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The 2015 Voorheesville Short Story Contest
This year, we launched our rst ever short story contest. With the gracious support of a private benefactor in our cimmunity, we were able to offer students an opportunity to win cash prizes for their writing! Ranging from a $300 rst prize, $200 second prize, $100 third prize, and two $50 runner-up prizes, students competed rst anonymouslty at the school level, where a faculty panel reviewed and sent the top ten nalists to The College of Saint Rose. Once there, three MFA students judged the entries, wrote all ten writers critiques of their work, and, nally, settled on the top ve stories. This year’s theme was “Spring Fever.” We are proud to present the top ve nalists on these pages. Enjoy!
Forget-Me-Not
Fiction by Olivia Suozzo ‘16
Annie opened her eyes slowly and blinked at the late winter sun. She stirred languidly, breathing in the cypress-scented morning air and rising from her prone position with the blurry contentment of a woman well-rested. Beams of wan sunlight ltered through the crisp muslin curtains, soften- ing the harsh whiteness that dominated the bedroom. With a happy yawn, Annie turned her attention to what seemed to be the only spots of color around. Eyes of yellow and deep violet peeped out from a sea of white anemone petals, all sitting neat and fresh on the little stand between the bed and the window.
“Well, Hazel, I don’t know how, but your father found us some gorgeous owers. Aren’t they pretty, sweetie?” Annie cooed, looking at the sturdy white cradle on the opposite side of her bed. “Don’t they just look like spring?”
A happy giggle bubbled forth, beautiful enough to be a song- bird’s tune to the young mother’s ears. Annie slid out of bed, rustling her downy sheets and upsetting the hospital-like neatness of the room. “Hazel, baby, you’ll just love spring. I know all you’ve seen so far is winter, but when the chill lifts and the owers bloom? Oh, there’s nothing better.”
“Annie? Are you up?”
The woman looked up as the bedroom door opened, admit- ting a man in a somber three piece suit who bore a small tray of dishes.
A beaming smile broke out on Annie’s face. “Good morning, love,” she said, closing the distance between them and giving her husband a quick kiss on the lips. “I thought you would have left for work by now.” Her tone was questioning, and she cocked her head to one side.
“Remember I started taking on fewer hours?”
Annie twisted her lips and scrunched her forehead in concen- tration, but no memory came forth. “No, I don’t recall. But if it means you have more time at home with the baby, I’m all
for it. Oh, and thank you for the owers. How did you get them so early?”
“It’s not so di cult,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck.
“You just don’t want to admit that you paid a fortune to get them shipped from further south,” Annie teased, enjoying the way her husband shu ed and gave a half-hearted grin. “Now what have you got there, Ray?” she inquired as she peered over the tray.
“Your tea. It’s rose hip – I thought you might want some.”
Annie lifted the delicate teacup and inhaled deeply through her nose, a blissful smile spreading across her face. She hummed contentedly. “Eglantine?”
Ray nodded, looking fond. “Your favorite.”
“You knew!” Annie exclaimed delightedly, twirling and skip- ping over to the window.
“Always the tone of surprise,” Ray muttered sadly behind her, and Annie giggled.
Mind alighting on a new and pressing issue, Annie spun again and looked at her husband with breathless cheer. “Ray, don’t you think we should open up the windows? Just a bit?”
Her husband stared at her incredulously, cocking his head back as if she had just icked water in his face. “Are you sure?”
Annie smiled at the befuddled expression, and shrugged with the chagrin of someone who knew they were being silly. She toyed absently with the hem of one snowy curtain. “I know it’s probably too cold to keep them open long, but I swear it gets so stu y in here. Really, it’s almost March! I’ll bet you the folks in Richmond are all gearing up for spring, and we’re
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