We are excited to announce the winner of Chattanooga Writers’ Guild’s August Fiction Contest is Jay-Olsen-Thrift with the submission “The Lady of the Deep,” and second place is Sherry White with the submission “Anger.” This month’s theme was “Load(ed).” Thanks to all who particpated. And thank you to our fiction judge, Alexandria Kelly!
First Place: Jay Olsen-Thrift
The Lady of the Deep
Stars shone down on us from on high. The full moon above and her watery twin below stared at us with their silver light. Everything was calm. No clouds, no waves, just calm. Captain reassured us that meant the gods were smiling on us. I knew better than that, though. That’s why my pockets were empty, while everyone else’s were loaded with gold and trinkets.
It was only a matter of time before the ghosts of the Lady of the Deep caught up with our ship and took their revenge.
Days earlier, Captain told us we were on the hunt for treasure. The crew’d been itching for something new after being landlocked and laying low for so long. Bounties were still fresh, so it was better to make port and go our separate ways until the signal was given. I’d been working in a farmer’s field when a child found me and handed me a small piece of silver with a crab carved into it. Captain’s calling card.
Me and the crew assembled quick enough, and Port Victory was little more than a candle’s flame in the distance when Captain gathered us on deck to make his intentions clear.
“Good evenin’, gents,” Captain called out, and we all hollered back in response. He pointed to Port Victory. “Isn’t she a sight up against the night sky?”
Whoops and cheers filled the deck, my own included.
“Thank ye all for such a quick gatherin’. Yer haste is appreciated, and’ll be rewarded in due time. Because, gents, we’re sailing toward a treasure trove the likes of which no one’s seen in our lifetime!”
More cheers. The boards beneath our feet hummed and buzzed with excitement. Captain hadn’t led us astray yet, so we all believed he had a spectacular journey planned for us.
“While we were takin’ ourselves a holiday, I procured for us a map that’ll lead to the resting place of Siren Slayer and his Lady of the Deep.”
Just as quickly as he’d worked us into a frenzy, he halted our fervor. Instead of vibrations underfoot, there was only the groaning and creaking of the boat as she swayed with the waves. We’d all heard the legends of Captain “Siren Slayer” Smythe and his ship Lady of the Deep. Siren Slayer made his fortune not from robbing merchants but by hunting sirens and looting their nests and caverns. It was a dangerous game he played, going after the children of the gods as he did, but against all odds he succeeded. Built up a name for himself, hoarded wealth that rivaled the kings on shore, and killed any who tried to cross him. None knew how Siren Slayer met his end, nor where he’d hidden his treasures. Many searched for it, and many more tried to create their own wealth by hunting sirens, but all found the same watery grave.
But now our Captain had found himself a map, and his intentions were for all of us to split the riches and live like kings. Captain was an older man, no doubt looking for the perfect last voyage to either meet his end at sea or unearth enough gold to live luxuriously until Death came for him.
We were all too ready for another adventure, so rather than challenge Captain, we set sail due east. For most of the journey, Captain stayed in his cabin poring over his charts and maps. He’d come out on occasion to walk across the deck and alternate between peering through his spyglass at the horizon and gazing up at the sky to read the stars. Then he’d mutter something to the helmsman and return to his cabin.
Captain’s odd behaviors didn’t bother the crew, though. They spent their evenings telling and retelling all of Siren Slayer’s legends.
“They say Siren Slayer got in the business o’ killin’ sirens after they wrecked his first ship,” one crewmate said over supper.
“No, no, they killed his lady love!” another interjected, slamming his mug down on the table.
A third crewmate nudged the second. “Way I heard it, twas a siren who was his first love, and when her kind found out about it, they killed her. So he killed them in turn.”
Laughter filled the galley. I’d heard all the stories before, and then some. The figurehead of the Lady was a siren – billowing hair, fish tail, and all. Some said she represented Siren Slayer’s first love. Others said she served as a warning to all sirens he encountered. All agreed she looked mournful with tears rolling down her cheeks. Of course, none alive had seen the Lady before. It’d been over a hundred years since she’d been spotted at sea.
“Could be that he just wanted to kill for killin’s sake,” I chimed in, and was met with another round of raucous laughter.
Sleep didn’t come easy that night, nor did my shifts in the crow’s nest. It allowed my mind to wander much too far, much too fast. Surely Captain knew this quest was dangerous, perhaps even futile? Why would he put our lives at stake for a treasure that might not exist? It wasn’t that I wasn’t brave or that Captain hadn’t put us in dangerous situations before. But every other journey had led to something real – intercepting a merchant ship, infiltrating a royal’s manor, liberating a crew member from prison. But this new quest was one loaded with mystery and ghosts, and ghosts were best kept buried deep at sea or six feet underground. The more I thought about Captain’s desire to find Siren Slayer’s treasure, the more scared I became. Scared we’d get lost at sea. Scared we’d actually find something and Captain’d disturb the dead. It felt like there was no way we’d return home safely.
