Writing Contest Example Submission

by Victoria Bromley

Want to submit to our writing contest with Healthline Zine and Cloudscent Journal but unsure what we’re expecting or how ekphrasis even works? We’ve got an example piece here for you to hopefully give you some inspiration and set you on the right path.

Our editor and social media queen Vic has written this short story “Hush hush” inspired by one of our 3 prompts, Detail of Summer Night (1925). We hope this piece will bring some more inspiration and clear up what we expect from the ekphrasis theme. Originality is key, we hope each of you will make your chosen prompt your own!

All contest rules and guidelines can be found here – best of luck to you all and happy writing!

Hush hush

The invitation arrived with a burgundy wax seal. We were to order new dresses, custom made of course, to match the grandeur of the evening. Early summer was desirable for a ball. The weather was on the right side of hot, not too stifling to prevent dancing, but warm enough for the party to spill out onto the balconies. A note had slipped out from the embossed envelope with Mrs Daphne’s signature at the bottom. Her special arrangement was inked from a fountain pen, and I couldn’t wait to discuss it with the girls.

Even weeks before the ball, I couldn’t sleep. I only slept so I could dream about the ball, or to save up enough energy to wake up the next morning and spend the day fantasising over the decorations and chandeliers, for there had to be chandeliers for a ball, otherwise you might as well call it a party. A ball had the whole town talking. ‘The night of the year,’ some said. While I didn’t want to spoil the evening by knowing too much, I was still greedy to consume every detail which hung from Mrs Daphne’s lips as she told twelve of us girls what music was arranged to be played throughout the night. I promised myself I wouldn’t ask any questions, apart from what material our dresses should be made from for dancing. Gracie spoke about the special addition to our invitations, but soon fell quiet and complied to the rest of our silent anticipation. It was all very hush hush, and we knew to keep it that way until the night. A surprise is the best kind of excitement, even if you already know about the surprise.

I especially couldn’t sleep the night before the ball. Funny, isn’t it, the night you need the most rest, you can’t drift off as you’re too frustrated about not being able to sleep. I needed a nap in the afternoon, but my excitement prevented my eyes from closing one wink. I had to pray my adrenaline would carry me through the night.

The carriage arrived at my doorstep, where all the girls had arranged to meet. There were the usual twelve, as well as a few new faces, cousins, and the like. The curious faces of the young women made me giddy with the prospect of new conversations and compliments – to be given and received in equal measure. That was how women conversed: a compliment started and sealed any conversation. Satin trains were draped over arms as the long flowing dresses would get muddy and ruined if not held. It was the fashion for the material to bloom at the hips. Difficult for us to fit into the carriage with how wide we were when we sat down. It was like a cage of birds, us all chirping with our feathered and colourful gowns. My favourite was Marie’s, a sweet peach dress made of the softest silk. I kept asking to touch it the entire journey. She told me exactly where she bought the material and who made it up for her, such skilled hands must have crafted something so majestically subtle. It would have been impossible to have spoken to all the girls in the carriage, I’d lost count of how many of us there were.

Mrs Daphne was waiting at the entrance to greet us in a cherry ball gown which made her look voluptuous and ripe. She reached out her arms to us. A kiss on the cheek was all she could offer as we paraded through into the ballroom. No one thought to bring a bag, what with the fortune it would have cost for one to be made in the same colour or style as the dress, so we all hoped our makeup wouldn’t smudge and our hair would stay as we’d pinned it. Everyone’s hair was up. How could anyone dance with their hair hanging loose around their shoulders?

Five of the girls from the carriage were lingering near the doorway, not yet committed to entering the room. I noticed some other girls had made their way in further and were linked arm in arm as they did a round of the room. It was unclear when we were needed for Mrs Daphne’s special moment, and none of us wanted to ask considering the instructions, so we waited until Mrs Daphne strode inside and we followed her into the centre of the room. Elderly women wearing heavy jewelry walked around the room with warm smiles. It was like a carousel how they circled the room, waiting to be approached for a conversation. Gracie and I offered them a seat and we asked all sorts of questions about maturing into women, their ambitions, and the type of life they’d led. They told us all they’d achieved, and how they looked just as glamorous doing it as they looked tonight. Our eyes shone, mirrored in the diamonds of their earnings, and thanked them for indulging in our fascination. Gracie said she wanted to grow up to be like Mauriel, who wore the tight blue dress, whereas I admired the spirit Agnes, who was dressed in fuchsia.

It was going to happen at some time or other during the night, and Gracie and I were taken back by how quickly they approached us. We had hardly talked to a quarter of the women in the room before the crisp sleeved men extended their hands towards us. We saw these two men when we arrived. Their ties were a blazing red to match their handkerchiefs. I couldn’t remember if they told us their names, they certainly didn’t ask for ours, however we agreed to one dance before hurrying to find the other girls to see what we may have missed. Isabelle, one of Gracie’s cousins, said Mrs Daphne had disappeared a few minutes ago, and the girls were whispering about when it would happen.

Mrs Daphne returned without a wink or a knowing smile. She had merely gone to the washroom. It was challenging to bypass men as we wandered around the floor, and felt obliged to take their hand. I held Gracie’s gaze as we spun around our partners. Once that dance was over, we all needed a sit down, and when Tallulah asked me which man I’d danced with, I couldn’t even remember the colour of his hair.

It was when we were drunk in our own delirium of laughter and gossip that we forgot all about the plan, and that made it a real surprise when one by one, the girls began to disappear. Then Mrs Daphne tapped me on the shoulder, and it was my turn. I left through the side door on the left, as instructed. I followed the length of a slim corridor before finding myself at the white door with the golden handle like the invitation had described. Gracie must already be inside, as I couldn’t see her when I was leaving the ballroom.

Pushing the door open with a delicate hand, the glow from the chandelier was revealed inch by inch as I slowly walked through. All the girls looked like elegant swans, leaping around the room, taking up space, spinning and frolicking. Their dresses were hiked up, past their knees, as they kicked out their bare calves with gaggles of laughter. Gracie rushed to my side with wild eyes, her hair in a state of disarray from all the jigging about. I let her pull me into the throngs of girls cheering with every kick. We jived around the room as the song changed, our arms above our heads. Flushed cheeks and gaping smiles were met at every turn. A girl called Fiona took both my hands and we quickstepped down the length of the room. Breathless, I asked Mrs Daphne for a glass of water. It was all so thrilling!

When I returned to the dancefloor I couldn’t find Fiona, then Gracie told me she was sent back but could return in an hour if she wished. It made sense, we had to avoid any suspicion. If all the young women vanished from the room, then men would start looking for us. By the time Mrs Daphne tapped me on the shoulder again, this time with a sympathetic look, I’d had the chance to talk to every girl in the room.

Shortly after midnight, our carriage arrived. All the girls were back in the ballroom and waved goodbye to the other girls they had met and agreed to see again soon. On the journey home we retold the night, already desperate to relive every single detail. Our throats were sore from all the talking, and when I rolled into bed, I didn’t want to take off my dress. It smelled of women’s perfume and possibilities.