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For the 16th year, Florida Weekly’s readers have proven themselves to also be writers. From May to July, we ran a series of 10 photo prompts for our annual Writing Challenge, and our readers sent 419 short stories in response. Now, we begin our next weekly series to give you the chance to read the top 10 stories we received. We’re starting with the first-place winner and first honorable mention stories, along with those writers’ interviews, and next week we’ll feature the second and third honorable mention stories and interviews. After that, we’ll run one story with photo per week for the fifth through 10th place stories.

This year’s entries ranged many genres, even in response to a single photo, including crime, time travel, magical, romance, fantasy, sci-fi, horror, parable, fable and more. Comic and ironic twists abounded. While many were told from a third-person perspective, some were narrated from a first-person point of view. Characters ranged from ordinary people to talking animals and even talking cars.

The contest attracted entries from writers in a range of age groups, showing that writing can be a hobby for more than just retirees. This year, one writer even placed two stories into the top 10, and another writer placed a story in the top 10 for the third time in four years. While most entries came from the counties where Florida Weekly is distributed in paper format, some entries came from out of state and out of country thanks to the newspaper’s website and phone app, plus our subscription service that sends the physical paper via the U.S. Postal Service.

After carefully considering all the highly varied entries, here are the first-place winner, the three honorable mentions and the remaining top 10 writers:

FIRST PLACE –

1st Place winner Marc Lanciaux. -LAURA TICHY / FLORIDA WEEKLY

Marc Lanciaux of North Port for “The Sign by the Door”

Honorable mentions –

Wendy Seale of Jupiter for “The Last Under Cover”

Carmen Ramos of Naples for “Loose Women Inside”

Shari Simpson of Kitchener, Ontario Canada for “SADIE”

Fifth through 10th place –

J. Bradley Burt of Fort Myers for “The Allure”

Mary Pierce of Juno Beach for “Beyond Measure”

Carmen Ramos of Naples for “70 WING” (her second story to place in this year’s top 10)

Lisa Steliotes of Naples for “SUPERBIRD”

Aaron Seyfferth of Fort Myers for “A Hug from the Art World“ (his third top 10 in four years)

Beth Cooper of Lehigh Acres for “When The West Was Wild”

 

Next week’s edition will feature the stories and interviews of the second and third honorable mentions. Florida Weekly will also publish the fifth through 10th place stories in the coming weeks.

(Note: Florida Weekly runs Writing Challenge stories “as is” without any editing.)

FIRST PLACE STORY

First Place: “The Sign by the Door”

By Marc Lanciaux of North Port

“Pickpockets.” -LAURA TICHY / FLORIDA WEEKLY

The heat hit Skinks first, as heavy as a wet wool blanket, followed by the scent of vinegar and boiled peanuts.

Outside, The intense Florida sun turned the highway into a shimmering heat haze. Tucked off the highway, the building’s chalky brick walls stood like a sun-bleached fortress; its foundation bore dark stains from decades of rising damp and iron-rich well water.

Skinks threw his weight into the blistering, termite pitted cypress doors. They ground open against the concrete, releasing a blast of stagnant air that smelled of old mildew. He stepped into the dim vestibule, pulling off his sweat-stained Panama hat to mop his brow while his eyes adjusted to the gloom.

That is when he saw it, nailed to the wall near the entrance a driftwood sign with rusted corners: Beware pickpockets and loose women.

Skinks let out a low, dry chuckle that turned into a cough. In a transient town full of drifters, snowbirds, and desperate sun seekers, it was a highly accurate piece of civic signage. He instinctively patted the front pocket of his linen trousers. His thin leather wallet was right where it belonged. He was not particularly worried; he was running too low on cash to care, but the warning was a stark reminder. This was not the air conditioned, manicured Florida of the theme parks; this was the old, wild underbelly.

He pushed through the inner screen door. The interior was a cavernous warehouse where a dozen industrial ceiling fans did nothing but chop the humid air into smaller, hotter pieces. A jukebox in the corner buzzed with a low country whine, and the floorboards were gritty with fine Gulf sand. He took roughly ten steps toward the long, scarred wooden bar before the sign’s prophecy fulfilled itself.

