We are thrilled to announce the launching of the Carolyn Ann Phillips Creative Writing Competition.
This competition is supported by an endowed scholarship set up to honor Carolyn Ann Phillips (1945-2020), an English Department alumna who was fascinated by fairy tales and the fantasy genre. Every year, we will share an excerpt of her writing, which will be the inspiration for creative works for our students.
Here are the details of this year's competition:
- The prize this year is a $2,900 scholarship for the winner of the competition, which will be judged by our Creative Writing faculty.
- This scholarship is from the 2026-27 budget year, so the recipient has to be returning for at least the Fall semester. Students graduating in May or August 2026 won't be eligible to receive it.
- The submissions will be made through the Appalachian Scholarship Application Portal (ASAP). We will announce when the portal will be open here.
- Read the instructions and excerpt for this year's competition:
Instructions
Please read the opening pages to “Marianne and the Earth Fairies” by Carolyn Ann Phillips and then submit a work of fiction of no more than 15 pages (double-spaced, 12 point font) along with a brief (1-2 paragraphs) explanation of how the submitted fiction is in dialogue with the excerpt. The relation between the excerpt and the submitted fiction might be specific: it might continue a storyline or feature the same characters. The relation might also be broad: the fiction might simply be thematically similar. Submissions will be judged on both the quality of the prose as well as the writer’s explanation of how the pieces are linked.
Excerpt
Marianne left the house early that May morning. She had been angry with her mother for insisting that she wear her new dress to school, for Marianne hated dresses. They were way too frilly for her simple taste and besides, she would be punished if she dirtied the new frock—and Marianne was always dirty. Dirt almost seemed to call her name when she even came close to it. Dirt attached itself to her hands, smeared itself on her nose, and clung mischievously to her clothes. Marianne’s mother was often horrified at the grimy state in which her daughter often returned to the house at the end of the day. In fact she had been sent so often to her bath that Marianne habitually came home and went straight to the bathtub.
However today would be different, Marianne scolded herself. She felt pretty this morning in her new dress adorned with the only piece of jewelry she owned—a little heart-shaped locket. She promised herself to keep the new dress unwrinkled and clean for the whole day. For tomorrow—tomorrow there would be no school or dresses for the whole delicious summer. The idea was so enticing that Marianne literally skipped down the road and then slowed to her usual dreamy pace, as she began to mull over her plans for the delightful freedom so soon to be hers.
From a distant tree, the hoot of the morning’s last owl interrupted her reverie. Marianne hooted back and laughed as the owl echoed her call. She decided to follow the calls of the owl—just for one quick glimpse—perhaps it was just a barn owl rejoicing over its mousy breakfast or possibly the rare white owl that she had spotted once after a snow storm. As the owl called to her from the forest, Marianne left her usual path to school to investigate. After all the sun had arisen early this spring morning and why was this straggler calling to her, when he should have been dreaming about his evening’s adventures.
While the owl’s adventures may have been over for the day, Marianne’s adventure was just beginning. With one step off the path, her life changed forever and the new dress was certainly in danger of soiling.
As limbs reached for the dress, Marianne carefully pushed them aside, determined not to return home in a state of disarray. She stepped carefully around muddy puddles and tentatively held aside a thorn bush, before it snagged and tore her clothes.
Soon she wandered into a clearing ringed with toadstools and Marianne immediately fell in love with the site. She stared at the ring and smiled—what a lovely, secret place to spend long summer afternoons. Carefully Marianne reached into the ring, plucked a wispy, seeded dandelion, and blew with all her might. Puff! A small figure tumbled off the weed along with the wind-blown seeds. Certain it was a dragonfly, she grabbed for its wings, as the small figure fought diligently for its release. Leaving one of its wings in Marianne’s grasp, it escaped—attempting flight with its uninjured wings, as a hurt animal limps away on its three good legs when the damaged limb can no longer carry its burden.
Marianne held the tiny wing up to the light. It glistened in the sun, shining pink, blue, and lavender, as she turned it over in her hand. That one quick glance at the sky gave Marianne a sudden jolt—the sun had moved closer toward its zenith and she would be quite late for school. She stuffed the little severed wing into the pocket of her new dress, looked longingly at the inviting ring of mushrooms, and hastened back onto the path to school.
The school bell was tolling its final summons to the tardy as Marianne slid into her seat. She was actually quite pleased with herself—the summer had not begun and she had already had a wonderful adventure, the new dress was thus far unscathed, and in her pocket was a precious prize to add to the treasure box underneath her bed. As she looked forward to a summer full of wonder, she could not suppress the smile that bubbled up inside of her.
