crazy it seems, or how much you want to keep it under control. Because I do, too. You know, I'm going to call Andrew right now" - he's the new boyfriend - "and cancel the wedding."
"The wedding?" I ask, a spark of fury lit within me. "You can't possibly have already scheduled a wedding - without telling Lily or me..."
"Actually," Mom told me gravely, "I've been trying to tell you, but you never seem like you've had time. But now I understand."
I bury my face in her shoulder. "Thanks, Mom."
"But in the meanwhile, we need to get you to the local doctor's office. Remember how the nurse at school told you they'd run a few tests, as long as it's okay with me? Well, now I've decided it's okay with me. I want you to take a quick shower to calm down, then as soon as you're ready, come downstairs for a snack, then we'll go.
"And when the tests are over, we're going to see whether you have cancer or not - for real."
It's not long before I've showered, eaten a snack (a cookie, since Mom feels bad for me), and have sat down in Mom's car. "Ready to go?" Mom asks me, and a nod from me is all she needs to confirm. But the truth?
I am ready, just not for what she thinks. After a few turns, we're at the doctor's office, and I get out before Mom, who feeds the parking meter. Excellent, I think to myself. I enter the doctor's office early, and instead of sitting down to wait, I ask the receptionist a question: "Can I go into one of the empty rooms, just to see how they work?"
"Sure," the receptionist responds, eyes still on her piles of paper.
I go into Room 5 (which Mom has told me is the one we're most likely to be in), and I first scan the room. It's empty, except for a machine in the middle. I look over the wiring, and I realize that there are pipes connected to it (most likely to pierce my arm), that determine the result shown on the screen.
I've brought a drive with me. I have a plan - to hook those pipes up to the drive (which makes it so it reads that I don't have cancer), so I can convince Mom and the doctor that I don't have cancer - she doesn't need to take care of me all the time.
Then the door opens, and a doctor steps in. She's wearing a mint-green uniform and mask, and has short, red hair. "I admire you for taking the time to see how the machine works, but I think we've got to start the examination. Your mother tells me you think you have cancer?" I nod. "If you do, this screen" - she taps the screen I've gotten ready to sabotage - "will read Positive, and if you don't it will read Negative."
I nod again - I've researched all this.
"Here is the difficult part. You have to hold out your arm, and I'll put the ends of these pipes, I guess you could call them, in your arms. This will identify how your blood is channeling, and even if I can't read it, the machine will." This is turning out better than I expected.
Then she inserts the pipes into my arms, and I turn over my right arm so the doctor can't see it, taking the pipe out of my arm, but into the flash drive. There's an immediate beeping on the screen, and it reads, Negative.
"Well, I guess you're clear," the doctor tells me, taking the tubes off my arms. "This machine really is fantastic - the results were quick. I'll chat with your mother for a moment - but otherwise, you're clear."
I thank her, then go back to the car. In everyone else's eyes, the cancer problem is solved, but in mine, it lives on.
I've got to find a solution - and fast.
Chapter 4
A week later, on the 22nd, I come up with a solution for my problem, however unreliable it may be. I'll write a letter to Santa. I spend a lot of my time after school (after I've finished my homework) writing the letter, and this is the result I'm happy with:
Dear Santa,
I'm 15 years old, which is kind of old to be writing to you, but I have an issue. I have breast cancer, which no one else knows about. But that's okay - I don't want them to know. Please can you cure me, even though it might be impossible?
Merry Christmas,
Alicia
It's not that I'm convinced this will work that I'm doing it; just that Christmas is only a few days away and I have no other ideas. Crossing my fingers, I throw the paper into the fireplace, hoping that it will somehow reach Santa.
The days following me writing the letter pass slowly. On Christmas Eve at nighttime, I walk down the hall, dazed, with a blaring headache. On the 23rd, I woke up after experiencing yet another night terror, and I dread going to sleep at all.
I wake up - and it's Christmas! I look over at my nightstand, and the clock reads, 7:13 AM! But even waking up on time - and without nightmares - isn't what I'm most excited about. There's another letter on the table, and it reads,
Alicia,
I cured you. Thank you for your letter - I know you are a kind girl, and you've been through a lot these past few months. I've had my eye on you for a while, and when I got your letter, I knew I needed to step in and help. And how I did it? Let's just say I believe in Christmas miracles.
~ Santa Claus
He's done it! I realize now that my head isn't throbbing, and my body doesn't feel like it's on fire! I'm cured! I rush down the stairs into the kitchen, where Mom is making her strawberry-blueberry pancakes, with homemade whipped cream and chocolate chips. "What are you looking so excited about?" Mom asks me.
I smile knowingly, unable to tell the truth, but I have an excuse. "It's Christmas!"
Mom kisses me on the cheek. "I love you, honey."
At around that time, Lily comes down the stairs. "Pancakes!" she sings, taking a seat at the table. Then, being the 5-year-old demon she is, Lily bangs her fists on the table. "Pan-cakes! Pan-cakes!" she shouts over and over. Mom, chuckling, serves her a plate of three pancakes, then hands me one holding five.
If I had still had cancer, I would've refused the number, but I don't, digging in.
You know what?
I think I believe in miracles.
Epilogue
I'm never going to forget that Christmas. But I'm also never going to forget Nico's party, on the 31st. I wore a blue dress - and it wasn't long-sleeved - for the first time after Christmas, which I'd gotten as a present from Mom. Here's exactly how it happened:
I wake up at 9 AM, since it's a weekend. Nico's party starts at 10 o' clock at night - and I'll be staying there until the beginning of 2018. I have a feeling it'll be a good year - better than this one, at least. I throw on a T-shirt (even if it's winter, I'm ditching my sweater) and jeans.
