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#177: Found in Translation

“Every act of communication is a miracle of translation.”

– Ken Liu, The Paper Menagerie and Other Stories

Communication is the cornerstone of all relationships. A complex combination of sounds, words, gestures, and written symbols help us navigate the world and get our intentions and feelings across. It’s remarkably efficient, but sometimes, regardless of how clearly you thinkyou’re expressing yourself, things get lost between sender and receiver.

Inspired by the act of translating thoughts and feelings into words and actions — and the things that can get lost (or found) in the process — here are this week’s prompts:

🥇 Winner

“Colonel Mustard in the Kitchen Without a Hearing Aid” by Laurel Hanson

🏆 Winner of Contest #177

Note: brief reference to ableist languageRachel stood at the kitchen sink watching the snow fall softly over the back yard, muffling the world in its white overcoat. She wanted to wrap her mind up the same snug way, but in the living room, her husband was watching some show where commentators loudly traded barbs and lobbed insults at each other. The noise was incessant. Oh! The noise, noise, noise, noise! she thought, visualizing herself poised on a snowy crag, ear cocked to the Whos down in Whoville below, except these were clamor...

136 comments 136

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⭐️ Shortlisted

“Screaming Flowers” by Wendy Kaminski

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #177

Outdoors, it is a brilliantly sunny day in May, and the sunshine forces its way indoors unbidden.Her apartment window is propped open, and a stiff breeze invades the studio, but no curtains billow: the room is empty now, its only decoration a mural of huge flowers in a riot of colors on a chipped and fading wall. She painted that mural with her own hands, but she thinks perhaps she should have put some of that effort into repainting the wall, as well. Now the too-loud colors of the flowers seem to scream at her from their deteriorating priso...

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“Base Stock” by Scott Christenson

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #177

In the steamy air of Mizuna’s kitchen, beads of sweat trickle down the 30-something Japanese job candidate’s face.“Which restaurants have you worked in in New York?” I am holding the afternoon interview to replace the fifth prep cook who’s left this year for higher pay elsewhere.“None.” He shakes his head. “In Japan. Soba.” He gestures kneading dough with his hands. In the kitchen the hiss of the gas burners is constant. With his limited English and my very basic Japanese, this conversation isn’t really going anywhere. I point toward th...

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“There’s Always Monopoly” by Helen A Howard

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #177

I’m feeling extra grouchy today. It’s unfortunate because ‘giving out’ to others is what I do. But then, being driven half-crazy by scratching whilst lying in wait on my futon can do that to a person. Especially during the middle of the night. It seemed to be coming from the back of the skirting board. The intermittent scraping put my teeth on edge. So much so, I barely slept until the last hour. My heart rushed as the morning alarm jolted me awake; it was too late to do my daily exercises (a vigorous worko...

Read story

“Schweissfuss” by Mary Lehnert

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #177

There’s no sweeter sound in the world than your name.Until it doesn’t work for you. I started as Sean Murphy but ended up as Albert Schweissfuss . This is my tale of an immigrant’s life. =====……”There’s no future here for a young lad” Ma stated the obvious. I was fourteen, full of romantic ideas of a successful future. Ours was just another family cursed with extreme poverty. She couldn’t afford to show any pity, she had to encourage me to leave home, though her heart must have been breaking.………” You...

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“Made in Bulgaria” by Ry Glover

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #177

CW: Brief reference to sexual assaultMy mother likes to say "I was made in Bulgaria, but born in New York." She flew to the States in the summer after the Wall came down, wearing a trench coat in July to cover the bump I made in her belly. Sweat beaded from her forehead, pooled in her armpits before leaking down her triceps and ribs. She passed the airport security agent. He eyed her with knowing contempt. He was stuck there, in his booth, in this land of in-opportunity, destined to remain in a country crumbling from within like Bulgari...

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This week's prompts

Write a story about two or more characters who don't speak each other's language (literally or metaphorically), but still find a way to communicate.

Dialogue – 54 stories

Set your story in a meeting where a professional interpreter takes some liberties, with major consequences.

Funny – 12 stories

Write about someone who is slowly forgetting their mother tongue or losing their language.

Character – 22 stories

Lost in a foreign city where they don’t speak the language, your character uses a translation app to get around, but constantly runs into problems.

