"Check Please" by Andrew Shaughnessy—Our December 2024 Gold Medal Winner
Andrew Shaughnessy is our first place winner from the contest posted in our December 2024 issue and his story will be published in the March 2025 edition. Congratulations, Andy!
What the judges had to say:
“...clever...”
“...masterful control of voice and perspective.”
“The narrative’s wry tone perfectly balances the grim subject matter, creating a noir-inspired piece that feels both familiar and fresh.”
Meet Andrew
Andrew (Andy) Shaughnessy is a Toronto-based intellectual property litigation lawyer and writer. He is a past contributor to Blank Spaces Magazine, as well as a one-time silver and three-time bronze medalist (and four-time short-lister) in past image prompt challenges. His short stories and poems have appeared with Off Topic Publishing, Syncopation Literary Journal, and Last Stanza Poetry Journal, among others. He has been nominated by Last Stanza Poetry Journal in 2024 for the Pushcart Prize. He is the 2023 Mississauga Library Poetry Prize Winner. He overuses m-dashes (and parentheses) and has (the love of) a dog.
Check Please
an excerpt of Andrew’s winning story
The detectives are standing too close to me. The breath of the middle-aged grey fog named Sol reeks of cigarettes and stale whiskey. I know Sol. He takes allopurinol for gout so he can keep on drinking. The breath on the other one, Mandy, is cinnamon and coffee, confirming a visit to the diner across the street where the call had been made to report the fire in my pharmacy, Cal’s Apothecary.
“Oxycontin,” Mandy says. “This is all about oxy.”
Sol shakes his head. “Why torch the place?”
I nod my head. Sol knows.
“Where’s the safe?” he asks. I point toward the back office, but he is already aiming his flashlight back between the burned-out storage shelves.
“You’re wasting time,” Mandy complains. Sol holds up the back of his hand. He’s pursuing the jittery cone of light through the ashen fog. Mandy trails behind. I trail her. I could navigate this passage in my sleep. In the office, Sol spies a large photograph on the wall—me and Lorna in happier days—hanging askew to reveal a wall-mounted safe. The safe is opened. I’m annoyed. It should be hidden and locked.
Sol spins the combination lock. “No sign of forced entry. They must have had the code.” He’s good.
“Maybe the old man didn’t lock up,” Mandy suggests.
The old man. I’m standing right here!
…
to read the rest of the story, order your copy of the March 2025 issue.
