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CONTEST ENDED – Thank you for submitting your stories!

#27: Agatha Christie

It's no secret why one of the most-repeated writing tips is: to read. You can learn endless craft wisdoms by reading the works of literary greats — and also lesser-known authors, too. Reading, in general, is simply a valuable way to improve your skills as a writer.

This week, we're pulling inspiration from the author behind two of crime fiction's most beloved sleuths: Hercule Poirot and Miss Marple. Yes, each of the below prompts relate in some way to themes, symbols, or other common elements in the writings of Agatha Christie.

Want to learn more about the Grand Dame of crime fiction? Check out our Agatha Christie reading guide!

🥇 Winner

“Seaglass” by Natalie Frank

That time of my life feels slimy and dank. My father belongs to the dredges of my memory where he sits, weaving a sturdy net with leather hands as I remember him. His boats leave a trail of shimmery black oil, the raw color of the sky on days of tormenting, angry waves and storms. The fish my father brought in were always cold and tasted of the sea, no matter how thoroughly my mother cleaned them o...

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⭐️ Shortlisted

“A Faithful Bet” by Iona Cottle

Another Sunday, and a beautiful one at that. It was one of those days that made believing in God so very easy. When the wind was warm and soft, and the sun was high and there was nothing urgent that needed doing that day. A pleasant hush lay over the village like a favourite blanket. It was only the start of summer, so the trees were still a vibrant green from the spring rains and the children hadn’t worn out their parents’ nerves yet. A Sunday that people dreamed off, the Sunday that everyone imagined when they were asked ‘What’s your p...

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“Track Therapy” by Christine Johnson

Audra needs a quiet train ride this morning so she is purposefully taking a later train than normal. The sunrise train cars full of business people bickering about work-induced anxieties will be pulling into the terminal station tunnels downtown when she boards the eight-nineteen.With the Loomis presentation on digitizing their warehouse only two days away, Audra will lead the rehearsal for the entire team this afternoon. As project manager, she will orchestrate a cohesive narrative – ensuring everyone understands how the...

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“The Train (Eternity)” by Taylor Ingrassia

Green pierces the dim light of the room. A whistle cuts across the din. The scratch of words on the thin paper in your hand tells you your train departs abruptly at 3 a.m. and, as the whistle and lights have warned, this leaves about five minutes to board. You pass through the crowds gathered on the platform, dialogue in countless dialects drifting apart from the rest to meet you momentar...

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“Royal Orleans” by Mike Garrigan

. . . the clack-clack of a moving train. I pulled my left cheek from the worn wooden floor. The planks smelled of tar, dirt, and hay. The open boxcar door rattled as the green countryside zoomed by.I winced as a splinter pierced my palm. I shook my hand up and down to abate the pain. Bales of straw lined the front and back of the box car. In the distance, I heard a soft twittering sound. It reminded me of music producer Brian Eno’s synth line in the opening measures of “Once in a Li...

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“Abel” by Jose Vega

As much as Abel loved his wife, the smell of roast pig in the sweltering Arizona summer air made him fall in love in ways he’s never experienced before. The sun was strong and held the kind of power that conducted heatwaves to reach their twisting hands from the ground to the sky, cutting through stale air and red sunlight. Abel had been sweating in places he used to be sure he couldn't sweat; summer in Arizona does that to you, no matter how quickly you move through and how much water you douse yourself in.

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“A Horse Thief in Detroit” by Ty Hall

Rick felt out-of-place, like a horse thief in Detroit. Like he was born a century too late. Acrobatically anachronistic, he swung and looped into whatever time frame suited his mind, fluctuating from architect to astronaut on a whim. So he went to the saloon. He liked this bar. It was one of the oldest in the area and still had its original wood panels, hung upon which were tin signs and confessions of love (or obscenities) scrawled out in permanent marker. The bartender was new and didn't recognize him. The bar is called The Railyard. It...

