First Place
C OME S IN S MALL PAC K AGE S THIS YEAR’S 95-WORD FICTION CONTEST WINNERS M AY JUST BL OW YO UR MIND
Emma’s decided to memorize the collective names for animals. A bask of crocodiles, a glaring of cats, a rhumba of rattlesnakes, a memory of elephants. She imagines herself on Jeopardy: “What is a leap of leopards?” she answers, pleased, as the unsure smarter ones wait for the category to be swept. She will not be champion; this is her one useless talent. She begins to create her own collective nouns: a crack of ceramics, a blistering of shoes, a speak of secrets—acknowledging and allowing for absurd amounts of alliteration. It’s an exuberance of Emmas. —Jenny Pickerell Jenny Pickerell is a scheduler at the VA hospital. She’s been in Reno since 2005 and has 13 year old dog named Riley that she loves to walk. She also likes thrift store jigsaw puzzles. “I’ve always wanted to do it, and I always missed the deadline. This year I caught the announcement, and I decided I needed to make a plan to enter.”
by RN&R Readers
“S
Second Place
ometimes three, sometimes five, sometimes four.” “Alex, how many winners will there be in the RN&R short-fiction contest?” This year there are four, and here’s why: Each of our editors pick their favorite 10 stories out of the mountain of entries and assign each one a point value. First, we look for agreement among the stories the editors select. This year, Jenny Pickerell’s story landed on every editor’s list; hers was the only one. Then we added the points up from the other stories that two editors liked best, and that’s how we got second, third, and fourth places. Every year, it’s peculiar how a theme arises out of seemingly random entries. How did this year become the year where someone died in more than half the submissions? Maybe it was the economy, maybe it was the government shutdown, but one thing’s for sure, there were a lot of people striving for sad. Fortunately, we’re an upbeat bunch around here, so we survived the judging. Congratulations to all you winners, and thanks to everyone who took part. It really feels like an honor that you’d send us these little bits of your souls.
Hope
The Reverend Cottonelle Mather, pastor of the Church of Hope Restored, was despondent as she drank her Saturday morning coffee. After twenty-five years of preaching, her sermons, of late, lacked inspiration and oomph. She exhausted the scriptures for new ideas, and answers to her prayers were not forthcoming. She still believed in Psalm 42:5, “Why are thou cast down … hope thou in God.” She turned the TV on to Turner Classics, and she watched three movies: The Flim-Flam Man, Burt Lancaster’s The Rainmaker, and The Music Man. Sometimes you find hope in all the right places. —Larry Larsen Larry Larsen is a professor of economics emeritus at the University of Nevada, Reno. He’s into water exercises at the Alf Sorensen Community Center. “I’ve been playing around with the concept of hope for a while. I just kept fooling around with it, just hoping to find a twist on it.”
Third Place
The Dead End Job
It was a $5,000 a day job: swallow 10 coke-filled condoms; get on the plane to Miami; quaff the laxative; payment upon delivery. You were dead if one broke, and dead if you didn’t deliver, so no reason to dwell about either, the end was the same. Today, the local narc dog and her handler were heading his way. “Koochie koo, doggy!” They hated that, and the handler steered the dog away. He headed for the green exit - nothing to declare. “Just visiting Uncle!” He’d be back again, visiting “Uncle Sam,” in a week. —David Winter David Winter is a software programmer who lives in Stateline and loves everything that flies. Also a pilot, he’s spent a lot of time in airports being sniffed by DEA dogs, which is where the story idea came to him.
Fourth Place
The Apple Tree
The apple tree in the old cemetery could be seen from Niall’s house. His grandmother was terrified of that tree and made her family promise to never bury her there. “That tree ate my husband,” she told Niall. “There was nothing in his grave but tree roots!” But Niall’s parents said Nana’s tumor had made her talk crazy, so she was buried in the family plot, beside the tree. As the gravediggers covered the grave, Niall thought he saw roots touching her coffin. That fall, the branches hung with sweet apples. —Julie Gorriz Julie Gorriz is an alumnus of the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. She’s trying to be a writer, and she has three cats. “I was reading up on growing your own apple orchard and there is this old story about an apple tree that ate bodies. They opened the coffins, and there were just roots, no bodies.”
“95 woRd FictioN” continued on page 14
OPINION
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THIS WEEK
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NOVEMBER 7, 2013
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RN&R
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