Fan Fiction Award
2015
Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
Into the Shadows
By Alyssa Gibson
Age 15
Georgia’s point of view:
We came to a pathway that led to a field. He pulled me down the path and we
walked around the edge of the field where there was a line of trees. We walked
for a good half an hour, talking about anything and everything. Suddenly
he stopped and I felt a chill go down my spine, not unlike the chill of dread
when we first saw Harry.
“What is it Niall?” I asked, scared now. He shook his head and gave me
a regretful look, a look of dread and... guilt? “I’m so sorry Georgia, I’m so
sorry,” he stuttered, tears pooling his eyes. He pulled me behind a tree. “Stay
quiet,” he demanded, and grabbed his phone, typing something and pressing
it to his ear. “Styles. They’re here. Yes, I’m with Georgia. I know! Get Louis.
I’m being serious, Styles, get your ass here. You realize Sky’s best friend is here,
right? Thank you. You idiot, don’t bring her. Tell her no, Harry! Okay. Hurry.
Okay, bye,” I heard him say into the speaker. “Niall, what is going on?” I
asked, “Shh, baby. You’re okay,” he said, stroking his hand across my cheek.
“There are some vampires. Uncontrollable ones. They’re here, Georgia. They
shouldn’t be. Just stay quiet, please”
We waited for five minutes until I heard a voice speak. “Well, well, well,
look who we have here.” Niall looked at me. “Stay quiet,” he mouthed.
“Stefan, Alec, James,” Niall said in acknowledgement, walking out from
behind the tree, nodding at the men.
I stepped forwards, to stop myself falling, and grazed my arm on the tree.
I gasped, covering my mouth. “What was that?” one voice questioned. “Who
is there, Niall?” another voice hissed. “She’s with me,” he said, sternly. “Is she?
Human?” The final voice asked, it was deeper than the rest. “No” Niall stated.
“You’re a liar, Niall Horan. Get her!” the deeper voice said. I screamed as I
was forcefully yanked from behind the tree by rather strong arms. “No!” Niall
shouted, lunging at the tall man, who was holding me. “Niall,” I whimpered,
tears filling my eyes as the biggest pf the three men walked towards me. “She’s
mine, boys,” he growled, taking my arm and turning it over, pressing his lips
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
to my wound. “Nice,” he said, moving forwards, pushing my head to the side
and sinking his teeth into my neck.
Pain. Unbearable pain. It was all I could feel. Red hot, burning pain. I
opened my eyes and saw the man being dragged from me with force and I
felt myself drop to the ground. I curled up into a ball and screamed, trying
to escape from the burning sensation overtaking my body. I heard my name
once, “Georgia.” It was Skylar. “Help me,” I whimpered, before closing
my eyes and crying out again. When I closed my eyes, it was like the fire
died down. I could feel a darkness enveloping my body slowly, however the
darkness was painless. The further I let myself be drawn in to the darkness,
the less pain I felt.
Niall’s point of view:
“Niall, she’s dying,” I heard Harry snap. She’s dying. She’s dying. I fell to
my knees beside her still body, feeling her pulse. I felt it get weaker by the
second. “Georgia!” I cried out shakily, tears filling my eyes, “Don’t leave me,
hold on.” Harry turned towards me, panic clear in his eyes “Niall, you know
what you need to do” he cried, holding a sobbing Skylar. “Niall, did you hear
me? You need to change her, she dying!” He growled. “Change?” Sky asked
warily. Harry nodded with regret showing on his face. I looked at Skylar
for approval and she nodded. “Save her?” she whispered, quietly. I nodded
and leaned forwards, “I love you, Georgia, I’ll make it go away,” I hummed.
Then, pressing my lips to her forehead, I closed my eyes and sunk my teeth
into her neck.
Georgia’s point of view:
I was surrounded by darkness, but now I see a light. And I hear his voice. “I
love you, Georgia, I’ll make it go away.”
“I love you,” he whispered, his voice full of love and promise. “I’ll make it
go away.” I trusted him to put out the burning fire inside of me.
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
Vulture’s Bane
By Ariana Van Biljon
Age 15
The bullet didn’t hit him. I aimed for his skull. I fired.
Exhausted ammunition reserves.
I jaunt back into the alley and sense goose flesh sprawl over my skin like
wildfire. My ankles are spent and could give way at any second.
I don’t hear Will approaching. I don’t want to. In a way, I wish he was
dead. I wish that he was at least unconscious so that I could just stop, and
think. My mum and dad are gone. I should be running, but I stop. Looking
in between the concrete walls which barricade me, a shard of barren light
roves between where I hide and the building in which my remaining parent
died.
But I can’t die. I can’t do that to Tobias.
Now, I hear it. I hear the thunderous footfall of the boy that should have
died. In the back of my mind, I’m screaming. I’m telling myself that Will isn’t
here. Will’s gone. Will’s dead. This boy – this thing, is just his shell. It’s just
his ghost. I will survive this fight.
I revolve and run. I’m so heavy footed in my grief that the ground punches
against each stride that I take. It’s as if the gravel wants me to lose. His gun
goes off.
Will wasn’t the best with aim – from what I can recall – but perhaps the
simulation will possesses his coordination and hopefully when he does shoot
it’ll drill me clean. With any luck I’ll pass with grace and won’t be found
looking like some tortured and tarnished roadkill, smudged or soiled on the
concrete, with gravel engrained on my bloody skull. I shouldn’t be thinking
like this. My mother was shattered. My father fought to the death. I will not
let their passing be in vain. Now I fall.
As I plummet, I feel my ankle twiddle like a screw being drilled in. The
bone curves. It doesn’t break, but it tilts. I fall.
Scavenging for some leeway I press my palms into the ground in an effort
to get up and go. But I drop again as my ankle gives way. I’m facing him.
He isn’t running now. He’s halted. Thinking. He’s run out of bullets too.
So he prises out a knife. When he coils the blade I see passionate bruising
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
along his index finger and thumb: this is where the gun rested, this is where
his frustration was channelled, and this is where all the death came from.
I’m fine for a few seconds – he can’t throw knifes; he surely remembers that
much.
I think of Edward and the butter knife. It makes me wonder where
Will will lacerate first, as I scramble against the floor and notice the gravel
penetrate my wrists and palms. My ankle feels loose, but I drag it anyway. I
can feel the red, engraved dots on my palms. They get deeper, and deeper…
I move back and slip.
Skin tears. Flesh is open. I munch at my lip and feel the ecstasy of pain
flow through my gums and jawline. My hands heat up, and the blood flows
freely through.
Will charges me down and tussles to go for my face with the pointy end,
but I block him with my knees and he tumbles. His head strikes my calf and
his hand claws for support, only to find my ankle. I attempt to ignore my
body breaking beneath him.
He’s up. And he goes for me again. I clamber back once more and let extra
gravel penetrate my flesh. It stings, and I bite back curses, but he can hear my
wheezing breaths of bleak agony.
And he relishes it. I am the feeble deer being mutilated by the preying
lion. He’s going to demolish me, I know that much. But he wants to shred
me first.
He swipes the blade like a paintbrush and it drives through the width
of my knees. Now I scream. It was the shock, I guess. He then takes the
opportunity to knock my knees to the side and climb over me. Dead eyes.
Dead smile. This is what you’ve been waiting for, Jeanine. You will have your
dead. Divergent.
I try to kick him, but he oppresses me abruptly, by thrusting his elbow
down on my ankle. He knows I’m a soldier down.
Looking up, I see his face. He sees mine.
In my memory he smiles. And now his arms go up.
And the knife comes down.
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
The Sky’s Awake
A Frozen Fanfiction
By Asja Dally
Age 19
Young Elsa is gifted with ice magic. Her baby sister, Anna, is her whole world.
One night, a terrible accident tears them apart forever. Fear takes root in
Elsa’s heart, eating away at her from inside-out, and ultimately seals her fate
to becoming the infamous Snow Queen.
ENTRY:
The sky’s awake, and Anna’s awake, so they have to play.
It’s become a tradition of sorts, these midnight playtimes. Papa tells them
off, of course, because Papa is King and that’s the sort of thing he supposed
to say – but there’s always a quirk to his lips and a ruffle of Anna’s unruly
morning mop that makes them just daring enough to try it one more time.
Besides, Elsa thinks, as Anna practically falls down the stairs with
excitement, tugging her like a puppy on a leash - if it makes Anna happy,
how bad can it be?
“Do the magic, do the magic!”
She does. Her powers hum against her palm and tickle her fingers, the
sensation as familiar as breathing. It’s always like this, just the tiniest bit
impatient, begging to be set free. Hello, Elsa smiles. The snowflakes dance
across her palms in a wordless, butterfly-light greeting.
Anna’s eyes have widened, big and bright as jewels in the dark of the
ballroom, and Elsa holds out the glittering orb of snow for her sister to see.
“You ready?”
Anna nods so hard her chin hits her collarbone, and Elsa throws the orb,
high in the air, with all the strength she can muster. The snow explodes like
a firework above them.
