We're pleased to publish the winning entry for our HOLIDAY ROMANCE free entry themed competition. £10 has been awarded to Vivienne Moles.
Vivienne's bio: Since retiring as a physics teacher, I have been exploring my creative side. I share the running of a local writing group (when there isn't a pandemic!). I have had some small successes with writing competitions, mostly as a runner up, and want to build on those. I've been doing more writing and set challenges this past year and have enjoyed developing some of the techniques I've learnt.
Strawberry or chocolate chip?
“Do you want an ice cream, dear,” says Dad. I’m already an unconfident shy twelve-year-old. Why does he have to draw attention to me now, just as he is going past. He is the most gorgeous Greek god-like tanned specimen on this beach. He’s a bit older than me, I think, but not much. Thanks, Dad, for totally destroying any street cred I thought I had.
“Answer your father,” prompts Mum. “I’ll have a strawberry, if they’ve got one, please,” she adds.
“Chocolate chip, please,” I say, still gawping at him. He’s helping to collect the deckchair money. I expect he lives down here. What a lovely way to earn a bit of extra pocket money. It’s better than running errands for Mrs Frisham next door.
He glances in my direction and his smile turns me in to a squishy heap. I smile back but I can already feel my cheeks heat up. I wish I could control that.
“Thank you, dear,” says Mum when Dad gives her the ice cream.
“Thanks, Dad,” I say. “Would you mind if I had a walk along the prom?”
“Alright, but not too far,” says Dad. It’s quite packed here but there’s no way I’d get lost. We’ve hired a beach hut for the week and it’s got a number on it.
It couldn’t really have worked out any better; he literally bumped in to me.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he says. “I’ll get you another.”
We both laugh, even though his tee shirt is now covered in chocolate ice cream. He calls out to the deckchair attendant, an older guy, and says he’ll be back in a minute. He grabs some coins and walks with me to the kiosk. All the time, we’re chatting away. I learn he lives not far from me but he’s on holiday here, helping out his uncle. He comes down every summer and recognizes me from last year. He’s two years older than me and is interested in fishing, bird-watching and he’s in a band with a couple of his mates from school.
*****
“Have you finished writing your memoirs?” he says to me, with a glint in his eye.
I shut the folder with my notes in it smartly. “You’re not seeing them at the moment!” I say. He walks over to me and puts his arm round my shoulders.
“What say you we book a week down at Littlesea? We could hire a beach hut for the week, you know, relive old times,” he says.
“I suppose now the children have all gone, we’d better do something with our time!” I say.
“Actually, I thought we could all go,” he says. “It would be lovely having the grandchildren there.”
“Yes, it would,” I agree. “We could tell them how we met...,”
“Fancy an ice cream, love?”
“Have we got any chocolate chip?”
One reason why our readers chose this story was because it was upbeat. Also, they enjoyed the ending because, having been built on a strong beginning, the story was developed well enough to leave them with a smile.
Well done, Vivienne. Enjoy the £10 prize!
Vivienne's bio: Since retiring as a physics teacher, I have been exploring my creative side. I share the running of a local writing group (when there isn't a pandemic!). I have had some small successes with writing competitions, mostly as a runner up, and want to build on those. I've been doing more writing and set challenges this past year and have enjoyed developing some of the techniques I've learnt.
Strawberry or chocolate chip?
“Do you want an ice cream, dear,” says Dad. I’m already an unconfident shy twelve-year-old. Why does he have to draw attention to me now, just as he is going past. He is the most gorgeous Greek god-like tanned specimen on this beach. He’s a bit older than me, I think, but not much. Thanks, Dad, for totally destroying any street cred I thought I had.
“Answer your father,” prompts Mum. “I’ll have a strawberry, if they’ve got one, please,” she adds.
“Chocolate chip, please,” I say, still gawping at him. He’s helping to collect the deckchair money. I expect he lives down here. What a lovely way to earn a bit of extra pocket money. It’s better than running errands for Mrs Frisham next door.
He glances in my direction and his smile turns me in to a squishy heap. I smile back but I can already feel my cheeks heat up. I wish I could control that.
“Thank you, dear,” says Mum when Dad gives her the ice cream.
“Thanks, Dad,” I say. “Would you mind if I had a walk along the prom?”
“Alright, but not too far,” says Dad. It’s quite packed here but there’s no way I’d get lost. We’ve hired a beach hut for the week and it’s got a number on it.
It couldn’t really have worked out any better; he literally bumped in to me.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he says. “I’ll get you another.”
We both laugh, even though his tee shirt is now covered in chocolate ice cream. He calls out to the deckchair attendant, an older guy, and says he’ll be back in a minute. He grabs some coins and walks with me to the kiosk. All the time, we’re chatting away. I learn he lives not far from me but he’s on holiday here, helping out his uncle. He comes down every summer and recognizes me from last year. He’s two years older than me and is interested in fishing, bird-watching and he’s in a band with a couple of his mates from school.
*****
“Have you finished writing your memoirs?” he says to me, with a glint in his eye.
I shut the folder with my notes in it smartly. “You’re not seeing them at the moment!” I say. He walks over to me and puts his arm round my shoulders.
“What say you we book a week down at Littlesea? We could hire a beach hut for the week, you know, relive old times,” he says.
“I suppose now the children have all gone, we’d better do something with our time!” I say.
“Actually, I thought we could all go,” he says. “It would be lovely having the grandchildren there.”
“Yes, it would,” I agree. “We could tell them how we met...,”
“Fancy an ice cream, love?”
“Have we got any chocolate chip?”
One reason why our readers chose this story was because it was upbeat. Also, they enjoyed the ending because, having been built on a strong beginning, the story was developed well enough to leave them with a smile.
Well done, Vivienne. Enjoy the £10 prize!