Yet as the day droned on and the humid, summer heat made the long afternoon even more oppressive, Marianne began to fidget in her seat and watch the clock as the hands moved grudgingly toward the three o’clock dismissal hour.
At length it was over—really over for three wonderful months and Marianne walked slowly back down the path through the woods to her home. She dawdled over every forest flower, lingered over the hum of every insect, and watched the flight of every soaring bird. Summer was here and every moment was to be savored and enjoyed.
As she walked, Marianne’s mind engaged itself with secret plans to return to the mushroom ring every day. It would be her secret place and she would tell no one—not even her best friend Kate, and especially not her nosy little brother Garmin. Something inside Marianne wanted a special place of her own, a place to think and magic the clouds into sky-bound pirate ships or floating castles with turrets. Perhaps she would bring her diary with her every day and write her own thoughts and feelings far away from the constant prying of Garmin or the monotonous chores that Mummy would insist upon.
Splat! The pirate ship sank into the blue sky and the cloud castle fell apart in a gust of wind. Another Splat! Marianne’s new dress was covered in mud and traces of grime ran down her face with a sudden outburst of tears.
“Give it back!”
Marianne looked around for a possible glimpse of Garmin or some of the rude boys from the school. She saw no one.
“You nasty little human, give it back now!” A figure slightly larger than an oversized insect flew right in her face and shook the tiniest little umbrella that Marianne could have ever imagined right in her face.
“You must return the stolen goods! She needs it more than you,” demanded the fat little insect, poking the umbrella even closer to Marianne’s face.
“Who are you and what are you talking about? I haven’t stolen anything and I have nothing that could possibly belong to you.”
“No, but you do have something that belongs to Amythyst. She was badly injured when you pulled off her wing this morning. She may never fly again if you do not return the wing. My name is Onix and she is my pupil.
Splat! Another handful of mud hit Marianne, slid down her skirt, and lodged itself on her white sneakers.
“Stop it!” shouted Marianne, “Mummy will be furious with me for soiling my new dress.”
“Your dress can be washed,” said Onix. “Washing will not take care of Amythyst’s torn wing. You must give it to me.”
“You are a dragonfly. Dragonflies do not have teachers or schools.”
“I am not a dragonfly! I am a fairy—a very angry fairy right now! In fact fairies do have teachers and schools.” Then the pudgy little fairy shook her umbrella right in Marianne’s face again, forcing her to back up a few steps. Clothed in a black dress, Onix wore large spectacles, which nearly covered her round face and perched themselves about midway down her pug nose. Her feet were clad in black thick-heeled shoes.
Over all, Onix gave Marianne the impression of a large black fly, buzzing annoyingly around her face.
“A fairy! I didn’t know the wing belonged to a fairy. I thought she was an insect.”
“Insect! Humph! Not only do you rip off our wings, but now you insult us!”
Fearing the onslaught of more mud, Marianne apologized quickly, assuring Onix that she would never mistake a fairy for an insect again. “Now, please tell whoever is throwing mud balls to stop. Mummy really will be furious. And I’m very sorry to have hurt a fairy.” (Even if they do look like insects! she thought to herself.) She looked down to see an irritable, waspish creature, standing poised with another glob of mud from a particularly slimy looking puddle ready to heave in her direction.
Onix turned her umbrella toward the nasty little gremlin, “Enough, Kolik! The human will give us the wing. Besides, you’re beginning to splatter me too! Go back to the Circle; tell Amythyst I am coming with the wing.”
Kolik turned and sidled off into the dense forest, but suddenly he turned and lobbed one large ball of mud right onto Marianne’s white sock.
“Go!” insisted Onix stabbing her umbrella once more at the recalcitrant creature, who sniggered as he finally flew deep into the dense thicket of trees that hid the fairy circle from curious intruders. “I’m, sorry; honestly sometimes I think he’s more pixy than fairy. His father’s side, you know—bad mix of brownie and pixy. Thank goodness at least his mother was a fairy! As my dear mama always said,
Brownie mischief—
plague of pixies!
Always bad blood
In the mixing!
Marianne thought the only bad blood she needed to worry about was the blood she stood in danger of losing when her mother saw the dirtied dress and muddied shoes and socks.
Image of Carolyn Ann Phillips holding a sword in a faerie background.
