April 2008 WINNER
First place, publication and $150 goes to
Lisa Heidle of Lawrenceville,
GA
Nothing But
Trash
Second Place: Beth Duke, Bradenton, FL
Jewels
Third Place: R.F. Marazas, Belvidere,
NJ
Shatterings
Lisa's winning entry appears below
and will be featured in the annual scratch anthology. Both
runners up will be strongly considered for inclusion.
We thank
you all for the opportunity
to read your clever and innovative stories and are grateful for the pleasure it gave us.
This month's judge, Brian Jay Corrigan said, "These finalists
each show strong storytelling skills. A closely packed group of talent such as this must ultimately be decided on questions
of structure. Short fiction is strongest when it moves with vigor towards an affecting, unexpected or deeply moving climax.
Also, a well-written work that makes the reader care about a character will always feel more complete than a well-written
work that asks the reader to care about a situation."
In his selection of the winner: Nothing But
Trash, Corrigan said, "Jane could have easily been relegated to the class of dysfunction-equals-character style
of writing that too often characterizes pop fiction, but the writer steers her away from the temptation of making her yet
another in a long line of "deserving cases." The final moment of this story at first feels callous, even wicked.
It is, however, one of those endings that lingers in the reader's mind, nagging to be understood. There are colors here
and an unexpected lesson learned that digs deeper than the run-of-the-mill story that wants no more than to make the reader
pity a character in a pre-packaged, politically-correct manner. The writer's style, straight-forward and unblinking, nicely
captures Jane's frame of mind and works the reader towards a final understanding of Jane's ultimate and uncomfortable
discovery."
Now enjoy, NOTHING BUT TRASH
“You was left in a dumpster. Your mama knew from the start
you was nothing but trash.”
Jane walked toward the bus stop, ignoring Daniel. He threw the words at her every
morning while his friends snickered in a small pack behind him. Daniel had made it his life’s purpose to make sure that
everyone at Cary Home understood Jane’s abandonment was the most shameful form of rejection and that somehow she had
been deserving. Their mamas, he argued, had kept most of them longer than a few hours after birth before leaving them behind.
And none of them had been pitched into the garbage, left to die surrounded by empty food cans and used sanitary napkins.
Jane knew it didn’t help her make friends when the word got out about her fascination with the dumpsters that peppered
the neighborhood. At first it was just curiosity, she had only wanted to see what one looked like inside. She would peer into
the darkness, fighting the impulse to scamper over the edge. When the lure grew too great, she climbed in and settled her
small body between the overflowing bags, feeling safe for the first time in her short life. She stayed until the stench was
unbearable, then climbed out andhurried home. Shame was her first reaction, quickly replaced with pride. She felt exhilarated
at having ventured back to where she had started. It made her feel strong knowing, that as a baby, she hadn’t been afraid.
Mrs. Rodriquez, the house cook, was the first to discover her secret when she threw the day’s waste on top of Jane
lying in the bottom of the dumpster. Startled, Jane yelled out. Mrs. Rodriquez ran back into the kitchen screaming that El
Diablo had taken up residence inside the garbage bin and was dining on refuse. As Jane pulled herself over the lip of the
container, hostile glares from the other children greeted her. Ms. Kerns, their housemother, told them regularly that if they
caused trouble the neighbors might shut Cary Home down and they would be separated and sent away. None of them wanted that
to happen. They knew from experience that most homes were not as good as theirs, many were a lot worse. Jane sensed that her
life was about to get more difficult.
Ms. Kerns hurried to Jane as she straddled the dumpster’s edge, one leg inside
the dwelling and the other inches from the ground.
“Jane, what in the world are you doing in there?”
“Looks
to me like she’s found a new home,” Daniel said to the others.
“I-I was looking for something. I thought
I threw some papers away that I needed. Ones for school.”
The children knew if they mentioned school Ms. Kerns
would go easy on them. She was a strong believer that education could get them out and used herself as example for what knowledge
could do for you. She was unaware that her words had little effect on the children since none of them had considered being
a housemother for unwanted children.
“You gave Mrs. Rodriquez quite a scare and owe her an apology. Stay out of
the dumpsters, they’re disgusting and dangerous, they breed germs. It’s no place for a human being.”
“Told you,” said Daniel when Ms. Kerns was out of earshot. “You’re not even human. You’re
just a germ who was made in a garbage can.” The others laughed and followed Daniel as he sauntered away.
Even after
being caught, Jane’s obsession grew. Without knowing where she’d been found so many years before, each new dumpster
became the place of origin. She became an expert on the containers, learning that the interiors depended on location. Restaurants
had the dirtiest, whereas convenience stores were cleaner, but not as comfortable because of all the boxes. Jane envisioned
her mother choosing hers carefully, making sure it didn’t contain food so mice wouldn’t find her.
She would
spend hours alone in the darkness imagining what her mother had felt as she turned and left her new baby girl all alone.
Was it hard? Jane wondered. Did she cry?
The next time Jane was caught, Ms. Kerns insisted she speak with one of the
counselors kept on-call to deal with the houseguests who were having trouble adapting.
“Why do you like to play
inside dumpsters, Jane?”
She tried to think of a good reason, knowing it couldn’t be the truth. She couldn’t
tell how when a person was hired to work in the home, the children gathered at heating vents and listened as the new employee
was given each child’s personal history, things they’d never been told about themselves. The process was painful,
but had become an initiation for the new kids who came to live at Cary Home. It was the only way they could learn the truth.
Eavesdropping was how they learned that Daniel’s father was responsible for the scars on his back. It’s how they
learned the reason for Kiera’s crying into the night and why she hated to be touched. And it’s how they learned
about Jane. Knowing the details didn’t change what they already knew: they were unwanted. They listened anyway, hungry
for any morsel that might let them know who they were.
So Jane hid the truth, nodding when asked a question and letting
the counselor do most of the talking.
“Are you looking for something in the dumpsters?” he asked at their
last meeting.
“Yeah, I’m looking for something.”
“Ah,” he said knowingly.
The next day, Ms. Kerns took Jane on a special shopping trip and allowed her to pick out anything she wanted: clothes, shoes,
stuffed animals. The counselor had told Ms. Kerns that Jane was in need of things, which was the reason she had been going
through the dumpsters. Jane felt a moment of guilt that quickly passed. I am looking for something, she reasoned, I
just don’t know what it is. She distributed her new goods to her housemates, not wanting to make more enemies, and continued
to visit her special places.
She had grown tall enough that with a small jump she could easily pull herself over the
side. Lifting the lid of one of her favorite haunts, she was greeted by a small mewing sound. Jane was not frightened, she
had found kittens before and had grown so used to the mice that she no longer noticed them. Once she had even come across
a raccoon that hissed at her and demanded she leave. Moving some of the bags, she lifted out a diaper box. Inside, she found
a blanket wrapped tightly around a purple doll. She was about to put it back when it moved. The newborn mewed again and opened
her eyes into two small slits. The baby was so small that she fit in both hands.
Sitting on the ground, she cradled
the newborn until the sun was almost down. She talked and rocked her, holding her close the way she imagined someone who loved
you would, then rewrapped the blanket and placed her back inside the box. Jane placed the box in the dumpster just as she
found it, lowered the lid, and turned toward home. As she walked the busy streets, she felt at peace. Jane finally understood
that walking away is never as hard as you imagine it will be.
