Congratulations to the September Amazon Shorts winners!

A big thanks goes to everyone who entered and participated in the September period of the Short-Form Writing Competition. Your writing, reading, voting, and commenting, along with one Editorial pick, has placed four more winners next to bestselling authors on Amazon.com!

Without further ado, the newest additions to the Amazon Shorts program are...

Flight of the Slewsgranger by James W. from New York, NY

Mary Perkins by James G. C. from Michigan

The Last Allingham by Edward Nudelman from Beverly, MA

The Competition by Andrew P. from Colton, CA

Listed below you will find short excerpts from the winning entries. These stories will be available for purchase on Amazon.com in the coming weeks. There will be an announcement notifying you when they are available.

The Gather.com Members' Picks are...

Flight of the Slewsgranger

James W.

New York, NY

            A very long time ago, before I became a human being, I took the whole world for granted.  I neglected the birds and the trees.  I overlooked the water and the air.  Wildflowers came and went with the seasons and the sun and the moon checked in daily regardless of any schedule I kept.  I was a man in the world and concerned myself with the kind of things that were expected of someone like me.

            One afternoon, I found myself walking in the forest, contemplating the irreconcilable differences between irrigation and fumigation.  I had come for wild berries and carried a pail that could hold much more than I could ever hope to eat but I didn't let that bother me.  Lost in my scientific survey, I was meandering along a friendly stream, taking in all the various points of interest that showed themselves along the way in my analysis, when a speckled slewsgranger passed overhead, startling me with a loud hoot and a proud whirl of its sharp, feather plated wings.  He circled again and again with an understood majesty that demanded my attention and respect; from the first moment I spotted the bird, I dared not look away.  I nervously watched him showcase his piloting skills through the clearing in the treetops and after a while, he landed nearby.

            "Why do you mock me?"  I asked the strange bird, now enthroned on a twisted, old branch of a decrepit tree that could no longer sing.  He ignored my question and instead, reached for a bubbled glass smoking apparatus, the likes of which I had never seen, from a cavity in the tree and when his side work was done, he took a deep toke.  The iridescent glow of his feathers sparkled and popped with his every grand gesture and my eyes grew wider while my knees knocked faster every second I stood in his weird court.  The bird wore a contented smile as he surveyed the landscape and when he looked my way, he blew the smoke out his beak into rings that crowned my head and hung round my neck, effectively captivating my undivided attention.  Silently, I stood under the slewsgranger's gaze shaking with fear and excitement and when he forced direct eye contact, I was sure my heart would stop right there among the rusty ivy and neat moss that carpeted the area.

            The slewsgranger clucked twice and fluttered his mighty wings.  "You are a silly man," the great bird said with a grimacing grin. "Go home and water your crops." 

Gather member Dave L. responds: "I loved reading this story. I've printed it so I can read it again. Your use of simple language to convey complex struggles and relationships was brilliant. I hope I'll see more of your work!"

Mary Perkins

James G. C.

Michigan

Berkshire, England.

Turning off the M4 Motorway, I found myself driving along the narrowest of country lanes. Everything around me was so vividly green. It was a beautiful summer day. Having lived in Abu Dhabi for the past eight years, I'd been surrounded by vast ranges of sand dunes. Maybe this was why the green foliage of the large trees was enjoyable to the point of distraction.

I had to work in London but I was determined not to live there. I'd decided to live in the country and selected the borders of Berkshire and Oxfordshire. I'd never been to Pangbourne but a colleague had informed me that it was one of the prettiest villages in England. This was where the Wind in the Willows had been inspired. It was also the setting for Jerome K Jerome's Three Men in a Boat. Little did I know that this would also be where I would encounter Mary Perkins

As I entered the village, I was impressed by the cleanness of the place. I saw neat rows of small thatched roof cottages with freshly painted white picket fences swimming in a sea of multicolored flowerbeds. The contrast of deep green ivy struggling for dominance with rich red climbing roses was striking. The whole scene reminded me of a picture on the front cover of a large jigsaw puzzle box.

I missed a signpost. Reacting to my instincts I turned right. I'd guessed correctly and spotted The Old George Hotel. It was an old building with black oak beams, suggesting it had been built during the Tudor Period.

I entered the hotel though a low narrow door. I picked up a small brightly polished brass bell from the reception desk and rang it gently.

While I waited, I took the opportunity to look around. As I walked each floorboard creaked with its own individual sound. The aroma of roast beef cooking and the clattering of dishes led me to a dark red velvet curtain beyond which I found a very elegant restaurant. A large stone fireplace dominated the dining area with oak beams stretching the length of the room. Tables were tucked away in nooks and crannies providing the opportunity for privacy if needed.

I heard a voice calling out and quickly headed back to reception.

"Hello, I'm Gerald Routledge. I have a reservation."

Gather member Dave Sassi responds: "Excellent writing skills! Good use of descriptive writing verbiage without becoming too complicated. Let's hear the whole story!"

The Last Allingham

Edward Nudelman

Beverly, MA

At Dan's Drive In, on Mill Island, in 1963, you could buy a burger for 27 cents; but on a cold day in February, Ben Walker handed over a buck and got a fine snack, a smile, and four quarters back in change.  His best friend, Jim Riston, had just started on the cash register at Dan's, having made the big switch from grilling.