When I come down the stairs, neither Mom nor Lily are there. I make a few sloppy pancakes, sitting at the table to eat them. After I've finished, Mom and Lily still aren't downstairs. That's fine.
I check my watch - it's 10:30. I'll leave for the mall in a few minutes, with my new friend...
Stephanie.
As it turns out, she really wasn't that mean, and even after refusing to talk to me after my comeback on the 1st of December. Stephanie told me it made her realize that she'd been a jerk that whole time - which, even though I never told her, she definitely had been.
I hop on the local bus after walking to the stop, where Stephanie meets me. "Hey!" I greet Stephanie when I see she's already taken a seat.
She motions for me to sit next to her, and I do. "I see you've ditched your sweater," she remarks, a fragment of guilt in her eye.
"Hey, I believe you," I respond, patting her gloved hand. "And..." I think about telling her about the cancer thing, but maybe it's better to keep that a secret. "Never mind. Are you coming to Nico's party?"
Stephanie shakes her head. "He invited me after I realized how horribly I've treated you. But honestly? I feel like I don't deserve to come after everything I've done. Sorry about that, again."
We sit in silence for the rest of the ride - her feeling sorry, and me trying to process everything she's said.
The whole trip ends up being Stephanie telling me whether something I like is "hot" or not. When I leave the store with armfuls of bags and a new (and improved, as far as Stephanie's concerned) wardrobe. I wish her goodbye after the bus stops at home.
It seems to take forever for 10 o' clock to approach. I eat lunch, then read for a while, and after a painfully long time, there's dinner and dessert. But then, to my dread, there are more hours of waiting. In that time, I put on the dress and adjust it so it looks perfect. Not that it needs much.
Finally, it's 9:30, and Mom drives me to the local pool. When she turns right, I see her face... which is covered in tears. "I'm so happy for you," she tells me, wiping the tears when we reach a stop.
I start feeling tears come to my eyes, too. "Why?" I ask, confused.
Mom sighs, but it turns into a bunch of hiccups. "I saw your letter, before you burned it. And I know what you did at the office. But honey, I'm so proud of you. You really fought your way through it. I have no idea when you first found out you had cancer, but it must've been a while ago."
"In June," I correct her, my voice a million miles away. "It really was a while ago."
"But you need to know that you can count on me - for anything, Alicia," Mom continues. "We're here," she adds, when we pull into a parking spot. I get out and wish her goodbye.
I enter the fenced-in pool area, gasping instantly. All around the area are candles of all sizes, each one glinting with its flame. The pool itself is lit up by lights at the bottom of the pool and on the sides, all of which change color regularly. There are pool chairs with towels thrown over them, and a stack of towels rests on a table beside them.
The strangest thing is...
It's only Nico, standing in the midst of all this.
"Is this some sort of joke?" I ask him, who chuckles in response.
He comes a little closer, and I feel my brain abandoning me. "No, it's not. I guess everyone's just late." His statement doesn't seem like anything less than the truth - and that's because it isn't. I find myself staring into those green eyes again, and when I look around, I realize Nico's staring into mine.
Then the guests start arriving - teenage girls and boys from my high school. I realize that all of them are older than me, and I start to feel a little awkward. But all the while, Nico hardly breaks away from me to greet them.
When everyone's appeared, an attractive, dark-skinned girl enters the area with a tray of food. She drops it off, then leaves. For a while, I snack and sit by the pool, until it's already 11:30.
Then Nico comes over, kneeling beside me. "Alicia?"
"Yes?" I ask in response, turning my head toward him.
His eyes are full of candlelight, and when he reaches for my hand, time stops. "Will you dance with me?"
To be honest, I don't think I'm the greatest dancer, but I smile, and reply, "Of course." Then I put my hand on his shoulder, and with me overwhelmed by how close we're standing, we start a slow dance, and delicate music plays around us. Before I know it, it's already 11:55 - five minutes until 2018!
Nico opens his mouth, his breath hot on my cheeks as he speaks, "Are you ready for 2018?"
I laugh quietly, and I feel people gathering around us as silence takes over. "Not really. But can you ever really be?"
Nico smiles - a beautiful, sincere smile that makes something within me flutter. "I guess not," he replies.
I hear people getting ready to cheer - it's 11:59!
Then I go for it. I cover the extra distance between Nico and I, and he catches me.
Then my lips press against his, just as the fireworks erupt around us.
Maybe 2018 won't be so bad.
The Judge's comments:
This story really captures the angst of being a teenager. What makes it such a unique and compelling read is that this teenager is keeping a dangerous, and potentially lethal secret. I don’t think I’ve ever read a story about adolescent breast cancer before. I applaud the author for bringing this subject to light. Additionally, the author does a great job of portraying the fear and anguish Alicia feels as she tries to keep her health issues hidden.
The story begins so well. Immediately, the reader is plunged into Alicia’s world. This initial crisis sets up the rest of the narrative very effectively. Alicia is a sensitive and appealing character – it’s easy to identify with her.
I particularly loved Alicia’s sister, Lily. The author writes with such amusing specificity about this character – the description of Sprinkles the doll, the Sugar Blasters cereal, the lemons, the Warheads, and the consumption of “great amounts of sand” – all of this gives the reader a clear image of who this unique character is. It made me want to read a story about Lily!
There’s also a great through-line about tolerance and love in the B-story about Nico. Nico and Alicia share a poignant moment when Nico reveals that his mother had died. This moment of sensitivity is revealing about Nico’s character and confirms to the reader that Nico could see qualities in Alicia that others could not. It makes the final scene between them very tender and believable.
