Short Story Competition: ‘Where Are You?’

By Miriam Natasha Ramagge (School Years 8 to 10 - Runner-up)

I look for you sometimes Granny, while the asphalt roads bake in the sun and the trees on the Rock sway gently in the light breeze. It hurts.  

I don’t know where you are. I’ve spent days wondering about that question, the one that adults never have the right answer to, that teachers never make you learn. I remember the flat, seeing the empty armchair where you used to sit, and wondering if you were ever really there at all. 

You told me that we all have souls, and though we grow old, our soul stays young. You said that when we go to sleep at night God gently takes our soul away and returns it every morning. But one day he won’t give it back anymore. He’ll keep it and tell an angel to toss it into the sky, a speck of fire that once was one of us.  

Others say we go to Heaven. Spend forever with the good people of the earth and look down on our loved ones, peeking through the golden threads of woven clouds that we see from the pavement. 

I’ve never known what to believe. Sometimes I clutch the necklace that you gave me and remember you. I look into the sunset and wonder if you are flying close to me, gliding through the pinks that graze the sky.   

I remember when we used to say goodbye after a visit. You would stand on the balcony as I shouted “I love you” from the bottom of the block, oblivious to the neighbours smiling at me. I would stare at the distant halo of your grey hair as I crossed the road, waving eagerly as I knew I’d see you again soon.  

The day the ambulance came you didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t get a kiss, a warm embrace, a wave from the balcony. Later I stood in an alley beside the mortuary, clutching my mum’s hand as people went inside and said their last goodbyes, wondering why she wouldn’t let me do the same.  

I wrote you a letter to tell you how much I missed you Granny. 

The next day I posted it, sliding the envelope into a red post-box outside your flat. I didn’t know where to send it so I wrote your full name on the line where it said “Address”. “I hope you read this Granny”, I whispered into the air as I heard the letter fall into the box. 

I don’t know where the letter went, and I wonder if you ever read it. Or are you too far away?  

Judge’s Comments: 

This is a tender and reflective piece that explores grief with a quiet, poignant sensitivity. The writer captures the confusion and longing that accompany loss through the innocent yet searching voice of the narrator, whose questions about where their grandmother has gone feel deeply authentic. The piece is understated yet powerful, leaving a lasting impression through its honesty and emotional depth.