Burnt

To read the criteria for this competition and read the winning stories, click here.

This short story is under 600 words, the Vocal Media official word count for me to be able to share this short story with you all, so I am attempting to write a bit of a foreword.

This is the first time I have ever be long-listed for a short story, and while it didn't get short-listed or win, it is a win to me. This short story, out of all of short stories that were submitted, was special enough that the judges mentioned my name.

This is a step in the right direction for me. It is a symbol of hope. A sign that I am improving. An omen that I will one day achieve my dreams of becoming a published novelist.

Okay I've reached my word limit, so continue on to read my short story 'Burnt'.

***

Sweat beads on Hali’s upper lip and pools under her armpits. Is her mother here? She can’t see the faces of the audience. The stage light is blinding, the heat of it threatening to split her already aching head. Aching from the tirade of bobby pins sticking into her skull. The hours of parading. The fake smiling.

‘Now for everyone’s favourite part of the beauty contest, the interviews.’

Applause erupts throughout the theatre. Applause that could turn on her in an instant. People that could consume her and leave her burnt. She prays her mother isn’t here. She will only ignite the fire.

‘Our first contestant, let’s give a warm welcome to Hali,’

Hali walks to the front of the stage. The heat of the spotlight is stifling.

‘Your first question. What makes you think-,’

*

‘-you can go out looking like that?’

Hali dropped the bright red lipstick and turned to meet her mother’s flaming eyes. Ravenous eyes. She was in a destructive mood.

‘I just wanted to try a bit of colour,’

Kindling to the fire. The flames roared behind her mother’s wicked grin. Her mother lived for this.

‘Wash it off. You look like a clown,’

Hali stared at her ruby red lips in the mirror. No longer liberating, but theatrical. Her mother left her scorched and searching for the makeup wipes.

*

The host looks at Hali expectantly. She didn’t hear the question. Heat prickles across her skin as she tries to remember what he had asked. Her mother’s words are in the foreground of her mind. If her mother is here, Hali will never live this down.

‘Could you repeat that, sorry?’

‘What makes you think-,’

*

‘-you can leave the house without wearing makeup?’

Hali hesitated as she opened the door and snapped her head toward her smouldering mother. She was late for the movies, but she could not let this one go.

‘I’m only going to the cinema with my friends,’

Her mother shrugged and smirked. Hali could smell smoke.

‘I would say don’t forget your bags, but it appears you’re already carrying them under your eyes,’

Hali slammed the front door and ran to the bathroom.

*

‘I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten what you’ve said,’

Low, rumbling laughter spreads throughout the crowd. She’s burning. Scorching. Someone turn the heat down on this pressure cooker. Her mother is out there she can feel it.

‘I’ll rephrase the question. Why do you-‘

*

‘-treat your mother like this? I’m only trying to help,’

The tears flowed, trying to extinguish the fire that was built up inside of her. The years of rage and torment that had been simmering at the surface were finally overflowing.

*

‘One last time, Hali. Why do you want to win this beauty contest?’

Hali stepped out of the spotlight and looked into the crowd. It’s cooler out here, calmer. She can finally see. Hali found the face she was searching for and reached for the microphone.

‘I’m tired of being burnt,’