Krystal Pen

Fiction, Poetry and everything Literary. Every voice should be heard.

Commonwealth short story winner set to be unveiled in Singapore 

We had long anticipated this moment and it is at last only few hours away. 

The overall winner of the 2017 commonwealth short story award will be unveiled at Singapore tomorrow. 

Alongside Nigeria’s Akwaeke Emezi are the four other regional winners whose short stories all stand a chance of scooping home the prestigious writers award.

The Commonwealth Short Story Prize is awarded annually for the best piece of unpublished short fiction (2,000 to 5,000 words). The overall winner receives £5,000 and the regional winner £2,500.

This year’s regional winners and their winning stories are; 

The Death of Margaret Roe’, Nat Newman 

‘Drawing Lessons’, Anushka Jasraj 

‘Who is Like God’, Akwaeke Emezi 

‘The Naming of Moths’, Tracy Fells 

‘The Sweet Sop’, Ingrid Persaud 
Below are brief excerpt from all our regional winners; 

Havilah Brown lived on the outskirts of town, blessed with an abundance of land and a paucity of dependents. He came in only irregular, only to get his regular supplies from Evan Owens’ grocery store, and on each occasion he would cross my threshold, maybe once, maybe twice, cross my door with his thick-soled boots and darken my floor with his shadow that stretched across the whole room. A big man always was Havilah Brown.                             —Nat Newman

My husband has a mole on his left eyelid that looks like smudged kajal. Moles signify different things depending on the body part. I have one above my bellybutton, and I’m told it’s a sign of fertility, but this has proven untrue. A mole on or around the eyes could mean domestic trouble or bad luck with finances, Mr. Nayar the astrologer informs me. He wants a photograph of my husband’s mole, since my husband works all day, and could not accompany me for this consultation.                                                         —Anushka Jasraj


My mother talked about God all the time, as if they were best friends, as if He was borrowing her mouth because maybe He trusted her that much or it was easier than burning bushes or He was just tired of thundering down from the skies and having no one listen to Him. I grew up thinking that He was folded into her body, very gently, like when she folded sifted icing sugar into beaten egg whites, those kinds of loving corners.                                                                 —Akwaeke Emezi


He is my son, I created him.’ Miss Bethan’s words fall softly, like a blessing. 

Sofia leans closer to hear the old lady, her long black hair falling against Miss Bethan’s nightdress. A noise scratches from inside the pleated shade of the bedside lamp, where a moth has become trapped. She cups it quickly within her palms, ignoring the heat of the bulb.

‘Let me see,’ Adam calls out. He has been sitting at his mother’s bedside since midday, never once leaving her. His eyes shine. He wants to name the moth.                                   —Tracy Fells


If is chocolate you looking for, and I talking real cheap, then you can’t beat Golden MegaMart Variety & Wholesale Ltd in Marabella. Think of a Costco boil down small small but choke up with goods from top to bottom. When me and Moms had that holiday in Miami by her brother we were always in Costco. But until they open a Costco in Trinidad go by Golden MegaMart. They does treat people good. As soon as I reach they know I want at least thirty jars of Nutella chocolate spread. And don’t play like you giving me anything else.                     —Ingrid Persaud

Good luck to all the writers. 

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