A sudden burst of laughter echoed from the pool tables. A woman backed out of the crowd, nearly tripping over a stack of plastic beer crates. She swung around to balance herself, planting one hand firmly against Skinks’ chest.

She was sunbaked to a deep, dark tan, with peroxide blonde hair piled precariously on her head and rhinestone sunglasses perched on her nose. She smelled strongly of coconut suntan oil and cheap rum.

“Whoops! Well, hello there, sunshine,” she said, her voice a gravelly, good-natured drawl. Her hand lingered on his shirtfront, her fingers lightly tracing the fabric just above his pocket with practiced, casual ease. “Didn’t mean to drop anchor right in your lane.”

Skinks looked down at her hand, then dead in her eye, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. He gently took her wrist and escorted her hand away.

“No harm done,” Skinks said, nodding back toward the entryway. “Though I was just reading the sign by the door. I see they keep the warnings up to date.”

The woman looked at Skinks, breaking into a wide, gap-toothed smile. She did not look the least bit ashamed.

“Honey, that old sign’s been up since the hurricane of ’35,” she laughed, patting his arm nowhere near his pockets this time. “And let me tell you, neither the pickpockets nor the women have gotten any tighter since. Welcome to Florida, darling.”

With a wink, she strutted back toward the pool tables.

Skinks shook his head, shoved his wallet deeper into his pocket, and took a stool from the bar. The bartender, a man with forearms like cured hams, dropped a sweat-beaded longneck beer in front of him without asking.

“Ten dollars,” the bartender grunted.

Skinks reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and opened it. His smirk vanished.

The wallet was there. The cash inside was there. But pinned precisely to his remaining twenty-dollar bill was a small, torn piece of paper with a handwritten phone number and a lipstick smudge.

Skinks looked back over his shoulder. Near the pool tables, the blonde woman lifted her longneck beer in a silent toast, her rhinestone sunglasses catching the dim neon light. She had not stolen his money; she had just left her card.

Skinks turned back to the bar, slid the ten-dollar bill to the bartender, and took a long, cold swallow of beer. The sign by the door was right, he thought. You just had to know what you were looking for.

FIRST PLACE INTERVIEW

First-place winner: Marc Lanciaux of North Port

A sales consultant from New Hampshire, Marc Lanciaux said he pursued his passion by taking every writing class available in high school. He said writing helps him organize his thoughts creatively. He enjoys reading books, both non-fiction and fiction and recommends “Elmore Leonard’s 10 Rules of Writing” for improving one’s writing skills. Lanciaux shares his love of reading with his daughter by taking her to the local library regularly, which is where he picked up a Florida Weekly and saw the contest. He’d never had any writing published before nor entered any writing contests, and he wrote only this one story for the Writing Challenge.

“I decided to dedicate my full focus and resources to the story I selected because it was a challenge to write about, loose woman and pick pocketers,” he said. “I am drawn toward the unfiltered, outside the rules of society.”

He based the protagonist on a friend from the past, researched local trees, culture and structures, and spent a week writing the story. His wife provided feedback as he revised, and he used Microsoft Word to remove filler, redundant phrases and passive voice to meet the contest’s 750-word limit while not losing his main message.

“My wife calls me a ‘weird millennial’ because I’m obsessed with fresh paper and physical books,” Lanciaux said. “But I honestly think we’re losing something crucial by living entirely on our phones. We don’t have quiet mornings anymore, just sitting down, drinking coffee, and holding a real newspaper. Print media is dying, but it creates a kind of accidental discovery you can’t get on a screen. If I hadn’t opened a physical paper, I would’ve completely missed that contest. Online, algorithms only show you what you’re already looking for; paper lets you stumble onto the stuff you didn’t know you needed.”

Honorable mention one AND INTERVIEW

Honorable Mention winner Wendy Seale. -LAURA TICHY / FLORIDA WEEKLY

HONORABLE MENTION: “The Last Under Cover”

By Wendy Seale of Jupiter

I kissed my wife on her turned cheek as she checked her side mirror for an opening in the messy airport traffic, then grabbed my bag and shut the door. I waved, only to see my bent reflection in the rain dashed passenger window as our car slipped away. Exhaust stung my nostrils. I paused. Honking horns startled me back from a moment of uneasiness that had no explanation. I walked through the automatic doors into the cool air and got in line.

