The Grey Areas

I'm excited to share my short story- The Grey Areas.

I entered it into the Spring 2025 24-Hour Short Story Contest by Writer's Weekly.
Entrants were given a prompt and 24 hours to complete a story with a maximum of 850 words.

The topic this time?
“She was on her annual trek to the Spring Fair to obtain that one essential item. She walked quickly, ignoring the tiny purple flowers dancing in the breeze. It had been a hard winter. While she knew it was wrong, this year she’d have to try to steal it…”

The entries only had to touch on the topic, so there was a lot of freedom in interpretation and execution.

My story won an Honorable Mention of which I am extremely proud. Gratefully, I share it with you here. Other stories are available to read at writersweekly.com.

The Grey Areas

Jerilyn tugged on the handle of the rusty, once-red wagon. One of the back tires wobbled and squealed underneath the weight of the cage on top. Squaring her shoulders, she set off on her self-declared mission.

     Every year, her family made the trek to the Spring Fair where Papa always won the prize turkey in the shooting contest, and Mama cooked it for Easter dinner. But not this year. Papa said the Spring rains had delayed his planting, so he had rows and rows of corn to plant.

     "I ain't got time, and we ain't got no money for the fair. The shooting contest costs. Best stay home and do our work, so's we can eat come Fall," said Papa.

     Papa believed in hard work. Her callused hands testified to that. Still, Jerilyn was determined to bring home the prize bird for Easter dinner. Even if she had to steal it. She glanced around like she had said it out loud. Papa wouldn't approve. Mama said he only saw things in black or white. She said that there was plenty of grey to go around, too. If she stole it for her family, did that still make it wrong, she wondered. Jerilyn figured she was walking in some mighty grey areas right now. 

     She fingered the nickel in her overall pocket. Jerilyn found the worn nickel in the grocery store parking lot last year. Papa said she could keep it. Hopefully, if her plans worked out, it would help her get the prize turkey. The Bingo game cost one nickel, and if she won, she could use that prize money to enter the shooting contest. She wasn't as good as Papa at shooting, but he said she had the best aim of any girl he ever seen. Jerilyn lifted her chin. And if she didn't win the turkey, she would take it. She figured it would be better all-around if she won it, though.

     Parking her wagon at the side of the Bingo tent, Jerilyn traded her nickel for a card. Only five other people played. That meant the pot would be thirty cents, but that was enough for the shooting contest. She smiled thinking her chances were pretty good. Crossing her fingers behind her back and shooting a prayer upwards, she settled in her chair. The caller shook the token basket and pulled out the first number. A few calls later, she needed only one more number to win. Jerilyn squirmed in her seat as he announced the next number.

     A man in the back yelled, "Bingo!" Her heart sank. "No. Sorry. My token slipped," said the man. 

     Jerilyn's heart raced as she checked her card. Jumping up, she yelled, "Bingo!" Grasping her winnings, she grabbed her wagon and raced to the shooting booth. It was time for the next competition.

     The shooting booth was at the end of the stalls. A line of men stood waiting to take a shot. Paying her fee, she joined the group.

     "Well, lookie here, fellas. We got us a 'little missy' shooter. Girlie, you think you're strong enough to hold the gun?" asked one of the men.

     Jerilyn frowned at him and crossed her arms. "Just you wait and see, Mister."

     The man laughed, spit tobacco juice in the direction of the spittoon, and missed. The attendant called the first shooter. One by one, the men took their shots with only one shooter, the short man, close to the bullseye. He was the one to beat. Jerilyn took up the gun and set her feet the way Papa taught her. She took a deep breath and released it before she squeezed the trigger. Her shot fell outside the bullseye, and the short man won.

     "Woo-whee," said the spitting man. "That girl done beat me, though!"

     Hanging her head at the loss, she pulled her wagon around the tent to the cage of turkeys. There was nothing left to do but steal the bird.

*

     Jerilyn tugged her empty wagon down the dusty road towards home. The wagon stuck in a patch of thick sand. She kicked the wheel and pulled it free. 

     Honk! She spotted her family's blue pickup truck headed her way. The truck pulled alongside her wagon and stopped. Papa rested his arm on the open window.

     "Where you been, girl? We looked everywhere for you," said Papa.

     Jerilyn kicked at the sandy road. "I was at the fair winning us a turkey. Only it didn't turn out so good." She figured she wouldn't tell him about almost stealing a turkey. That was too grey.

     Papa pushed his hat back. "Well, I reckon your heart was good. And things do turn out sometimes. Hop in."

     "Yes sir." She pulled her wagon to the back and dropped the tailgate. A big, fat turkey lay inside.