Winning Entries: 2025 150 word Christmas Short Story Competition
Many thanks to all who entered. We had entries from South Australia, Victoria, New South Wales and Queensland.
Thanks also to our judge from Victoria.
Some of the short stories were printed in the weekly Central Western Queensland newspaper, The Longreach Leader, and we have asked the judge to select the best for inclusion in our THE OUTBACK Volume 11, which will primarily be the 3000 word short stories.
The high number of entries from students meant that we are awarding a cash prize to the best of the Student entries.
WINNER
Nothing for Christmas
by Bente Moller
‘Watchya want for Christmas Mum?’
‘Nothing. Just for us to be together,’ she answered selflessly.
She is so hard to buy for – for birthdays, Mothers’s Day, let alone Christmas.
My Mum’s a real worker on the property – fencing, mustering, checking waters, looking after the chooks and the poddies. And keeping us all fed, watered, clothed and happy.
It’s not easy with two of us away boarding, and homeschooling Mitchell. Dad sometimes does contract fencing, away for weeks at a time.
It’s been a bit of a struggle since her ‘off-sider’ Maisie came off second best with a brown snake.
In her ‘spare’ time Mum’s been whipping up Christmas treats and presents for us all.
Finally, Christmas morning is hectic and happy.
‘Mum, for you,’ we grin and give her the end of a string to follow. It leads her behind the laundry. A kelpie puppy named ‘Nothing’ eagerly wags her tail.
‘Merry Christmas Mum!’
Student WINNER
Mail In the Dust
Willow Edgar
St. Patrick’s School, Winton
Oliver was with his mum in the post office. As he walked in, it smelt like cinnamon and ground cloves. All candles were lit, so the room had a scent of candy canes, gingerbread and the smell of the burning fireplace wood.
When Oliver got to the front counter, Bindi served him and had a smile on her face. The young boy gave the Christmas letter to her, the only person he knew at the post office, he was sending it to his family down in New South Wales because he couldn’t see them this year.
Exiting the post office, he took a deep breath and savoured every moment, trying to seal all these smells, the cedar wood candle, the chatter of people inside, all the Christmas decorations hung up, the empty shelves from everybody buying for their relatives. For he knew these would be Christmas moments he’d never forget.
Open Section Placegetters
Second:
Christmas in Cape York
by Greg McFarland
The family on this remote cattle station – way up in Cape York – had been waiting at the bush airstrip for an hour or more, listening anxiously for the sound of an engine.
It had been a long time between mail planes and a further worry was whether the aircraft could even land today, because it was the Wet Season now and the monsoon rains had left the dirt strip nearly washed out.
At last, they heard an approaching noise.
Appearing suddenly, the light plane flew overhead once, then twice, to check the ground below.
The family watched on, nervously.
Finally, it came in to land.
As it skidded to a stop, they were excited (and relieved) to see the interior of the Cessna crammed with precious cargo – presents for the kids, wine and beer for the parents, groceries for the festive meal to come.
God bless the Christmas mail!
Third:
A Christmas Story
by John Griffiths
We’re both uncertain. We’re being moved to an aged care facility. No more adventures for us.
So many things are relegated to the past. No more of her special pavlovas for Christmas dinner?
But she’s convinced that wherever we end up, there must be a barbecue in the garden. It wouldn’t be Queensland if there weren’t.
So today she’s experimenting with a way to cook a pavlova on the barbecue.
She always makes life interesting.
This is her first attempt.
Well, what can I say, — It’s a ripper; – She’s done it again; – It couldn’t be better. Women of the Outback are so resourceful and fun.
Did I just hint that I was feeling a little sorry for myself with no adventure to be found anymore? Perhaps I’m getting old and unimaginative.
How lucky am I to have this special woman beside me for most of my life?
Fourth (Highly Commended):
Stuck at Christmas
by Paul Clarke
“Fuel pump’s buggered,” Nev said, wiping sweat away with a greasy hand. “I’ll order one in from Longreach.”
“How long will it take?” asked Meg.
“Well…Christmas Day tomorrow. Prob’ly get it on the bus Boxing Day. Looks like you’re stuck here for a while.”
“Oh, no.”
