The first topic for the 2025 Bellarine Writing Competition obtained 24 entries, which this year were anonymous. The winner was Jenny Macaulay who also won the final last year. Highly recommended was Carole Glasgow for her story about a group of convict women on a ship transporting them to Australia.
Judges’ comments.
Jenny’s story was as usual very well written but it was the funny, imaginative idea of the talking snail helping the unhappy little girl tackle the questions set by her teacher that made the story outstanding. Then the ending, genuinely frightening Lindy from the room, was so clever. We hope you enjoy it as much as we did.
Alan Cobham
Jenny Macaulay
Jenny is a retired primary school teacher enjoying life in Portarlington facilitating art and writing groups between gardening and just appreciating a relaxed lifestyle.
Jenny organises activities where others can enjoy the experience of writing in its many forms. She facilitates a poetry group in Geelong under the umbrella of Geelong Writers and runs the Portarlington Haiku Society where members participate in a monthly competition. She and a colleague also organise the Midwinter Words writers’ weekend which will be enjoying its 10th year this August after a break since the COVID years.
Jenny also runs a drawing class at the Portarlington Neighbourhood House and the occasional Sumi e workshops (Japanese ink painting) and nature journaling workshops for Bellarine Bayside Coastal Management. In her spare time she enjoys painting small watercolours of Bellarine’s beautiful surrounds.
Quest by Quest by Jenny Macaulay
Lindy wiped away a tiny tear as she placed a dash next to number one.
“Number two,” the teacher said, looking over her students, checking they
were ready for the next question.
“If a snail began to climb a three metre vertical drainpipe at 9am, what time
would it get to the top if it climbed 75cm an hour but had a fifteen minute rest
half way up?”
This time the tear swelled and plopped right onto the page of Lindy’s maths
book. Raindrops trickled down the classroom window blurring her vision even
further until a tiny movement in the bottom left hand corner of the glass caught
her eye. The shadowy lines of muscular movement on the underside of a garden snail making its way up the wet glass had Lindy suddenly absorbed.
“I did that yesterday.” The voice was so clear she couldn’t believe the whole
class didn’t turn around. Her mouth dropped open as she watched the snail’s
eyes waving around on the ends of long stalks, beckoning her to focus.
“Climbed that pipe against the wall over there. Started right on the school
bell. By 10 o’clock I was 75cm from the ground. It didn’t worry me looking down as my eyes aren’t that sharp. Probably a little like yours at the moment.”
Lindy dried her eyes on her sleeve and stared at the snail which continued its
climb in spite of the increasing downpour.
“But did I stop? No way! Never give up I always say. Once you put your mind
to it you can do anything! So, I climbed for another 75cm before I heard the bell for morning recess. I knew it must be 11am. That’s a time I usually dread unless I’m under some rotting log out of harm’s way. One and a half metres was a danger zone. Some of your lot began hitting tennis balls against the wall with those wooden bat-tennis bats. Great to see them so enthusiastic but my poor old drainpipe shuddered with every blow. Almost lost my footing, so to speak, but an extra burst of mucin helped me cling on. Being slimy comes in handy from time to time, just ask a politic…no, maybe not. Anyway, fifteen minutes later they all shot off to play something else, thankfully, and I continued my climb uninterrupted for a while.”
Lindy looked around the room. Heads were down and Mrs Oliver was
standing, as if frozen, between the groups of tables. She stared back at the snail which was now snuggled closer to the edge of the window-pane, sheltering from the steady flow of rainwater.
The snail’s voice continued.
“It took me another hour to go the next 75cm, so by now it was 12.15pm and I
knew I still had 75cm to go. I can actually go a lot faster than this in real life, but I was following your teacher’s requirements and trying to keep things straightforward. Going that slowly and at that time of day naturally put me in a lot more danger than usual. I was totally exposed to sunlight, children and, worst of all, birds. It was during this leg, yes I know…an odd term for a snail to use…that a pesky magpie came snooping around, the same one that’s been swooping your friends on the netball court. I knew I couldn’t stop climbing because of this maths task, so I squeezed into the gap between the pipe and the brickwork. Maintaining 75cm per hour with a sharp beak prodding me from both sides made things a little hectic for a while until the bird noticed one of your classmates marching across the playground towards the bike shed. He was a far more accessible target. Finally I managed to reach the top.”
Lindy glanced around the room again. Heads were slowly rising and the
teacher’s slow-motion walk was increasing to a normal pace towards the front
of the room, her note pad of questions lying on the palm of her hand.
Lindy smiled and confidently wrote her answer in her book. When she looked
back at the window, the snail was gone.
“Question three,” said Mrs Oliver. “If a taipan was twice as long as a death
adder but only one and a half times the length of a tiger snake, how long would an eastern brown be if…”
Lindy snapped her maths book closed and sprinted from the room.