A few notes:
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I think Alicia would have looked up her symptoms a little earlier, even though she is afraid to do so. It’s still believable that she waits, but perhaps there is an event (something new happens), that drives Alicia to look up her symptoms online.
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If Alicia were unconscious at school for three hours, she would probably be rushed to the hospital.
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It would be worthwhile to clarify how Alicia is able to manipulate the results of the cancer screening. I was unclear how the flash drive was connected to the pipes. Some clarification would be helpful here.
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If Santa Claus could be introduced a little earlier, it would be helpful. Perhaps Lily advises Alicia to write a letter to Santa – to have a little faith. Right now, the request to Santa hasn’t really been established – it doesn’t feel like it comes from anywhere. I’d like to know why a 15 year-old would write to Santa. That would be really interesting!
Second Place and a $75 reward
The White Cliffs of Dover
By: Johnny
It was a cold winter day, and I could hear the crunch of snow under my boots, and I could see my own breath in the air as I hurried along the train station. My father said everything would be okay when we saw the white cliffs of Dover. I had no idea what he meant. I could only smell the obnoxious fumes that the train was spewing as I clutched my parent’s hands as we walked through the din of the train station. As I waded through the throng of people at the platform, I saw a truck of German soldiers pull up. The Germans jumped out of the truck. Suddenly a deathly silence fell upon our section of train station. A young man who had been smoking and chatting to a young lady broke into a run. German soldiers shouted “Halt! Halt!” at him to stop. A soldier let go of a large German Shepherd dog which chased after the man. My mother tried to shield me and my brother Max’s eyes from the scene, but it was too late. We saw another soldier raise his rifle and take aim. The man slumped down in a pool of blood just as the dog leaped on his lifeless body with his teeth gnashing. The station was eerily silent except for the sound of the engines and the marching of German footsteps.
“Daddy, why was that man killed?” I cried.
My dad sighed as if a long-unspoken conversation had just arisen as people shoved past us in the station.
“There are a lot of bad people out in the world that just don’t like people like us.”
“What do you mean people like us” I asked whispering suddenly very scared.
“Jews” my dad said.
“Why?”
“Hatred. We have been persecuted for thousands of years.”
“Alon! Enough. Can’t you see the child is terrified!” My mom scolded. Max sniggered.
I clutched my mom’s hand. “Does that mean they will kill us?” I asked.
My mom shot Max a dirty look.
“No, sweetheart.” My mother soothingly reassured.
“After we flee the country today, you won’t ever need to worry about stuff like this again,” my dad chimed in.
My mom shushed him with an open hand.
For the past few months my parents where whispering about some sort of escape plan that was supposed to be top secret. I knew there was something up. There were lots of phone calls and goodbyes and my mom gave away a lot of gifts from our house to friends and families. When their friends came over there was a lot of hugging and crying between the woman and a lot of hushed conversations between the men.
Suddenly my mom gasped.
“What?” I asked.
“My bag!” My mom exclaimed.
My dad shouted at her in a way I had never seen before.
“What is wrong with you. Now is not the time to be worrying about a bag?” he asked.
“It’s not the bag that’s important but what’s in it,” my mom said to my dad.
“And that is?”
“Our fake passports.” My mom said. Her whole body was shaking.
“The only fake passport I have on me is Josef’s and Max’s.”
“Oh my God,” my dad said.
“Amira, give Josef and Max their passports. I’ll run back and get it.”
“Alon. I am younger and faster. A woman is less likely to be stopped. I know where it is.”
My mom nodded and silently passed me and my brother our fake passports and walked off at a brisk pace careful not to draw the attention of the German soldiers who were now laughing and milling around.
My dad said to me, “Josef and Max, get on the train and whatever you do don’t get off. I will wait on the platform. You can see me from the window. But whatever happens do not get off the train. Max, take care of your younger brother until your mother gets back.”
I didn’t understand but I shook my head in agreement mutely.
I boarded the train and sat down in a train compartment. Dad stood outside. I waved to him and he waved back. My father looked at his watch.
Just then a fat man walked up to me.
“Excuse me young man but are those seats taken?” He asked.
“Yes, I’m saving these seats for my family,” I replied.
The man bristled as if he always got his way and this wasn’t one of those times.
“I don’t see your family,” he said pointedly.
I pointed at my father standing on the platform.
“They better stop standing around. The train will be leaving soon. The man walked away in a huff.
Two German soldiers came up to check IDs.
“Paperwork, young man?” The German soldier asked Max first.
Max handed over his paperwork.
Then the German soldier nodded.
“Paperwork, young man?” The German soldier asked in a question directed towards me.
I nodded and handed him my fake passport.
“Name?”
I hesitated.
“Thomas” That was the name of a friend of mine we had chosen for the fake passport. I held my breath.
After a few seconds of scrutiny, the soldier nodded and left the compartment.
“HEY wait.” The fat man said.
“Yes?” Asked a soldier.
“Kick him off the train.” The fat man said.
“Why?” asked the German soldier.
“Uh, well this compartment is the only empty one except for these two kids and he says that me and my family can’t sit here because he’s saving these seats for his family and he shouldn’t even be allowed on the train without a adult family member.” The fat man said.
The German soldier barked annoyedly, “Sit down. The boy is a German so I see no reason why we should kick him off the train. Find a different compartment before I arrest you.”
The fat man glowered at me but reluctantly left. The soldiers jumped off the train and gave the conductor the go ahead to leave the station.
The train whistled. We were about to leave. I looked out of the window and saw my mom running down the platform with her bag. A German soldier shouted at her “Halt! It could have been the same soldier with the dog. She stopped in her track about 500 yards from our carriage.
