Winners
As Voted by the Reed Community!
Dear Readers,
The end of 2020 Reed is nigh. In our penultimate issue, we present your wonderful submissions to our short story contest and provide glory for a few. As you all jaunt off to your far corners of the world, we hope you find solace in these stories.
Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner! Our first place winner Albert K. reminisces on rooftop memories and change with their father (1). Take a look at our two runners’ up stories, with Sophie K.’s paranormal piece on abuse and sisterly reconciliation (2) or hop on over to Sky C.'s thumping, gory, and restless story of play yard chases sure to have your heart racing (3).
Orion W. contemplates souls and their connections to each other (4) while antique furniture becomes a vessel for memories in Max N.'s story of remembrance (5). Prepare yourself for two distinct adventures, as Amelia M. draws us a warm, bubbly bath (6) while Ida H. brings us along on a twelvemonth hunt for the gods (7). Sidney F. takes us back to high school agonies over grades (we never worry about those now that we’re at Reed College, right?) (8), and Jules D. brings us on-air updates from an inpatient psychiatric care ward (9). Meanwhile, Madi C. answers the age old question of “Where is Waldo?” with a poignant twist (10) as Sarah B. lifts our spirits with laughter from the comedy club (11). Finally, Anonymous (vendetta not included) brings back some of the Halloween spirit in ghostly pursuit of home and family (12).
For our next issue, which we present entirely online from the comforts of our various finals quarantines, we remember the Renn Fayre that got away with our theme, Submarine! Worry not, Submarine is but a vessel for your ideas—celebratory, memorial, maritime, and otherwise. As with any Renn Fayre, make of it what you will. We hope we can provide a welcome reprieve from the stresses of the holidays and of finals.
Our heartiest thanks to all Friends of the Grail for reading!
Warmly,
Sophie, most likely to have to beg us to highlight italics
Nerissa, most likely to enforce any kind of moderately sensible bedtime
Lauren, most likely to write about “[issue theme] but make it Lesbians”
Erik, most likely to write the beginning to eight different stories…
Dan, most likely to ot ylekil tsom, naD
and Aislin, most likely to write a campy sci-fi novel in avoidance of th*s*s
When I was in the seventh grade I found a scalpel after school. I think it belonged to my mom. There was nowhere else it could have come from. And this scalpel almost glowed. The black, black, veiny marble counter it was sitting on reflected a kind of halo around the silver knife, anything but subtle.