A foggy mountain valley, with trees ascending the right side, as a pale covered bridge vanishes into the mist. Likely in the Alps.
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Fall Writing Frenzy 2025: “Forewarning”

It’s that time of year again! All the fun kidlit contests are swinging back into season, starting with the marvelous Fall Writing Frenzy.

This year’s donor list is full of amazing authors, illlustrators, editors, and agents, so definitely swing by to check them out as well as the rest of the entries. My entry, clocking in at exactly the maximum 200 words, is below, inspired by the following image:

Credit: Pexels via Eberhard Grossgasteiger

Forewarning
by Meg Winikates

Beware where you wander on a foggy fall day
when there’s no hint of wind but the branches still sway,
where time stretches strangely and your watch makes no sense:
there’s no morning or evening, just a long present tense.
Where a tune through the trees seems to beckon you on,
towards a glow that’s not moonlight nor starlight nor dawn.
If you cross the pale bridge in the shimmering mist,
the land feels familiar with an uncanny twist.
If you follow the whispers of the pine-needled trail
you might find a mystery, a garden, a grail.
If instead you try tracking the dragon’s wingbeat,
you’ll need all your courage, so stand firm on your feet.
If you dance with the Fair Ones, don’t forget how to breathe–
to remember you’re mortal is the passport to leave.
Close your eyes, take a step, and believe you can fly—
in a blink you’ll be back under homelier skies.
When you’re home safe and sound, getting warm by the fire,
you may find your heart filled by a fog-born desire—
for a toll must be paid when you cross that pale span—
and you’ll never quite be the same you that began.

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Fall Writing Frenzy: The Patchwork Pumpkin Patch

It’s that time of year again! I’m participating in the kidlit contest, Fall Writing Frenzy, which is this year hosted over on Lydia Lukidis’s blog. I was inspired by the image below, and the challenge is to write a story in 200 words (!!), for any age reader, board book through YA. Check out the amazing judges and prize donors for the contest here.

A pile of black pumpkins
Credit: Unsplash via Leandra Rieger

The Patchwork Pumpkin Patch

Nighttime in the pumpkin patch, where nobody was cheery.
“Always the same!” the gourds proclaimed. “Orange is so dreary!”
“No complaints,” the scarecrow huffed, “Honestly, what’s the use?
Orange can never be cyan, chartreuse or even puce.”
“We could! We will!” the pumpkins cried. “Who knows ‘til we try it?”
Whereupon some warty sorts turned amethyst and violet.
The scarecrow appeared gobsmacked, with cheeks flaming scarlet;
giddy, giggling pumpkins sported ruby, plum, and garnet.

Come morning, pumpkin-hunters surveyed the startling scene:
which bedazzling gourd would illuminate Halloween?
Some rejoiced at rose, or jived with midnight shades,
many vibrant pumpkins left, but many others stayed.
“You know,” said one, “today was fun, exploring something strange,
but I’m done with celadon—to orange now I’ll change.”

Across the patch murmurs arose; some argued, some agreed.
“What if,” the scarecrow offered, “everyone picks the hue they need?
If your heart is truly turquoise, then turquoise you should stay,
but if you’re more champagne-inclined, that’s equally okay.
Nobody should hide away the truths that make them glow,
which seems to me something jack-o-lanterns ought to know.”
Today the patchwork patch proclaims with multicolored cheer:
Let your outsides match your insides all throughout the year.