A BIG THANKS to everyone who participated.
Boy...this was NOT easy. Having never judged a contest before I've learned how difficult it can be.
And I had help. My husband read your drabbles and made his selections then I had my sister Erva read them and she made HER selections. I thought that would maybe make it easier, but we all pretty much selected different drabbles.
Which just goes to show how very subjective it all is.
But a decision had to be made. So, without further ado the winners are...drum roll please...
Third Place: Judy Croom, for, as Erva said, an interesting use of metaphor.
The red mist is hot, so hot, it sucks the moisture from my skin.
‘Don’t strain so,’ the nurse chides. ‘Life will happen as it wants to.’
What does she know? It is not she who lies here, unable to move.
‘Life’s not comfortable,’ I say. ‘It’s red hot and not worth living unless you crowd every second with passion.’
She shakes her head abruptly. ‘I’d rather live a long life, quiet and peaceful. It’s safer that way.’
To her perhaps, but not to me. For without the red mist to swallow the past, how will I move into tomorrow?
Second Place: Marcia Hoehne. There's just so much happening here.
“Janie.” Dad set the jar down. The caterpillar hung from the twig. “Watch.”
Dad lies in bed. Machines, guardrail, enclose him. I watch.
The caterpillar glowed green. It rippled, coating itself.
Dad seizes. I ring the bell; he rests. He starts; I ring; he eases. It’s too late to disturb his work.
The gold-flecked shell quieted. “He’s done, Janie. Now we wait.”
Dad stills. I jump, ring the bell. They invade his shell but he’s gone.
One day the chrysalis lay broken, the jar open. The butterfly had flown without me.
I sit, wait, watch, dare hope Dad can fly.
And FIRST PLACE!
Tricia O'Brien at Talespinning for this visual.
The attic door screeched as Chloe opened it. She slipped inside with heart pounding, because Gran said this room was off-limits.
The only light came from a filmy windowpane. Chloe pushed aside boxes to get to a huge chest.
When she unclasped the latch and lifted the lid, she discovered a doll in a tattered lace dress with a big rusty-red stain across the bodice.
The doll stretched out bone-white arms towards her and split its mouth in a scarlet grin.
Chloe slammed the chest shut, but, even as she ran, she could hear the doll yelling, "Mine! Mine! Mine!"
Okay ladies, if you will leave a comment telling me which of the bookmarks you want that will help me. Tricia get's first pick, then Marcia, then Judy (though she did tell me eariler which one she liked. And then if you will email me your addresses I can get these darlings out to you so that they can grace you books.