My father tried to intervene.
“She is my wife. We are going to miss our train.”
The train rattled and a horn blew off steam. All the doors were closed, and the conductor told everyone to take their seats.
Out of the window I could see the soldiers inspecting my parent’s papers. I felt so helpless. There was a lot of shouting and a soldier grabbed my mother’s arm. My father stepped into defend her and a soldier rammed a rifle butt into my father’s face.
Just then Max bolted off the train to go to our parents.
Our parents tried to shoo him away, but he stood steadfast.
“Do you know this boy?” Asked the German soldier to my mom.
“I never saw him in my life” she lied.
“Go back to the train young man” said the soldier to Max.
“But these are my parents, and you have to let go of them so we can leave!” Said Max.
“Oh really, well I guess we’ll be taking you with us then.” The soldier said to Max.
My mother sobbed.
I picked up my bag and was determined to get off the train to save my parents. An old lady stopped me. “What do you think that you are doing young man?” She asked. She grabbed my arm.
“Let go of me!”
She had a surprisingly strong grip for an old lady.
“My parents need me!” I exclaimed!
“I’m sure that your parents wouldn’t want you to leave this train.”
Then I remembered my father’s last words to me.
I slumped down in my seat and as the train pulled away, I burst into tears.
Through my tears was the last time I ever saw my parents and my brother being led away.
The old lady held me tight and pulled me into her chest. I held her so tight and cried and cried.
“They would be proud of you.”
The old lady offered me her handkerchief.
I blew my nose and we sat in silence for an eternity.
“Jewish?”
I said nothing. I had just watched a man being shot for being Jewish.
The lady looked at me long and hard.
“Good” She said. “Never. Not until you get to England.”
My dad told me before we left our house “don’t trust anyone.”
I don’t know why but something about the old lady made me decide I could trust her. Who else could I trust?
“Me and my family and trying to escape Austria and go to London,” I told her. I would have told her more, but she told me to keep quiet.
“I suppose that I could help you,” she spoke.
“Thanks” I said, “but why?” I asked.
“Well,” she sighed. “You remind me of my grandson.”
The old lady looked kindly at me and offered me a boiled sweet. I rested my head on her arm and nodded off to sleep. My dreams were not pleasant ones. I dreamed of my parents shouting out to me to save them. I suddenly jolted awake to a cold sweat.
The old lady eyed me warily. “Are you ok?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m ok,” I replied. I eyed the vast forests that seemed to rush past me. They looked so lush and alivecompared to the small nondescript village where I was from. I looked on in amazement as I realized for the first time what the world outside my village was like.
“Not out much?” The lady asked.
“Yeah, I never really left my village and I never realized that this is what the world outside my village is like,” I said.
The lady smiled. “You’ll get used to it,” she said.
I pondered this for a while. Eventually the woods seemed to end and in the middle of what seemed a vast field, a small station came into view. On the platform I could see some German soldiers standing there – with dogs.
“Those soldiers are probably just there to switch with the soldiers currently onboard.” The lady said sensing my concern. “If they ask, you’re my nephew,” the lady said.
The train started to decrease its speed and eventually began to ease into the station. As we pulled up with the platform, the soldiers on board disembarked the train and the soldiers standing on the platform stepped onto the train.
The soldiers started checking papers compartment by compartment. As the soldiers neared my compartment, my heart rate elevated and finally after what seemed like forever the German soldier stepped into my compartment.
“Papers, please?” He asked. Me and the old lady wordlessly handed over our papers. The German soldier looked over our papers and nodded. Just as he handed over the papers, he noticed something on his finger. It was ink. The soldier narrowed his eyes at me and started to ominously walk towards me. “Forging papers is a capital crime,” he said. Just as he tried to grab me, I lunged out of the way. The soldier cursed and chased after me as I sprinted out of the compartment. As the soldier ran after me, he shouted to his fellow soldiers “get that boy!” As the soldiers chasing me got closer and closer, I ran out of the train and before anyone could see climbed to top of the train. As the soldiers ran to the door, the lead soldier looked out and cursed under his breath. “The kid got away” He hissed. He sighed and walked back into the train and made sure to lock the door behind him. I kept my head down as I could hear the sound of dogs being let go. They found nothing.
There goes my way to get back into the train, I thought. The train started moving again. I sighed in relief, phew that was a close one. As I looked ahead, my eyes widened in alarm. We were nearing the tunnel. At this speed, my head would get chopped clean off. My heart rate elevated into a tat, tat, tat, tat. At this rate, I would get cardiac arrest at such an early age. I gulped
I started searching for the train car that my compartment was in. As I crawled on the roof, I located my car. Then I started to search for the window that my compartment had. As soon as I located it, I inched my way over and dropped down and left my legs on the roof of the train, but my head bent down. I tried to knock on the window. The old lady looked outside and as soon as her gaze locked onto me, her eyes widened in alarm. She lunged over to the window and unlocked it just in time. I then swung myself in, collapsing in relief.
“Like a monkey,” she said.
I made a monkey sound. She smiled.
I sat down. Luckily my papers were still there. In his haste, the soldier left them there. But unfortunately, the part that the soldier touched was smudged.
“Are you ok?” The lady asked.
“Yeah, I’m ok but I probably won’t ride a train ever again.” I replied sarcastically.
The lady’s eyes wrinkled in amusement.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I don’t know your name. Oh, and by the way my real name is Josef.”
The lady smiled at me and said, “my name’s Agnes.”
