Writing Battle Summer Nanofiction Battle
Prompts: Genre: Tall Tale | Character: Loyal Sidekick | Word: ‘Radiate’ [Progressed to final 8 in genre]
I wrote two version of this story – one with a nod to the ‘Southern USA drawl’ and another using Doric from the North-East of Scotland. Since the competition rules state entries should be primarily in English, I submitted the first version.
You can measure greatness. Honest to God, you can. You just need to know where to look.
Take Oak and Elias for example. Now, Oak ain’t so important. Big strapping lad – that’s how he got his nickname, see? – made his living sharp-shootin. No, it ain’t Oak you gotta focus on; it’s his little brother, Elias. Because the greater Oak got, the brighter Elias shone.
Oh, you don’t believe me?
Fine, take last year’s county fair. Oak shot three straight bullseyes. Now don’t you remember how puffed up and proud Elias got? A great beaming grin on his face the whole night. Boy coulda lit up a room if the lights done got turned off.
Say again? You can’t measure none of that?
Well, then. How’s about last Yuletide gatherin? Oak shot five straight bullseyes that time. And in a blinding snowstorm, no less! You tryin to tell me you couldna see Elias was proud? Pah! He was shining that bright he coulda guided the angels home.
I see your face’s all twisted up. Still not convinced, eh?
Explain to me last week’s summer festival then. Ten whole bullseyes – as many as you got fingers! That’s what Oak hit. Blindfolded, too! And after being spun around a dozen times! What about Elias? Hoo-boy. That kid was grinning so wide, eyes sparkling, like he’d done the shooting hisself. Radiated pure joy, he did.
And that’s how you measure greatness: by how brightly those closest to you reflect your shine.
Shining Bricht
Ye can measure greatness. Honest tae God, ye can. Ah should ken; ah’ve seen it happen.
Tak Oakley and Elias fir example. Now, Oakley himself isna sae important. Big strapping loon – that’s foo he got his nickname, ken? – made his livin shootin aroon the countryside. No, it isna Oakley ye hae tae focus on, it’s his wee breether Elias. Because the mair famous Oakley got, the prouder Elias became.
Dinna believe me?
Fine, tak last year’s fairmer’s market. Oakley shot three straight bullseyes. Now d’ye nae mind how puffed and proud Elias got? A great big beaming grin on his face the hale nicht. Loon could’ae lit up the room if the lichts had gone oot.
Fit’re ye sayin? Ye canna measure ony o that?
Well, then. Fit aboot thon Yuletide gathering? Oakley shot five straight bullseyes that time. And in a freezing snaa storm, nae less! Ye tryin tae tell me ye couldna tell wee Elias was richt proud? Pah! He was shinin so bricht he could hae guided the angels hame.
Ah ken see your face aa twisted up. Still nae convinced, eh?
Ye explain tae me last wik’s summer festival, then. Ten hale bullseyes – as mony bullseyes as ye have finners! That’s fit Oakley got. An’ blindfolded! An’ aifter being burled roon and roon! So, fit about Elias? Thon laddie was fair-tricket, grinning een tae een, like he’d done the shootin hisself! Radiated pure joy, so he did.
That’s how ye measure greatness: by foo brightly those around ye reflect yer shine.
C.A. Raine 