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“Painting a Picture” by Wendi Zhou

Jill stared out the window, gazing at the drab scenery passing her by. Or rather, that she was passing by, as the scenery was not strictly moving. The train she was on was speeding smoothly. It was a mopey kind of day, and Jill couldn’t bring herself to do anything but listen to the pitter patter of raindrops and take in the grayness of the landscape. She sighed. This trip was supposed to be a scenic getaway, taking the long-haul train across Canada from Toronto on her way to visit her cousin in Saskatoon. Instead, less than halfway ...

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This week's prompts:

Write a short story that takes place on a train.

General – 135 stories

Write a short story about a jury of people tasked with making a decision. (It doesn't necessarily need to be a court jury.)

General – 32 stories

Write a short story in which a specialist is called upon to carry out a job.

General – 41 stories

Write a short story that ends with a twist.

Mystery – 171 stories

Write a short story that takes place in a quaint, idyllic, English village.

General – 33 stories

Stories

“Seaglass” by Natalie Frank

That time of my life feels slimy and dank. My father belongs to the dredges of my memory where he sits, weaving a sturdy net with leather hands as I remember him. His boats leave a trail of shimmery black oil, the raw color of the sky on days of tormenting, angry waves and storms. The fish my father brought in were always cold and tasted of the sea, no matter how thoroughly my mother cleaned them o...

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“Little Cruelties” by Mark Jackson

Tuesday, 4th of September 2018Even though I know you don’t care, I’ll tell you anyway: Since you left, I’ve been asleep most of the time. I still think about what happened with you and the kids, and how I ended up like this. I’ve written it all down here, between the pages of this notebook. Who knows, they might even use it against me one day. A motive. Yesterday, I got out of bed aro...

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“How Hard We Learn” by Abigail Airuedomwinya

She laughed at his weird unfunny jokes because, in a way, he made her laugh. Or maybe it was simply because she wanted him to notice her smile. She would stop by his stupid little office every day after getting off the train and she would sit on a chair and listen to jokes no one actually found funny. He did not seem to care that his jokes were extremely bland or that the workers who sat on tables and chairs around him found him stupid. He just went on, everyday, cracking the same tasteless jokes and expecting nothing else.She was ...

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“Long Live the Rest of Us” by Abigail Airuedomwinya

Chair no12: What happened? Tell us...I used to think we were halves of a whole, like sea and land, hopelessly clutching the last strands of reality. We would wake up side by side in a strange room, inhaling nothing but the smell of winter and strong coffee. And when we blinked, we were introduced to a surreal atmosphere, just the both of us.Then things changed. Not as numbers do, of course, but as winter comes and goes. We grew apart. We were married and yet it felt like we were strangers, falling apart by our own mistakes.

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“Moments After” by Abigail Airuedomwinya

Ms. Cobyswort was eating her breakfast late one morning when her servant ran in with a paper from yesterday's grocery theft. He was breathing hard as he pushed the paper towards his mistress, hoping she would understand him sooner. But the frown that creased her forehead told him she was just as oblivious of the truth as he was the night before.He looked at the table of freshly baked bread and jam and omelet and her usual cup of coffee, which he'd served only minutes before and smiled shyly. His mistress shrugged off the interrupti...

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“Feast of Anastenaia” by Zilla Babbitt

The village lay upon a great grassy steppe, where the winds swept down from the forest and the children heard noises at night, coming from the mountain. The rains were coming. The sky was filling with purple black clouds like a bruise waiting to hurt. The winds came down louder and stronger and the birds stopped singing. The villagers buttoned their windows up and stocked their shelves. On the last day before the rain, the sun came out from behind the...

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“Will You Let Me Fly Above the Stars to Die?” by Zilla Babbitt

Someone had attached one of those human-operated rail mechanisms to the front of the engine, but it wasn’t hand-operated. There was a little engine chugging away, lifting the handles up and down, again and again, forcing the engine forward, one mile at a time. The grasses slid by, black and grey like burnt toast a bad mother made. Loey went out on the slick metal glass-enclosed engine top to chec...

