Painting A Story

In a recent blog, I set myself a Creative Writing Challenge to help me to practice my handwriting and support the work of Parkinson’s Care and Support UK (PCSUK). I invited everyone who sponsored me to send me a word which I would then include in a handwritten story. I would like to say a huge and heartfelt thank you to each one of you who generously sponsored me and helped to raise £450 for PCSUK! Thank you also for the all thought you put into choosing your words for my story. And here they are:

Without further ado, here is the outcome of my Creative Writing Challenge…

Painting A Story

“What do a kookaburra, bumblebee and cookie-monster have in common? They are all subjects of paintings which have made the final three in this year’s ‘Amateur painter of the year’ competition…” Even the radio presenter was slightly bemused as she spoke live on air, the sound of her voice entering households across the village…

‘How ridiculous!’ he thought, as he paced up and down, waiting to hear if he had won. How could his painting of the beautiful kookaburra inspired by his trip to Australia possibly be in competition with that of a bumblebee and worse still, cookie-monster?! His trip to Australia had been the fulfilment of a life long dream and he had put his heart and soul into capturing that in his painting.

Coincidentally only a few streets away, she was listening intently to the radio. So proud that her bumblebee painting had made it to the final. Her friends described her as stoic with good reason. It had taken a lot of strength for her to start painting again after her accident, and even more courage to enter a competition. She wondered what the other finalists were like. What an ingenious idea cookie-monster was! Of course, it would be lovely if she won, but hand on heart, she didn’t mind if she didn’t, she was just so proud to be shortlisted and happy to be painting again after all this time.

On the other side of the village, the third finalist was fast asleep, with the radio off. She hadn’t even given it a second thought when she heard her painting was in the final. She was always painting these days, ever since the emergence of the artist within her – years after being told at school that she couldn’t paint.

This particular painting was a gift for her friend whose husband was obsessed with cookie-monster. She had only entered it into the competition last minute as a bit of fun.

Juliet was the head judge. She was only half listening to everyone else’s thoughts on the three paintings in the final. She was thinking about the painting of her favourite flowers tulips which would have been the winner, if only she had had a say in the shortlisting. Honestly, what was the point in her being head judge if it was left to the public to vote for the top three?

She wondered if that rule could be changed for the future. But in the here and now, she was being asked to make her final decision. She was stumped. She knew everyone was expecting her to make an intelligent decision. After all, the winner would be inspiring budding artists in the village. That was the ethos behind the competition and it obviously meant a lot to some people. “Juliet, we need your decision now please” the presenter’s voice interrupted her thoughts, No more dithering. She took a deep breath before speaking “And the winner is…


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