“This is amazing!” Anna squeals, scampering in a circle with both arms
thrown up to catch the falling snowflakes. Her socks slip against the polished
boards, but she’s too busy laughing to notice and Elsa’s too busy watching her
to worry.
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
Skating, sliding, snowball fighting, snowman-making…the hours pass,
the castle sleeps on around them, and Elsa wonders if there’s any such thing
as being too happy. Life is a dream, and she never wants to wake up.
“Catch me!” Anna shouts, voice echoing around the ballroom as she leaps
from a snowdrift, and Elsa catches her with a silk-soft bed of snow. “Oh!
Again!”
Elsa giggles, watching her sister leap and flail in mid-air, an ungainly
baby bird learning to fly. Her magic fizzles through her body, shooting out in
graceful arcs to catch her before she falls. It’s reckless and silly and so much
fun, and Anna whoops at the top of her voice, jumping faster and faster –
“Wait,” Elsa blurts, “slow down!”
But Anna only laughs, and Elsa’s foot skids on the ice, and the world
topples, and her magic shoots out like lightening, Anna, Anna!
“Ouch!”
Anna falls. Elsa’s bolt of ice glints, like a silver knife, as it strikes her across
the face. A tumble down a snowdrift, a clumsy skid across the ice, and the
little body rolls to a stop.
It doesn’t move.
“Anna!”
Elsa throws herself across the room, knees slamming into the ice beside
her baby sister. Anna’s head lolls in her lap: a still, lifeless doll. A streak of
colour, white as snow, glides across her scalp. Like a trickle of blood.
And something takes Elsa’s heart in its fist and squeezes –
“Mama! PAPA!”
She crushes herself around her baby sister’s body, arms wrapped like steel
braces and head buried in her pigtails. Safe. Protected.
I’m here, Anna.
She wants to cry. Why can’t she cry? She’s killed her baby sister. She
should cry. Mama, why can’t I cry? Her hands shake, and then her arms,
and then her whole body is trembling from head to toe, like an earthquake,
tearing everything apart. A cry rips itself out of her, and there’s a tell-tale
taste in her throat, foul and raw. Tears choke in her lungs - I killed her, Papa,
I killed her - grief devouring her like a monster, swallowing her whole, and
her magic explodes. Sheets of razor-sharp, electric-blue ice devour the floor.
The snowman dissolves, body parts scattered in all directions. The ceiling
frosts over, the old wood beams groaning as though in pain. Destruction,
everywhere she looks. Death and destruction. Because of her.
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
“Y-y-you’re ok, Anna. I-I got y-you…”
But I didn’t, she thinks. I killed you, Anna. I…killed…you.
The feeling reaches its peak, consuming, and fear screams and splits and
shrieks in triumph through every facet of Elsa’s soul.
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
An Extract from the Short Story “Flight”
By Catriona Trainer
Age 21
Glinda the Good waved her hand gracefully at Dorothy’s disappearing figure,
an appraising smile ornamenting her beautiful face. The girl clicked her ruby
heels together time and time again, muttering a little nonsense phrase that
Glinda had invented for her own amusement: a simple transportation spell
would have sufficed to send her home.
“Goodbye, Dorothy!” the Good Witch beamed, the goodbyes of
the citizens of the Emerald City echoing around the high buildings and
reverberating in her ears. The Wizard’s balloon faded into the distance, and
she sent a fleeting glare after it. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have lots of
important business to attend to!” Glinda smiled softly, stepping into her
bubble and floating gracefully towards the palace, her grin quickly turning to
a grimace as the Ozians cheered her name. No-one noticed.
“There’s no place like home! There’s no place like home!” she mocked in a
scathing imitation of the little girl. “Stupid farmyard brat…” She veered left,
the opposite direction from the palace. The high emerald studded walls of the
city soared into the air and she had to bank around a couple of towers to avoid
her bubble popping, as this would precipitate a long fall to her death. Not
exactly top of her to-do list. Glinda muttered a few choice syllables and her
bubble immediately shrunk in size, making her journey practically invisible.
As she glided slowly away from the city, the Good Witch allowed herself
a few moments for reflection. The Wicked Witch was indeed dead…but that
meant that Elphaba was dead. And Fiyero, too. Poor, dear Elphie and Yero;
they really had been an ideal match for one another… Pity it had to end
before it could even begin. His rejection and her betrayal still hurt, but she
couldn’t bring herself to be angry with them now: they had sacrificed too
much for one another.
Glinda hummed a little tune to herself as she flew, and smiled sadly as
the image of a little girl in a blue dress, heavy black boots and a tall black hat
popped into the front of her mind. She felt the same gush of remorse as she
had that night at the Ozdust, but also a now familiar sinking in her heart as
she remembered Fiyero staring, transfixed, at this strange party guest.
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
Upon contemplation, she wondered how it had never occurred to her
earlier. Had she really been that self-absorbed and shallow? With Fiyero, it
had all been an act, but with Glinda… She meant every self-approving word
that came out of her mouth, but now she regretted not letting him be with
his real love earlier.
Perhaps, if they had known that they were in love sooner…
Well, of course they had known they were in love from that time with that
horrendible lion cub…
But if she had only known! …
Maybe they’d still be alive now. Elphaba. Fiyero. Alive.
Perhaps, if Fiyero had been with Elphaba that day in the throne room
with the Wizard and Morrible and those poor Monkeys, he could have talked
her out of running away, talked her out of becoming a convicted criminal…
Or he would have gone with her. Yes.
He was as brave as she was, so he would have taken flight with her Something Glinda didn’t have the strength of character to do.
Eventually, the fateful place could be seen on the horizon. Kiamo Ko. It
loomed, grey and austere, high above the clouds that swathed the mountain
it resided on, and the presence of the Witch still seemed to linger. Glinda
had been there when Elphie died, but something in her pushed her back
again; some kind of masochistic instinct that yearned to be near the souls of
her beloved pair. She had already returned twice in the six days since Elphie’s
death.
As she neared the castle, a large figure with furiously flapping wings
advanced towards her from the top turret. She enlarged her bubble again
and cast a welcoming smile at Chistery, the Wicked Witch’s especial pet - a
flying Monkey. Glinda made the bubble hover, and the Monkey slowly drew
something out from underneath his massive blue and red waistcoat.
‘Blue and red, Elphie?’ Glinda thought wanly. ‘All of the colours you
could pair together to make your pretty apes look scary and you go for blue
and red? Honestly, did I teach you nothing?’
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
Final Flight
By Danielle Kirby
Age 16
Darkness shrouded the world. Darkness so sinister that even the Joker, the
persona of insanity; was kept at bay. Who was heroic enough to tread these
demonic halls? Who was foolish enough to tangle with one’s own fears?
In the darkness wandered a child thirteen years of age. He was not in this
realm by his own freewill however; but forced. How he ended up in the
murky jurisdictions of his mind eluded him. As the small ebony haired teen
wondered the halls his sharp senses picked up the gut-wrenchingly familiar
sound of circus music. Despite his instincts the boy warily followed the tune
of his past into a large clearing. He was greeted by the sight of a large red
and blue striped circus tent. Nostalgia settled in as he gazed longingly at his
home.
Before he knew what was happening, the young hero started making his
way toward the brightly coloured arena. As he stepped into the fabricated
building the world before him disappeared. Panic swelled in his chest as the
use of his senses were stripped from him.
When his sight returned, his panic turned into pure bone chilling fear.
He found himself atop the trapeze platform, the world far below his feet.
He was greeted by the cheer of the Gotham crowd as two familiar figures
elegantly twisted in the air doing breath-taking summersaults and tricks. The
red-headed female acrobat gazed his way with a heart-warming smile. He
froze. For the vigilante knew what would happen as he watched his parents
perform. He shouted out, desperately trying to convince them to stop.
That’s when he heard it. The devastating snap of the trapeze rope, which
has haunted his dreams since that fateful night. He reached out, desperately
trying to save his family as their faces turned from joy to pure fear as they
began to plummet to the cold, hard and unforgiving ground below. The
crowd began to scream as the horrifying scene unraveled, and fled. He
watched, frozen to the spot as his family made contact with the ground with
a sickening cracking of bones.
He immediately scrambled down to ground level and knelt by their sides.
Their limbs sticking out at angles that even flexible acrobats should not be
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
able to achieve. He could taste the metallic blood in his mouth as he tried in
vain to wake them up, to see his mother’s bright blue eyes once again; to no
avail. The world closed in on the child as he sobbed and screamed for them
to wake up. He felt so alone, so lost, so... broken.
The young acrobat was startled back to his senses as the corpses before
him began to twitch violently. Slowly, the two faces looked at him, staring
into his soul. His entire being felt violated by their demonic stares. Sluggishly,
they made their way towards the sidekick. What left their mouths shattered
the teenager’s heart. “Disappointment.” The ebony haired boy struggled and
screamed against his captors until everything went black.
Darkness; it covered everything. Within the murky depths of his mind he
heard yet another familiar voice. It sounded so close yet so far away.