Adventure – 9 stories

Write a story about a character who struggles to translate their thoughts and feelings into words and action.

Angst – 53 stories

Stories

“Colonel Mustard in the Kitchen Without a Hearing Aid” by Laurel Hanson

🏆 Winner of Contest #177

Note: brief reference to ableist languageRachel stood at the kitchen sink watching the snow fall softly over the back yard, muffling the world in its white overcoat. She wanted to wrap her mind up the same snug way, but in the living room, her husband was watching some show where commentators loudly traded barbs and lobbed insults at each other. The noise was incessant. Oh! The noise, noise, noise, noise! she thought, visualizing herself poised on a snowy crag, ear cocked to the Whos down in Whoville below, except these were clamor...

136 comments 136

Read story

“Screaming Flowers” by Wendy Kaminski

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #177

Outdoors, it is a brilliantly sunny day in May, and the sunshine forces its way indoors unbidden.Her apartment window is propped open, and a stiff breeze invades the studio, but no curtains billow: the room is empty now, its only decoration a mural of huge flowers in a riot of colors on a chipped and fading wall. She painted that mural with her own hands, but she thinks perhaps she should have put some of that effort into repainting the wall, as well. Now the too-loud colors of the flowers seem to scream at her from their deteriorating priso...

Read story

“Base Stock” by Scott Christenson

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #177

In the steamy air of Mizuna’s kitchen, beads of sweat trickle down the 30-something Japanese job candidate’s face.“Which restaurants have you worked in in New York?” I am holding the afternoon interview to replace the fifth prep cook who’s left this year for higher pay elsewhere.“None.” He shakes his head. “In Japan. Soba.” He gestures kneading dough with his hands. In the kitchen the hiss of the gas burners is constant. With his limited English and my very basic Japanese, this conversation isn’t really going anywhere. I point toward th...

Read story

“The Papercut” by Liv Chocolate

Submitted to Contest #177

When I wake up, the doctor gives me the facts. She delivers them to me gently—her voice like a warm cup of water you could steep a bag of tea in. Somehow, she’s made a car accident sound like a papercut, and so I decide that's what I'd like to call it from now on—a papercut. Can you feel your toes? she asks.I think so. It’s hard to tell. Hm. Can you tell me your name? John.Can you see anything, John? No. Is that normal?Typically. She excuses herself to check on another patient, and I anxiously wait for her to co...

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“Not Kept” by Thom With An H

Submitted to Contest #177

A life long lived is filled with reminders of days gone by. Some of those memories are housed exclusively in the mind, while others can be found gathering dust in closets, garages, or attics. It was in the latter where Edna found one such keepsake. The unexpected discovery brought her a rush of joy followed by inevitable sadness and—against her better judgment—she decided to share the find with her husband of almost sixty years, Gilbert.“Gilly, look what I found in that old chest.” The leather-faced old man with coke bottle glasses didn...

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“Employee of the Month” by Michał Przywara

Submitted to Contest #177

Wally wiped a fingerprint off his plaque with his monogrammed handkerchief. He couldn’t blame others for pawing at his award, for it truly was glorious: Employee of the Month, East-Northeast Sales Division 03, Town of Franklin, March 2020. Fitting recognition for his instrumental role in securing a partnership with the Mexicans. That the Mexican partners went under right after could hardly be blamed on him. He took a step back, and it struck him how his plaque was a lonely beacon of hope, a single glimmer of fame on a wall, otherwise, of sha...

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“There’s Always Monopoly” by Helen A Howard

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #177

I’m feeling extra grouchy today. It’s unfortunate because ‘giving out’ to others is what I do. But then, being driven half-crazy by scratching whilst lying in wait on my futon can do that to a person. Especially during the middle of the night. It seemed to be coming from the back of the skirting board. The intermittent scraping put my teeth on edge. So much so, I barely slept until the last hour. My heart rushed as the morning alarm jolted me awake; it was too late to do my daily exercises (a vigorous worko...

Read story

“Schweissfuss” by Mary Lehnert

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #177

There’s no sweeter sound in the world than your name.Until it doesn’t work for you. I started as Sean Murphy but ended up as Albert Schweissfuss . This is my tale of an immigrant’s life. =====……”There’s no future here for a young lad” Ma stated the obvious. I was fourteen, full of romantic ideas of a successful future. Ours was just another family cursed with extreme poverty. She couldn’t afford to show any pity, she had to encourage me to leave home, though her heart must have been breaking.………” You...

