Writing for Publication Winter Story Contest

Congratulations to the winners of the Writing for Publication Winter Story Contest.

First place: Jarrett Swartzbaugh’s “The Snow-woman”

The brothers trudged through their first steps into the tundra; the snow crunching beneath their weathered boots as they set out. The precipitation was almost as thick and wet as Tom’s apathy towards it.

With a sudden burst of energy, James scooped up a handful of the powder, rolling it into a firm sphere, and tossed it at his brother with a gleeful squeal. As Tom brushed the icy projectile off his puffy jacket, the younger sibling ran off into the white.

The war was on; snowballs flew everywhere as the skies continued to provide fresh ammunition. The casualties were grave, but a smile was stretched across the faces of both boys. Despite Tom’s initial reluctance to indulge his younger brother’s demands, he was actually enjoying himself.

“Cease Fire!” Tome pleaded with a grin, “How about we build that snowman you were talking about?”

James agreed with an excited nod, and began to roll the body for the snowman. In a short period of time, though, he paused with a look of sad remembrance that appeared in his eyes.

“Mom always helped build the snowman,” he remarked, eyes becoming wet with something not as pure as the snow.

Tom hated seeing his brother cry, but suddenly, he had an idea.

“Wait here!” he commanded, tracing back the deep pits in the snow to their house. He returned with a bundle of old clothes and fine jewelry.

James got the idea, and they began placing the garments on the now snowwoman. The brothers wrapped the figure’s torso in their mother’s favorite jacket and scarf, they pushed her earrings into its cold head, and placed her favorite necklace over it’s oblong shoulders. On the golden necklace was their mother’s name: Elsa.

As their snowwoman was completed, James wrapped his arms around this Venus De Milo, giving a great big hug. It was frigid and moist, but he felt warm embracing it; this warmth seeping into Tom’s heart, as they were able to spend yet another snowfall with their mom.

Second Place: Patrick Carlock’s “Do You Want to Build a Snowman?”

James looked across the white blanket, and turned to his compatriot, giving him a golden smile.

“Let’s go!” James shrieked with delight.

He saw Tom sigh again, but underneath, he could see the hint of a smile. He knew his brother liked to pretend to be a proper, mature grown-up, but deep down Tom loved their adventures as much as he did. He ran to the nearest tree covered in snow and inspected the ground for brambles. HE discovered a middling-sized, rough branch with three smaller ends jutting from the bottom. It was the perfect arm for their frozen friend. He scooped it up and waded through the snow to look for another. When he finally found one, he turned his gaze to Tom and saw that he had already finished the first snowball. James ran over to his brother, shouting, “I found the arms!”

Tom turned to look at him, and James could tell that he was having a merry time as well. He examined the sticks and gave his brother a thumbs up. “That looks good, but now we need some eyes and a nose. Oh, and a mouth,” Tom said.

James nodded in agreement and turned his gaze to the rock garden their mother kept. He found the roundest, shiniest pebbles he could and brought them back over to his brother.

“Those look a good,” Tom said. “Now just let me finish the body.” He went back to the second snowball, and James started rolling his own. Pushing the white, sticky flakes across the yard, he could barely restrain his joy. He finally brought the finished product back to the snowman and placed it atop the mound. Then, he picked up the pebbles and arranged them into a face. It was the best snowman he had ever seen.

Third Place: Caroline Ward’s “Long Winter”

“Well, come on!” James cried, tugging on his brother’s coat sleeve. “Let’s go . . .” his voice trailed off. Tom turned to see his brother clutching around his neck and chest with a concerned look.

“What’s wrong?” Tom asked.

“My scarf,” James murmured. “I don’t have my scarf.”

Tom stiffened when he realized what the problem was. “Well, um, don’t worry, James, I’ll get it right now.”

Tom ran back inside to retrieve the blue and green plaid scarf. James hadn’t moved, and a tear had run down his face. Tom, ignoring James’ distress, started to wrap him up in the cloth.

“No!” James yelled, tears flowing. “Mom puts on my scarf!”

His face began to redden, and his gloved hands covered his face. At first, anger began to bubble up inside Tom, but after a moment, he pushed it away and sighed.

“James,” Tom said softly, kneeling in front of his distraught brother, “you know I miss her too, right?”

James’s shaking shoulders began to slow, and he wiped his eyes and nose. “Yeah, I know,” he sniffled.

“There’s never going to be another Mom, but I can put on your scarf. Okay?”

“Alright,” James said, composing himself. “Can you make hot chocolate when we’re done?”

“You bet, I’ll even put in marshmallows and whipped cream. How about that?” Tom offered, as he wound the sacred garment around James.

“But what if Dad finds out?” James asked.

“Oh, we just won’t tell him,” Tom answered, even though he knew that their dad would be far too busy with bottles and a glass to notice or care.

“What do you say? Ready to go?” Tom asked James.

With a nod and a hug, James took his brother by the hand and once again, bounded out into the hills of snow.

#living