“Come on Robin, wake up! It’s okay, it’s over now.” The voice gently
coaxed the Boy Wonder towards the light. “That’s it Rob. Open your eyes.
That’s it.”
With great effort Robin managed to lift his heavy eyelids to be greeted by
six blurry figures. He realised he was in a soft bed in the caves infirmary. As
his vision began to clear he saw the worried faces of his team mates looking
at him sympathetically.
“What happened?” came his quiet voice.
“We were on a mission in Brazil investigating Scarecrow, remember?” His
best friend Kid Flash asked, in which Robin replied with a nod. “Well he
jumped us and you got hit with fear gas. You’ve been screaming and struggling
in a nightmare ever since,” explained the speedster.
“Oh,” was the hero’s only reply as he played the images over in his head.
“It... it was horrible KF. I s...saw them die again! Why did they have to leave
me?” He cried as the dam finally broke, salty tears running down his face. He
felt strong arms envelop him as he cried into his friend’s chest. It was at this
moment the team realised just how broken their little bird was.
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
Blind Date
By Emma Findlay-Wilson
Age 21
I suppose it is a little… incongruous for a woman in my position to have an
online dating profile. You see, the problem with being an Evil Queen (and a
most successful one at that, I must say) is that really, anyone worth spending
time with is either deathly afraid of you or busy trying to kill you. Do you
know how exhausting it is to try and keep up a conversation in the middle
of a sword fight, or while you’re turning somebody into a frog? Quite terribly
so, I assure you.
A murmur at the door and a waitress pointing to my table; he must be
here. Courteously, I stand up as he approaches. Just because I’m evil doesn’t
mean I have abandoned all etiquette… and it gives me a chance to assess him
properly. Height — reasonable. Build — rather good, from what I can see. He
has a gorgeous face that his profile picture didn’t do justice to, though there is
something vaguely familiar about his dark hair and handsome features.
He nods at me with a trace of nervousness, and I give him my best
‘intimidating, but attractive’ smile — and in that instant we both recognise
each other, and all hell breaks loose.
“The Evil Queen!” he shouts, backing away in horror, while I point at him
rudely, temporarily forgetting my manners.
“You’re charmingu92?” I exclaim. “How is this possible?”
“What trick is this?” he’s hissing, eyes narrowed. “Are you going to try and
poison me, too?”
Well, a lady never likes to be accused of such dastardly plans, particularly
when they’re not true at that moment in time. “How dare you?” I say hotly.
“You are quite inconsiderate, and a liar besides.”
“A liar?” He is outraged. “How about failing to mention that you’re Queen
Grimhilde?”
“My username is EvilQueenLol,” I point out sarcastically. “And you told
me you were single.”
“I am single!” he sputters, apparently resenting the slight to his honour.
Suddenly things have got a lot more interesting. My lips curve into a wide
smile.
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
“Oh, do tell, dear prince,” I practically purr. “Whatever happened to my
darling stepdaughter?”
For a moment I’m convinced he’s about to make a run for it, but at that
moment the waitress appears and glances between us, confused.
“Is — er — everything okay?”
I wait for him to leave; to run away screaming. It wouldn’t be the first time.
But strangely, miraculously, he shakes his head and takes a seat. Astonished,
I follow suit, and we order our meal and then stare at each other with frozen
politeness.
“I left her,” he says stiffly after a moment or two.
“Why?” The question bursts out of me. She was the most perfect, the
fairest, was she not?
He shrugs. “She was — boring. She talked to birds more than she talked
to me. She… she had no passion, no mystery.”
I am delighted to hear all my suspicions confirmed. I lean forwards just
the slightest bit, and watch triumphantly as his cheeks redden slightly. “She
was a child, my dear prince…”
Oddly enough, he seems to agree with me. “They all are, these days…
I grew sick of bland, spoilt princesses lining up at my door, simpering and
giggling and trying to manoeuvre me into marriage.” I wince sympathetically.
“So what’s brought you onto the dating scene?” He takes a sip of his wine.
He ordered red, thank goodness; you can tell a lot about a man by his choice
of drink.
I wave an elegant hand. “Preparing wicked spells and perfecting an evil
laugh gets monotonous eventually.” To my delight, he laughs, showing white,
even teeth and a dimple in his left cheek.
Conversation flourishes over the main meal. My impression of the prince
has always been of someone totally… boring. As it turns out, I was wrong. I
order dessert for both of us and listen to him rant about his imbecilic subjects.
Really, the possibilities are quite interesting.
“Apple pie,” says the waitress as she places it in front of him, and to my
amusement he goes pale and stares at the bowl.
“Apple…?” he says uncertainly, looking up to meet my gaze; I wink at
him.
“Live dangerously, your highness,” I murmur.
There is a moment of silence, and then he takes a spoonful, without once
breaking eye contact. I raise my glass with a smile.
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
“To… unlikely meetings,” I suggest.
“To unlikely meetings,” he echoes, and we both grin.
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
Her Last Masquerade
By Erica England
Age 15
A carnivorous smile.
She wore it well; scarlet lips curled ironically in her provocative smirk,
empty eyes scrutinising her rival, who raised his brows in intangible
disappointment.
“Is that it?”
It was then that the barrel of her gun became parallel with his eyes. His
body tensed, relaxation abridged, as he marvelled at the woman before him.
There was a time when he would have done anything, everything for her.
When the hands of clocks were his oysters, and when she was his world.
Every fibre of his being burned with life when in her company; his distilled
memories of countless summers, nocturnal outings, twisted habits were now
dismembered by the metallic barrel he was forced to comprehend.
Slowly, he raised his hands, boned fingers contorted with fear as they
shook. His eyes pierced hers, shattering the mask she was wearing- though
her act would seldom break. No emotion escaped her, no flutter of instinct,
no undertow of hesitation.
Only pure instruction.
Her eyes indicated to the floor, a silent invitation; he blinked, legs
quivering as he kneeled, hands still parallel to his head, gun still parallel to
his eyes.
“Reality is conjunct, wouldn’t you say Holmes?”
He chose then, in-between the notes of her silky tone, to mask his
intransigence.
He was playing the game.
“That is wholly dependent on what you class as reality, Moran.”
Her smirk churned into a dry, venomous laugh, drooling sarcasm, hollered
at Holmes who cringed inwardly.
“Did you really fall for it? Did you honestly love me, sir?” she shook
her head nonchalantly, eyes closed momentarily savouring privacy. “It was a
character, Sherlock Holmes.”
Her gun refrained in parallel to his eyes.
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
“It was. But this, this is a character too, is it not? Drop the facade, Moran,
I can see straight through it,” he commanded, then tilted his head slightly.
“And better still, drop that bloody gun, you’re not going to use it.”
She scoffed, eyes contorted with fury; she hissed through teeth, lips curled
as she growled at her rival, who had assumed her pretense.
She was not pretending.
She pushed the gun to his forehead, twisting it at a most uncomfortable
angle, smiling wickedly. He stirred slightly, but regained his posture.
“Don’t be stupid Sherlock, it doesn’t suit you,” she spat. Her lips drooled
venom, mirroring her scarlet shade of lipstick. “You know why I’m here.”
“Correct. Though, that is fairly obvious. I also know that I will be walking
away, unharmed, save for the imprint of your pistol on my forehead.” he
stated. His voice didn’t shake, waver, flinch.
No.
He wore his coat of calamity, engulfing himself in the scent of cataclysmic
danger. Her face dropped, character falling gracefully from her features, but
then returning in a reversed-waterfall like cascade.
“Whatever gave you that impression?” she snarled. Her grip had tightened
on her gun, subconsciously, fingers taking stone form as they rested on the
metallic surface.
He indicated for himself to stand, to which she obliged, though her
fingers did not flinch from her gun. Her hand cradled it robotically, precision
pinpointing the angle to his head. Sherlock stepped to the side, cautiously,
relaxing as her gun did not follow him. He leaned in steadily to her ear.
She held her breath, conserving her facade by dodging his empty eyes.
“I know where she is.”
A mutilated sob escaped her, one that she wasn’t aware was hidden. Her
free hand clasped her mouth as Sherlock retreated, watching the woman
before him collapse with hope.
No, she crumpled.
Her gun fell to the floor, a resounding thump cut through her ears but it
was muffled; her thoughts had lost their sharp edges, her mind raced as she
clung to one prospect:
‘I know where she is.’
Twisted atonement. Pure, conjunct redemption churned in the pit of her
stomach. Its sour hope lingered on her tongue, as she fought back tears to
glance upwards.
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
Her eyes met the barrel of her own pistol.
“Reality is conjunct, wouldn’t you say, Moran?”
Sherlock’s snarl pulsated through her body; she closed her eyes, allowing
one solitary tear to trace her cheek.
“You know what happens if I don’t shoot you,” she whispered, eyes still
closed, body still shaking.
He bowed his head, a silent, inexplicably understanding gesture.
She smirked, crooked smile wavering as she locked onto his eyes. “I was
never going to do it, you know.”
