The Black Bat of Night

Bindweed growing on a wooden fence

Back in 2007 I was sitting at my computer whinging about rejection slips (and who could blame them, when I read those early efforts again, I would like to climb inside myself and give me a good rinse round with a mild bleach solution), when my first born wandered in with a copy of SFX magazine.

“Why, mama dearest, do you not enter one of your short stories in this fine publication’s annual completion?” he said.

Or words to that effect. There was probably something about helping him pay for said magazine, but I forget.

I did a bit of whinging about nothing I did being good enough and being a total failure and would he like to make me a cup of coffee to sooth my blighted hopes?

He gave me the look.

Seriously, where  do kids learn to do that? Do they come out of the womb fully armed?

Anyway, after a coffee and some encouragement by way of a sticky bun, I reluctantly submitted “Maud: A Garden Tale” and forgot all about it.

A couple of months later this odd email turns up in the in box. I was about to consign it to spam when the word “Maud” in the subject box caught my eye.

OMG! I’d only bloody won! Not first prize, but one of the ten runners up who had their story published in SFX Pulp Idol Collection 2007.

So good old Maudie and the things living at the bottom of her garden and the Father Christmas custard jug goes into the new anthology.

 

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