Mill Island, in those days, was an expansive greenbelt of forests, thickets, ponds, and gullies.  The large island, taking up most of a secluded lake in the Northwest, was spattered with homes of modest size and value.  There was one central village, which was situated about a mile from the shores of Mill Lake.  

Along the island's 16 miles of shorefront, one could find only a few expensive homes.  Most notable on this short list was Peterson Park, which was really no park at all:  three similar sprawling waterfront properties sat adjacent to each other. 

Peterson Park had a shady history.  Yet, if it were not for the mysterious nature of its inhabitants, Peterson Park would have made an excellent destination for lake-going passersby.  As it was, Mill Island residents stayed well away from these grounds and their lavish houses and yards.

Each of the three lots at Peterson Park had its own enormous house sitting at the top of the sloping grounds.   Each lawn was adorned with its own huge, gaudy fountain, very near the water, made out of cement and rock; and each lavish fountain was fashioned with an oval central pool surrounded by three gargoyles, spewing water from their eyes, ears and mouths.  Eerie and comical.

The Peterson brothers were three in number.  Each brother had married one of three sisters, whose prior names were Allingham.  Mill Islanders knew very little about Peterson Park and its occupants.  Rarely would one see any of the Peterson men about town, and no one could ever remember seeing a Mrs. Peterson anywhere. 

Documentation of the existence of the wives, however, could be afforded the curious inquirer, by looking in the archives of the Mill Island City Hall.  What little was known of the goings-on in Peterson Park was written in a half-page article in the Mill Island Tribune way back in 1957.  Mere weeks after the new arrivals finished work on their fountains, a reporter was sent out to get the details.  Careful study of this article will reveal one salient point worthy of notice.  The Allingham sisters, who hailed from Seattle, were of very wealthy descent; whereas the Peterson brothers, hailing from Mill Island, were said to have had a cumulative wealth (prior to marrying) of near zero.

Ben Walker lived about three blocks from Mill Island High, in an average neighborhood, with standard-priced and standard-colored houses.  Jim Riston lived down on the lake, on a small parcel of land, in a good-sized trailer.  The two friends lived humdrum lives, by all accounts; but, to the discriminating eye, they were happy enough. 

Gather member Max Babi responds: "Wow Ed -that's a marvelously worked out tale from what could have been a four line conversation amidst the more imaginative neighbours. I loved the way you made it swing this way and that way, playfully making the reader's own guesses slowly redundant -and finally, smack! The final twist is simply astonishing. Loved this story."

The Gather.com Editorial Pick is...

The Competition

Andrew P.

Colton, CA
 

            Gus never touched a golf club until he was nine years old. The only reason he did at that point was because one of the other kids in his neighborhood pulled out his father's clubs one day and challenged Gus to hit a ball with one. The two kids had no idea of where to begin, how to aim, or how to hold the club. Sure they had seen golf on T.V. when they were flipping through to something more interesting. But, they had never paid attention to the details.

            The two children had played other sports successfully and so their confidence that they could play an old man's game was fairly optimistic. Gus grabbed the largest and longest club out of the bag while Mark picked out a shiny new ball and placed it high on a tee. The two boys had enough common sense not to aim at any houses, so they lined up facing the woods behind Mark's house. Gus gripped the club tightly in his hands with the same style he used with a baseball bat. Sticking with his baseball training he took a few practice swings until he was confident that he would be able to hit the ball.

            He kept thinking to himself that this ought to be easier than baseball since the ball wasn't moving and he didn't have to swing until he was good and ready to. While Gus was preparing, Mark watched with a skeptical look on his face. Mark had had the opportunity to caddy for his dad in the city tournament the previous year and that made him the more experienced of the two. When Gus looked up at Mark he noticed the pained look on his face.

            "What is it?" he asked.

            "That's not the way my dad does it," was Mark's only explanation.

            "What should I do differently?" asked Gus.

            "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

            "Well since you're such a great help, let me try to hit a ball first. Maybe by that time, you'll figure out what I'm doing wrong."

            "I won't make any promises, but go ahead and swing and I'll let you know if I see anything," Mark answered.

            Time for talk had ended. Gus looked down at the ball. He was standing with his feet a little wider than shoulder length apart and both feet were turned slightly outward. Gus placed the head of the club just behind the ball. He stood over the ball for what seemed like a few minutes but, for anyone watching, was only a few seconds. He felt as though he were waiting for something but could not figure out what was supposed to happen.  

Gather member Josh W. responds: "This story brought me back to my high school days of competing in sports. Thanks for the well-written trip down memory lane."

***

Check Amazon.com/shorts to find your fellow Gather members' winning entries, along with many other engaging stories, all of which can be downloaded for $0.49 each!

Once again, congratulations to all the winners! But, the competition isn't over yet. Remember, we are now accepting submissions for the December contest period, so now is the time to fine-tune your entries. All 2,000 to 10,000 word entries submitted between October 1 and December 1 will be placed in queue for the December submission period. Email your entries to amazonshorts@gather.com. To learn more, click here.