Silence crept into her features, understanding that those words may have
been her last.
“I know.”
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
WINNER
The Hunger Games - Alternate Ending
By Evie Buller
Age 14
Peeta’s spare hand interlocks with mine, his other clutching our death
sentence. I hold it too, my palm encasing the few berries that will soon end
both our lives. This isn’t how I want to die. Yet it seems no option of death is
available other than a spear through my heart. I could back out of this death
trap. I could kill Peeta myself, crowning me, Katniss Everdeen, the victor of
the 74th Hunger Games. But never in my dreams would I think of killing
Peeta. Winning in vain would hurt a whole lot more than a spear through
the heart. With our heads held high, we slowly raise the Nightlock to our
lips. However far I may be from Panem, the wash of suspense that overcomes
it still buzzes up my spine, giving me a streak of bravery I didn’t know I
had. They deserve to see this. President Snow deserves to see two innocent
children outwit his petty games. There will be no victor this year, for we have
found something much stronger than victory, something President Snow will
never find. Love.
A sharp pain. Bright light. Weightlessness. My eyelids flutter open, only
to be blinded by a piercing white light. It’s purer than any I’ve encountered
before, and it takes a few moments for me to adjust to it. Nothing but
emptiness surrounds us, but it’s a cheerful emptiness. Although I can see
no one, the presence of a million people surrounds me. Glancing down, I
notice that all the cuts and scrapes from my body have vanished, leaving not
even the slightest mark to show they had been there. Everything that makes
me who I am has disappeared, leaving just a blank canvas. It seems Peeta has
acknowledged this too, as when I look his way he laughs hysterically and
points at his leg. Where a gaping wound once was, not even as much as a
scratch remains.
“Oh my- Peeta your leg!” We jump up and hug in a quick embrace, tears
of happiness prickling in my eyes. Delight buzzes inside me, sparking every
nerve and tingling every muscle. I may be dead, but I have never felt more
alive. If I knew this is what heaven was like, I would have paid a visit much
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
sooner.
Far off in the distance I notice two figures moving closer and closer towards
us, their features becoming more prominent as they approach. Soon enough,
I recognise them to be a man and a young girl. The young girl’s hair explodes
around her face, falling in tight ringlets. The man’s shoulders are broad and
pulled back into a powerful posture, and he walks with purpose. Something
about him is familiar, but I can’t figure out what. I instantly recognise the
young girl - my fellow ally, Rue. I drop Peeta’s hand and run towards her, my
body feeling as though it’s floating across the sky.
She jumps into my arms before I have a chance to see her face, and it fills
me with relief as I feel her plump body, instead of the frail one I knew before.
The biggest smile spreads across her face as I pull away and grin at her. I may
have lost Prim, but the ever so similar face of Rue keeps our memories alive.
“I’m so happy to see you, Katniss.” Her voice sounds so familiar, yet
something about it seems so alien. In the games, every word that came out
of her mouth was coated with an unwanted nervousness, panic echoing from
each syllable. But now, confidence and content carries her words through the
air, like a bird singing its song.
“You too Rue.” We sit beaming at each other for a few more moments,
until suddenly, her eyes gleam with a burst of excitement.
“There’s someone here to see you!” Rue chirps, jumping to her feet and
gliding off to the side. I don’t know how I didn’t notice him before, but
standing in her place was the man. Only now, he was more than just a man. It
was the person who I thought I would never meet again. The person who for
eleven years of my life was my leader, my protector, my guidance. Six years
on, and he is still those things. Everything around me seems to blur, but it
doesn’t matter, for the person standing before me is as clear as day.
It’s my father.
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
The Fight Within
By Grace Ball
Age 14
“You. Must. Kill.” he yells in my face. “You. Must. Kill.” But I don’t want to.
I can’t. “Kill. Kill. Kill.” Slowly I turn to face the innocent girl and shoot her.
Her mother falls to the floor, screaming in anguish. If I had the capacity to
cry I would but instead I remain stony faced. “Good. Work.” he says, turning
around. He leaves. I’m left by myself with the screaming mother, I want to
comfort her, to be nice and kind…
The minute I wake up I find myself battling the feelings of hatred and
anger that try to consume me. “Don’t. Give. In.” I whisper to myself every
minute of every day of every millennium. The door just ahead slides open
and in he comes. “Get. Up.” croaks the same grating voice. Everyone around
me begins to leave their cubby holes, slowly heading for the door. As always I
hang behind debating whether to follow and, as always, I leave with them all.
I slowly follow the group, gliding through endless rusty metal corridors.
Below me I can hear the echoes of my people, all repeating the same word.
“Work. Work. Work.” They’re locked in an endless chant, it’s not their fault
they were made to be like this. I was too but I must have a fault. I join in, I
can’t be caught out, I have to act like them. Those of us who were found to
have a fault, whether it be too much hatred or not enough, were sent to the
Asylum. I’ve heard terrifying stories about the asylum, and I’ve even heard
that the predator and his friends went there once.
I’m jolted out of my stream of thought as the Emperor patrols up and
down our line, checking each and every one of us. When he’s satisfied he
sends us down to join in the ‘Work. Work. Work.’ I hate work. It’s dull,
repetitive work and I often daydream to pass the time.
A while ago I dared to stray from the group and, after a lot of twists and
turns through corridors that all look the same, I found a window. I saw the
most beautiful sight on that day and it’s what keeps me going. I saw stars so
bright they lit up the endless darkness. But in the middle of all these stars
was a planet filled with light blues, dark blues, all manner of greens and
swirling whites. It was beautiful, so vibrant, so joyful. I placed my hand on
the computer and read out what it said; “Planet. Earth. Home. To. The.
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
Humans. Predator. Protects. This. Planet. At. All. Times.
Suddenly an alarm blares and the Emperor looms over us on the balcony.
“The. Predator. Is. Weak. We. Invade. Earth. Now.” The steely cries erupt,
cries of anger and joy at getting a chance to kill. I’m pushed forward by
thousands of eager fighters. Before I can react I’ve been loaded into a teleport
capsule and sent to Earth.
As I materialise on solid ground, I’m faced with 50 scared humans. I’ve
never seen them before, I move closer to get a better look. But they scream
and run. I don’t know why, I won’t hurt them. I journey onwards, I turn my
head to look in through a window and then I see my reflection. I know why
they run, I’m an alien encased in a metal skin.
Screams surround me. I want to retreat but I can’t, if I do I will be sent
to the asylum. In front of me a family freeze. A man, woman and a little girl.
The man instinctively stands in front of the child. I will them to run. “Kill.
Her.” yells a voice. I look at the Emperor, he couldn’t mean the child? “The.
Child?” I croak. He nods. I freeze, there’s no way I can do that.
“You. Must. Kill.” he yells in my face. “You. Must. Kill.” But I don’t want
to. I can’t. “Exterminate. Exterminate. Exterminate!” Slowly I turn to face
the innocent girl and shoot her. Her mother falls to the floor, screaming in
anguish. If I had the capacity to cry I would but instead I remain stony faced.
“Good. Work.” he says, turning around. He leaves. I’m left by myself with
the screaming mother, I want to comfort her, to be nice and kind. But instead
I leave. After all, who has ever heard of a good Dalek?
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A Wizard’s Gift
By Grace Haddon
Age 18
Introduction: Halloween isn’t a good time for a wizard to be out walking
in the dark. And when you’re Harry Dresden, bad luck tends to follow you
around. A prequel to the Dresden Files series by Jim Butcher.
Sometimes I think I’m cursed with bad luck.
I trudged along the darkened sidewalk, my black duster coat flapping
forlornly behind me. For nearly two weeks I’d been searching, and still I
hadn’t found an office I could afford to rent. There aren’t any wizards in
the Chicago phonebook and I was hoping to start my own business, but it
seemed that fate was against me. To top it off my car had broken down again
so now I was walking home in the middle of a downpour, tired, cold and
more than a little pissed.
Jack-o-lanterns leered in every window I passed, their lights long since
extinguished. The dark, hollow eyes seemed to follow me down the street,
carved jagged grins laughing at me.
I ducked into a narrow alleyway, using the light of my staff to navigate.
Halloween isn’t a good time for a wizard to be out walking in the dark. It’s
the night when the border between our world and the Nevernever – the
spirit world – is at its weakest, meaning that all sorts of supernatural nasties
would be out looking for a snack. And it just so happened that I was the only
magical being in sight.
It would be so easy for something to sneak up on me, too; I couldn’t hear
a thing over the pounding of the rain. It would be just my luck to be torn to
pieces on my birthday– which also happens to be today. Not that I usually
bother celebrating it – I don’t exactly have many friends to celebrate with –
but having my face ripped off was a present I could do without.
Hopefully any rampaging monster would be more interested in getting
out of the rain than chomping on a two-bit wizard like me. As I squelched
through the alley I hummed under my breath. Happy Birthday to me, Happy
Birthday to me, Happy–
From the darkness ahead came an inhuman yowl, high-pitched and angry.