As I sat in my seat in the compartment, for the first time I realized that I was actually scared of the outside world. I sighed. Only now did I realize that the world could be such a cruel place. I watched the flower filled fields pass outside of the window. Just watching all of those flowers rush past me felt me with such a feeling of pure relief but fear. I gazed outside my window and then realized why my parents wanted me to leave Austria so badly. So that me and my children wouldn’t have to grow up in an environment of hatred towards us.
Agnes said to me, “oh look sweetie, we’re crossing the border of France right now.”
I felt immediate relief flood over me. The worst was almost over I thought.
“Would you like a sandwich?” Agnes asked.
“Sure,” I replied. I was famished. “What kind of sandwiches are they?” I asked.
“Oh, they are ham sandwiches.” Agnes replied.
I cringed. “Jewish people aren’t allowed to eat ham,” I responded.
Agnes winced. “Oh, I’m so sorry dear,” she said.
I sighed, I guess my hungry stomach would just have to wait.
I stared outside the window. After what seemed like an eternity, my stomach won the ongoing battle between my mind and stomach.
“I’ll take a ham sandwich,” I said meekly.
“Of course, sweetie,” Agnes said passing me a sandwich that smelled so mouthwateringly good that I felt that I might drool.
As soon as I received the sandwich, I took out the ham and gave it back to Agnes. I tore into the remaining bread and butter like a starved animal. I used my sleeve to clean my face when I finished eating. I winced, my mom would kill me if she saw me doing this.
As if Agnes could see my pain and sorrow in my eyes, she bent over to me and said, “there, there sweetie, there, there.”
I hunched up my shoulders and cried. Outside was all a strange bluish color I had never seen before. The whole world had turned blue.
I looked up from my sobbing and asked Agnes what flowers were in the fields that we were passing.
Agnes said to me, “oh look sweetie, that is Lavender. Doesn’t it look wonderful this time of year.”
She then beckoned me over to the window and opened it. An overpowering aroma of fresh lavender flooded my olfactory bulb.
This sight of relief came with a feeling of guilt and sadness that I might never see my parents again. Nowadays whenever I smell Lavender I think of that train and my parents, but that is in the future.
In the distance I could see a train station that we were headed towards.
“Sweetie, I’m afraid that this is where I will have to leave you.” Agnes said to me in a matter-of-fact voice.
“What?” I asked. I had just lost my parents and now I was losing Agnes too? This was almost too much to bear for me.
“I can help you by finding you transport to England.” She then lowered her voice and said, “I know someone in the kinder-transport who can help you get from Calais where we are now to England in a boat.”
“But you can’t leave!” I blurted out. “Who will take care of me with my parents gone?” I was on the verge of tears, but I didn’t care. Right now, the only thing that mattered to me was making sure that Agnes stayed with me.
Agnes sighed, “Sweetie, I’ll help you as much as I can, but I can’t stay with you because I have a family too that needs me in Calais.
I nodded. As much as I wanted to scream and beg her to stay, I knew that what she was saying was perfectly reasonable. If I was in her shoes, I probably would have made the same decision.
Before I could say anything else, I could hear brakes screeching as our train pulled up with Calais’ train station platform.
Agnes beckoned for me to come with her as we disembarked from the train with my luggage in my hands with Agnes’ luggage in hers.
We emerged into bustling train station. As we waded through the throng of people, we finally managed to exit the station and quickly hailed a taxi. Once we hailed taxi Agnes asked the cab driver to take us to Calais’ local synagogue. Once we arrived, Agnes stepped over to talk with a woman that was sitting on a pew. After a few hugs and some gossip between Agnes and the other lady it looked like the conversation turned serious. There was a bit of Agnes pointing towards me and both of them nodding and that was as much as I caught.
The woman stepped over to me and said, “hi, I’m Christie and I work with the Kindertransport. We’ll do our best to get you to England as soon as possible.” While giving me a warm motherly look.
As Agnes and Christie finished up, me and Christie left to the docks of Calais and she led me to a boat crammed full of kids. “Well, this is it,” Christie said to me.
I gasped and Christie misunderstood my gasping. “Well, this boat is all we could afford, I know it doesn’t look like much, but it serves its purpose.” With that she escorted me on the boat and left as promptly as she had come. As a matter of fact, the real reason that I was gasping was because I had never seen that much water in my life before.
Just then a weathered old man stepped out of a cabin and shouted, “all aboard who’s going aboard!” And then promptly chuckled to himself about the joke that he just made but no one seemed to get. He looked around at the blank faces and cleared his face into a more business-like face.
He coughed, “well anyways we’re going to England so if anyone decides that they don’t want to go, this is your last chance to leave the ship,” he stated.
Just then the boat undocked from the docks and for the first 5 minutes of sailing it felt wonderful. Then I spent the next 20 minutes throwing up my bowels. A boy sitting next to me snickered when I finished throwing up.
“Classic sea sickness,” he said. “Oh, by the way, I’m Thomas.” And then offered me his hand to shake. I hesitated for a second but then shook his hand. He smiled at me then settled back into his seat.
Then I promptly dozed out for the next hour of our trip. I woke up to the noise of excited chattering from the other children and Thomas shaking my shoulder.
“We’re here!” He exclaimed.
For a second, I didn’t understand what he meant but as soon as I looked in front of our little dingy, I understood.
“The cliffs of Dover,” Thomas exhaled.
As we sailed in front of the cliffs of Dover, I could hear seagulls squawking in their majestic beauty as they swooped down catching fish. I could see the white cliffs of Dover in all of its glory. The white cliffs looked like freedom and new life to my eyes. I could feel my eyes brimming up with tears, but I quickly blinked it away. The cliffs of Dover looked like starlight to my tired wary eyes after the entirety of my long journey. Now as I looked on at Dover, I realized that I was whole, that I was home, and most importantly, that I was safe. I knew that even though my parents couldn’t be here with me physically, they would be with me in my heart. Fifty years later, I returned to the white cliffs of Dover with my grandchildren and told them about my story and the train.
