The Plume Awards are an exciting opportunity for Alta’s young writers to show off their skills in short story writing and to earn the possibility of having their story featured and published within Euphony Magazine. Below are three articles, chosen from a selection of fourteen contending ones. After you read all three stories, go to Alta Hawkeye’s Instagram page and take part of the poll to vote for your favorite.
Story 1: Whispers in the Attic
I wandered around my house, bored out of my mind. I hadn’t had much fun since my brother left for the army four months ago. He didn’t want to go. In fact, he refused. They dragged him out of the house anyway, down the flight of stairs leading to our front door.
That memory was etched into my mind; there was no getting rid of it. I needed a place to sit and think. I slowly climbed the ladder to the attic. When I got up there, multiple boxes distracted me. I opened a few and only found some old magazines and clothes. Then, I opened a tiny box. I saw a note, so I unfolded it. It was from my brother.
My heart dropped and tears blurred my vision when I finished reading it. He knew they were coming for him, so he wrote this note telling me he’d get out and come back to me. Someone knocked on the door, so I rushed down stairs. Nothing. No one was there. The wind must’ve done it. I guess he kept his promise, but returned in spirit.
Story 2: He Returns Home
She quietly sings along to the music floating through the room. Her bare feet dance across the wooden floor. The orange light filtering through the windows illuminates her face. She enjoys the quiet moments like this. She wonders when her love is going to come home. As if on cue, she hears the door creak open. She smiles and faces away from the door, staring out at the sunset instead of looking at him. She feels her love’s gentle arms wrap around her and his chin rest on her shoulder.
“Hello, love.” Her words are quiet, and almost completely drowned out by the music. But she’s sure he heard her. He always does. He’s always understood her. He’s always loved her. As always, he remains silent. As always, his arms don’t pull away. As always, she remains in the kitchen with him until the sun sets. As always, she begs him to stay with her a little longer. As always, he insists that he’s stayed with her long enough. As always, she feels a pit in her stomach the moment he’s gone. As always, she pretends she’s not aware that he never actually returned home.
Story 3: Unfair Return
The gravel crunched under Micheal’s boots, his uniform still crisp and neat. He looked towards the house he had grown up in. Memories of laughter and play filled his mind. His gaze lingered on the garden that had once been filled with plants of all kinds. The rosy tint of his memories almost made him forget why he had spent his whole life running from this place.
Almost.
Suddenly other memories came to his mind. A jagged pain went through his chest as he remembered the sound of his mother’s cries as she put on her black dress. The pain worsened as he remembered his father, who’s laughter was once loved by everyone, staring solemnly out the window.
Those memories were the ones he had tried to run from.
They were the reason he fought.
They were his death wish. Yet here he was. He hadn’t died at war. He returned as a hero. The praise he received made him angrier.
Why, he thought, should he, a broken man, leave and return with medals, when a smart little girl, his darling Iris, left to spend the rest of her life in hospital gowns, surrounded by machines, and returned in a coffin.
The pain was too much. Micheal, for the second time in his life, could not bear to say goodbye.
