Billybuc's Second Writing Contest....And The Winner Is....

I swear, I would forget my head if it weren’t attached to my neck. I got so busy last week that I forgot about choosing a winner of this contest. I know, I know, horrible excuse, but that’s all I’ve got so we are all stuck with it. J

Having come to my senses, thanks to Sha (Bravewarrior) reminding me, I enlisted Bev this morning and she promptly read all the entries and chose the winner.

Now I have to tell you, the entries for this contest were great. After I had read them I silently offered up a prayer of thanks that I didn’t have to pick the winner….all of them were that good. Bev agrees and says that she could have easily picked any of the contest entries.

So, who were the entries?

The following were kind enough to enter a short story into my contest:

• Sarra Garrett
• Suzettenaples
• JayeWisdom
• Sparklea
• Wayne Barrett
• Lastheart
• WhizDom313

For whatever reason, I could not find WhizDom on HP, so I don’t have a link to her story. Also, Sparklea did not publish her story as a hub, so I gave you a link to her HP site so you can get to know her.

With all the preliminaries out of the way, and an abundant and heartfelt THANK YOU to those who entered, it is time to name the winner.

Sarra Garrett….and here is her entry

Reflections

By Sarra Garrett a/k/a Michelle Sargent

Walking down toward the water to check on the boats I could smell the tide as it ebbed from the previous night’s storm. The staleness of the brackish waters had now given way to a cleaner fresher aroma as if the marsh had been reborn.

The waters were calm as the last of the storm washed its self away and the marsh readied her for the new high tide that would approach in the next couple of hours. I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Gazing into the water at my reflection I saw the sun was already decorating the smooth surface of the marsh with flickering diamonds as the wet mooring ropes gently creaked against the wooden dock.

Several marsh ducks were taking their time paddling around the boats and under the dock looking for their morning breakfast of whatever the storm brought in the night before. Even the ducks were quiet this morning barely making their cooing noises as they continued on with their early morning swim. The world seemed to be a peace and that made one feel good inside.

Turning from the marsh I wanted to enjoy more of the new earth smells that were left by Mother Nature over night. It was such a beautiful morning and there had not been a storm for several months. The damp fresh musty smells were just too good to miss out on. The trail along the marsh gave way to a short wooded walk; a walk I knew would show me what nature gave birth to during the night.

As I barely entered the wood I saw a little bird on the trail. Feathers still wet from the storm he seemed shaken as if lost and scared. I gently picked him up and let him nestle into my cupped hands. The little bird seemed relieved to be held and gently he closed his eyes as if he felt safe and warm. Carrying him gently along I let the little bird sleep in my hands until I felt him stirring. As I opened my hands and started to talk to my little friend he cocked his head one way then another as if he understood every word I was saying to him. Placing the little bird on my shoulder he accompanied me on my morning’s journey and he started to sing has his feathers started to dry in the warming air. It was such a pleasure to have my little friend along on this journey, someone to share the little things in life with.

Dragging some downed branches from the trail I knew I was getting close to an old abandoned shack. As a girl my sister and I used to pretend this was our summer house. Long ago we even put up curtains and painted the walls. Sissy and I would have our summer tea parties and entertain our wildlife friends with stale pieces of bread and make believe tea. We would teach the birds to dance and the birds in turn would teach us to sing and we all swayed along with the trees in the warm summer breezes. Sissy and I would pretend to be aristocrats and would entertain in the finest of ways.

Moving the last branch off the trail the little shack came into view. It looked so lonely there all by itself. No one had used these four walls for tea parties in many years now. As I moved closer to the porch I could see the polka dotted curtains we had hung with wire and nails. They were all dirty, frayed and tattered now blowing through the window openings in the walls. I giggled out loud at memories still alive and the bird on my shoulder suddenly chirped jumping down onto the ground.

As I stepped nearer to the front of the shack I could see our old plastic tea party set, now a dirty pink, sitting on a stump we used as a table. The dishes were placed as if ready for the tea party to begin. Turning around I sat down on what was left of the porch and picked up one of the teacups. The little bird who accompanied me on this journey watched me intently as I giggled again lifting the dirty pink teacup up to my lips as if to take a sip of the finest English tea, pinky out of course.

Putting the teacup back on the table, or rather stump, I stood up and with my little bird friend looking on I started to dance with the trees and sing a song just like Sissy and I used to do when we were children. Maybe it was the fresh clean earth smells that were making me giddy and childlike. Maybe my Sissy was with me as we revisited our childhood together in this moment. It was magical and I felt so peaceful and alive.

Saying goodbye to my little bird friend I watched him as he gulped down a nice fat worm for his breakfast. I told him to have all the tea he wanted and to invite all of his friends as it was now his summer house and tea party and he had a duty to entertain his friends and neighbors.

Today’s journey was about reflection, love and memories. Reflections of things past the love of nature and life and memories of people I hold dear to my heart. As I enter the outskirts of town I see before me the large town monument depicting three brave soldiers that are protected by a beautiful Angel. This monument was dedicated in the same way to my small little town as it was dedicated to reflection, love and memories.

Reflection of our town fathers, the love they had for our community and the memories we all will cherish for they never gave up on each other in the worst or best of times.

Great story for sure. You can find Sarra Garrett here at HP. By the way, her real name is Michelle in case you want to stop by her site and say howdy.

Thank you all for entering and Michelle, I’ll have the book in the mail as soon as I get a mailing address from you.

2013 William D. Holland (aka billybuc)