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Competition Showcase –
TELL ME HOW by Sara Steven |
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About Sara Steven
Sara Steven was originally from Huddersfield but now lives in a picturesque
village in Northumberland with her husband and three children ‘I
have a BA Hons degree in English and worked for several years in Public
Relations in Newcastle-upon-Tyne,’ she says. ‘I went freelance
after having my first child and, apart from regularly published PR
work, I have had success with my own creative writing. I have had
work published in Chat and Take a Break, poems published in Woman's
Weekly, Chillout and TALK magazine and on the Flow for All forces
website and I have written articles for AQUILA children's magazine.
‘I love writing and have been producing stories for my
own amusement since I was a child (as I'm sure is true of many people).
If I can be said to have any hobby it is writing because I escape
into it and it brings me so much pleasure, even if I often never show
the results to anyone else. I find writing my own stories completely
different from the restrictions of writing a press release or some
form of copy, although that has its rewards too (mainly financial).
I would love to have continuing success with my writing and a novel
published (again an ambition I share with thousands) but since I'm
not already a famous somebody, I need to write a really good one (myself)
first. I sporadically enter competitions and have even more sporadically
been known to win something.’ |
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TELL ME HOW
By Sara Steven
The supermarket is full of old people. Of course it would be; it’s
the time of day. The kids are at school and anyone without young children
is at work. I grit my teeth. Mustn’t kick a single one of them, I
think, it’s bound to be a crime in someone’s eyes. I swallow
the painful lump in my throat and grab a basket. Why am I doing this? Why
am I behaving normally and going shopping? Because I’ve only got an
hour before I pick up my son from nursery. And because what else is there
to do?
I approach the fridge and there’s an old couple talking in low voices.
I must not grab hold of them and shake their shoulders, I think. I mustn’t
shout, ‘How did you do that?’ in their faces, ‘How did
you get old? Tell me your secret!’ I must get the milk and just walk
away. I do it.
I turn into the next aisle. There’s a tiny, fragile old lady moving
slowly. You were once thirty nine like me, I think, how did you make it
so far? Do you have children that you raised and lived to see get old themselves?
Have you held grandchildren and watched them grow too? Are you a much adored
grandmother? I pass her quickly and grab peanut butter for my nine year
old daughter and jam for my six year old. The kids love chocolate biscuits
too. Their father will make a fuss but in the grand scheme of things, does
it really matter? I’ve been so careful with my diet for so many years
and look what’s happened.
I thought it was a one off the first time, a one in a million out of the
blue thing, but here we are again? Can I really face a second time?
I find myself in frozen foods. An old man is standing in front of the pre-made
dinners. Slowly, he reaches in and gets a single meal. I almost feel sorry
for him, until I remind myself that he got old. I grab some turkey dinosaurs.
Their father will frown on that as well but I just want them to be happy.
God forbid that they should ever have to look back and try to remember me.
But if they do, let those memories be good.
I reach the check-out and the old couple are there, packing bags. Can you
believe they’re complaining!
‘Can you manage?’ says
the shop assistant.
‘It’s his arthritis you know,’
she says, ‘and my hips are not so good. I’m on the waiting list
but I don’t fancy all that pain.’
‘Oh dear,’
the cashier sympathises.
Sorry, but do you mind if I don’t, I think.
‘It’s
no fun getting old,’ she moans.
Oh for… I look down at my shopping and purse my lips hard. I mustn’t
cry. Why do people say that? There’s only one alternative.
I pay for my shopping and rush back to the car. I shove the bags in the
back next to my son’s seat. There’s his toy Buzz Lightyear.
How he clung to me this morning not wanting to go in. I promised him I would
be there in no time at all to pick him up. Can I promise him I’ll
always be there?
I get in behind the wheel and there is the letter from the hospital lying
on the dashboard. It’s a recall. The mammogram on my remaining breast
shows ‘abnormalities’ would I please phone to make an urgent
appointment. I swallow hard and turn the key. ‘It might be nothing,’
said my husband on the mobile, ‘don’t jump to conclusions.’
But he didn’t fool either of us. We’ve been here before. Why
had I come straight here after picking that up off the doormat? Because
I’d been on the way out the door, that’s why.
The car park blurs in front of me. Hot, wet tears scorch my cheeks. I see
the old couple coming out of the supermarket. I have never felt such bitter
envy in my life. I want to scream, ‘Tell me how you did it! What have
I done wrong?’
But it isn’t their fault. Is it anyone’s?
I shut my eyes and pray: ‘Lord, let me get old, gracefully or otherwise,
let me see them into adulthood. Let me finish my job. Just give me long
enough.’ I start the car. |
Judging comment
The set word count for this competition was just 750 words, a tight
limit. And the set theme was: Growing old gracefully.
Within the tight word count, entrants could just focus on a single character
and theme and develop it without much room for any complex plot. So,
in her story that won second prize, Sara Steven too a young mum as her
character. But she was a young mum who thought she had breast cancer
and was worried about he likelihood of survival.
That’s big subject to tackle, but Sara had to focus on one aspect
of it because of the number of words she had to work with. So she looked
at her characters desire to survive and to grow old, and expressed this
in the mum’s resentment of all those old people who had managed
to live a full life.
Not that growing old was portrayed as much fun. We see the elderly man,
apparently buying his meal for one with all the loneliness that his
action suggests. And the meet the old lady worried about the pain of
a hip replacement operation. Not an attractive scenario at any level.
But at least they have survived, at least they have grown old, have
seen their young families grow to adulthood.
And that is what Sara Steven’s young mum wants to achieve: she
wants to grow old gracefully.
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