Competition

Highly Commended

Wolf of my Night
by Geoffrey Googe

As wind whips through splintering gates,
trickling cold like creeping stream,
darkness reaches through splintered bars and
beyond my high walls prowls a Wolf.

By clouded day, moonless night,
in shops and houses, beyond my sight
stalks a predator in the shadow,
the Wolf of my night.

Scream in the darkness,
writhe and contort,
insane dreams in wispy shadow
the warped den of my Wolf.

Through sun and shadow,
day and night,
run, scream and shout-
I fly from the endless pit,
the jaws of my Wolf.

Step and pace,
watch and listen,
laughter, screams, the darkness of night.
As dry wood splinters and metal shrieks,
the rotted gate bursts open,
and I descend into gibbering darkness,
the heart of my Wolf.

Highly Commended

The Street Child
by Scarlett Fullelove

A shadowy figure slinks through the dark alleyway
A haunting mist drifts in eerie, curling tendrils through the cold night air
The sightless eyes of the surrounding buildings emit no light
The area is deserted

A pale sliver of moonlight illuminates the skulking form
The street kid freezes
Fear of detection overwhelms his gnawing hunger
He darts into a dark corner, melting into the shadows
All is quiet and still, except for his harsh breathing and the pounding of his heart

Slowly, the figure detaches from the wall and moves back into the alley
He is hungry
He hunts, frantically, desperately searching for food
A dustbin lid crashes, and in the distance a wolf howls
And the figure is gone
Vanished.

Highly Commended

Homecoming
by Joshua Harbort

The wind blew cold, hard as ice,
Grey leaves rattled, black branches swayed-
Then the air was silent.

He knelt at the rock wall, remembering-
Times of plenty, times of fun
Times of Old-style homemade food.
But what caused him to recall his long forgotten history?

He knelt, feeling the icy wind start again.
Something about this place was wistful, homely.

Wolves in the distance, an owl much nearer:
Each like him, trying to survive-
Fighting to remember.

Then, like a thunderbolt, greater than his friends’ eager voices-
It STRUCK him, jolting him to stand.

“This was MY home!” he cried.
He remembered the gardens, the kennels, the cheese!
He knew now what had recalled his past from the mists of time.

But still he wondered, the wind again moaning and groaning,
Grey leaves rattling, black branches swaying.