Gower College Swansea has held a creative writing competition to which all AS English students were invited to submit entries consisting of short stories, dramatic monologues or opening chapters. The entries were judged by Jeanne-Marie Williams, English lecturer, who had organised the competition, who was delighted with the standard of work submitted.
All 30 competition entrants were invited to a special awards ceremony and afternoon tea in the English Department on 11 June. Guest speaker, Chris Walley, who is a Geology lecturer at the college and a published author, offered some words of advice to the students about the art of writing and becoming published.
The majority of the afternoon put the focus clearly on the students’ work with readings from a variety of competition entries. The entries were read by Chris, librarians Tim Hannah and Mark Ludlam as well as members of the English team.
‘It was wonderful to celebrate student achievement in an informal, friendly atmosphere’, said Curriculum Leader Sally Llewellyn, ‘we are lucky to have such talented writers in our classes.’
First prize went to Daniel Davies, with Amelia Picton-Jones and Cassie James taking second and third. The three received Amazon vouchers which were provided by the Humanities learning area.
The college is hopeful that the award can become an annual event.
Pictured (l-r) are Chris Whalley, Daniel Davies (first prize), Cassie James (third prize) and Jeanne-Marie Williams (organiser and competition judge). Amelia Picton-Jones, who came second, was unable to be at the presentation
Excerpts from the beginnings and endings of the winning stories:
First Prize: Daniel Davies ‘Dead Man Talking’
The universe contains many great things, but it also contains things that are rather unimpressive. Alan Wood is the perfect example of this. Alan Wood is a man, in his mid-thirties, and like any other man in his mid-thirties, Alan has two legs, two arms, ten fingers, ten toes, a big nose, two ears, a horrid haircut that even his mother would not love, and two eyes that did not work properly. Along with being blessed with horrid looks, Alan was also blessed with a great deal of misfortune. One evening, I believe it was the first Tuesday of June in 1996, he had three near death experiences in rapid succession. Even though this was not the best of things to happen to him that day, the day however, did not finish without its rewards. Death, having been slightly sick of chasing Alan on that particular day, struck up a very unique deal with him in which he promised not to come near him until the time has ‘finally come’, all to make sure that Death would not have any more ‘near Alan experiences’....
“Are you sure you want to go so soon? No goodbyes or anything? Death asked Alan’s ghost in a rather sincere manner.
“No,” Alan’s ghost replied, “anything’s better than that thing.” He gestured to the motionless body lying on the floor. “Besides, I almost had the chance for that years ago, remember?”
And so, Death led Alan’s ghost through the rift where Alan took his chances and ended up reincarnated as a dung beetle in Central America where he spent the rest of his days being happier than he ever was in his human life.
Second Prize: Amelia Picton-Jones ‘Mrs Vye’
8.00a.m. Old Mrs Vye sat as she usually sat - in her armchair, positioned in the large, front bay window where she was able to watch the world pass by. It was how she liked to spend her days: a spectator, an observer of people, people who had, over the years, become her friends. Though, they would never know it....
10.00p.m. Mrs Vye was sat as she usually sat. Night had fallen; surrendering her front room to darkness but the street lamp outside shed an amber glow onto her chair, casting shadows in the recesses of her room. Each time a car passed in the street, the shadows would move, drifting across the walls before creeping back into corners, crawling behind sofas. Mrs Vye stared into the street, her white hair soft and feathery, neatly combed – she would still be there the next day, at precisely the same time.
2.00p.m. The postman would come gambolling up her path and then stop suddenly, sensing that all was not well – she was smiling gently, her blue eyes seeing everything, seeing nothing. Her tea had long gone cold.
Third Prize: Cassie James ‘Addiction’
The conversation is eternally boring. I watch Lady Elisabeth wave her bony hands childishly as she speaks her dull opinions, her teeth yellowed by years of rich over-indulgence, her rouge swelling her face with the intention of feigning youth. I can see in her eyes her ignorance and naivety; she is speaking of a subject she knows not one single truth or fact about. If she intends to show off she is doing an appalling job...Lady Elisabeth’s screeching laugh shatters my thoughts once again, sending a thick shiver of hatred through my spine and sparking in my fingertips...Then colours start to form, first as distant droplets, and then larger shapes that come into focus...Lady Elisabeth’s death begins to play out behind my eyelashes. Red blood pouring thickly into her dark blue sequined dress, her eyes rolling back into her skull...Her death is beautiful and colourful. A rainbow of fleshy gore where the plate meets her fragile skull, bleeding through glittering fabric, combining to create a clash of brilliant contrast, accompanied by the orchestral screams and shouts of the guests as the blood splatters against their faces and paints the walls crimson.