Toby looked up at his mother. “Is it bad, Mum?”
“No, no. We’re just having a little adventure.”
“Caravan Park is the cheapest place,” Nev said.
An hour later Meg sat down in the van, wiping away tears. “It’s alright Toby. I’m just happy because it’s Christmas.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“Sometimes grown-ups cry when they’re happy.”
There was a knock, and Meg answered the door to Nev.
“The wife’s invited you to Christmas lunch tomorrow. If you’re not doing anything. We’re down at number 67.”
“Oh…thank you so much,” Meg said, eyes filling with tears.
“Are you happy again, Mummy?” asked Toby.
Fifth (Highly Commended):
Christmas
by Mocco Woolert
It was the first Christmas after Cyclone Tracy.
The day before, the 24th, we drove down the track and ‘stole’ a scraggy low tree from beside the highway.
As German migrants we celebrated Christmas Eve. We waited till the low, dark wet season clouds brought early darkness.
From somewhere came the the sound of ‘Silent Night’ and I lit the lonely three candles under the tree. Wistfully I looked at the white pipe cleaners I had twisted into stars that were the only decorations. I had tried to buy Christmas stars and bells, but they sold out days ago. The three lonely candles shone brightly, although the heat had bent them into weird shapes.
I wiped away a tear. It was a poor Christmas, but we were together as a family. Presents and decorations did not count. Being together in the holy night in our beloved Darwin made everything right.
Sixth (Highly Commended):
CHRISTMAS HINGE
by Leanne Green
Peering out the window, Denny smiles as he recognises the familiar sweep of red dirt and mulga.
Six months ago, he was in this same RFDS plane, flying in the opposite direction, not knowing if he would ever walk again. When they told him he could be home for Christmas, he worked hard in rehab, fuelled by the thought of Laurel-Lee waiting.
Things haven’t been the same since the accident. They were drafting cattle. The gate’s tired hinges moaned. Laurel-Lee heard it. She should have called him back. She didn’t. Neither of them has ever said the words aloud.
As they come into land, something flashes along the runway. Tinsel. Old Christmas lights tied to drums and fence posts — uneven, makeshift, shining, created with love. The pilot chuckles.
Denny laughs too, surprised by the sound. Laurel-Lee was always good with her hands.
He wonders if the gate hinges also sparkle.
Seventh (Highly Commended):
Thargomindah and an Unusual Christmas
by Liam Stitt
No snow, yet plenty of water. Not family fun water, it’s dark, dirty and creeps slowly, like Christmas does then “it’s here”. Santa and the sleigh is unseen, it’s boats and planes. No presents dropping, rather lifelines, sacks of hope and little boxes of joy.
No time to gather tinsel or tree ornaments. Muddy waters, bits of trees, old possessions spread everywhere. There was no gifts.
Sleighs carried the destruction away. Old decorations, clothes off our backs and remnants of our homes, our places where we celebrate Christmas.
Sleighs carry the materials, furniture, appliances, and everything we need for our houses to become homes.
Santas Helpers are attired in work clothes. A sight for sore eyes. They bring the gifts we are wanting, hope. They stitch the fabric of our Christmas tablecloth together.
Christmas will be different, no caravanning, our home is this Christmas’s destination. Let’s stay home this year.
Eighth (Highly Commended):
Hunting for Home
by Magan Hippler
It’s December, and the chooks no longer recognize Finn. The kelpie pup he’d met on the Easter school holiday has grown into its ears. His baby sister recites multiplication tables and breezes through the latch on the garden gate. Even the house, dripping with fairy lights and bearing reminders for Santa to ‘stop here,’ looks smaller.
After chores, Finn retreats to the creek. It too seems smaller, but, somehow, that doesn’t hurt as much.
On Christmas Eve, Dad extends the tallest ladder, and Mum helps Ava onto the still-warm roof. Finn’s too old for their Annual Sleigh Hunt, but following is easier than arguing.
Dad hums “Jingle Bells.” Mum passes out binoculars. Ava drops a profiterole that trundles off the roof and seems to hit every branch on the way down.
Finn snorts, then giggles. The others laugh too, and Finn curls up, clutching his stomach— breathless, aching, finally home.