August: Theme - The Newcomer

Winning Entry:

My ten minutes began with little interest. Then heads began to turn. The smirks became loud guffaws. Time up. I left the stage to warm applause. Result!

By Ros Goodway 

 

August's competition was won with this entry by Ros Goodway who lives in Oxford.  Ros has worked with photographers, writers and designers for many years and has always considered herself to be more of a visual person. Recently she's been trying to convert her love of all things creative into her own writing, however she admits to struggling to write anything of any length. Encouraged when her first every entry was a runner up, Ros finds that the brevity Txtlit suits her.  

We thought the theme of "the Newcomer" for August's competition would be quite challenging but we were delighted with the response. Whilst it was restrictive in many ways, we were very impressed by the interpretations that you all produced. We liked Ros Goodway's story the most because it captured the theme so well but so very simply. The story starts with a set up whereby our protagonist has ten minutes, but ten minutes for what? As the story progresses it becomes a little confusing. we're trying to decipher what is making the heads turn and with smirks becoming guffaws it sounds as though an embarrassing situation is ensuing. But when the time is up we're given the biggest clue as to what is going in with the word "stage" and the warm applause is the signal that this is in fact a stand-up comedians first appearance on stage. Simple but effective.

Other shortlisted entries:

"She took the last bloody custard cream". We stared, gobsmacked. Sheila's eyebrows raised. She hadn't paid into Biscuit Club, this newcomer.

By  Alyson Mulvaney  


 I glared at the tiny intruder until mummy suddenly presented a new, shiny scooter. "From your baby brother." Delighted, I quickly decided he was ok by me.

By  Victoria Wlaklate  


I was tenderising steaks when she arrived - a taller, slimmer, younger version of me. My husband's eyes lit up. My grip tightened on the mallet - again.

By  Sally East 

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