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The 11th Annual Halloweensie Writing Contest is here!!! Susanna Hill runs several fun kidlit micro-fiction contests, and Halloweensie is no exception. This year's essential info:
 Photo credit: Enrique Meseguer from Pixabay THE JIMJAM by Carrie Karnes-Fannin Black licorice, two bruised apples, a toothbrush… What kind of neighborhood is this?!? “Guys! C’mon, c’mon…one more.” Your friends shrug. They peel off, their glow-in-the-dark buckets heavy with full-sized goodies. Even your goosebumps have goosebumps in the shivery October air. You trudge on. Under a broken streetlight, on a shadowed street, the house waits. It gives you heebie-jeebies...the willies… the jimjams. You mutter, “I wouldn’t live here as a ghost,” Still… you knock. It opens-- empty, wide. “Oh, aren’t you a sweetie?” A nothing beckons. “Come! We’ll fill that bag right up.” No treats for you tonight-- you’re tricked.
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Once a House
by Carrie Karnes-Fannin (177 words) She'd once been a house, but that was long ago. She remembered what it was like. seasons stacked memories, piled like cordwood ahead of winter snows For at her heart were the trees. timbers people called them, turning the black forest into boards and rafters And trees never forget those they’ve sheltered. Chicks under the eaves with broken shells clinging to their damp heads. Mice and their hidden highways between golden paneled walls. A girl’s laughter ringing in the hall, and through the years. she’d loved them all But, the wood reclaimed her as its own, while time dripped down slowly slowly leafy crowns bathed by crystal rains fed the tender roots that coursed through cracks twisting turning tasting and drank deep from her well of memories. A thousand dappled suns kissed her ruined walls, casting shadows among the saplings. she loved them still Now under a frosty blanket, her bones slept yellow orange red drifting falling dreaming as the once-and-future girl climbed, ascending echoes of the house who used to be a home, and would always remember. |
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