It was a cold winter day, and I could hear the crunch of snow under my boots, and I could see my own breath in the air as I hurried along the train station. My father said everything would be okay when we saw the white cliffs of Dover. Out of the window I could see the soldiers inspecting my parent’s papers. I felt so helpless. There was a lot of shouting and a soldier grabbed my mother’s arm. My father stepped into defend her and a soldier rammed a rifle butt into my father’s face.
I picked up my bag and was determined to get off the train to save my parents. An old lady stopped me. “What do you think that you are doing young man,” she asked? She grabbed my arm.
“Let go of me.”
She had a surprisingly strong grip for an old lady.
I struggled and eventually freed myself of the old lady’s clutches and jumped out of the train to be with my parents.
My mother and father cried as the train left the station leaving our family surrounded by German soldiers.
A train did eventually transport me and my family to another place where there were no white cliffs of Dover and no lavender.
For Rose
The Judge's comments:
This story has such scope and breadth. It played out in my imagination like a movie and put me in mind of films like Louis Malle’s Au Revoir Les Enfants. The author creates a taut thread of tension that is sustained from beginning to end. The events of the story are revealed in a way that sustained my interest throughout and kept the plot moving swiftly.
I love that this story is told from the son’s point of view. The challenges of growing into adulthood are tragically compounded by the horrors of war. The reader is with Josef as he tries to navigate this strange and brutal world. The loss of his parents, his brother, and everything he knows is well-depicted and heartbreaking. The shock and profound loss he feels resonate strongly in every scene.
The relationship between Josef and Agnes is touching. There’s a very nice moment between the two when Agnes asks Josef whether he is Jewish and Josef does not respond. Between them, they share an understanding that silence speaks more eloquently than any words could. I also like that the author did not take the easy route and have Agnes take in or adopt Josef. In keeping with the harsh realities of the story, Josef finds himself alone again, but this time headed toward more benevolent shores -- the cliffs his father told him to look for.
I think the story would be even better with the addition of more specific details, like the boiled sweet, which was a wonderful touch. The more detail provided (specific to the time period), the more deeply readers will be able to immerse themselves in the world of the story.
The set-up and payoff of the cliffs plays out beautifully. And the end of the story is devastating. Wonderful writing! This would make a very moving short film.
First Place and a $100 reward
I Will Never Leave Your Side
By: June
Most people live their lives to the fullest. Most people can enjoy the morning sunrise, see the faces of their children, grandchildren and everyone whom they love. They never have to fear if their next step could be their last. But I do.
I was born a healthy baby, and was a perfectly normal kid until I was eight years old. A week before my ninth birthday, my father noticed that I was constantly bumping into things. Usually, I would collide with minor obstacles and get away with a couple of bruises, but on a few occasions my father would rush into the house with me over his shoulder, yelling for my mother to call the ambulance because their daughter had been run over by a passing cyclist. Sure, my parents could’ve assumed that I was a clumsy kid, but not even the clumsiest kid would walk straight onto a busy road with plenty of killer vehicles. So, three days before my ninth birthday, they took me to the hospital to get me checked out.
At first, the doctors thought that my obliviousness to nearby obstacles was due to a neuromotor disorder. I underwent hours worth of tests to confirm their hunch, but every single test came back negative.
On the second day in the hospital, one of the doctors suggested I get my vision checked. Scared as I was, I sat still in the chair while an ophthalmologist studied the inside of my eyes. After the examination, the ophthalmologist sat my parents and I down and explained my diagnosis. She confirmed that I had a rare condition called retinitis pigmentosa, a genetically inherited eye disorder that causes the retina to become severely damaged. The diagnosis explained my constant behavior of bumping into things for I lacked the ability of side vision. Unfortunately, there was no cure for the disorder and my vision would only become worse.
My parents were devastated with the news, but I took the news the hardest of all. In that instant I was sucked into a dark hole filled with the dreaded realization that I would never be able to see my family, friends, or teachers with my own eyes ever again. On the day of my ninth birthday, doctors officially confirmed that I was legally blind. I was nine years old.
+++
Life was strange for the next three years. Just as the ophthalmologist had warned, my vision grew worse. By the time I was twelve, I was almost completely blind. Like other kids, I began middle school around that time, but of course, I was special. I entered middle school as the baby who needed to have an aid with her at all times, the loser who needed to take a special bus to school, the weirdo who couldn’t go anywhere without her white cane, the “blind stick” as the kids called it.
I was never severely bullied at school as my aid would shoo kids away, but I was constantly left out. The other kids had no idea how privileged they were with their ability to perceive the world around them.
I knew that pitying myself wasn’t the solution. I couldn’t do anything to reverse my condition. Nobody could. That was what angered me the most. Why had it been me who had received the receptive gene, not my brother or any other kid besides me? I hadn’t done anything to deserve being blind, but then again, no one else had either.
On most days, I spent the hours daydreaming about how life would be like if I could still see. I definitely wouldn’t need an aid to follow me around all day, nor a “blind stick” to guide my path. These daydreams were always interrupted by the voices of teachers or family members, who would always ask:
“Chloe? Are you with me?”
I would nod in response and continue into my longing fantasy.
Since I didn't do any extracurricular activities, I would go home on the special bus after school, do homework, and daydream, an endless cycle that caged me within it. I was trapped with nobody on my side nor the strength to free myself on my own.
