"An Early Thaw" by Desiree Nippard—Our June 2023 Gold Medal Winner

Desiree Nippard is our first place winner from the contest posted in our September 2023 issue and her story will be published in the December 2023 edition. Congratulations, Desiree!

What the judges had to say:

“Oh, my heart! What a moving story. The creation of quiet tension is masterful.”

“The story speaks to communal loss and grief. It draws out feelings of empathy without being contrite, and places the reader firmly within a circle of life that we can identify with regardless of our experience or age. ”

“Very captivating and engaging. The reader is propelled forward by the narrative.”

Meet Desiree

Desiree Nippard is an English Teacher in a small town in Central Newfoundland. She fills her days sharing her passion for literature with her students, and her evenings with long walks along the beach or in the woods with her dogs. She graduated from Memorial University with a Bachelor of Arts, Bachelor of Secondary Education, Diploma of Technology Education and a Masters of Educational Technology.

Most recently she has taken a deep dive into her writing and is currently completing her first novel, alongside a series of poems and short stories. Desiree finds comfort in the pages of a good book or on the front patio writing as the sun sets over the bay.

An Early Thaw

an excerpt of Desiree’s winning story

The community came out in droves despite the chill of the winter air. Some wore thick wool hats, others with scarves wrapped tightly around their necks. It was a damp cold that winter, the kind that settled into your bones and took your body hostage for hours after you came inside. If the weather hadn’t been fluctuating so much, or even if we had a cold snap like we did most winters, none of us would have been out there on the school field with our toes going numb against the layers of snow beneath our boots.

But there we stood, sharing a feeling of immensity as we set off the barrage of golden lanterns into the crisp night sky. The counsellors they brought in said it would help us feel hopeful, allow us to commemorate the event, to move on. I thought it was ridiculous at the time. How could this paper-thin dollar store craft make us feel anything at all? How could it dull any of the pain we had gnawing at our insides? But as we sent up the convoy of lanterns, it was almost as if the whole crowd could breathe a little easier than the minute before.

Perhaps it was the abundance of soft amber orbs breaking up the charcoal sky, or the fact that they looked like stars the farther up they went. Something in the air caused the pain to dull just a little. The gnawing settled to a deep hunger, a feeling you couldn’t escape, but one you could learn to live with.

Word had spread quickly that it was her uncle whose heart shattered first. A small purple rain boot sloshing up against the shore when he went out to look for her. Her mother had called and asked was she there, the fog was so thick she couldn’t make out his house, though it was only a rock’s throw from her own down across the cove. He reassured her, “No Susanna, not here, but I’ll put on my coat and go have a look for her. Probably out sneaking a treat to the chickens again, no doubt”.

…

to read the rest of the story, order your copy of the December 2023 issue.