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I froze, staff clutched in my hand. Another yowl, this one a little louder. It
came from a garbage can at the end of the alleyway.
Like I said. Bad luck. It follows me.
I wanted to run. A noise like that on Halloween couldn’t be anything
good, but if it was dangerous then I had to sort it. Non-magical folk wouldn’t
stand a chance against a demon.
So I crept over to the trash can and lifted up the lid, ready to slam it back
down at the first glint of teeth. My staff illuminated rotten potato peelings
and old cigarette packets and–
Two yellow eyes.
I sprang back in alarm, dropping the lid with a deafening clang, and
prepared to blast the thing into oblivion.
The kitten blinked up at me, ears flattened against the rain. It was fluffy
and grey, no larger than a loaf of bread. Very wet and very disgruntled, but
definitely a kitten. I relaxed.
‘You nearly gave me a heart attack,’ I told him, peeling a soggy teabag off
his back.
The kitten planted his paws on the edge of the trash can and let out the
tiniest annoyed squeak I’d ever heard.
‘What were you doing in there, mister?’ I scooped him up and was
instantly surprised by his weight. He wriggled slimily in my grip as I tucked
my staff under one arm. Had someone left him in there?
Half his tail was missing too, but that didn’t stop him fidgeting. Already
my arm had started to ache. ‘Sturdy fella, aren’t you?’ I tickled him behind
the ears and glanced behind me. I couldn’t leave the little guy to fend for
himself, especially not tonight. Not when he was purring in my arms and
meowing...
The kitten’s claws dug into my chest as I tucked him inside my coat and
set off for home. Okay, so I’m a sucker for small furry animals. So sue me. It
gets lonely in my apartment. And it had to be the best birthday present I’d
gotten in a while.
‘Come on then mister,’ I murmured, ‘let’s get you home.’
Mister snuggled closer against me, purring like a miniature lawnmower.
I smiled.
What the hell. I guess even wizards are lucky sometimes.
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Chapter One: Codfish and Carpet Bags
By Hannah Ost
Age 15
I sat bolt upright on my bed, with my back firmly pressed against the
headboard. A great many questions were tumbling about inside my head:
‘What am I doing? Should I be doing anything at all? Is there a welcoming
event I am meant to know about? Is that where my roommate is now?’
The answer to my last question came abruptly after that thought had
arisen, when a small girl with short, blonde hair and a full fringe bounced
through the door, a hysterical grin plastered across her face. She tossed her
two brown suitcases carelessly onto the unclaimed second bed before stopping
in her tracks and turning to face me. She looked me up and down, before
seemingly deciding that I had met her expectations and, holding out her
hand, she sang, “I suppose you must be my roommate. I’m Belinda Dishes.”
I, too, studied my new roommate with suspicion. Apart from her
immaculately groomed hair, everything seemed to be rather untidy. Her
pink, slipper-like shoes were muddy and scuffed and there was a rather nasty
orange stain on her brown overcoat.
All the same, I stood up and shook her hand. “Mary Poppins,” I replied.
Not sure of what else to say, I added, “I’m eleven. Just turned, this past June.”
“Oh, me too!” Belinda exclaimed. “Except my birthday was last January.”
She slumped down onto her bed, avoiding the crumple of clothes which had
exploded from the side of a suitcase and I sat down opposite her. “So, do you
know why you were sent here?”
“My mother and father think it will fare me well to be taught key life
skills,” I quoted, wincing at the painful memory of that conversation. “What
about you?”
Belinda sighed. “My mother thinks I have atrocious table manners.”
‘I can’t imagine why,’ I thought, looking, again, at the stain on her clothing.
An awkwardly long silence followed, during which I began to unpack my
bag. It was a very pretty bag, made of a lavish carpet, but I didn’t see how all
of my things were supposed to fit inside it. I reached a hand in, looking for
the feel of material but finding nothing.
‘Perhaps my clothes are a little deeper,’ I thought, plunging my whole
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
arm into the bag. My hand caught onto something, but it wasn’t any type of
clothing. I tugged upwards to reveal a tall, floor lamp, complete with decorative
lampshade. I blinked. Belinda walked over to me, her mouth hanging off its
hinges. The both of us stared at the lamp, completely awestruck.
After a minute or two, pure excitement must have drawn Belinda from
her trance-like state because she hurriedly said, “come on, what else have you
got in there?”
Very soon, I had produced many peculiar things, including a desk chair, a
full tea set and, bizarrely, an exotic, potted plant.
“Wow,” Belinda gasped. “That is incredible.” But I was still rummaging
inside the impossibly oversized carpet bag.
“Finally,” I said, pulling out yards of fabric. “My clothes!
Just then, there was a knock at the door and it swung open. A tall woman,
with a tiny waist, stood in the doorframe, clipboard in hand. She carried the
presence of a person who was not to be troubled, with her upright posture
and looming figure.
“This is the room of Belinda Dishes and Mary Poppins?” she asked.
Belinda and I nodded, stunned and unable to speak. “Please ensure you are
washed and dressed appropriately for dinner.” She looked at us both with
severely judging eyes. “Fifty minutes precisely!” Then, her gaze shifted to
Belinda’s untidy bed and she huffed, frustrated. The next event was totally
unpredictable but totally wonderful in the eyes of an eleven year old.
Stepping into the room, she clicked her fingers once. Immediately,
all of Belinda’s clothes rose into the air, flew across the room and folded
themselves neatly into the drawers at the foot of her bed. Another click sent
my belongings to separate corners of the dormitory.
“Now, you girl,” she barked, pointing to my roommate. “Go and wash
that ugly stain off of your coat.”
Belinda nodded and hurried past the towering figure in the doorway. I
continued to stare at her, amazed and gawping wildly.
My eyes followed her as she began to close the door. “Close your mouth
please, Mary, we are not a codfish.”
And she left me alone to wonder what had just happened.
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Don’t Leave
By Innes Goodall
Age 17
I woke up to Sirius throwing Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans in my face.
“James, get up.”
“Ow!”
“James, get up.”
“Ow!”
“JAMES, GET-”
“Alright, alright! I’m up!” I dragged myself upright and gave Sirius my
best death glare.
“There had better be a very good reason you woke me up at the ungodly
hour of-” I checked the watch beside my bed- “5:30 in the morning or I
will... do something that I don’t have the mental capacity to think of right
now.”
Padfoot merely rolled his eyes.
“I do have a reason, actually, Prongsie,” he said leisurely.
“And?”
“Well, I was out on my daily jog and the lovely Mary MacDonald came
out. Absolutely stunning that one, I’m-”
“Padfoot, you have 10 seconds to tell me what the point is or-”
“Fine, fine. She asked if I, being the skilled Beater that I am, could go
flying with her later because Lily couldn’t, so I asked why, just for you, and
apparently Lily is going home. Today.” He grinned at me. “If you want to
say goodbye you’d better get down to the Great Hall by, oh, I dunno, 5:40?”
I checked my watch again. 5:35. I manically got myself dressed, ignoring
Padfoot’s laughter, and raced down to the Great Hall praying that I would
catch Lily before she left. She wouldn’t just leave, would she? I mean, we’d
been head boy and girl for a while, and I thought we were starting to get
along alright. Why was she just leaving? How long for? Would she be safe?
Those… Deatheaters… wouldn’t be near?
I reached the Great Hall. Lily was the only person at the Gryffindor table,
sitting with her trunk at her feet, red hair almost glowing in the sunrise.
“Lily!”
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
She smirked as I collapsed on the opposite bench, breathless.
“And I thought athletes were supposed to be fit...” she crooned mockingly.
I pouted, making her laugh.
“So, um, I hear you’re leaving?” I said. Nice one James. Play it cool. She
looked mildly surprised that I knew.
“Um, yes. Just for a few days.” She replied.
“Oh. Um. Cool. Can I... Um, can I ask why?” (Definitely not clingy.)
“My grandparents are visiting from New Zealand. It’ll be the first time
I’ve seen them since I found out I was a witch.” She looked so happy. She
obviously loved her family.
“Oh. Good. Well, I... hope you have fun?” I mentally slapped myself.
“Thanks, James.” I will never get tired of hearing James rather than Potter.
Never. “Why do you ask?”
It’s either lie or retain my dignity. I prayed to every god I knew and went
for it.
“I... I just...I...” She raised an eyebrow. “I just wanted to know you were
safe.”
“You think I can’t look after myself?” I could see a full-force rant looming
so I frantically removed my foot from my mouth.
“No, no, of course not, I just needed you safe and happy because I need
you to come back to me.” Oh great. Just as we were getting along, I turn into
stalker-weirdo. I started banging my head off the table, eyes firmly shut.
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
Suddenly her hand was on my forehead, halting my punishment.
“You know, every time you do that you lose brain cells. There’ll be nothing
left if you keep going.”
I snuck a glance at her. She looked amused but also slightly... puzzled?
Was she doubting my sanity?
“James,” (She said it again!) “Do you mean that? About needing me back
with you?”
What did I have to lose?
I sat up, looked her in the eyes, and simply said “Yes”.