+++
On the day of my thirteenth birthday, I wanted things to be different. I was officially a teenager and desired the ability to be autonomous.
“We know you’re an independent young lady, Chloe, but we just want to take caution.” my parents would constantly tell me.
But on that day, they didn't mention a single word that held me back. They knew. When it was time to open presents, I was especially thrilled. I hadn’t asked for much, but I knew I would get more than I had asked for. Being the special child in the family, I always did. This year was no different.
I recognized each gift by carefully feeling it: a book in braille, a guitar, some cash, an eyeshadow palette, and a pair of sneakers. I loved every gift and thanked my family gratefully. “Oh, that’s not all. There’s one more present for you.” my mother said in an excited voice.
I sat up straighter. I had already received so much, what could this last gift be? I realized what the gift was when I heard my brother squealing.
“A doggy! Chloe got a doggy!”
At that instant I felt a warm tongue lick my face and the wiggling body of a young Labrador Retriever leap onto my lap. I shouted with joy and my heart swelled with love for the animal.
“This isn’t any ordinary dog, Chloe. Echo is a seeing eye dog. Echo will go everywhere with you and be your personal pair of eyes.” my father explained.
I heard my father’s every word, but I was too busy weeping to respond. I clung on tightly to Echo as he continued to lick me. Not only had I received a pair of eyes to see for me, but I had met my first friend, a friend that would love me no matter what and stay with me forever.
SIX YEARS LATER, September 10, 2004
“Echo! It's time to go buddy!” I called. Although I couldn’t see him, I could hear his toenails loudly clicking on the dorm room floor. When he nudged my hand to alert me, I strapped the wooden handle to his harness and held it firmly with my left hand.
With my right hand I stroked Echo’s head and opened the door of the dorm flat. Echo slowly stepped outside, making sure I wouldn’t trip over the doormat. I didn't. Today would be my first day of second year at university. Two weeks ago last year, I had received my letter of acceptance to the prestigious Brown University where I currently study
literature. Of course my parents were extremely nervous about me leaving home, but with Echo by my side, they knew I would be okay.
I walked down the familiar concrete pathways of the campus, Echo leading the way. Once we reached the Literary Arts Department, Echo gently tugged at the harness to let me know that I had to open the door. When I did, he guided me inside and into the lecture hall.
Judging by the noise level in the room, I guessed that around sixty people were already seated.
No matter what class I attended, I always took the same seat: fifth row, third from the middle. Echo was the one who picked the seat for me, and he's always taken me there since. Like last year, I sat down, got my supplies out, and waited for the professor to arrive. She came relatively quickly, introduced herself, and began the lecture. Echo rested quietly under my chair, head between his front paws.
After the lecture, we were free to leave. Echo and I had planned to meet with a friend of mine for lunch and left hurriedly.
I had met Olivia and her dog Mabel during first year. Olivia had been born with her legs not fully developed and had to get around using a wheelchair. She couldn’t walk, but Mabel was there to assist her and love her. Olivia was the only person besides Echo who really knew me.
The walk to the cafeteria was relatively short. Echo recognized Olivia and Mabel at the building entrance and led me over.
Olivia and I had a long greeting, hugging each other and talking excitedly about classes and summer break. We ended up entering the cafeteria with our dogs fifteen minutes after reuniting.
Walking through the automatic doors of the building, the loud uproar of noise in the room hit me like a bus.
Although I had never dined in the school cafeteria before, I could instantly tell that many others did more often than I. The buzzing and sound in the room was unbearably loud, meaning the space was near capacity.
“It’s pretty crowded, but I’ll find us a table. Follow me.” Olivia said, and I grabbed the rugged handle of her wheelchair with my free hand.
Olivia began to steer her way forward, but stopped abruptly after hearing a sudden deep voice.
“Excuse me! Dogs are not allowed in the cafeteria!”
I froze but Olivia stayed calm.
“Sir, our dogs are service animals. We have a right to bring them inside.” Olivia replied. “I’m sorry ma'am. We can’t have dogs inside a dining hall. That’s a rule.” the voice replied.
I felt Olivia’s wheelchair slowly backing up, but I blocked her from moving. “Since when was there a rule saying service dogs aren’t allowed to come in? We have a legal right and an acceptable reason to bring our dogs with us.” I said loudly. “I’m not going to repeat it again. The policy is no dogs. Please leave.”
I could feel the confusion and frustration boiling inside me like a heat wave. Echo nudged my hand with his nose.
“No. We are not going to leave. Our dogs have official IDs stating that they are trained service dogs. Do you need to see for yourself to believe it?” my voice quivered slightly with irritation.
“I told you to leave! Dogs aren’t allowed here. What do you not understand about that?” the voice shouted.
There was a moment of silence, then footsteps. One, two, three, four lumbering steps before a dull thud. The dreaded yelp of a dog followed afterwards. Olivia gasped. “Now go.” the voice said. There was a hint of sarcasm in the tone that sparked a tornado inside of me. I didn't have to see in order to figure out that the security guard had kicked Mabel. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” Olivia whimpered quietly.
Hearing her shock, the whirling tornado of fury and hatred for the voice burst inside of me, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I walked one, two, three, four steps until I could feel the warmth of the man who stood in front of me. Echo tried to tug me away, but I let go of his harness instead. I had had enough.
Leaning into the face of the man, I whispered dangerously:
“You may think that you’re doing your job. You may think that security guards like you are so superior that they have the right to kick service dogs and argue about legal rights, legal rights, with students who understand the situation better than you do. But don’t fool yourself, because you are nothing but a heartless person and a hazard to society.”
A hushed silence fell over the cafeteria, so silent that you could hear the carefree chirping of the birds outside.
