Jamie Quatro, our guest judge, is an American fiction writer published in The New Yorker, The Paris Review, and Harper's, among others.
This competition has ended. You can view upcoming competitions or check out who won below for future inspiration!
Overview
Who’s Eligible: Young Writers (13-19)
Piece Length: 400-1000 words
Stories travel across time and space, inspire joy and sadness, and captivate minds all over the world. Short stories do all that too—in just a few pages. Such brevity is a challenge, but it’s also an opportunity. “The great thing about a short story is that it doesn’t have to trawl through someone’s whole life; it can come in glancingly from the side,” said Emma Donoghue. This month, dear writers, we challenge you to adjust your gaze and tell an entire compelling story in 1,000 words or less.
**PRIZES**
Winner will receive $100. Runner-Up and Best Peer Review will each receive $50.
Competition Entries
Log in to see how other young writers from around the world have responded to the competition prompt!
We are quiet and tired from the long ride in the car, so we stop at the roadside shop that sells the huckleberry milkshakes.
My little brother pulls on mom’s sleeve. She is tired. She has her sunhat on. She is happier to be here than we are. I don’t think she can be unhappy her...
I hate Tuesdays, especially this one. Teachers seem to think scheduling exams on this day will somehow compensate for the burdens of Monday. Instead, they spread the misery, filling both days with stress and lethargy. Class dragged on too long today; everything felt hazy. My head throbbed from sleeping on my sweater sleeve, the knit pattern still pressed into my forehead....
The pigeon was perched on his lamppost above the streets when he saw the thieves.
They weren’t trying too hard to hide the fact that they were plotting something. They were, in fact, being annoyingly conspicuous. Even doves—those pretentious little jerks—would have tried to blend in a bit more....
Marvin leaned over the edge of the boat, gazing at the gray sea. He closed his eyes and dipped his hand into the rocking waves. The sea could free him. Try to tether a boat to a wave and the boat, along with the wave, is gone within the next hour. He pulled his hand out, shaking it dry, and examined it. His tan, spotted skin wrapped tighter around the bone than normal. He reached behind his seat for the cooler and pulled out a stick of jerky. He nibbled aw...
He was staring at me, shivering like a leaf in an autumn breeze, eyes like a deer in the headlights. Like the deer I had run over with my car in the thick blue night.
“Calm down,” I kept saying in a soothing tone, but he was not obeying, feet planted on the gravel back road as though he wanted to run away down i...
Back when she started working for Mr. Thades, she didn’t understand much about what it meant to be familiar with death.
Well, she was more of a child then, than anything else. Tramping along on the sidewalk after school alone, wading through the autumn, and seeing that sign pasted to the front window of a clapboard white house with a door painted gold. ASSISTANT NEEDED: YOUNG AND ABLE. She was youn...
My thumb glides across the lighter’s ridges, scattering sparks around us and igniting a calm flame--woosh.
The light illuminates Theo warm and right: orange hues highlight his soft face, sloping up and off his low cheekbones, dancing in the reflection of his glasses. He laughs a phony, uncomfortable laugh....
What aspect of this short story most draws you into the narrative and makes you want to keep reading?
The emotional depth of the story is what draws me in the most. The way the author explores the complexities of fandom, online relationships, and the consequences of public judgment is captivating. The sudden shifts in perspective—especially the revelation about the anonymous friend—keep the reader hooked, wanting to know how everything will unfold.
We are quiet and tired from the long ride in the car, so we stop at the roadside shop that sells the huckleberry milkshakes.
My little brother pulls on mom’s sleeve. She is tired. She has her sunhat on. She is happier to be here than we are. I don’t think she can be unhappy her...
The church bell rings again. I remember how you jumped when you entered the building.
"I can't wait to live in our house." You took a nail and carved your name in a room, like it was yours....
I hate Tuesdays, especially this one. Teachers seem to think scheduling exams on this day will somehow compensate for the burdens of Monday. Instead, they spread the misery, filling both days with stress and lethargy. Class dragged on too long today; everything felt hazy. My head throbbed from sleeping on my sweater sleeve, the knit pattern still pressed into my forehead....
The pigeon was perched on his lamppost above the streets when he saw the thieves.
They weren’t trying too hard to hide the fact that they were plotting something. They were, in fact, being annoyingly conspicuous. Even doves—those pretentious little jerks—would have tried to blend in a bit more....
Marvin leaned over the edge of the boat, gazing at the gray sea. He closed his eyes and dipped his hand into the rocking waves. The sea could free him. Try to tether a boat to a wave and the boat, along with the wave, is gone within the next hour. He pulled his hand out, shaking it dry, and examined it. His tan, spotted skin wrapped tighter around the bone than normal. He reached behind his seat for the cooler and pulled out a stick of jerky. He nibbled aw...
He was staring at me, shivering like a leaf in an autumn breeze, eyes like a deer in the headlights. Like the deer I had run over with my car in the thick blue night.
“Calm down,” I kept saying in a soothing tone, but he was not obeying, feet planted on the gravel back road as though he wanted to run away down i...
Back when she started working for Mr. Thades, she didn’t understand much about what it meant to be familiar with death.
Well, she was more of a child then, than anything else. Tramping along on the sidewalk after school alone, wading through the autumn, and seeing that sign pasted to the front window of a clapboard white house with a door painted gold. ASSISTANT NEEDED: YOUNG AND ABLE. She was youn...
My thumb glides across the lighter’s ridges, scattering sparks around us and igniting a calm flame--woosh.
The light illuminates Theo warm and right: orange hues highlight his soft face, sloping up and off his low cheekbones, dancing in the reflection of his glasses. He laughs a phony, uncomfortable laugh....