I swear time stopped as I waited for her reaction. I had no idea what was
going on in her head. She’s obviously thinking of a nice way to say “get lost,
creep”.
“That had got to be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.” She
murmured.
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
“Wait, really??” I asked, shocked.
“Uh-huh.” She smiled- wait, was LILY EVANS blushing??? Seriously?
“I’ve got to go. See you when I get back... James.” And just when I thought
my day couldn’t get any better, she leaned over and kissed my cheek.
She quickly grabbed her suitcase and left, nodding goodbye to Sirius as
he walked in.
“Hey, Prongs, did you do something to Evans? She looked like she just got
O’s on all her NEWTs... Prongs?”
I could barely hear him. The imprint of her lips burned into my skin.
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
Sarah Jane Smith –
Echoes of the Past
By James Coffey
Age 22
(Alternate ending/continuation to Sarah Jane Smith – Dreamland)
Entry One: SARAH JANE SMITH – ECHOES OF THE PAST
Sarah Jane Smith prided herself on being a decisive individual. Her finely
honed instincts told her what was true, and what was false. An unparalleled
moral compass led her on an irrevocable path of righteousness – and on the
rare occasion that these intrinsic gifts did not reveal an absolute course of
action? Well, that was why she kept an alien super-computer in her attic.
But certain deliberations (most commonly of a social ilk) continued to
escape the clutches of her unfaltering logic.
“Please, SJ, call me.” The answer machine bleeped loudly as the message
concluded.
Sarah Jane swallowed, sniffing deeply as long buried feelings of betrayal
threatened to rear their unwelcome head.
“Sorry, Josh.” she whispered. “I simply can’t trust you anymore.”
She pushed a large, red button. “Message erased.” The automated voice
declared. That was that. Decision made. With a bit of luck, he would never
call again.
“Mistress.” A new voice echoed through the suddenly hollow hallway –
equally automated, but comforting, somehow.
“K-9?”
“Moisture is forming in your eyes, Mistress. Translation: you are leaking.”
Sarah Jane dabbed at her eyes with a sleeve, a smile tugging at the corners
of her mouth.
“I’m fine, K-9.”
The robotic dog stared. It didn’t have eyes, but somehow, it gave the
distinct impression it was staring. Its crimson tinted optical sensors flashed
once.
“Really, K-9, I’m fine!”
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
A newspaper dropped through the letterbox; she jumped at the sound.
“Oh, this is ridiculous! A ghost from my past, someone I thought was
dead, tries to contact me, and suddenly, I’m a bag of nerves.”
The robot dog from the future did not respond, and for a long moment,
the house was silent.
Number 13 Bannerman Road had been Sarah Jane’s home for almost a
year, although the precarious towers of cardboard boxes which lined, literally,
every room, would make one believe otherwise. The truth was that the exinvestigative journalist had grown so accustomed to relocating that she hardly
dared to unpack. The ‘blast from the past’ telephone call had done little to
reassure her.
The unnervingly human voice of Sarah Jane’s supercomputer broke the
silence, drifting admirably from the attic and down two flights of stairs.
“Sarah Jane?”
Impatient as it was, the newest resident to Number 13 usually had
something worthwhile to say.
“Yes, Mr. Smith?” Sarah Jane flung open the attic door, a tad breathless
and feeling ever so slightly guilty at leaving her faithful, metal dog marooned
on the ground floor.
“Sarah Jane. My scanners have detected unusual energy readings coming
from the Delta Quadrant.”
“Mr. Smith,” Sarah Jane sighed. “We have talked about this, remember?
Earth does not have a ‘Delta Quadrant’ any more than Bannerman Road is in
the Mirage Nebula. We are in Ealing, please triangulate appropriate maps.”
Mr. Smith did so, a map of London appearing on his large, extremely
bright screen. The super-computer was magnificent, but unfortunately
it was having trouble adjusting to Earth’s comparatively small manner of
cartography. Internet inaccuracy and re-runs of Star Trek were doing little to
rectify this inadequacy.
The screen settled, and Sarah Jane stepped closer, withdrawing burgundy
rimmed spectacles from her waistcoat pocket and placing them on her nose.
“Wait a minute. That’s near here!”
The alien supercomputer took a moment to reply, during which time a
sigh was implied.
“Indeed, Sarah Jane. Approximate time of travel, ten of your Earth
minutes, via automobile.”
Sarah Jane wasn’t listening, the investigative cogs in her conspiratorial
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mind already churning.
“When did these readings start?”
“I first detected an energy spike about an hour ago; the readings have since
dimmed and are maintaining constant, yet distinguishable levels.”
“Right.” Sarah Jane, guiltily grateful for a distraction from the morning’s
most unwelcome telephone call, snatched her jacket and handbag from a
faded chaise lounge. “Time for a little... investigation.”
The attic door slammed shut as the journalist darted through it, taking
the stairs two at a time.
Sometimes, Mr. Smith mused, he thought that he should never understand
the intricacies of human nature. He only hoped that this ‘Sarah Jane Smith’
was a typical archetype for his study.
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
Final Revelation
By Jessica Fyffe
Age 18
Haymitch Abernathy swore profusely, staring in horror at the document in
his hands.
He read the contents three times in quick succession. Took off his glasses,
rubbed his eyes and read it again.
There was no mistaking what he was reading.
He scanned the rest of the papers in the file, skimmed through the rest
of the files in the top drawer of the cabinet, looked around him at all the
cabinets he had yet to prise open, and bit down on the cry of despair that
threatened to tear from his lungs.
It had been weeks before he’d managed to escape the celebrations and,
ever-suspicious, began to explore the government building in which they’d
made their temporary residence, making a note of everything he came
across – armaments, supplies, suspicious and/or unknown technology to be
thoroughly inspected at a later date – and another two weeks later he still
wasn’t finished.
It was only by stumbling upon the original blueprints for the building
crushed in a secret compartment in a security officer’s desk that Haymitch
even had a frame of reference for just how many hidden rooms and secret
passageways there were, and he’d barely made a dent in them.
But what he’d found stopped him in his tracks.
He got to his feet, heavy with exhaustion and dread, and left the room. He
was careful to lock the door behind him so that nobody else would stumble
upon its contents, then began to wind his way through the labyrinth of
corridors in the Capitol building; all the way from the secret storage rooms
and offices nestled right in the heart of the building to the temporary bunkers
where he’d last seen Katniss.
She deserved to be the first to know.
He took a more convoluted route than necessary to avoid all of the revelry
rocketing around the building, not wanting to get stopped and asked what
was wrong in response to the look of sheer despair he wore.
Katniss was exactly where he expected to find her, sitting on the edge
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of one of their makeshift beds – more a cot than anything – in the bunker,
laughing at something Peeta had said as she tenderly bandaged a wound on
his hand.
Haymitch hesitated. Ruining her brief moment of peace – one of so few
she’d had since the death of her sister – was the last thing he wanted to do.
It was Peeta who saw him first, his smile quickly giving way to fear when
he saw the look on his face.
“Haymitch?” Katniss twisted to look at him then stood up, alarmed. Peeta
joined her. “What is it?”
Haymitch swallowed against the bile rising from his gut and silently held
out file, incapable of formulating the words.
Katniss snatched it from his hands, and after taking a moment to adjust
to the code in which it was written (a code cracked as a combined effort by
Beetee and Gale merely two days previous), scanned the page with ruthless
efficiency, eyes racing to take in the information. Peeta looked between the
two of them with growing uncertainty in his eyes.
The uneasy silence shattered when the sheet crumpled, Katniss’ fingers
going white knuckled, her eyes near burning a hole through the paper.
She turned to look at Haymitch.
“You double checked.”
It was more a statement than a question, but Haymitch nodded regardless.
“It’s true,” he confirmed, voice quiet but strong.
Katniss sat down heavily on the cot, her face slowly losing all its colour,
expression morphing into one of barely contained fury.
“Katniss?” Peeta crouched in front of her, taking her hands. Katniss
gripped his fiercely and raised her eyes to meet his in return. What Peeta saw
made his blood run cold.
“Tell me,” he said to Haymitch, not taking his eyes from Katniss’ for a
second.
There was a moment of silence before Peeta saw the file drop into the
periphery of his vision, then Haymitch joined it, sitting beside Katniss and
putting his head in his hands.
“There are more,” Haymitch said. “We’ve been lied to – of course we’ve
been lied to, look who we were dealing with...”
“More?” asked Peeta, dread creeping through his veins. “More what?”
“More people. More countries. More Capitols. More Districts,” Katniss’
voice was barely above a whisper.
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
Peeta’s vision blurred as he spoke, edges of his sight bleeding black. He
knew what she was going to say before her mouth even formed the words.
“More Games.”
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
Lady Tremaine
By Jessica McIntosh
Age 14
She called me evil. I heard her. When I walked past her, she would mutter
under her breath, “That darn evil witch, she acts as if I were a slave.” That’s
what she said.
