FFF Competition Thirty-One Judge’s Report by Caroline McKenzie
26th January 2026
It was a pleasure to take part in the judging process for this competition. I very much enjoyed reading the fifteen stories selected for the longlist and would like to thank Ian for inviting me to participate. I was also grateful to the entrants for their creativity and sheer ability; the quality of the submissions made this a rewarding experience.
I would like to comment on the stories that did not make the shortlist but which I am confident will find homes elsewhere. In A Head Full of Angry Wasps, I enjoyed the way the writer portrayed the narrator’s quiet acceptance of the situation, and I liked the vivid image conjured by the title.
In Drownings, I enjoyed the contrast between the darkness of the subject matter and the well-placed jaunty images of striped deckchairs and the father’s silly hat. Ella and Trinculo stood out for its level of detail; the author demonstrated an enviable ability to create depth and richness beyond what seemed possible within the word count.
The dark madness portrayed in Goya was mesmerising to read, while The Adventures of AppleMan felt original, funny, and, ironically, very human. Dreams and Moon Song and Wishes intrigued me and made me curious about where the story might go if it continued, a feeling I also had with Tree House.
The Moth Drawer featured some beautiful descriptions that evoked a strong sense of age, artefact, and place. The Things They Said About My Father sparked my imagination and was another story that left me wishing to know more about its characters.
Shortlisted Stories
I Made a Cubist-inspired Portrait of Our Marriage contained some brilliantly specific details which felt very authentic. I particularly liked the image of the ‘egg yolk coloured teddy bears’ and clever lines such as ‘I don’t recognise any of your faces.’ There was a deep sadness running through the story, tempered by a wry sense of humour: the teddy bears turning their faces to the wallpaper in shame or embarrassment perhaps were a highlight of this. The piece was beautifully written and quietly heartbreaking. I loved the ending, ‘can’t I just stay in here and pretend,’ followed by the almost acerbic reference to ‘alone but standing tall,’ where the author’s wit shone through again. While themes of betrayal and disbelief were familiar, this story presented them in an original voice.
The Abiding Hills was rich with imagery and description. I admired how a full year was painted so adeptly within the limits of the word count. The protagonist’s travels seemed to stretch across vast spans of time rather than a handful of sentences. The story ended where it began, but with significant change for one character, while the other was described as ‘constant as a lighthouse.’ This contrast lingered, and for me it raised the question of whether she, too, had changed in ways yet to be discovered. It is always nice when a story keeps you thinking about it after the fact.
Wet Brain offered a fascinating glimpse into a world rarely seen. The chosen point of view allowed the story to be both informative and emotionally resonant, revealing the experiences of both carer and cared for. The writer skilfully showed change over time, with the overweight uncle and a face drooping like candle wax, charting a journey that spanned two decades. I felt it was an honest, sensitive portrayal of a difficult situation and that it showed the unspoken thoughts we all carry within ourselves. I appreciated the way the ending mirrored the beginning, reinforcing both the passage of time and the enduring nature of the relationship.
Highly Commended Stories
In Where the Apple Reddens, I enjoyed the apparent simplicity of the relationship between the two characters and the way it reflected the era they lived in and the work they shared. The narrator’s recognition of Clem’s value was tender and heartfelt. The specific naming of the varieties of apples lent the story a strong sense of realism. I felt fully present beside the slatted wooden shelves, surrounded by fruit and the reassuring presence of Clem. Despite its brevity, the story created an entire world, a testament to the writer’s skill. The pacing of the story was well handled. It seemed to span a full day, from sunrise to sunset. The phrase ‘the dazzle of noon’ anchored the timeline, stretching time through careful wording. Each part of the story carried the reader forward in a way that felt easy and natural, although I knew a great deal of work can go into achieving this. The final sentence added to the charm and warmth of this affecting piece.
When the Night Took Notice felt deep, ancient, and steeped in lore and legend. It was written in clear, strong sentences that evoked the physicality of dance, beginning with the stamp of Folake’s foot. The language was beautifully lyrical, with ‘wrist carved crescents’ and bodies that became ‘poems against the sky.’ This lyricism threaded through the tale and reflected the dance which we all, characters and readers alike, anticipated. The story moved forward in sections that built its history, giving us a sense of a woman mistreated by the world and the gods, yet rising regardless. It was rich in sensory detail, placing the reader firmly within its world. I was there among the arrogance and velvet, waiting for Folake to dance, and I felt the great swelling of anticipation fill the air. The emotional clarity was striking, particularly in how the story layered influences and inheritance without simplification. By the time the narrative reached its culmination, we felt the weight of a complex legacy carried within one woman. The tension between captivity and freedom lent the story a magical quality that was carefully foreshadowed and then developed. The narrative rose and fell with satisfying control, resulting in a deeply satisfying ending.
Winner
Sun, Moon, Stars was a devastating story that explored loss through memory with remarkable delicacy and control. I loved the descriptions and the way the story cleverly revealed itself. Reading it felt like holding my breath, suspended in a lull before the full truth of the tale emerged. The descriptive writing was consistently strong and used to purposeful effect. Comparisons were drawn with a lightness of touch, such as the birds moving in sync, mirroring the siblings’ ability to finish one another’s sentences. Images like the buttercups spreading ‘quickly, uncontrollably’ and ‘cinnamon sprinkled across the sky’ were not only beautiful but deeply connected to the emotional core of the story, reinforcing its themes. The narrative revealed its central loss with subtlety, through moments such as the reference to the empty seat behind the narrator, later confirmed by the scattering of ashes. This approach trusted the reader and strengthened the emotional impact. The loneliness of losing a brother, someone imagined as a lifelong companion, was conveyed with clarity and restraint, making the desolation of that loss more powerful through what was left unsaid. The mood remained reflective without tipping into overt sorrow. The pacing was consistent and carefully managed, with each sentence moving the story forward and contributing to a lyrical sense of progression through time. The backstory was built with confidence, allowing the narrator’s interiority to emerge naturally through action rather than explanation. Choosing siblings as the central relationship immediately established a profound bond, and the foreshadowing was handled well. The final depiction of the survivor continuing in the face of enduring loss was clear, heartfelt, and achieved with remarkable economy. Every word felt deliberate; there was nothing extraneous. Sun, Moon, Stars was a deserving winning story.
Thank you again to everyone who sent in an entry. We pour our hearts and souls into constructing and moulding our stories, and it feels deeply personal to send them out into the world. Reading them in cold, dreary January felt like discovering an extra Christmas present tucked away behind the tree, and I felt thoroughly inspired.
Caroline McKenzie