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“Blasts from the Past” by Roshna Rusiniya

As someone whose parents moved houses a lot, all these years I have managed not to get too emotionally attached to anything around me. I was perfectly fine living a life where I was always the ‘new girl in the neighborhood’ or the ‘new kid in the class.’ I tried to enjoy the novelty initially; even thinking that it brought a mysterious aura to my character. I know it gets boring after a while, but before getting a proper taste of boredom we are packing our suitcases again- off to a new pl...

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“Mr. Brown's Retirement Plan” by Dana Schellings

Everyone, no matter how ordinary they might seem, has at least one extraordinary story to tell. Take the case of an ordinary man named Mr. Brown, a retired truck driver from a quiet New England town. Mr. Brown spent decades driving produce all over the country until his company took him to dinner at a moderately priced restaurant, handed him a gold-plated watch and showed him the door. Since then he’s spent his days watching golf on TV, feeding the ducks in the park, and plotting to kill his wife. &...

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“Why a Lottery?” by Scott Blanke

Hordes of robed populous crowded around the few stalls. The stench of unwashed bodies permeates the air. The market holds little produce and what there is fought over valiantly. Waves of heat come off the sands making up the floors. Street urchins wearing rags beg on every corner. The customers ignore the emaciated beggars. The crowds are so dense, one has to bull one's way up to any stall. Rudeness is the norm. The background hubbub is deafening. No one seems to be listening.

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“What a Lovely Irony” by Lily Kingston

Isn’t it ironic? Me, a comedian, a man made of jokes, in the most miserable place that you could ever possibly imagine. I stood over her casket and brushed my fingers across its polished wood. As I stared at the casket’s outside, I didn’t dare look inside. To see her pale face and flushed cheeks. I closed my eyes, t...

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“The Passenger” by Je Rowney

The Passenger The stench of Lynx from the man next to me is mildly more appealing than the stale, sweaty smell that it is trying to conceal. As if the temperature and proximity of the other sardines in this carriage weren’t enough to make me want to throw up my breakfast; this guy is about to tip me over the edge. This summer is sticky and stifling; this day is heavy with heat.

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“Tuesday” by Daniella Cressman

It was Tuesday. He was running errands: getting milk, bread, and eggs. He always got groceries on Tuesday at 9 a.m. Trevor liked to stick to his routine. He didn’t have to do his counseling until 3 p.m. He always had breakfast at eight. He was a man who enjoyed predictability. He always had the same meal for breakfast: two over-easy eggs and a slightly toasted piece of whole-grain bread. He never changed his breakfast habits. He never would. On this particular Tuesday, there had been a storm warn...

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“A meeting, a rescue and a remembrance ” by Lauren Smith

Myles tented his slim fingers together, pressing his fingertips together until they blossomed purple under the dim light from the train compartment light overhead. The light was yellow, not white, and put everything around him into sepia tones of brown, orange and tan. It was a boring carriage, as train carriages went. Unplumped cushions sluggishly slouched on the wooden benches and gold trim peeled at the signs affixed to the walls. ATTENTION! They declared, DO NOT LEAVE YOUR LUGGAGE BEHIND! That was all very good, Myles presumed, if you...

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“On the rails to Dong Ha” by Derrick Kakooza

It was a bright Monday morning on January 23rd. Looking through the window on my left, I could see that the sun was a big fiery ball in the sky. The clouds stood still, the trees gently swayed and all life seemed to be at peace. I stretched gently and reached out for my yoga mat. I had just started doing the Downward Facing Dog when I received a call from Merlyn. She had moved to a new city and wanted me to pay her a visit.Merlyn never made appointments. She always expected me to say yes on all occasions. I had to choose...

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$50

Prize money

484

Submissions

Ended on 23:59 - Feb 07, 2020 EST

Won by Natalie Frank 🏆

Title: Seaglass

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