I don’t mean it. Of course I don’t. But when I see her, I see him. That
bastard! Who used me for years! He took everything from me. My money,
my youth, my innocence, my sanity. She idolises him, as she would. If only
she knew the pain and suffering he caused me. Alas I cannot tell her, I cannot
tell anyone. He may be gone but the nightmares will remain with me forever.
Still vivid, as if it were just yesterday. She was only a baby at this time, her
mother not long dead.
I met him at the market, how lovely he seemed. He was poor and I was a
lady, but it was love at first sight, or so I thought. So I wasn’t surprised when he
asked to marry me a few months later and I agreed. My two other daughters,
from my previous marriage, did not like how he favoured Madeleine. He
was caring and gentle towards the children and they began to love him. Our
marriage could not be better, we were in love. But as we grew older, love lost
its meaning.
After a couple of years he changed towards me. His caring words seemed
harsh and his gentle touch became rough, but not with the children, only
with me. The money went to his head and he became greedy. At first I never
noticed but after a couple of months I realized how fast our money was
running out, so I confronted him. This was the first real argument we had,
this is when it started. The children were all outside playing together. He
started yelling and screaming at me. This was the first time he attacked me.
He pinned me against the wall, his face so close I could feel every breath.
“The husband has everything, the wife has nothing.” Then he left to go and
play with the children, as I stood powerless because I knew he was right. I will
never forget the fear I felt that night.
After that our marriage was no more than a legal agreement, an excuse for
him to beat me, an excuse for him to make me do whatever he wanted. After
five years I couldn’t take it any longer. I always thought he would change yet
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
he never did. I was at the brink of insanity. I am not proud of what I did, but
I am glad I had done it. But now the children were fatherless and I widowed
again. I am ashamed to say that I was relieved of his death, Madeleine noticed
my cheerful smirk as I told them by his death, and that was the beginning
of a long, bitter relationship. Anastasia and Drizella were just nine years old
and Madeleine only seven. Madeleine was so like her father, it sickened me.
And because of that, I am ashamed to say, I treated her badly. My two girls
followed my ways and were horrible towards her. They made her do their
chores, they called her Cinderwench because she was always covered in ashes
and cinders and they ruined her belongings.
I didn’t do anything about it because I felt she deserved it, she would have
to pay for her father’s behaviour. In hindsight, I feel that I should have stopped
them, I should have stopped myself. Yet she blossomed into a beautiful flower
and won the hand of the Prince in just one night, in just one dance. Anastasia
and Drizella grew jealous, and upon seeing this I felt the need to stop it, to
stop her. But she still pulled through, she had her father’s stubbornness.
It has been eighteen years since then, I am now old and frail. Anastasia
and Drizella grew out of the jealousy and now have families of their own.
Madeleine and the Prince lived happily ever after. I haven’t seen her since the
day she left, our relationship still bitter and full of hatred. If only she knew.
Alas I cannot tell her, I cannot tell anyone. And still I am left here, in this
large house filled with vacant rooms, clutching on to the few good memories
I have left. I am left here, with the nightmares. I am left here to rot.
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
Behind the Mask
By Laura Brendish
Age 21
I’m not an idiot. I know what people think about me. Effie Trinket; vapid,
away with the fairies, oblivious to the real world.
Let them think it. I play my part well. But that’s all it is: just an act.
It never used to be. In the beginning, I suppose it really was me. I enjoyed
the glitz and the glamour that came with the Games. Even as a child, I
remember the thrill and excitement I felt each time the Games rolled around.
I would watch the reapings, commenting on each of the tributes. I would
watch the parade, admiring the beautiful and intricate designs created by
the stylists and not giving a thought towards how those wearing them were
feeling. Then came the interviews, and finally the Hunger Games themselves.
I would be glued to the screen, and I distinctly recall protesting when my
parents told me to go to bed because the thought of missing even a moment
of the Games was simply terrible. As I got older, I would watch the Games
with my friends, debating over who would be the victor. The bloodshed did
not bother us, for we had grown up watching the Hunger Games. To every
Capitol citizen, it was just part of life.
I do not remember how old I was when I decided I wanted to be an escort,
but what I do know is that I was determined to make it happen. Needless
to say, I did. Of course, I started at the bottom of the ladder with District
12 and their infamous, intolerable drunkard mentor, Haymitch Abernathy.
Why he chose to spend all his money on liquor I would never understand.
Or, at least I thought I would never understand.
The first few years were just as exciting as I had hoped, despite the fact
that District 12 never had a victor. The glamour of the events was exactly as
I had hoped, and more. But then, one day, things changed. For the first time
since I had been escort, two frightened twelve year olds were reaped. I could
hear them on the train that first night, sobbing relentlessly, and I could not
help but feel guilty; it was by my hand that their names had been picked from
the reaping balls.
In the days that followed, I began to understand Haymitch Abernathy.
The drinking was not something he did for pleasure, but something he did
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
to distance himself from reality. It blocked out what was really happening,
and numbed his emotions. Of course, I would never stoop so low as to drink
myself into oblivion the way he did, and I frequently chastised him for the
habit, but I at least understood why he did it.
My way of coping was to go on as I always had. Shoulders back. Chin up.
Smile on. The makeup I wore every day was no longer my only mask; I now
hid behind the laughter and smiles expected of a Capitolite. To those around
me, nothing had changed. They could not see how my world had turned
upside down in the blink of an eye.
The Games were no longer the glamorous event they had been all my life.
I had been harshly awoken to the dark, twisted nature of them. I wouldn’t say
anything, though. I wouldn’t let the hatred I now felt for President Snow and
the Gamemakers show in my eyes. I wouldn’t let the sorrow for each tribute
I reaped and watched die be known to those around me. To them, I was still
the same old Effie.
To them, I still am the same old Effie.
But I am not. I am wise to the world around me now. I can see what has
been happening since Katniss and Peeta became victors last year, and I know
the President wants them dead. None of us are safe anymore.
The world is changing, and I can only hope it changes for the better.
And I hope I am there when Snow takes his last breath.
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
Ten years blind
Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. - Fitzsimmons Poetry
By Neela Kumar
Age 22
Leo to Jemma:
I’ve been ten years blind,
And it’s only now I find,
The courage inside to tell you.
This undiscovered feeling,
Floats up through the ceiling,
And I wish that you’d float too.
Our oxygen diminishing,
Our lives closer to finishing,
So, forgive my poor timing please.
I have to let you go,
It’s my turn to be the hero,
And send you up through these deep seas.
These last moments, you and me,
It’s not how it should really be,
I could’ve been the man by your side.
But I can give you back your life,
One half of us can still survive,
Which is why you need to fight the tide.
I really wish the math was wrong,
I wish that I could swim along,
But we both know we’re out of time,
So, please take your chance,
And I’ll take a final glance,
Before I save what will never be mine.
Ten year’s blind
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
Jemma to Leo:
I’ve been ten years blind,
All this time intertwined,
And I never knew you felt that way,
Of course I’ve always cared,
But as friends, I never dared,
Never dreamed this is what you would say.
Lying there in that small bed,
You and I were both so scared,
And you thought that I could make you better.
A man so capable, so bright,
Frustrated that his words weren’t right,
We both know you’re worse when we’re together.
I wish that you could understand,
I’m doing everything that I can,
But there’s an underlying issue to face,
Those feelings you confessed,
Have you laid them to rest,
Or do you need me to give you some space?
Things have changed beyond compare,
You’re only worse when I am there,
I think it’s best we spend some time apart,
At least then you’ll finally find,
A way to fix your broken mind,
Even if it means I broke your heart.
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
Cinner
By Nicol La Cumbre-Gibbs
Age 17
Chapter 1
The last things I saw were her metal studded gloves and blackness. I felt the
impact of the iron studs on my cheek, and what had previously been but
a thin trickle of blood rapidly transformed into a crimson stream. Hearing
her screams, I wanted to run to her, to tell her that it would be okay, but
the Peacekeepers held me steadfastly and she seemed so far away, trapped in
that glass tomb. I felt them hit me again and again, in my rib cage, on my
forehead, relentless, until my body yielded, and my head hit the ground.
22 Days Later
Death is not the bad guy. He is merciful. He takes away the sins, the suffering
and the scars. And so of course, he was too good for me in the Peacekeepers’
eyes. From what I could gather, I’d been slipping in and out of consciousness
for whatever expanse of time it was that I had now spent curled up in this
hell-hole. The Peacekeepers were in and out of my cell continuously, waiting
for the moment where they’d come in, and I’d be sat staring at the floor, with
enough wits about me to answer their questions, but not so much that I
would think of trying to escape. Naturally, they would then beat me all over
again, in an attempt to weasel information about Katniss from me.
Katniss. Just thinking about her both sent my emotions awry and brought
me to a sudden realisation. Coin. I hadn’t told her about Coin. Katniss was
gone, almost definitely in District 13, and I hadn’t told her what I believed that
woman wanted to do. Alma was destined to be even more twisted than her
father, and, even worse, she had help from the inside, she had an informant,
whom Katniss trusted.
