Some of you may know that last week I entered a short story into a contest run by a Christian self-publishing company, Xulon Press. It was the first "national" writing contest I entered, with the top three winners receiving publishing packages.
I've received the emails about the contest over the years and didn't enter. When the thought came to me that maybe I should submit something, there were only three days before the deadline and I thought, why not? Even if I don't win, it'll be good writing experience. I am SO glad I decided to enter. The whole experience, from writing and twisting and tweaking, to sending it out to others to read and critique gave me just a taste of what it must be like as a published author pouring over their work. Now I understand what authors mean when they talk about having their people behind them, those who not only support them but encourage them and give their manuscripts a good critique. I just wanted to take this part of the post to thank those of you who were willing to read my short story, critique it, and touch my heart with encouragement! You are SO appreciated! One of my sweet readers also sent me this reminder, something that helped prepare me for the outcome ahead of time: Well, no matter the outcome; you have a gift! Spoiler alert: I didn't place in this particular contest. They do run it twice a year, though, so there is always next time. ;) As a special treat, I'm posting the story here today. Hope you enjoy! Happy reading, Carolyn P.S. To God be the Glory! :) *** Home*** Home was never my safe place. Instead, I spent my childhood finding a home on the swim team at the YMCA, where I later met Scott Anderson. I believe God sent him into my life at just the right time—to be a friend, a brother, a confidante, and so much more. We were partners in crime, doing everything together and there was rarely a moment I remember being without him. Then it happened. The dynamic changed. Our feelings were subtle at the start, at least mine were. I can’t speak for his, but I wondered at times what the intense look in his eyes meant. Could it be that he felt something for me? He was brave enough to admit it nine months ago, his hands shaking as they grasped mine that autumn evening. We were at his house, sitting out on the porch swing. I breathed in his scent, clean and warm with a hint of cinnamon, as I leaned close. “What is it, Scott?” He tensed, and I didn’t miss his quick inhale. “I—I love you, Misty.” Scott faced me and lifted his cool fingers to my face. My heart thundered in my ears. “I love you too.” That was the best night of my life, and I couldn’t help but smile at the memory of it tonight as I awaited his arrival. Dusk was setting in fast, and I tossed a glance over my shoulder toward the parking lot. There he is! I left my blanket in the grass and went to meet him. “Everything okay? You look tired.” My fingers weaved through his. He sighed. “Sorry. I’m thinking.” “About swimming?” “No.” Scott gazed toward the horizon and frowned. “When are the fireworks starting?” I tugged the sleeve of his gray sweatshirt, desperation fueling me. “Is it about work?” Fear ate away at me. “I’d rather not talk about it.” He shrugged away from my touch and paced the lawn in front of me. I squinted at him in the darkness. It’s me, isn’t it? Moisture stung my eyes, and I blinked it back. Why else wouldn’t he want to tell me? I couldn’t remember the last time we’d kept our troubles from each other. My eyes tracked his fingers as they raked through his blond hair, and my breath caught. He’s nervous. Why hadn’t I noticed? Boom! A burst of scarlet, blue, and white flares illuminated the sky, echoing with a resilient explosion. I glanced toward Scott. He pivoted and stalked toward his truck several yards behind us. “Hey, Scott—wait!” I scrambled after him. Scott whipped around. “What?” “What are you thinking about? Is it me?” My voice quivered. His eyes softened, and a smile appeared. “You could say that.” Fear was determined to rear its head, but I shoved it down. “Please don’t tease me. I’m being serious. I want to know how I can help. I want to know what’s on your heart, what’s on your mind. . . just, everything. And—” “Whoa, slow down.” Scott eased a step closer and smiled. “That makes it easier then.” “What?” I huffed, confusion swirling. “Hear me out.” He laughed and squeezed my fingers. “Misty, you’re my best friend. The first one I tell my news to. Someone I’m always excited to spend time with.” Strange, I thought. It didn’t sound like the breakup preamble I’d been trying to avoid. I relaxed and watched him, his words drawing me in. “And what I’m trying to say is. . . I want you to be that person for the rest of our lives.” I blinked. “Just friends?” “No.” He chuckled and pulled me into his arms. Funny, I didn’t remember saying the thought out loud. I gazed at him and gasped as the realization hit. There was no way this was a breakup speech. Scott released me and dropped to his knee. He grinned at my shock, teasing me with the diamond he pulled from his pocket. He extended it toward me. Excitement built up in me till it erupted in a squeal. He laughed. “Misty Lewis, will you marry me?” “Yes!” I belted into the night air. My heart raced, and my body trembled as he slipped the diamond onto my finger. Scott pulled me into his arms again, and it was here—in the arms of my fiancé—that I found it. Home sweet home.
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AuthorHi! I'm Carolyn, a writer seeking to glorify God with my words. Archives
February 2024
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