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Writing Contest #13 - Entries
The Fairies' MessageThe fairies flitted about the old jam jar, partially buried near the shed. Once used to collect berries, the now neglected jar held a small mound of paperclips.
Daddy always left the back door ajar while gardening. The fairies made use of this and took turns to fly into the house, enter Daddy’s study and return to the bottom of the garden several moments later, depositing a stolen paperclip into the jar. The fairies’ mission took a little over two weeks.
On the eve of Kathy’s fourth birthday, a fairy appeared before her window. Kathy gasped and rushed downstairs, flung open the back door and ran to the bottom of the garden. The setting sun was shining through an array of leaves, which had been clipped to a strung-up piece of old washing line. In the middle of each leaf a letter had been carved. The green banner wished Kathy a ‘Happy Birthday’.
Kathy beamed and ran to fetch Mummy and Daddy just as a gust of wind whipped the washing line free.
‘I told you there were fairies!’ Kathy said, dragging her parents behind her.
The three stopped near the shed. Kathy looked around. The fairies’ message had gone.
Greenhouse talesAt the bottom of my garden is the greenhouse. On the potting bench I have a few old jam-jars which hold handy bits and pieces. There are plant labels, string, scissors and even a few paperclips. Last spring I thought a butterfly had fallen in the paperclip jar and got tangled up. On closer inspection, there was a very tiny humanoid, dressed in deep red, with a ridiculous cap of yellow flowers on her head. Lacy translucent red wings were caught hopelessly in a tangle of paperclips. I tipped her onto my hand and gently teased the crumpled wings away from the mass of bent wire.
“Thank you. I’m the Tomato Fairy,” she said, kicking the paperclips in disgust. “I shall ensure your crop this year is unsurpassed.” With a little curtsey and a flurry of bright red, she was off.
I wandered in a state of bemusement back indoors, still holding the paperclips. I tossed them onto my desk and resumed my day. Sure enough, I had the best and most delicious tomato crop last year. I’ve never been able to use the paperclips though. Any papers they adorn become inexplicably smudged with ketchup stains.
The One Clip to Rule Them AllIt's a well known fact there are fairies at the bottom of the garden, and that certain fairies have a propensity for mischief, mayhem and downright devilment. My fairies have, over the years, displayed some flair in this area. Hiding garden tools or gloves under piles of leaves was simple but effective, and teasing the cat was always popular. They excelled themselves when they upset Great Aunt by demonstrating how to really blow raspberries – not only a rude noise but raspberry juice all down her favourite tea dress! But they met their match in a jar of paperclips.
It had gone missing from my desk. Teamwork I suppose, as it was quite a large jar. “What can they possibly be planning in those tiny heads now?” I grumbled as I went out to look for it.
Unusually it took no time at all to find it. And the fairies. Planning, I think, some kind of tripwire, they had magicked a paperclip chain which had spun itself vigorously around them, leaving them dangling in a slowly turning ball from the apple tree. Gratitude for freeing them? Oh yes – footprints over a freshly baked piecrust.
Not all fairies are goodIt all began when I was sitting in the garden sorting a pile of bills: a red paperclip for unpaid, blue for paid, green for ‘to-be-shredded’. There was a soft fluttering and a musical tinkling. Fairies were flying around my head, singing. They were translucent and hard to see at first, but beautiful in the evening sun, their voices like tiny crystal bells.
They swooped onto my jar of paperclips to make a brightly-coloured chain necklace. As they placed it around my neck I felt their gossamer-thin wings brush gently against my cheeks. Their sweet crystal voices sounded louder in my ears. When I wore the necklace I understood their words.
In their songs they promised me wonderful gifts – delights that anyone would crave. But in return they demanded that I do things, unpleasant things.
At first I agreed, but as the days went by their demands became more horrifying, their voices insistent, angry, strident. I’m ashamed of what I’ve done.
I don’t go into the garden anymore. The back door is bolted, the windows closed and the curtains drawn. The necklace is back in the jar. But they are still there. I know they will find a way in.
Reallocation Of ResourcesThe fairies were bored rigid. Even their wings had lost their usual gossamer fluidity no matter what resins they rubbed in. The reward exchange rate for milk teeth had rocketed with inflation and expectation. No longer a sixpence or even 50 pee, they’d had to lug games consoles and plasma TVs to houses. Until their Union finally sprang arthritically into action and at least put the kybosh on the heavy lifting duties.
But now they were left with nothing to do. No longer were their tiny fluttering hearts filled with the joy of seeing tiny faces light up in the morning when fingers reached beneath the pillow. At least not being on site spared them the sullen looks of kids anticipating nothing less than an X-Box and demanding Dad to set it up before leaving for work. They themselves now stared morosely at the dusty delivery dockets which remained blank. Or they helped themselves to a paper clip from the jar, untwisted it and employed it for cleaning the dirt beneath their long fingernails, or the lint in their navels into which they were gazing.
“Hey, we’re fairies ain’t we?”
“Fairies with poor diction perhaps, gah how standards have slipped”
“We’re magical beings. We can do anything we want. Make our own entertainment”
And with a puff of smoke that prompted at least one asthma inhaler to be deployed, the lights went out. Except in the jar, where the metal paperclips had been turned into beautifully glowing fireflies. And all the fairies crowded around to watch the show.
“Who needs X-Box?”