On the eighth day, my fears reached their peak, threatening to drown me underneath their waves, as I sat in the crow’s nest and spotted something in the distance. My fingers trembled as I raised my spyglass up.
There was an island in the distance. I tried to blink it away. Rub my eyes. But no amount of wishful thinking could get rid of the blemish on the horizon.
“L-Land ho,” I called out to those below me.
Captain was on deck moments later, his own spyglass raised in its direction. “Aye, this be the one! Bring us about! Look for a cove on the northeastern shore!”
It took all day to find the cove. We all had our compasses out, but they spun about in circles. Where were we, that our compasses wouldn’t work properly? Dread twisted my stomach, but my crewmates chose to look to the sky for the sun’s guidance instead, ignoring the ill omen. The sun hid behind clouds for the entire day, though, so we had to find our own way around the island.
As the sun began to set, one of the men spotted the cove. The helmsman brought us closer, and we dropped anchor. Captain took his place in the first boat to drop and sail inward. Three more boats followed close behind.
The darkness in the cavern was heavy. Crushing. We were somewhere we weren’t supposed to be. As we rowed forward, I thought I could hear whispers in the water telling us to go back.
“She’s here,” Captain whispered reverently.
Our torchlight illuminated the cavern, revealing the bones of an ancient ship. Carved into the prow was a woman with a fish tail, chest bare, hair billowing around her head and shoulders. Her expression was melancholy, a tear rolling down her cheek. Though all the tales told of her beauty, none truly conveyed just how beautiful she was. The Lady of the Deep.
She’d run aground and got stuck in the sand and mud along the shore. It was easy enough for us to dock our own boats and board the Lady. Her floorboards were still strong and sound, and our footsteps echoed through her narrow halls. As we spread out, it became apparent that treasure filled all of her rooms as numerous calls of “Treasure, sir!” filled the air. Gold, fine clothing, statues, even bejeweled weaponry. We’d never seen such wealth before. Captain ordered us to load the boats, load our ship, load our pockets. Leave nothing behind.
Though the sight took my breath away, something pleaded with me not to touch any of it. But I couldn’t disobey Captain, so I helped my crewmates load the boats. Load the ship. But not my pockets.
We set sail again several hours later, heading home. Tonight I’m on deck, not in my nest, so I can hear the whispers from the waves more clearly. They’re telling me what will happen to me. To my crewmates. To Captain.
“No one crosses the Lady of the Deep,” they whispered.
I wondered if Captain could hear the whispers too, and if he knew this would be his final voyage after all.
Jay Olsen-Thrift holds many titles: Project Manager, Raid Leader, Business Wizard, and Content Creator. Jay has been building worlds and telling stories since childhood. She writes across many mediums: novels, short stories, screenplays, and stage plays. When not working or writing, Jay can be found online leading raids in Lord of the Rings Online or tending to her farm in Stardew Valley. @jayolsenthrift, http://www.jayolsenthrift.com.
Second Place: Sherry White
Anger
Thomas sat on the park bench, hands clasped between his knees. His eyes burned with the tears he refused to let fall. His father was of the “I’ll give you something to cry about” school of manhood so he had long ago learned to control those urges. Bonnie always tried to get him to be more ‘emotionally available,’ she called it. He thought if she wanted to be married to a woman, she should have married a woman and not tried to emasculate him.
Damn her, he thought. He squeezed his hand into a tight fist and punched the bench next to his leg. Great. Splinters in his knuckles. Just when he thought this day couldn’t get any worse.
He went to work as usual that morning. He hadn’t even been late. Not much, anyway. That lazy bitch didn’t wake him up in time. He had to rush through his morning. He skipped his shower and just shoved a piece of sausage in his mouth as he ran out the door. Why did she screw everything up?
Anyway, he was called into his boss’s office. “Third and final warning,” they’d said. He tried to argue. “It was only a few minutes. The team hadn’t even started their meeting yet.” They didn’t care. He tried to appeal to their humanity. “My wife will take the kids and leave. We’ll lose the house.” All the usual crap. He should’ve known they didn’t have any humanity.
He jumped off the bench and let out a roar. He felt his head was going to explode from everything swirling in it. And Bonnie was probably back in bed. Screw her. She’s not going to leave him. And she’s sure in the hell not taking the kids away from him! He’s their father, dammit! She doesn’t have the right!
