Creative writing competition results
We had ten entries in the creative writing competition that closed on 25 August. The theme was The Stranger, and the entries covered diverse themes: history, fear, grief, kindness, robots and murder. What made the winning entries stand out was their use of small details to convey setting and emotion – showing, not telling.
Carmel Smith, Newcastle – 1st
Carmel’s very moving story uses descriptive detail (bonnet latch, bushy beard, names of the bikers) to describe how her initial fear of a biker gang changed to gratitude. See Carmel’s story below.
Annette Walker, Newcastle – 2nd
Annette uses vivid sensory details to describe her experience as a young backpacker in Europe. Her feelings (grief at the beginning, gratitude to the stranger who helped her at the end) are shown through action.
Pam Doughty, AUSOM – 3rd
Pam’s funny, warm-hearted poem is about an AI robot who has something to learn about humans. The details are what make the humour work – the fridge over-ordering the milk, the washing machine complaining about odd socks, the trip to Timbuktu.
Barry Keen, Newcastle – HC
Barry describes how he has filled his life with friends and activities since the death of his wife. The Stranger is Barry’s unknown future self as he deals with his loss, and this powerful metaphor frames his story.
Lindsay Threadgate, Newcastle – HC
Lindsay uses historical detail to establish the setting for this well-observed study of a mysterious neighbour from his childhood. This piece ends with Lindsay’s adult reflection on Browny’s story.
The Stranger by Carmel Smith
My stranger and I met at 9.30 on a dark, cold night on Coronation Drive round Queen Victoria Park in Brisbane.
My toddler son had undergone eye surgery in the Royal Brisbane Children’s Hospital a week before and I was returning to my accommodation to prepare for our trip home next day.
Then it happened! My car engine died.
With a rumble of motors, my car was surrounded by motorbikes. Fifty-five years ago all bikers were looked at askance because of the actions of a few clubs.
I was beyond terrified when one huge man approached and tried to talk to me. All I saw in the dim street-light was danger wearing leathers, helmet and a bushy beard.
When he opened the door I was too paralyzed with fear to speak more than a couple of words in answer to his questions about my car. He seemed to understand my fear, kept speaking reassuringly and eventually got me to pull the bonnet latch so he could check my engine in the headlights of the bikes. He chatted gently to me, enough to learn why I was in that vicinity at that time of night, then asked another biker to check why my car wouldn’t go.
That man tinkered in the engine and got it started then they followed me to my accommodation waiting while I parked and went inside.
Next morning when I came out to my car to go collect my son and go home to my little country town the bikers were there going over my car, replacing plug leads, rotor button and distributor cap so the car ran smoothly.
They followed me to the Hospital and waited while I collected my son. His shriek of absolute delight at spotting the bikes led them to give him the treat of his life. Each of these huge hairy bikers had to take my son on a gentle ride around the hospital car-park, held securely against their leather-clad chests while he chuckled and chortled in glee. While waiting for each ride to be over and awaiting their turn with him, the other bikers continued working on my car and gave me a list of what needed fixing.
All rides over and my son ensconced in his car seat, we set out for home. The bikers surrounded us and escorted us out through Brisbane to Chermside shopping centre where Sean seemed to realize we would be leaving his new friends behind and became teary. I pulled into the carpark where they all said goodbye to their “Little Dude” and wished him well in life.
Later, at home, I found sixty-five dollars in the glovebox with a note saying “to help with repairs”.
We met and parted as strangers because I knew them only as Bear, Tango, Curly, Ringer, Ranger, Paddy, Dandy and Jacko.
My son never lost his love of motorbikes and still rides whenever he can.
Bikers are not always fearsome, some are angels with wheels instead of wings.
Theme for next Creative Writing competiton
Entries for the next creative writing competition are due by 25th November 2026. The theme is Myths and Lies.