Equal runner up - Junior section
Scotch Oakburn College
“I can’t believe it! My mean mother is making me walk home in such horrible weather! Listen to it! It’s howling like a dog at the full moon,” Emily whined, as she strode along the puddly path, anger propelling her through the harsh wind that whipped her ash black hair violently around her head. A limp brown tree was all that welcomed Emily to her front garden. “Finally!” with an almighty bang the door was slammed shut.
A tall woman, flour splattered across her pink apron, looked up from a lump of bread dough. “Finally, what?” with her wrist, the lady brushed her curly, brown hair out of her green eyes. “None of your business!” Emily glared at her mother.
Emily’s mum sighed. “Well, I have found you another dog-walking client. It’s at 64 Blue Lane.”
“Argghhh!!! Can’t people walk their own dogs? Emily yelled, and she stomped off to her room, slamming the door with a deafening BANG.
Emily stomped angrily across an uneven brick path covered in grass and weeds. A tiny cottage crawling with ants and a door with chipping paint presented itself as 64 Blue Lane. Ding dong! Emily tapped her feet impatiently as she waited for someone to answer.
“Coming!” called out a frail voice. The door squeaked open to reveal a wrinkled old lady, wisps of white hair cascading down her face. “Hello, Dearie! My name’s Margaret. I’ll just get Brownie.”
“Hurry up,” Emily said, curtly. Margaret returned a few minutes later. By her side was a big, hairy, brown dog. He ran up to Emily and gave her a huge, slobbery lick. “Ewww!!!!” she complained, wiping the slobber off her face with her sleeve.
“Be back before five, you don’t want to get cold.” Emily grunted in response and took Brownie for his walk.
Brownie wagged his tail beside Emily, her permanent frown etched across her face. “I’m back!” she called.
“Come in Dearie, and I’ll pay you.” Emily stepped in beside the door and gasped in shock. She was in front of a filthy kitchen, towers of dirty dishes stood precariously above her head.
“Thank you so much,” said Margaret, handing Emily a $20 note. “I would walk him myself, but I’m too old. I can’t even walk across that path anymore, so I must stay here.” For the first time in three months, Emily felt a sharp pang of empathy.
“No problem,” she said, kindly.
Over the next few weeks, Emily found she was becoming more and more attached to Brownie and his slobbery kisses. Every time she came for the dog walking and saw the poor old lady’s house and state of mind, she felt sorry for her. She listened to Margaret’s stories of her youth with fascination. Stories of broken arms, picking fruit off the tree next door after school, but most of all Emily especially liked to hear stories about Margaret’s late husband Tommy.
One cold afternoon, Margaret and Emily were sitting comfortably in-front of a crackling fire, homely mugs of hot chocolate held in their hands, smiles beaming on their faces. Margaret gazed at a black-and-white photo of a lively young man, kindness shining in his eyes.
“That was my husband. Old Tommy, I used to call him.” Margaret’s eyes shone with tears.
“How did you meet?”
Margaret smiled a watery smile and said in reply, love singing through her feeble voice, “It was a freezing afternoon, one like today, and I was shivering on a train, miles from home. This kind young gentleman, with stars in his eyes, gave me a blanket, and said in a hearty voice full of spirit, ‘you are like a soldier, aren’t you?’ Then he shook his head and laughed. ‘You’ll be kidnapped by the wind I am sure! Let me walk you home,’ said he. After that he sent me letters everyday.” Margaret smiled, warmly deep in reminiscent thought. “He died last year from a heart attack.”
Emily reached over and held her hand. “My grandma died three months ago. She taught me how to paint.” She sighed and squeezed Margaret’s hand, who said, “Then we must stick together, for forever and always.” And they did.
Margaret’s house was now spotless, and Emily, once rude and uncaring, became polite and kind. Both found comfort and happiness in the unlikely friendship that would change their lives for the better. They stuck together until Margaret breathed her last breath, her hand resting in Emily’s, a smile upon her face.
Forty South Publishing and the Tasmanian Association for the Teaching of English (TATE) congratulate everyone who entered our short story competition in this challenging coronavirus-affected year. We would also like to recognise the extra work put in by teachers and parents to support these young writers and to maintain the general education of young Tasmanian school students.
The themes this year echoed the world-wide pandemic. For the Juniors (Years 7-9) the themes were ‘Connection’ or ‘Community’ and for the Seniors (Years 10-12) they were ‘Isolation’ or ‘Island’. Students were free to interpret their chosen theme in any way they wanted.
Chris Gallagher judged both sections and was impressed with the overall standard of entries. She could not split her two top stories in the Senior Section and so the senior prize has been shared by Tabitha Glanville (Scotch Oakburn College) and Tara Sharman (Hobart College). In a first for Clarence High School, Oenone Schofield took out the Junior Section with her story, ‘Home’.
