December Writing Challenge: Honorable Mentions — Róisin O’Donnell, Glorienne Broñola, Haleigh Diltz, and Emma English

These 100-word stories from December's challenge were selected as Honorable Mentions. Those who completed this challenge are now encouraged to share their stories in the comments section of the "December Writing Challenge."
Róisin O’Donnell

What Could Be

He was still there.

I wanted him to go away. It would be easier to forget the kiss had ever happened. I was perfectly happy being friends with him. He didn’t feel the same way. His silent protest sitting on the wall across the road in sub-zero temperature made that quite clear.

The lamppost he was sitting under acted like a spotlight. Everything else in the neighbourhood was dark nothingness. He looked angelic sitting there in the freshly fallen snow, an orange glow around him.

I sighed to myself, finally giving in. I couldn’t leave him out in the cold.




Glorienne Broñola



It’s hard fixing broken things. Sloane broke herself. And she hates herself for that. Like, she’s her own enemy.

Sloane didn’t wish to be broken. And every time she tries to fix herself, she only makes it worse. She pushed Garret and everybody away. She’s lost and it will take lots of time before she can find herself.


For the first time, it snowed here in Viewcast. She holds on to the cold lamppost, sighing. Hope shines through her eyes as she looks up. Because for the first time in years, Sloane found herself sheltered under the light.




Haleigh Diltz

That Lamppost in the Snow

That lamppost in the snow. I walk by it every single day. It stares at me, while I walk right by it. But it stays there, always there while everything else changes. I am Oliver, Oliver Violet, and I can’t seem to do anything about it. Living in Nebraska does that to you. While my father mourns over the death of my mother, he drinks. A lot. He also has a temper that shouldn’t be messed with. So when the bruises go too deep, I come to that lamppost in the snow. And it assures me that not everything changes.




Emma English


Escaping in the Light of the Lampposts

I ran away once.
Fleeing beneath the snow dusted lampposts.
Down small suburban streets, winding roads, and roaring highways. The kaleidoscopic city lights blurring and fading, immersing me like a fog.

Running and forgetting.
Forgetting my trembling hands.
Forgetting my tears.
Forgetting your cutting words that ripped me open, leaving me exposed to drown desperately in the darkness of my delirium.
I could have run on forever. Running and running until the world curved and collapsed under my feet.

But the light of the lampposts illuminated me.
You found me in the dark.
And soon I was in your arms.




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