Short Story Judge’s Report 2026

Having judged the Flash 500 Short Story Competition several times in the past, I was delighted to be asked to judge this year’s short-listed entries. The quality of submissions continues to impress me, making the task of selecting finalists exciting and challenging. You really do make it hard for me!

 

Being a judge is such a rewarding experience; a chance to immerse myself in a wide range of voices, styles and ideas. It was a joy to read the entries and I’d like to share my judging process with you, especially those of you considering entering the competition in the future. My approach is to read all the stories in one sitting, dividing them into two groups: those I wish to revisit and those I don’t. This decision is based on the originality of the story (even a well-worn theme can be tackled in a new way) and whether it provoked an emotional response. I’m pleased to say that, on this occasion, more stories fell into the ‘read again’ pile than the other.

 

The following day, I return to my personal shortlist for a second, closer reading. At this stage, I concentrate on the structure and language of each story. I ask myself whether the opening is compelling and whether the story maintains my attention right through to a satisfying ending. I also consider the author’s word choices and the flow of their sentences. Realistic and engaging dialogue is another aspect that stands out to me, and I am pleased to say I was not disappointed.

 

The standard of entries this year was exceptionally high and I’d like to congratulate all the entrants. Each story was a pleasure to read and it is important to remember that the results reflect the judge’s individual opinion. If your story was not amongst the final three this time, it may well succeed in another competition. Very well done to everyone who entered.

 

 

Family dynamics frequently form the heart of compelling stories, as those closest to us are often the most capable of eliciting the strongest emotions and deepest conflicts. It is these conflicts in the story Protest in the Kitchen that generate the tension necessary to drive the narrative forward. It is also what makes the story so moving.

 

In this tale, generational differences are brought to the fore. The father, who rules his house with an iron glove, standing in stark contrast to his children. I particularly liked how the author skilfully employs the technique of ‘show not tell’ to reveal his characters’ emotions. The mother’s anxiety is evident from her actions: she chops carrots faster and faster and taps at her chest as if urging it to breathe again when the postman fails to deliver her son’s draft papers for Vietnam. These subtle details enrich the portrayal of her emotional state and demonstrate the author’s talent for evoking tension without explicit narration.

 

The story has a clear sense of time and place and its characters are vividly drawn. The teenage daughter is strong, inspiring the reader to cheer her on, while the mother elicits our pity with her attempts to appease her husband. The young narrator provides a stable perspective amid the turmoil but it is the toddler, Davy, who captures our hearts. His newly acquired words, peace, peace, echoing those of his banner-wielding sister. A poignant reminder that battles are not confined to battlefields. A worthy winner.

 

 

Opposite Day is the poignant story of two young lads, Frankie and Roman, the narrative unfolding with Frankie, the narrator, attending Roman’s funeral. This was another story where the importance of place is evident throughout, seamlessly shifting between the funeral service where the narrator sits in guilty silence and the classroom, the scene of their carefree banter and secret games. I particularly liked how the teen-speak employed by the author added realism to the scenes without overdoing it.

 

Characters, including minor ones, are carefully crafted and brought to life, certain images lingering long after reading: Miss Brown’s washed out, droopy face. Miss Garrett’s coat collar that sticks up like a dog with its ear flipped out.

 

Throughout his narration, Frankie’s character shines through, revealing his conflicting teenage emotions: embarrassment, guilt and confusion. He views the funeral through the eyes that stare out at him from the photograph on the coffin. Imagining how his friend would have laughed at the celebrant’s tight pantsuit and scoffed at the lofty words with which she described him. The clever narrative ensures that the reader shares Frankie’s bewilderment that Roman will never return to play another round of ‘Opposite Day’, a playful ritual of saying the opposite of what you mean – a motif that threads throughout the story.

 

It is the ending, though, that was my main reason for awarding this story second place. When Roman’s classmates, friend or foe, stand up to talk about him, Frankie finds himself unable to do the same and it leaves a lump in the reader’s throat. The sympathy we feel for the boy lasting until the final scene at Roman’s graveside when it starts to rain and Frankie feels able to laugh at last – believing it to be his friend’s final joke.

 

 

This moving story centres on a father’s quest to uncover the truth behind his son’s untimely death. From the very first line, the call came at 3:03 a.m., the way calls about dead sons do, the story grips the reader, setting the tone for a journey that is both emotional and thought-provoking. The structure unfolding to a robust middle and an end that answers the father’s questions while inviting the reader to reflect on their own.

 

I like that the narrative reveals from the outset that the son is dead, enabling the reader to accompany the father on his journey of discovery. Helping us to understand the factors that contributed to his son’s need for solitude and his estrangement from his father. The Cornish landscape is beautifully described, vivid but restrained, allowing the reader to conjure the image of buildings perched on dunes and the inn’s window that frames the grey Atlantic. I could almost smell the fish and wet sand in the cold store where the man’s son had died.

 

The author has a masterful command of sentence structure, with varying sentence lengths mirroring the ebb and flow of the sea. Short sentences heightening the tension during climactic moments, such as the struggle against the rip tide. Longer ones giving space for the reader to reflect. 

 

The Last Gift of Sennen Cove is a tale of misunderstandings, pride and redemption. A father’s struggle to accept his son’s transition into adulthood and a story with a moral. This makes it a worthy finalist.