The Chattanooga Writers’ Guild is excited to announce the winners of the June Nonfiction Contest. This month’s theme was “Announcements.” The First-Place prize goes to John Mannone with the submission “The Quiet Announcement of Light.” Honors for second place go to Thomas Kimball for his entry “The Airport Announcement.” Thanks to all who participated and special thanks to our talented Nonfiction Judge, Sherry Poff!
First Place: John Mannone
The Quiet Announcement of Light
She came in through the bathroom window. I stand in front of the mirror singing a song out of tune as I razor a two-day sandpaper-growth. Maybe today’s smooth face will catch a glint of hope. I stop the song still playing in my mind and think out loud, “Sometimes I wish I knew the plans you have for me. Those plans meant to prosper me and not harm me!” I wince. Dab the cut, and its thin red river, with a piece of tissue. “Sure.” My sarcasm leads to another laceration. I yell out, “Damn it! The crappy lighting in this dump sucks. Light bulb burned out. Fixture unfixable. So much for recommended contractors! And this battery-powered camping light just doesn’t cut it.”
From the corner of my eye, a shadow skulks by the bathroom window, then a soft voice. I turn, but there’s no one there. Only my shadow. The shower warms up, and a whisper mixes with the splashing water. I hear my name grow out of that static.
“Who’s there?” I blare out. “I must be imagining things. Stress. Too damn much stress.”
This time the voice is louder, more assertive, a bit sardonic. “I have plans for you.”
“What?” I must be imagining.
The voice amplifies, the strange shadow in the corner shifts, and mimics the song in my head, “Don’t you need anybody? Try a little help from my friends.”
“What the…” I rub my eyes; strain to see.
The entity articulates, “I said, I have plans for you, not like what you read in the S…s…sa…cred Book, which is a lie. Regardless of what Jeremiah says, He doesn’t have any good plans for you. Just look around your house and all your dashed dreams; look at your failed relationships, and your many fears, especially the one about dying a lonely old man.” The shadow quivers in the cool bluish half-light. “Come with me and I will give you rest!”
“Sure you will, just like the brambles can give shade! I know who you are.”
“I am your new hope, your future.”
“Nonsense. Get the hell out of here!”
“But you need me.” The apparition begs.
“What I need is a little help from my friend! And you know who I’m talking about.”
Mysteriously, the light in the room intensifies, and the moldy little bathroom fills with light, a warm sunshine-yellow light causing the dark shadow plaguing me to disappear. “I hear a familiar, small still voice inside me.” It’s from the one who made me, the one who has given me many gifts. Gifts meant for good— for me and for those around me. I drop to the floor, bawl like a baby crying for his mother before I can utter anything intelligible. When I get a full breath, I speak, the words stammer out, jagged with the tears, but my heart starts to fill with light. I stand tall and then slip into the shower and wash myself clean… not a speck of darkness left.
Allusions: “She Came Through the Bathroom Window” and “With a Little Help from My Friends” by Joe Cocker; Jeremiah 29:11; Judges 9:15; 1Kings 19:12
John C. Mannone’s work appears in Appalachian Journal, Artemis, Critical Humanities, Appalachia Bare, Red Branch Review, Poetry South, and others. Awarded the Jean Ritchie Fellowship (2017), he has six full-length collections, including the Weatherford nominee Song of the Mountains (Middle Creek Publication, 2023) and a top-eight finalist for the 2025 Tennessee Book Award, Sacred Flute (Iris Press, 2024). He’s a retired professor of physics and the Poet Laureate for the City of Oak Ridge (2026-2028).
Second Place: Thomas Kimball
The Airport Announcement
The call came over loudspeakers. “Would the woman who left the blue car in the emergency parking lane return to your car or you will be ticketed and towed.” Thirty seconds later it was repeated. “Would the woman who left the blue car in the emergency parking lane return to the car or it will be ticketed and towed.”
This announcement was repeated multiple times for twenty or thirty minutes. I was at the Atlanta airport. There was noise everywhere, but this announcement was the most grating and disturbing. I wanted to yell, “Get over it, already. Tow the dang car!” This was not a recorded message. The woman making the announcement was getting louder and more excited by the minute.
I had to figure this out.
Was this woman or disguised man a master criminal? Had she booked a flight and figured out what time she had to get to the airport to walk through security to arrive at her gate and board her flight within minutes? Had she been flying for years practicing her timing? Could she get from the passenger drop off lane onto the plane before she would be identified by airport security? What would she wear? What was in her carry-on bag? How fast could she move without calling attention to herself?
Had she stolen a priceless diamond necklace, boarded her flight to a country without an extradition treaty and done it all after leaving a stolen blue car in the airport emergency lane? Of course she had!
When the police finally identified the owner of the car, they went to her home and found no one there. They spoke to her neighbors and discovered that she worked at the local Kroger grocery store in the produce section. At the store, the owner of the blue car was located. She was shocked. She had been working for the last six hours. Her managers confirmed that. She went to the parking lot hoping this was all a prank. Maybe these were actors dressed as cops. Her brother was probably behind this. Payback for some of her tricks. What are little brothers for, but tricks? Her car was gone.
A civilian working for the police drove her to the airport where they had towed the car to the airport police headquarters. She identified it. It would be released to her in a few days. They had to dust it for prints and search for other evidence like clothing residue.
None of that happened as far as I know. Instead, it all happened in my mind. My old boss, District Attorney Bill Cox in Chattanooga TN, looked at me one morning and said, “Tom, your brain is a scary place.”
I don’t know why my brain imagined that crime. I did not try to think of a scary scenario in the airport while waiting for my plane to the beach. My destination was palm tree therapy. Why do announcements over loudspeakers hold so much power? Next trip I’ll bring earplugs.
Tom Kimball served as a public defender in Eastern Kentucky and Tennessee, representing men and women charged with serious violent crimes under intense public and media scrutiny. His work exposed him to the moral limits of the American criminal justice system and to the complexities of Appalachian communities. After nine years as a public defender, he became an assistant district attorney in Chattanooga, Tennessee, and later served as Director of the National Traffic Law Center for the National District Attorneys Association. His book draws from his years in Appalachia and the cases that shaped his understanding of justice and mercy.
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 2026 Monthly Contest Series Info page to view the genre and theme for each mon
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