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CONTEST ENDED – Thank you for submitting your stories!

#155: Swings and Roundabouts

One of my favorite British expressions is “swings and roundabouts”. It’s a tricky phrase to define, but it basically means a situation where good and bad, pro and con, ultimately cancel each other out. You might be up at one point, and down at another, but you’ll always end up somewhere in the middle. For example: “It rained on Friday. The laundry I hung out to dry got wet, but the flowerbeds needed watering, so, you know — swings and roundabouts.”

Much of life is a case of swings and roundabouts; accepting the good with the bad, and going along for the ride. This week’s prompts are all about this sense of balance, and the imperfect situations that we still make work.

This week's prompts

Start your story with a character facing a situation that isn't awful, but isn't great.

Middle School – 34 stories

Write a story that includes a character using the phrase “swings and roundabouts.”

Thanksgiving – 37 stories

Write about a character who gets good and bad news in quick succession — not necessarily in that order.

Angst – 46 stories

Write about a character who is pathologically ambivalent, until something shakes them up.

Narrative – 33 stories

Set your story in a kids’ playground, or at a roundabout.

Kids – 44 stories

Stories

“Dead men don't give a f***” by Patrick Samuel

Submitted to Contest #155

[Warning: Language. Mention of Dead People.]You know those films where people are too stupid to realize they’re dead? I’ve got the opposite problem: people are too stupid to realize I’m dead.“What do you mean by ‘dead’?” Her voice like an ad for benevolent neutrality.“I mean dead as opposed to alive. How many meanings are there to ‘dead’?”“It can have several meanings” says she, ever so cool. “Why choose this one?”Note to self: never get into a war of words with a shrink.“Choice has nothing to do with it,” I spit out. “If I could choose, I w...

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“Awakening” by Justin Chalifoux

Submitted to Contest #155

What happened? Why can’t I think straight? I force out a mumble through my yielding lips. Why do they feel so limp? My eyelids are lead, glued shut. I focus on the rest of my face, but nothing responds. I can’t feel anything. My closed mouth leaves me breathless. I hyperventilate. Breathing solely through my nose is like sucking air with a straw. I have sleep apnea, I should have my machine! Why don’t I have my machine? My breath quickens, short and stiff through my nostrils, my lungs ache like from a gunshot. With each exhale, my collap...

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“Blueheart” by Suma Jayachandar

Submitted to Contest #155

I gallop on the steep pathway that leads to Red Hearts Inc. The dewdrops on the rolling meadow down the slope cradle the newborn sunshine in them. On reaching the plateau sprouting the giant facility, I canter towards the entry gate. The blooms have fired up the trees close by and fill my breath with fragrance. Only after I punch in do I ease into a trot and make my way along the cold labyrinth of the facility. I manage to take my position in the assembly line before Mr. Eagleye begins his rounds. In the division where I work, the demand is ...

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“Take Your Hatred to the Grave” by Graham Kinross

Submitted to Contest #155

“This man says he’s your father and he’s dying,” Billie says. She’s looking at me with her face creased in concern. I shrug. “And what’s the bad news?” I take the phone. “Hello. I don’t know who you are, but this isn’t funny.” “Xander. It’s me, dad.” I hear the voice and my heart starts beating a drum solo. My throat goes dry. “I know it’s been a long time, son. I have bowel cancer and just a few days ...

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“Working Late” by Kelsey H

Submitted to Contest #155

There were three good things about working graveyard shift. One was the drunks who came in and paid cash for their late-night energy drinks and snacks and didn’t notice him short changing them. A dollar here and there, it all added up. It didn’t even feel like stealing.It was for his boy, after all. Jamie had school sports and school trips and the good kind of shoes no one would give him shit for. His son deserved it more than those who had enough they didn’t count it to the last dollar.It was five in the morning, the slow hour crawling...

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“The True Meaning” by Brian Bywater

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #155

The True Meaning “You interrupt everything. You cannot help yourself can you? A simple story I am telling about watching one of the most famous Baseball players ever, and you have to interrupt. You know somewhere between little and nothing about the sport. Have you ever watched a game? Answer no. So when I tell you that I think Joe DiMaggio’s sweetest swing was around about two years before he retired, I do not need you to tell me the phrase I should use is ‘swings and roundabouts’ One has nothing to do with the other.” “Touchy...

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“The Last Laugh” by Rebecca Scott

Submitted to Contest #155

I dig a hand into my bag and sift blindly through its contents. Hairbrush. A set of keys. A folded up piece of paper. Lip gloss. Wallet. And finally, a balled up napkin that I’d once used to kill a spider. On another day I might have paused to wonder why such a thing was still in my possession, but this wasn’t the time. I grabbed the napkin and dabbed at dry eyes, letting out the softest of whimpers simultaneously.“You poor dear.”The owner of the voice was a petite elderly woman, wearing a large black hat. She t...