I was going to get out of here. And I was going to do it now. As I rose from
where I’d been lying on the back-breaking concrete floor, a part of me couldn’t
help but grimace at my clothes – the cheap, soiled fabric – but I didn’t fumble
as I made a hole in the waistband of the prison-issued clothes and drew out
thin pieces of clear elastic. It was a feeble plan – using pieces of elastic as a trip
wire so I had enough time to slip through those broken panels from the fence
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
that surrounded the camp, and from there I could find my way.
I tapped the rusting bars of my cell until a Peacekeeper showed up. In the
few moments of clarity I’d managed to salvage whilst captive, I hadn’t failed
to notice that there was only ever one Peacekeeper on guard at a time – there
was a rotation of the same three who had not been sufficient to try to defend
against what I hoped was Katniss’ rebellion, on the front-line.
“Am I at least allowed some water?” I asked, my voice hoarse from disuse.
I thought the Peacekeeper might hit me again, but he just unlocked my cell
door, pulled me out of the cell by my collar, and threw me down next to the
very out-of-place water dispenser. I pretended to drop my cup twice, and
both times when I bent down to retrieve it I secured an end of the elastic to
the wall. The Peacekeeper had evidently grown tired of my inadequacy and
growled as he reached to pull me up from the floor, but I was too fast and
raced for the door at the end of the hall that was swinging wide open.
The Peacekeeper cried out from behind and just as I reached the door,
I heard the most satisfying sound I could have imagined – the thud of the
Peackeeper hitting the floor, courtesy of my make-shift trip-wire. But there
was no time for celebration as I plunged through the doorway and into the
blinding light of day, and through the hole in the fence that was in the same
exact spot that I remembered it. What I saw had not been quite what I was
expecting, yet at the same time I instantly recognised it as the remnants of the
75th Hunger Games arena. But I could hear the peacekeeper getting closer,
having regained his footing, and there was no time to stop. And so I ran- to
Katniss, to the Mockingjay, to the Girl on Fire.
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
RUNNER UP
Everlasting Ink
By Rachel Loughran
Age 22
A story about the signpost outside the Potters’ destroyed cottage in Goric’s
Hollow, and the people who visit to sign it over the years. The following
excerpt is about a magic boy from a muggle family growing up just down the
street from the magically hidden cottage.
9th April 1995
It was a constant source of concern for one Kenneth Leighton, of Godric’s
Hollow, that he could see something very peculiar that absolutely none of his
friends or family seemed to be able to see. He was four when he first asked his
mother what had happened to make the cottage at the end of Griffin Street
blow up, and why hadn’t anyone ever fixed it? His mother had laughed and
ruffled his hair, told him what a good imagination he had and that he should
take off his Wellington boots before he went inside the house, otherwise he’d
get mud everywhere. He had frowned, looked behind him to check the house
was still there, and wrinkled his nose at his mother. He didn’t mention it
again, in fact he tried not to look at the ruin, because nobody else did, not
his parents, not his little sister, not his friends at school...but sometimes – just
sometimes, when he chanced a look at the ivy covered walls and the loose
rubble contained within the wildly growing hedges – he would see someone
there. Sometimes local people he knew obliquely from village life, sometime
total strangers. Once or twice, over the years, he’d see someone stop outside
the cottage, and look up. He never went near them. His friends were getting
bored with him asking about it.
After Kenneth started noticing that the war memorial in the centre of the
town didn’t always look like a war memorial, he started to worry. He was ten,
and the week before he had fallen off his bike and instead of breaking his arm
like Tommy Hunter did last summer, he had bounced off the asphalt and was
completely unscathed. His mum was calling it a miracle but Kenneth was
concerned. What was wrong with him?
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
So one balmy Sunday morning he took his new red, shiny bike – the last
one got all scuffed and broken when he fell off it – and cycled all the way to
the bottom of Griffin Street, where he looked up at the ramshackle cottage
that only he could see. He leaned his bike against the gate, and brushed it
with his hand, only to jump back in fright when a wooden sign appeared to
be growing out of the ground, stopping just a little higher than the top of his
head. He stepped back to read the words, pausing at the phrase ‘invisible to
Muggles,’ and then turned his attention to the graffiti surrounding the golden
letters. “Long Live Harry Potter,” he whispered, tracing the loopy handwriting
with his finger. “I’m not the only one who can see it!” he breathed, pressing his
hands to as many different signatures a he could, happy that he was sharing
this moment, this experience, with so many. He felt around his pockets for
a pen or pencil, and found the latter, a stubby broken thing with the end
all chewed. He found a small empty space near the bottom of the sign and
carved carefully into the soft wood: ‘Thank you, Harry Potter.’ Smiling at
his handiwork, he got back on his bike, and began pedalling home, choosing
to take the long route so he could pass by the war memorial, which so often
changed into the strange statue of the couple and their baby…who, now
he came to think about it, must be the Lily and James and Harry from the
sign. When he reached home, he was greeted not only by his mother, but by
a tall, imposing woman, who introduced herself as Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which
he would begin attending, just as soon as he turned eleven.
“I knew I wasn’t mad!” He cried, hugging his mother fiercely. “Can’t I go
now?”
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
Ouch!
By Sophie Marshall
Age 14
It was supposed to be a normal day; sunshine beating down on Amber’s skin
as she went jogging in the park. Then, she’d get home and have lunch before
going to meet her friends in the café. It was meant to be a normal day, but it
wasn’t. Because this was the day that her whole world changed.
As she went about her business, jogging to the park, she put in her
headphones and watched her feet, looking up now and again to see where she
was going. But she didn’t notice the two men in front of her and BAM! She
ran head first into them, falling backwards to the floor and knocking them in
different directions. One crashed into the fence as the other managed to stay
on his feet. Just. She took out her headphones and rubbed her head.
“I am so sorry!” She squealed with the shock. “I-I didn’t mean to! Ouch!”
She’d twisted her ankle.
“No, no! It was our fault! I wasn’t looking where I was going and Phil was
walking backwards… why where you walking backwards?” the first man said.
Amber was assessing her ankle.
“There was a bird…” the second man began but it was then that Amber
saw them for the first time, and she was fangirling. Big time.
“Oh my gosh! Dan and Phil?! What the- I’m so sorry! You probably think
I did it on purpose!”
“No! I’m sure you didn’t mean it!” Dan said, reaching his hand out to her.
“It’s our fault. Here, up you get.” He pulled her to her feet.
“Ow! Ouch… ah…” Her ankle was very painful. “I-I think it’s twisted…
Ouch!”
“Oooh… we need to get you home. Is your house far from here?” Phil
asked, as he and Dan propped Amber up between them.
“Um... about two and a half miles…give or take.” She mumbled. She
didn’t want to travel two miles like this.
“You are not going home like this! Our place is nearer. Just down the
road. Come with us. You can rest.” Dan smiled, looking at her. She felt a bit
embarrassed because she’d been sweating and she smelt a bit. But she was sure
he didn’t mind.
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
“No, no. I can get back…”
“No. You’re coming back with us. You can stay as long as you need.” He
was so kind; they both were. “What’s your name by the way?” Phil asked as
they helped her down the road.
“Amber.”
“That’s a nice name. I’m guessing you know who we are!” Dan laughed.
There was no need for Amber to answer.
Dan and Phil helped Amber onto the couch when they got back to their
apartment.
“Ouch…ah…ow…ah…ow…” she’d moaned all the way back but Dan
and Phil hadn’t complained once.
“I’ll get some ice.” Phil said as he hurried out to the kitchen.
“I’m really sorry,” she said quietly to Dan. “I didn’t mean to. Honest!”
“We know you didn’t! Seriously, stop apologizing!”
“Okay…sorry!” she paused in between and then laughed.
“Stop it!”
“Okay, okay!”
“So, Amber. You said you wanted to be an actress?” Dan said. They’d
talked to her about her dreams on the way back to take her mind off the pain.
“Yeah.”
“I might be able to help.” He said as Phil came in a wrapped and ice pack
around Amber’s ankle and then sat on the floor. “We have…connections with
certain people. We might be able to find someone who will be able to find
you jobs.”
“Really?” Amber’s eyes lit up. “An agent?”
“Yes. And don’t say sorry or thank us because it’s our treat for you,” Phil
said as she opened her mouth to thank them. “We think you’ll do great!”
“Thank-“
“Don’t say thank you!”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t say sorry!” They all laughed and Amber smiled the widest smile
she’d ever smiled.
Two years later at the premiere of her film, Amber Richards was reunited
with two old friends of hers. They were YouTubers, Radio DJ’s and the
authors of a book. She’d got them here by special request and they’d jumped
at the chance to see their best friend in a film.
“Dan! Phil!” she smiled and waved. They came over, smiles plastered
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Sugarscape Fanfiction Award 2015
on their faces and she hugged them both tightly. “Thank you so much for
coming!” she smiled.
“What have we told you about saying thank you to us?” Phil joked.
“Oh shut up! Come on! Film’s starting!” Amber smiled as they took their
seats.
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