In the spotlight of attention, I turned on my heel and stumbled out of the cafeteria. I was fuming. I was so mad that all of my senses were numb and the only thing I could do was walk. In the distance, I could hear Olivia yelling, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying; I didn't want to.
I wanted to dissolve into a world where I could be normal, where society didn't judge me by who I was or look down on me as a person who was less than them. I wanted to live in a universe where people didn't kick innocent dogs, accuse others, or hire idiot security guards like the one I had just encountered.
My mind was so blurred by the fantasy that I didn't even notice the car until it was a mere inch away from me. By then it was far too late.
+++
The sky above me was swimming with colors and I couldn’t think straight. Whatever had happened to me had happened in the blink of an eye. Luckily my senses were still intact, and I could just barely make out my surroundings.
I knew I was on the ground. Where on the ground? I had no idea. My head was pulsing and I could taste the strong flavour of iron in my mouth. On my right arm, I could feel a sharp, carving pain. It wove throughout my entire body and chiseled deep into my bones, making me feel like I was suffocating.
On my left arm, I could feel something heavy. Not like a weight; it was much more delicate than that. It was also very soft, but had a warm, sticky texture on the side. Then I felt the weight move, and a large tongue licked my chin. Echo.
A dim image of what had happened in the cafeteria flickered in my head like a scene from a movie. Then I knew.
The flash of furry wind streaking past me as the bumper of a car smashed into my body. The one who had risked his own life to save another’s. It had been Echo.
Tears flowed down my cheeks as I felt the warm weight that had once been my best friend being lifted off of me.
“Echo.” I breathed softly as the sounds of the universe faded into absence. +++
“Chloe? Can you hear me?”
I floated into consciousness which I instantly regretted. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move, but I could feel the surging pain, the hot lights, and the multiple pairs of hands working on me to bring me back all the way.
“Chloe, you’re in a hospital. You’ve been hit by a car but you’re okay now. Can you move your fingers if you can hear me?”
They wanted me to cooperate, but I was too tired. Praying a silent apology to the hands, I began to sink into a whirling funnel of twisted voices, where the pain, slowly but surely, melted away into the void.
+++
I was awake again. But something wasn’t right. I was no longer in the busy trauma room of a hospital, but instead a deep, empty pit, where I lay immobile and afraid. This is what hell must be like , I thought, but I didn't have time to process the details in my racing consciousness. The hands were on me again, colder and stronger than ever. I must’ve angered them by giving up.
Voices surrounded my head, and the searing hot pain was back and ready to conquer. I let out a whisper of help, yet the sound of a monitor letting an ominous tone made me shrink into silence.
The world stopped.
“Chloe Elizabeth Adler. Time of death, 16:24.”
+++
Most people think that when they die, they go to either heaven or hell. But in my case, it was neither. There were no pearly white gates with angels welcoming me to the Promised Land, nor was there a fiery evil figure awaiting my arrival into the underworld.
Instead I was in a room of blackness that endlessly swirled around me. Through the emptiness I was in, I could see.
Although there wasn’t much to perceive besides darkness, I could see myself for the first time in a decade. I looked at my hands, my feet, my clothes, and every centimeter of myself that I could see. I looked and I looked and I looked.
The tears wouldn’t stop pouring, and in fact I could see them too. They were small, clear drops just as I had remembered them being. It was beautiful.
With my chest heaving with ambivalent emotions, I took a step. Then another. I kept taking steps until I was running at full speed, deeper and deeper into the void. At the end of the black tunnel, there was a door.
It was like any ordinary door, with a silver knob and layers of sunshine yellow paint covering the wooden base beneath it. I cautiously reached for it, my heart thundering in my ears. I touched the cold metal of the doorknob and slowly twisted it.
The door swung open. As soon as it did, light flooded into the void, filling every corner of it with brightness and radiation. I squinted and shielded my eyes. When I adjusted to the brilliance, a small shadow appeared before me.
The shadow had long golden fur, a goofy grin, and adoring brown eyes that studied me in the most loving way.
Echo.
THE END
The Judge's comments:
This is a beautiful and emotionally generous story, elegantly rendered. What I love most about this story is how skillfully the author invites the reader to identify with Chloe’s experience. I had a strong sense of what it would be like to lose one’s vision and become reliant on others for help. The author has a strong, empathetic voice which resonates on every page. The feelings of sadness, isolation, and injustice are palpable.
The time leap into the college years works well. There are some lovely details here: Echo ensuring that Chloe does not trip on the doormat, and how he chooses the same seat in the classroom. I found it a little difficult to believe that a security guard at an Ivy League university would demonstrate such abject cruelty to two challenged young women, and why the students would not leap to their defense. But sadly, it is not completely outside the realm of believability.
The element of surprise works very well here. The introduction of Echo the dog is unexpected and heartwarming. The author dexterously sets up a relationship that will have tragic repercussions later in the story. The car accident is introduced in a way that is completely unexpected. Echo’s death is depicted in such a heartbreaking way. And the loss hurts because the author has set up a strong and meaningful relationship between human and canine.
And then, there’s Chloe’s death. The author drops a subtle hint that Chloe might survive. But she does not. Chloe’s afterlife is starkly and realistically imagined. And then things change in a magical way. Chloe experienced enough trauma in her short life to deserve those moments of grace after her death. I have to admit that I fully expected Echo to show up by the story’s end. And I was glad not to be surprised this time – I wanted to see him again! The reunion between the two friends was very satisfying to read. The story ends on a note of hope, joy, and love. Sometimes this doesn’t work in storytelling – it can feel artificial. But in this case it does, because it has been earned. Beautiful work!