On the flight, I read over the assignment for the first time. Not even my wife could know where I was going. Really, this was simple compared to my distinguished military career, but I was not ready to retire for good. My wife wasn’t ready for me to retire either.

I turned the overhead light on. This was an interesting one. To catch a cheating husband. The details included the man’s photo and the days he and his possible girlfriend would be staying at the specified hotel. There was no photo of the woman. I had to admit, my job as a private investigator was almost as exciting as flying jets.

On day one, I located a café practically facing the entrance of the hotel situated in a bustling shopping area. The volume of people going in and out was dizzying. I showed the café server my badge and asked for privacy. He understood. I ate lunch twice and had three coffees before changing position. I leaned against the wall by the hotel entrance reading the newspaper. No sign of him. Just a bouncing parade of tourists.

That night, I called my wife, “Susan, hi honey. I should be home in a few days, go ahead and visit your sister if you still want to.” Her response was dry, “Yeah, I think I will. Another insurance case? Well, you’ll have to tell me all about it. Oh, that’s right. You can’t. Top secret.” She laughed. I didn’t. “Goodnight sweetheart.” I hung up slowly and went to the bar downstairs.

I sat next to a man who sat next to an empty chair facing a half empty glass of champagne. He threw cash on the bar and left before I could enjoy the small talk you make at hotel bars. I enjoy that these days. Comfort in conversations with people I will never see again. The bartender was thrilled to tell me the guy at the bar was with a lady that answered a call and did not return, “Even the silver foxes are players!”

The next day, I settled into my café booth, same server. He brought me a double espresso before I could order, “Use the table as long as you want, I will be here until closing.” I gave him a good tip and set up camp, focused on the entrance like a camera wielding duck hunter. Face after face, kid after kid, balloons and shopping bags. I looked closely at the cheating husband’s photo. It was oddly familiar. Then again, he looked like half of the men going in and out of the hotel. I ordered a basket of onion rings.

The last ring sat in a pool of ketchup. I was full and wired on coffee. I missed my wife. Maybe it was time to retire. The server tapped me on the shoulder, “I don’t mean to be nosey dude, but isn’t that the guy in the picture?” I searched through the sea of people in contant motion, like fish in an aquarium. In the crowd, standing still, lined up with the server’s pointing finger, was the man in the photo.

I pressed my eye to the viewfinder, extended the telephoto lens and focused on the man, who was talking to a woman. It was him. He was the same man I sat next to at the bar the night before! How could I have missed that? The server stood over me peering out of the window, “Did you get him! Did you get him?” I put my camera down, unbothered. I took the last sip of my cold espresso and laid down a handful of cash and left.

In my hotel room, I called my wife. She answered. “Hey, Susan. Well, this is my last under cover. I am in Orlando, Susan. Just like you are.”

Honorable mention one INTERVIEW

Honorable mention: Wendy Seale of Jupiter

A Palm Beach County native, Wendy Seale has written in a variety of genres ever since taking a creative writing class in high school.

“Window Man.” -LAURA TICHY / FLORIDA WEEKLY

“I found in writing that my imagination could express more than spoken word, each page an endless possibility,” she said.

Seale has recently written a middle grades novel for which she is seeking a literary agent to represent her towards publication. She finds the atmosphere of coffee shops, such as Crux Coffee Roasters in Jupiter, helps her fully focus on writing, and while she’s there, she picks up her Florida Weekly. She entered all five rounds of the Writing Challenge this year, and she previously entered in 2022, having an excerpt printed in the winners’ story that year.

She said she fully wrote out “The Last Under Cover” immediately upon choosing the photo, simply with an idea that the man would see something life altering through the window and letting the plot unfold as she wrote it. Then, the revision process began the next day. In total, she spent about two hours per day over four days on the story.

“The story now is like a cake that needs decorating,” she said. “I read it over and over, working it until it is smooth, makes sense and add any spice it may need. Write, break, process, return to story fresh minded. Eliminate, add, define. Read as many times as needed, adjust, read out loud to tune its rhythm and tie up loose ends. Repeat until satisfied.”