100-word-story competition 2022: Vote for the winning 12-18

by Noah Bradley, 13

There once was a girl who sat on a lonely, solitary, grey rock by the sea. She longed for the sky and the ocean to meet but they never did. They were separated from each other, and the only time they neared one another was at the end of the water, but as you got closer to the end, they were still parted. She wished they could just be in love. They were in love, but they would never truly hold the others' hand. It's quite a sad story, really. But in every story, there is always a silver lining.

by Ameerah Kola-Olukotun, 17 

“But I’ve got no privilege,” she protests. I stare at her shoes, bought by grandparents leeching off colonial fortunes. Her hair lies flat and presentable; my curls violate policy in any style. Her canvas-coloured skin will never raise questions. Mine is a brown cage that closes every door. But I hold my tongue. The others explain, but her whiteness turns to cotton and lodges itself in her ears. Her parents just worked harder. She’s just studious. “Blame me if you want.” She doesn’t see the landmines lurking in our paths. And if she did, she’d think she had them, too.

by Alice Wentzell, 16 

That weeping willow was my place only; a leafy cocoon, until I shared it with you. You were a peculiar boy with oceans in your eyes. When I turned sixteen you were waiting for me there, with darker gold hair and a deeper voice, but I recognised you from how you said my name; the name of the tree. I asked you to come back to see me again. I’m old and frail now and sometimes I still wait for you under that willow tree. There’s a bench for us to sit on now. It says your name on it.