Read story

“The Bare Necessities of Humanity” by Aeris Walker

Submitted to Contest #177

AugustThe foyer of St. Mary’s orphanage smells likes lye soap and freshly baked bread.“Professor Gray, bless you for coming.”The click of heels echoes through the hallway before I see her face—stoic and smooth, much like her black, unwrinkled dress.“Are you Sister Marie?”“Yes, that’s me.” She smiles and extends her hand.“I came as soon as I received your letter.”“And I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you’ve agreed to take this on, Professor.” She exhales in a huff.“Your letter—I read it three times as I could hardly believe the detail...

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“Twenty Years to Ten” by V. S. Rose

Submitted to Contest #177

I like this boy. He seems like he cares. Once a week he comes to my room and talks to me about his life. He plans to be a personal support worker. I think he would make a good one. After I was diagnosed with this disease I had visitors for a while. My wife, kids, relatives, and old friends. My company now includes a runny meal a few times a day, a bitter instant coffee in the mornings, and the occasional seagull perched on my windowsill.The boy’s name is Ethan. He’s a good kid, a volunteer at the long-term care home I live in. I can sen...

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“Other Ways to Say Hello” by Zack Powell

Submitted to Contest #177

The winter I turned fourteen, my mother asked me to do her job for her.One night over spaghetti and meatballs, she told me about a boy in her ESL class: Ivan."Sweet boy, I think," she said, twisting a cyclone of noodles around her fork. "But I just can't seem to get him to talk. I thought it was just nerves. Some kids are like that, you know? Even ten-year-olds. But it's been a few months now and nothing.""That sounds like something you should talk to the school about," I replied.Typically, my mother never brought her work home with her. She...

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“Becoming Mama” by AnneMarie Miles

Submitted to Contest #177

December 2018With her daughter nursing in her arms, Macy uses her elbow to push down on the door handle and open the door into the conference room, careful not to bump little Isla’s head as she does. Her diaper bag is slung over her shoulder, bouncing against her legs as she walks, and her daughter’s car seat is hooked around her other arm.“You’re getting good at that,” says Elena, one of Macy’s closest friends at the mom group, clearly amused by Macy’s multi-tasking skills.Macy nods a hello at her friend before settling into a spot on the f...

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“The Best Part Is Not Wearing Pants” by Zack Powell

Submitted to Contest #177

By Phil's humble estimation, the best part about the pandemic was being able to work from home without wearing pants. It was even better than the superiority he felt from being "pretty much bilingual thanks to Telemundo" in a country of arrogant English-only speakers. Even better than not having to smell a client's day-old-tuna-fish breath. Even better than turning up to a job jelly-limbed and wasted, which he could do so much more easily now.Take today, for example. Nine in the morning and he'd already downed three Irish coffees, which gave...

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“Lost In Cockney” by Chris Campbell

Submitted to Contest #177

“Me slabs are killin’ me, me minces are sore from the chimney backin’ up, and I’ve been on the dog and bone all mornin’ sittin’ at the bottom of the apples, offering bangers and mash to anyone that could come on short notice to clean the chimney - but I don’t have a Danny-La-Rue when that will be. Me ol’ china’s a sweep but the trouble and strife don’t care for him, so to avoid a barney, I won’t ask him over.” Lord Peabody stood with mouth agape at the apparent foreign language one of London’s most colourful dialects had just thrust upon his...

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“Deus ex Sapiens” by Graham Kinross

Submitted to Contest #177

TW: Guns, slavery and droids.“Time for the truth, Arthas. I’m not who you think I am,” said Mayko Belle with her private school English and French blended accent.Detective Arthas Jacques’ blue eyes widened. “No? Who are you then?”“My name is Bella Nguyen. I’m an agent for the MSA.” Tucking one of her poker straight black hairs behind her ear she fixed him with a steely gaze.Laughing, he turned his head away from her and nodded. “Right. Of course. Trust me to fall for a beautiful woman who wants something else. Go on then, tell me what the Ma...

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$250

Prize money

150

Contest entries

70

Stories

Ended on 23:59 - Dec 23, 2022 EST

Won by Laurel Hanson 🏆

Title: Colonel Mustard in the Kitchen Without a Hearing Aid

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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