The MFA Whidbey Student Community at Northwest Institute of Literary Arts

Unfortunately, none of the entries for March knocked the socks off of our judge. There is no winner for the month of March. Please continue to submit new stories for the April contest!

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March’s winner had to be removed. Please check back in May for our next winner!

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Congratulations to Hannah-Jamie ‘Hannie’ Duncombe of Lyndhurst, Hants, UK. Winner of our January Student Choice Contest.

VILLIANS

The screams spread across the land in one continuous wave. Individually, they were piercing wails of terror that could not be mimicked by even the best of actors, and could only be born during times of true fear.

Mothers and fathers panicked and searched without method for their children. They shouted their names, and called for their babies to come home, but there were so many places for them to play.

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HAPPY NEW YEAR WRITERS

Congratulations to Renee Holland Davidson of Brea, CA. Winner of our December Student Choice Contest.

TOOTHLESS

Dorrie’s eyes pop open. She’s had that dream again, the one where her teeth fall out one by one, piling up like tiny tombstones in the palm of her hand. She still feels the mounting horror and panic as yet another one drops, the pile becoming so large, she’s forced to use both hands to contain it.

It’s not an uncommon dream–she thinks it has to do with feeling as if you’ve lost control of your life. Or is that the dream about driving? In that one, her hands are firmly on the wheel, but her feet can’t reach the brake pedal. She slides farther and farther down in the seat, straining, extending her toes, but no matter how hard she tries, how far she sinks, it’s not close enough. The effort exhausts her, makes her sleepy, and now not only can’t she brake the car, she’s barely able keep her eyes open, barely able to keep hold of the steering wheel.

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Congratulations to Lindsey Walker of Seattle, WA. Winner of our November Student Choice Contest.

THE TROUBLE DOGS GET INTO

It’s the way she said it, stirring her coffee, syrup sprawling over her buttered pancakes. The way she said it got me more than what she said. What she said, in her voice, heavy and certain as iron skillets, what she said was, “I told him it don’t matter y’all didn’t plan it. Her instincts’ll kick in. She’ll take care of her own.” A flapjack crumble bobbled in her cheek dimple as she spoke, leaning forward on sticky elbows.

My empty stomach puckered. My fingertips remembered newborn skin. I hadn’t been trying to eavesdrop; I’d just stopped by to top off their coffees. I excused myself, slumping past the restaurant kitchen to the employee restroom. Here, the scent of chlorine bleach arm-wrestled bacon grease.

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Unfortunately, there was no winner for October. Step up the submissions and keep them coming!