Share Your Story and Win Big!
Contest Details
What to Submit
• Memoir, max 750 words
• Theme: The Moment That Changed My Life
How to Submit
• Submit directly to our publication, the New Literary Society
Submission deadline: October 1st, 2024.
Prizes will be awarded by: October 15th.
Don’t forget to be active in our publication, become a writer for our publication, publish at least 20 stories, and clap for other stories. (Your vote will count for the popularity prize.)
How to Vote
Simply clap! (The number of claps divided by the number of clappers will determine the popularity prize.)
Prizes
• New Literary Society Prize
• Popularity Prize
If You Win, Here’s What Awaits You
• Anthology: Best entries will be compiled into an e-book, showcasing your talent.
• Writing Mentorship: You will receive a mentorship session with a published author via email, benefiting from personalized feedback and guidance.
• Social Media Promotion: You and your work will be promoted on social media channels, increasing your visibility.
• Author Interviews: You will be interviewed, with the interviews published to highlight your achievements and creative process.
• Certificates of Participation and Achievement: You will receive personalized certificates recognizing your accomplishments.
Before the Competition: The Day My House Guest Turned Out to Be a Divine Dancer by Julia Kalman
(Genre: Memoir, Fantasy)
In an age when divine dancers twirled around me, granting their heavenly protection, I was graced by the touch of a religious work of art — an icon woven into the very threads of time.
It was adorned with intriguing reddish-brown specks and gleaming golden sparks, flickering as though kissed by sacred celestial light.
Like a rare jewel, this icon held an unmatched majesty.
Not one soul, to my knowing, had ever met death’s cold embrace under its aura — a remarkable testament for an artifact that had witnessed countless seasons.
During my life’s winding journey, burdened by hurt and uncertainty, I’d seek solace in the icon, invoking divine guidance.
Without fail, the skies answered, uplifting my spirit.
But time danced on, spinning its curious tapestry.
Then, one day, while tending my home, an unusual melody of noises rang through the corridors.
“Is there someone hiding in my sanctuary?” I quivered, my voice trembling.
“Show yourself!” I commanded, heart, thumping in my chest.
Silence hung heavy.
Tentatively, I found myself in the kitchen’s heart.
An open window revealed an enigmatic figure perched on the sill.
With a warm welcome, I attempted conversation, only to be met by silence.
When the ethereal being finally faced me, its fiery, reddish-golden gaze blazed with a fierce intensity.
In a veil of mystery and cryptic words, the figure spoke:
“It’s the summer of 2014.”
A lightning bolt of realization struck — this mysterious visitor was none other than one of my celestial guardians!
Two decades had spun by since our last meeting.
My gaze drifted, anticipation rippling through me, tickling the ceiling.
A gust of wind drew back the curtain, revealing an autumnal spectacle.
The cherry leaves had given in to the relentless wind, their vibrant hues painting a scene of melancholic beauty.
Amidst this, the enigmatic presence remained, as vivid as ever.
“It’s the autumn of 2014,” it declared.
“Just one of those days,” I responded, glancing around.
Suddenly, I found myself amidst a motley crew of familiar faces.
The air was ripe with Grandma’s delicious cooking, Mom juggled books like a pro, and Grandpa weaved tales with his pen.
Dad wrestled with equations, friends, and spectral figures, stirring my curiosity.
The mystery of their sudden appearance and purpose was tantalizing, yet elusive.
“It’s the winter of 2014,” the entity voiced from nowhere.
Ah, that infamous winter!
How did we survive that icy mayhem?
My guardian angel must’ve been on full throttle.
One enchanted evening, cuddled with my lover under the starlit sky, the warmth of our bodies stark against the frosty spectacle above.
The heavens had gifted us sparkling icicles, now melting and seeping into our haven.
The erratic flicker of our ceiling light played the backdrop to a symphony of dripping water and a strange aroma.
The intruding water dragged in grime, staining our home for two memorable nights.
Together, we embarked on a mission, hauling buckets brimming with the unruly remnants, banishing them to the depths.
Overwhelmed, we saw the icon stand firm against the crumbling heavens.
Exhausted, we succumbed to sleep, lulled by the calming whispers of the subsided storm.
As twilight wrapped the sky, I woke to an unsettling stillness that sent shivers down my spine.
Fear rooted me to the spot, and I chose to retreat into sleep, sacrificing my bladder’s desperate cries.
As dawn’s soft light peeked in, the birds crooned their morning serenades.
Through a sliver of space, a warm, enigmatic figure graced the room with a gentle smile.
There stood my celestial guardian, our eyes meeting in a dance of shared history and unspoken tales.
His smile, once comforting, now held a hint of sadness.
Drawn to him, I moved closer.
With a slight flutter of his wings, he pointed to the divine icon, now glowing brighter under the golden sunlight.
A tidal wave of emotions crashed over me, tears welling up in a bittersweet symphony.
As I turned to pour my heart out, he was gone — as fleeting as a breeze.
Spring 2015 found me on an adventure with an art restoration master.
He admired the icon, declaring it an ancient treasure, aged by time and caressed by the glow of countless candles.
“Icons tell timeless tales,” he mused, “They might change faces or disappear, but if the wood holds, they can be revived to keep their stories alive.”
Months later, I sought him out, yearning for my icon’s return.
I wanted its original beauty, not his artistry.
His refusal froze me.
Was my treasure lost?
Only when I saw it still on its board did relief flood me.
Imagine a captivating scene, etched onto age-old timber by a long-forgotten artist.
A trio of couples, bathed in sunlight, lost in their enchantment.
The men were enamored by the women’s elegance, their graceful necklines, their gentle curves.
In this romantic tableau, love danced amidst beams of golden light.
Quite a sight, isn’t it?
Deep down, I felt it.
The icon wasn’t just a piece of art.
It was a living, breathing entity, brought to life by our unyielding belief, the soft glow of a single candle, and the boundless love we shared.
In my heart, I knew the icon was brought to life by our unwavering faith, a flickering candle, and our extraordinary love.
And on a good day, it left.
Julia Kalman 