100-word-story competition 2022: Vote for the winning adult

by Sian Shaw, Coventry  

"Smile, smile at Mummy". My baby wriggles, kicks and fusses, his skin is irritating him. Neither of us have slept for weeks and none of the creams are helping. His eyes meet mine and his smile melts away my tiredness for a split second. I upload the picture to my social media, add a filter to smooth out his skin and remove the heavy bags from under eyes. In the caption I type "Good morning" and I post. Within minutes my phone starts pinging with likes and comments "what a happy baby" "so cute" "looking fresh mama". The crying continues.

by Rachel O'Cleary, Tipperary

My mother's bare foot rests in my lap, softer than expected, toenails thick. My knuckles complain as I squeeze the clippers. "Call Me Lily," she says, and I think, what else? I paint her toenails Big Apple Red while she talks about her estranged daughter, gone to the city years ago. "That girl was always an odd one," she says. "I'll bet she leaves me here to rot." I stare at the deep furrows between her eyebrows. See myself: hard-pedaling, smoke unspooling, highway breeze through messy hair, whisky-burnt, split by childbirth, circling, circling home. I hold my breath, and wait.

by Katherine Bebo, Dorset 

The first rule of Write Club is: You do not talk about Write Club. The second rule… you know the rest. We are guerrilla grammarians, changing the world one semicolon at a time. Under the cover of darkness, we correct the inexcusable: misplaced apostrophes (*shudder*), misspellings and other travesties—then meet to share our victories. A knock. We freeze. The figure enters, then asks: “What’s the difference between a cat and a comma?” A tense silence. “One has claws at the end of its paws, and one is a pause at the end of a clause.” I nod. “You’re in.”