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“Decomposing Glory” by S. Thomson

Submitted to Contest #155

ㅤI found the body in the playground my father had built with his own two hands. Maple stakes driven into an oak formed steps up to a treehouse. Each year on my birthday my father would shorten the rope on the tyre swing so my feet wouldn’t drag against the ground. Twenty years without use and the rising tide of grass and ferns had grown waist-high. The sweet, earthy smell of rotting wood filled the air. My father had died the previous week, along with my mother, when their car left the road and fell into the North Sea. An onlooker said their...

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“Bunny Boiler ” by Liv Chocolate

Submitted to Contest #155

I take my news like I take my tequila—shoot the bitter news down first, then chase it with the good part, fresh lime juice, before the burning sensation takes hold.This time, though, I don’t know which order to take them in. When Dr. Burberry asks me if I want the good news or the bad news first, I simply don’t understand. How can a paternity test yield both good and bad news? I’m either, A, the father, or B (and please, God, let it be answer B), not the father. There is no all of the above. “I just want the result,” I tell her matter-o...

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“Just the two of us” by Whitney W.

Submitted to Contest #155

The small room holds just the two of us, a square table, four metal chairs, and a million secrets. My mother and I sit side by side but the other two remain empty. The officers in their dark-colored suits have stepped out to get coffee and water. The men are exactly like actors—short hair, straight-faced—no-nonsense curt enforcers. Maybe, one has a soft side and likes to garden but I don’t know because I didn’t touch either of them. My mother begins to talk the moment they leave. Her words come out fast. Her sentences trip over one another ...

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“The Carousel” by Nina Strelov

Submitted to Contest #155

Sarah looked so happy on the carousel. This day turned into a real mess, but none of it mattered now that Sarah’s face was beaming, amber locks waving as she spun. It was like her whole world existed right there and then on that spinning top, with her grounded at the center of it. I can’t remember the last time I found something that so completely released all my woes and sent me shooting off into the distant land of worry-free-ness. I felt muddled with a sad type of joy, for how fleeting this moment was for my sweet five year old girl. For ...

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“Something Comes to the Surface at The Sheboygan Freediving Competition” by Scott Christenson

Submitted to Contest #155

Every kind of animal, including humans, is enclosed within its own unique sensory bubble, perceiving but a tiny sliver of our immense world.-Ed Yong Marcia looked at the distant gray waters of Lake Michigan and hoped her husband Bob would enjoy himself that day. Bob was ranked 37th in the nation in Freediving - CWT division. Well, that meant about 10 people in America knew who he was, but she understood how important this was to him.“You look a bit off today,” Marcia said, seeing Bob slumped in his chair.“I’m fine. Why did you say that?” Bob...

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“Facing the Messiah of Fire and Bone” by Graham Kinross

Submitted to Contest #155

TW: Swearing, sex and fighting. “The skeletons you fought in Gennadius were infernoste. The more powerful one was-” Lupita pulled her robe tighter, covering her cleavage. “Danielle Longbow, are you listening to me?” First and last name? She was in trouble. “Um. Both?” She knew it was the wrong answer from the frown on Lupita Smith’s brown face. “Sorry. It’s just been a while since I’ve seen you.” “...

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“Things Used to be One Way, but Now They are Another” by 𝔊𝔲𝔞𝔡𝔞𝔩𝔲𝔭𝔢 𝔗𝔢𝔩𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔯

Submitted to Contest #155

The room seemed to be spinning. Jayger squeezed his eyes closed, then opened them again, struggling to focus his sleep-blurred vision. This was not the room he had been sleeping in. Sitting up, the 19-year-old brushed his blond hair out of his eyes and tried to figure out where he was. There were no windows. In the dim light of a hanging lantern, he saw pieces of leather, bits of metal, and bolts of thick cloth scattered around the room, overflowing from boxes, spilling off of tables, and piled on the floor.His eyes landed on a sin...

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“The Rift” by Chris Wall

Submitted to Contest #155

In New Hampshire, when the leaves begin to change, the trees appear to be alight with flame, the somber bronzes and ambers glinting in the falling sun. The peaceful atmosphere–with the gentle hoots of waking owls and the muted whine of the cicadas–contrasted the panic and chaos soon to occur within an inn far from the hustle and bustle of Rochester. The air, cool with the premonition of oncoming winter, would soon be filled with tension, as a group of men led another through the dimly lit halls of this majestic old manor. The failing daylig...

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$250

Prize money

194

Contest entries

78

Stories

Ended on 23:59 - Jul 22, 2022 EST

Won by Lonnie Russo 🏆

Title: Someone Has Died

Submissions must be between 1,000 - 3,000 words and will be approved and published on Reedsy Prompts within 7 days of the contest closing.

Read the full terms & conditions or check out the FAQ if you have any questions!

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