First Place:

Lullaby’s End

By William Herbert

Songs of long-ago, dear mother, echo in my ears; of whispering trees, star-lit skies and nest-bound birds feathering down for the night. You’d then snuff-out the candle and wish my eyes sweet rest. 

I needed those soothing verses, back there and then, bundled aboard those clatter-some cattle-carts heading Adonai knew where. Hours blurred into days, but screeching brakes and shrieking whistles announced the end of the line, when doors slammed open, and filled the world with gnashing teeth, growling guards, forests of barbed-wire fences and chimneys belching putrid smoke. 

Promise me, when this nightmare’s over, you’ll sing those lullabies again?

Second Place:

Woman In Seat 34A (Reserved)

By Wendy Markel

You sip steaming coffee - cappuccino, I guess; reusable mug. I applaud your green credentials, admire your ruby lips.

You eat your plastic wrapped Pret sandwich. That's a point deducted. 

But you're like me, busy commuter, no time to create breaded artistry or meet someone to savour flaky croissants with. 

You leave a trail of cheese crumbs. I like cheese, never tuna, sometimes ham. Milky coffee, smooth roasted beans, no sugar. Already, we have so much in common.

I pluck up courage.

“Good cappuccino?” 

“Americano; black,” you say.

 You alight into long, engulfing embraces. I stare into the sidings, cancelled.

Third Place:

Choice

By Elizabeth Sloughter

He put me on the train, shoved a wad of cash in my hand, and stood on the other side, watching as the door closed between us.

“The best clinics are in the city,” he’d said. But I knew he simply didn’t want to be there.

I placed my hand on my flat belly; I could feel it moving—just gas, I reassured myself.

I walked past a visibly pregnant woman—not me, never me—and took a seat, clenching my fists, crumpling the money and boring my nails into my flesh so hard it bled.

I didn’t want this.