His heavy footsteps startled a squirrel and crushed flowers as he returned to his car. He sat in the driver seat then shoved his hand under the seat. Oh yes, there it is. He smiled and turned the key in the ignition. He needed to pick up the kids from school. It was time for a family adventure.
He ran up the front steps to the school and yanked on the door, nearly dislocating his shoulder in the effort. “Can I help you?” a voice said over the intercom.
He shook his head, cursing the delay. “I need to pick my kids up,” he told the voice.
After a brief pause, the voice said, “Who are your children?”
“Oh, yeah.” He grinned. Of course they would need to know that. Sure would be easier if they’d just open the door, though. “Joe and Jessica Bennett. I’m their dad, Thomas.”
He fidgeted, fingering the item he’d pulled out from under the car seat and stashed in his coat pocket. Why was this taking so long? Just let him in so he could get his kids already! What was wrong with this woman? How stupid was she?
“I’m sorry, Mr. Bennett. You aren’t on the approved pickup list,” the voice said. “You’ll need to bring your wife to come get them.”
“What do you mean I can’t pick up my own children?” His heart filled with ice. Bonnie knew he’d lost his job and had already called the school and told them to keep him away from them. That’s what it was. That’s what it had to be. This was all her fault. He set his jaw and pulled the small package out of his pocket.
“Sir, please leave the school property immediately,” a different voice spoke through the intercom.
An alarm blared, blocking out his thoughts. He held up the small black item. “Oh, is this a problem?” He studied how the light hit it as he turned it around in his hand. But he’d forgotten what it was called. That ridiculous alarm was so loud.
He remembered what to do with it, though. He pointed it at the door handle and pulled the trigger. Oh, right. “Gun.” That was the word that had escaped him. Why was everyone freaking out? It’s just one little gun. It even fit in his pocket. He kicked the door and it slammed open.
He saw a large office with a glass wall. There was motion behind a counter. “That must be the woman who wouldn’t let me see my kids,” he thought. He grasped the knob but the door was locked. One firm shove with his shoulder got it open, though. He stalked around the counter and found the woman cowering against the wall.
“Was that you that wouldn’t let me get my kids?” he asked.
She turned her face to the floor and covered her head with a book.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”
He didn’t know what she was screaming about. It was just one little bullet wound in her back. No big deal. Probably missed her spine. Now to find his kids.
“Sir, put down the weapon!” a loud voice demanded.
He turned toward the voice. He didn’t want these distractions. He just wanted his kids. He had to take them home. Maybe they would get ice cream on the way. They did like ice cream, didn’t they? Of course, they did. Who doesn’t like ice cream. ‘Don’t waste your time with stupid questions,’ he thought to himself.
“I need my kids,” he said.
“Sir,” the voice repeated. “Please put the weapon on the floor and slide it over to me.”
Thomas looked down at his hands. Huh. When did he get that? Was this the gun that he had under the driver seat in the car? He checked his pocket and found the holster. Yep, that’s where it came from. But why did he have it?
He held it up to his face, studying the metal. It was that dark black that almost shines blue. He checked the cartridge. Weird. It was missing two rounds. What happened to them? He looked at the safety. It was off.
“Sir, can you hear me?” the man shouted at him.
He needed that man to stop yelling at him. It really wasn’t necessary. He just wanted to take his kids home and keep his wife from leaving him. Why are they making all this commotion? Give him the kids and he’ll be on his way. No harm, no foul.
“Sir!” the man shouted again.
“Stop yelling at me!” He turned the gun toward the officer. There was an explosion a millisecond before a red-hot pain shattered his chest. He collapsed onto the tile floor, blood gushing from his wound and bubbling up his throat.
Noises everywhere. Voices. Doors slamming. Shoes stomping. He wanted it all to stop. How did the kids get any work done with all this noise all the time? Shouldn’t schools be quiet places?
His eyes drifted shut as someone cut his shirt off. Pain. So much pain. But it didn’t matter anymore. The pain was fading and fading and fading with the noises. He sighed out a last breath as the silence and darkness replaced the anger that he’d always known.
A native of Chattanooga, Sherry G White is a single mother of two adult children and she lives life with chronic illness. She finds reading and writing to be great ways to pass the time when she is confined to bed. Although she focuses primarily on short fiction, Sherry is currently writing a paranormal romance novel. Like herself, many of her protagonists tend to be single mothers with chronic illness. She was always told to “write what you know” so that’s what she’s doing! She also hopes to contribute to diversity in stories by putting more characters with physical challenges into print.
The Monthly Contests rotate through a pattern of Poetry, Fiction, and Creative Nonfiction throughout the year, with a new theme each month. Go to the 2025 Monthly Contest Series Info page to view the genre and theme for each month.
This contest is free to enter for members of the Chattanooga Writers’ Guild. To become a member, click HERE
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