Fairytale of New PaperclipsAn annoying thing about life is trying to find something when you really need it - like my box of paperclips. They will, no doubt, turn up when and where I least expect, like drawing pins; that odd penny; remote controls; buses; husbands?
I was at the bottom of mother's garden telling my little niece about fairies and showing her those faked photographs taken around the early 20th Century. She was fascinated by my little stories and kept scuttling away in search of fairies. I got a start when I heard a crackle of leaves beneath a heavy footstep behind me. I stood and turned to see something far more impressive than photographs and fairies.
Danny, mother's new gardener was perfect. Black, wispy, neck length hair waved softly in the breeze; dark eyes; chiselled jaw. A bare torso, ripped with tense muscles was of a working man, covered with sweat and smears of earth. I wanted to wipe him down myself.
After thirty years of marriage that beer guzzling, lazy slob was finally, permanently out of my life. I just need that paperclip for the insurance papers. I might need new paperclips.
Hope he is enjoying the fairies.
The TrapperThere’s a jam jar at the bottom of the garden; I’d carefully placed it there. It’s balanced on lip of the hole I dug and is propped up with a lolly stick. The wool attached to the stick goes all the way to the shed, through the window, and is primed for tugging.
I’ve got dad’s binoculars, jam butties, raspberryade, oh and my French homework – it might be a long day. It worked a treat yesterday when the jar still had a bit of jam in it and within an hour I’d trapped a wasp. This time it’s Fairies!
Fairies, I believe, aren’t fussed on jam but they like gems and shiny baubles; I’ve had to make do with paperclips, through the binoculars I see them glittering through the jar in the sunshine. Now the waiting begins.
So, I wait. And wait. Butties eaten. Raspberry pop warm but drank. And I wait. I’ve given my homework a cursory glance when my eyes went a bit blurry from staring through the lenses. I wait some more.
I fall asleep.
I hear: “Merci beaucoup! Merci mon ami!” and as I wake up: the sound of a brass band! Quickly I reach for the binoculars. No sign of Fairies and no sign of the paperclips! And someone has done my homework!
Will add the poll in about an hour. Too tricky from my mobile....
The Poll is now open :Please vote!
Jud - please let me know the end date for the poll :)
http://www.goodreads.com/poll/show/83...
oh... and please click 'like' on the facebook link if you are on facebook
Bloody Nora, these are all good! How am I supposed to choose?
I finally managed to chose one. Had to read them all a few times. It's so difficult!
Just read them all through for the third time.I think I've narrowed it down to three. Maybe four.
Sheesh
Okay, I've voted.This gets harder each time!
I really, really didn't want to choose just one - but I twisted my own arm until I voted.
The results are in!What!! Joint bottom with Ignite - Philistines the lot of you!!! ;-)
Yippee mine's won!I had better qualify my statement, I mean the one I voted for is the winner!
Congratulations!
Oooh I was second! How exciting! I voted for The Trapper, is that yours Mark?
Rosemary wrote: "Oooh I was second! How exciting! I voted for The Trapper, is that yours Mark?"Yup!
Oh no, I missed the vote. I was planning on voting this evening. Congrats to the winner! My entry was The Fairies' Message.
Ignite wrote: "You got twice as many votes as I did!"Aka, just one more than you!
Which one was yours?
Ignite wrote: "Greenhouse Tales."Thought so! When I saw plant labels and string mentioned, I thought: that sounds like a gardener!
Emma wrote: "Do we write which one was ours?"Yep, if you want to! All can be revealed now the votes are up.
Could have been Rosemary. She usually enters.We usually 'fess up Emma.
Cool, mine was the big problems one. I hadn't realised how difficult it would be to write something so short! I may have to keep to absurdly long novels instead. Still very excited that I got a vote, I'm easily excitable.
I used pre-existing characters since they were fae (fairies) anyway.
So, come on, who is the winningest winner in Winningdon?
I just had a really strong double espresso, Jud, I can't do suspense at the moment!Do tell.
I'd like to thank everyone who voted for me, my Mum, my cat, my therapist, my imaginary friends...
Just as long as it's not TonyQ.I couldn't take him coming round to the house shouting "Nananananah" and dancing around like the fairy whose found the jar of paperclips :-)
I could do with a strong double espresso this morning.
Congratulations Marc. Thinking cap on now eh?
Well done, Marc. And well done everyone else as well. An enjoyable collection from an 'unusual' subject matter.
Caja stood just over the fence I was about to hop. Well, jump since I was planning to land on two feet. She glanced up at me whilst I dusted myself off after landing. Her expression stricken. There was something more wrong than just the protestors outside our gates.
“Its Kylia.” she said. “She’s been attacked.” But from the look on her face there was more. Kylia being attacked wasn’t a surprise. The protestors had been getting more violent towards the fae lately and Kylia had a mouth on her. No, we had bigger problems.
“Where is she?” I asked. Caja could be jumpy sometimes. Especially away from her sister. The last two thousand years had not been kind to the sisters, but I thought Kylia had had the better deal. Locked away in the inter-dimensional prison. Caja had been taken and tortured by crusaders, then given to the witch hunters.
“She’s in prison.”
“Why is she in prison?”
“Because she may have killed one of the protestors.” Caja drew out a glass jar from the many coloured folds of her dress. In it were a lot of paperclips, most of them were coated in blood. Yes, definitely bigger problems.