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Short Story Competition
Short Story Competition
u.tv held its very own writing competition for all you literary enthusiasts out there.
The competition is now closed.
We received some amazing poems and short stories and you can read them all below.
Award-winning travel writer and Newsletter Features Editor Geoff Hill joined Pamela and Frank on UTV Life to reveal the winner on Tuesday 9 December 2008.
The winner - Mary McCullough for Where Old Ghosts Meet - was awarded with £50 worth of book vouchers.
This competition was open to all age groups.
General terms and conditions are available here.
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Where old ghosts meet, By Mary McCullough
Looking back on that summer, I now see a sort of pattern emerging, which was certainly not evident at the time. Strange, isn’t it, how one’s path through life is paved with “ifs” and “buts”, and perhaps the saddest of all, “if only.”
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A Short Story, By Ingrid Nixon
Thoughts were racing through her mind; it was like a mirror. Parts of her heart shattered over the floor as she held the phone by her side. A single black teardrop rolled down her cheek, she could taste the wet, salty tear in her mouth.
Our First Car, by Agnes Clarke
We were married for almost eight years when our son Paul arrived to make our home complete. As I am sure every one of you will know having a baby to transport about puts a strain on all your resources at once.
The Princess & the Oak by Dan Bullock
Once upon a time there stood a whopping great castle upon a crumbling hill, tangled in vines and mystery. Rumour, legend (and the tabloids) told stories that during the dark hours of the night, the castle was home to ghosts, spirits and ghouls and they terrorised whoever stayed in its eerie walls.
Fishing, by Audrey Bell
Up to my knees in running water
My dress tucked into my ‘pants’
Brown stones beneath my feet
Sand and pebbles, near the river bank.
Oh, the beauty of it all
The Coat, by Iris Russell
It was such an ordinary day, the day she bought the coat. When it dawned, there were no fanfares, no white winged angels singing glorious harmonies with waking songbirds. No prophetic whisperings of change or promises of heavenly happenings. Just an ordinary day then.
Love Grows, By Tiina Totten
Not enough words to fill these pots.
Wild flowers have taken hold.
You say you don't mind,
while you draw in a scent from the pot near the window.
The Crunch, By Steven Ormsby
The mortgage lender warmly shook my hand and declared I could have my two hundred grand.
I skipped out of his office and excitedly rang my spouse, “Get the packin’ started honey,
We can buy our dream house”.
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The boy who loved his life, by EOIN MCNALLY
Once upon a time there lived a boy who loved his life so much that he didn’t want to grow up because he did not want to leave school.
The Sperrin Chest, By Matthew McCallion
“You must never open it,” said my brother. “Promise me you’ll never open it.”
The chest sat on the table. Looking at it you would never think the danger it contained. But my brother was right. It must never be opened again if the world was to survive. It held a secret so powerful and horrific that, if unleashed, would result in global devastation within two days.
The Beehive, By Phil Tierney
A town child believed in Heaven
It was called the Beehive.
A lovely old house came into view
At the corner below the sally gardens.
Alone the flat road by Big Paddy’s
The long pointed field and the row of trees
Up from Carr’s gate the “plantin,”
A dark place of mystery
I Am, By Roisin Moore
I am the cold north wind blowing over land and seas
Creating the waves brushing against the breeze
I am the rain that gathers and falls from the blackest cloud
Filling the lakes and rivers overflowing and flooding the ground
The numbskulls, By Sylvester Donnelly
Dear Mr Kellogg’s I’m writing to say
If your man here is happy then we’re happy too
But lately he was talking to little Bo-peep
And longing for sleep ate a big bowl of”K”
Pain, By Samuel I. Millar
My mother was a workaholic, scrubbing and cleaning and always smelling of Daz, bleach and carbolic soap that stained her hands the colour of raw wounds.
Alone, By Mark McGreevy
“Grace has been in the toilet for over twenty minutes”, Thomas thought to himself. He had been so engrossed in his morning paper, he hadn’t noticed time pass. He looked down the carriage, but could see no sign of her.
Do we appreciate life, By Alison Black
Do We Appreciate Our Loved Ones
Do We Tell Our Loved Ones That They're Loved?
When Did You Last Say To You Loved One That ‘I Love You’
That You Loved Them?
‘A DAMSEL IN DISTRESS’, By Katrina M Howe
Sometimes we find ourselves in circumstances beyond our control. Circumstances when we must rely on the kindness of another. These situations which occur haphazardly reveal true human nature and character. I thank God that I have never found myself in a serious circumstance like this, but I did recently experience something similar on a much smaller scale…
Open your eyes!!! By R. Donnelly
Saw a shoe on the side of a road, a child crying, tears fall from her eye
Saw an old woman carrying her home on her back, she was alone...
Saw an empty street where once was alive, rubble and ruins
And people fighting for their lives...
Destruction and mayhem and government rules….
Fear and loathing and devious fools...
The Gift, By Sharon Carlisle-Whearty
Alas, with fond memories, yet still to this day, I can recall vividly, events of that night that did cast forth my magical new beginning. For I replay it often in my mind, reliving every minute detail, so as to keep it alive, that spark that did transform my life forever, leading me from the darkness to pastures green. The date forever etched into my heart.
Boiled Carrots, By Katie Christopher
When Spud Smith joined 3b way back in that autumn term of 1976, we were told to look after him, his Mum had died recently, he’d moved to South London from somewhere “up North” and he was feeling “delicate“. Although when he entered the classroom, delicate is not a word one would ordinarily have used to describe him.
Great Auntie's Bloomers, By Eileen Stevenson
Today was the day Charlie dreaded. When he woke up he knew that something was going to happen but it took a few moments to remember what it was. He had been dreaming about a duck pond with a duck wearing brightly coloured underwear and then he remembered why! Great Aunt Lila was coming to visit.
I am – Your Friend, By Grainne Breen
We found in the Rembrandts of each other
Hollow iris a deep black torn soul
Where we embark on a journey and we fly
This empty space where time had no coincidence
And light made no significance
How Not To Celebrate Christmas, By Madeleine Griffin
In school I was known as a good girl, and have continued in that vein ever since. Well, good-ish anyway, which makes it all the more surprising that I’m about to become an internationally infamous criminal.
Picking The Potatoes, By Kathleen Gleeson
My father's sister Kitty and her Husband Anthony had a farm about two miles from where we lived. Every year Dad was allowed to plant two drills of potatoes in one of their fields and every year at harvest time my brother, three sisters and I would be allowed two days off school to pick the potatoes.
The Rainbow Stone, By Susan Lawther
Some people believe that pearls are made naturally by oysters. This is not completely true, for the oyster does not make the pearl on its own, but with a little help from above, with a little help from a rainbow.
A very profitable exchange, By Robert Gibson
The Lord at number 11 Theodore Manner was feeling generous. He had made a nice profit on a little business deal his dear friend Sir Alfred Haynes had introduced him too, and then, on the way home from church on the previous night he had rode by young Williams at number 3.
Waking the dead, By Eileen Greene
I was playing outside me granny’s house. I told you about her before. Anyway, I was playing there with me cousin, Irene. We weren’t doing any harm; just playing with the dolls my Da’s sister had sent from the States. Both dolls were mine; Irene was my cousin on my Ma’s side.
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