Think you have what it takes?

Want to get some practice?

Just need an excuse to put pen to paper?

Then enter the Secret Attic Short Story Competition!

Each month you can submit an entry that will be passed onto our judges who will pick the best and award a winner. During some months the subject matter will be a 'free for all', where you can write anything you like, other months will have a specific theme.

Previous Competition Winners

February 2005 David Willshaw

April 2005 Christine Sutton

May 2005 George L Darley

July 2005 Robyn O'Hara

August 2005 Richard Adamski (Rushall, UK)

The Mysterious Magical Miracle Making Man

David sat alone in his flat. There was very little to see in his flat apart from the bare necessities such as a bed and a cooker. He had very few personal possessions because he had sold most of them for money for heroin. He was a heroin addict and a very good one at that because he 'knew the score'. He knew how to get his heroin and how to prepare the drug for injection so he could get the best out of it.
Originally he had been in control of the drug being an occasional user. He had regulated his intake in the beginning, but with heroin as it is with all drugs, there are no regulations and soon heroin had been in control, as it was now. The proof was his addiction and his arms and legs that were marked and needle-pricked by syringes he had used in abundance. Now, at this stage of heroin taking, he was finding it difficult to find a piece of vein that had not been tampered with.
David prepared the heroin for the syringe. He knew what he was doing and he had no trouble completing the act. If he enjoyed what he was doing then it was so because his addiction made it so. Without heroin he cold turkeyed and that was a nightmare. He stole for his heroin and used other illegal means to obtain the drug. He had to do that to feed his habit. It was a very bad habit, he knew that, but there was nothing he could do to make it good: that was an impossibility under any circumstances once he became strongly and effectively addicted to heroin.
The chamber of the syringe was full of heroin and citric acid and he searched and was positive he found somewhere in his arm where he could 'have a dig' with the needle of his full syringe. He was just about to pin-up when he looked up and got the shock of his life.
A man was sat opposite David, about six feet away. He was in his middle-thirties, short haired, smartly dressed and he was looking at David.
The man said nothing as David looked at him.
David did and that was:
" Who the hell are you?"
The man gave a smile then spoke:
" No, not hell."
The man gave another smile.
" Far from it."
David moved the syringe away from his arm. He still held it in his hand.
" Who are you? How did you get into my flat?"
David knew the door was locked. A locked door gave him several precious seconds if the police decided to raid his flat. They had done that several times in the past.
The man gave another smile.
" I got into your flat quite easily." Then was a pregnant pause then he added: "Who am I? I'll tell you who I am."
The man sat forward in the chair then told David who he was.
" I am the mysterious magical miracle making man."
The man sat back in the chair then said:
" That's who I am."
David didn't know what to say.
The man spoke again and he said:
" I possess a unique gift David."
" You know my name."
The man gave out a "hmm" that said "I do." "I also know that you are a drug addict. Heroin being the number one drug for you."
The man gave out a low chuckle.
" Good old heroin."
'What's good about it?' David thought, then his mind worked overtime and asked the question in his thought: 'Am I dreaming?'
" No dream David," said the man.
" You're real?" was more of a statement than a question.
" Of course I am."
" What are you doing here? And how did you get into here?"
" The second question is not important, the first one is and that is very important."
David glanced at the syringe he was still holding. He could feel his addiction urging him to take the heroin. He didn't. He looked fixedly at the man who said:
" I'm not going to dwell, there's no point in it. As I told you David, I am the mysterious magical miracle making man. I can make miracles happen," a quick smile, "well only one for each individual person and only for people who are drug addicts such as you."
" Me?"
" Yes," and the man gave David a smile. "I can grant you one wish, but it must be a wish that I think you will want to come true."
" I don't understand," said David. He felt the first symptoms of his body aching for heroin.
The man leaned forward again. "I'll keep it short and simple," a smile, "and sweet. Everyone is entitled to one miracle in their life," and with seriousness in his voice he added, "and that includes you David. I'm here to make a miracle, a wish come true for you."

The man sat back in his chair.
" I only visit drug addicts."
David's eyes were fixed on the man. "You can grant me any wish I want?"
" No."
" But you said that-"
" No," the man broke in quickly. "I said I can grant a wish, for you, that I think you will want to come true."
David looked at the syringe then at the man. "What I want is a plentiful supply of-"
" No. What you want is this."
" What?"
" What I've just done. It is something every drug addict, like you, definitely wants."
The man gave a series of little chuckles.
" And believe me David, I've had some experience."
" You've done what?" David suddenly felt uneasy. "And what do I want?"
" A miracle answers both your questions."
David looked with a question in his expression. "I don't understand."
" Don't you," replied the man seriously. "It's something you really want. I know that for sure."
David said nothing.
" What do you want that for?" The man asked with his eyes on the syringe that David held.
" I…" David stopped. He let out a despondent breath. "Do I have to tell you?"
The man said nothing for several moments, then. "You don't need that you know," he said referring to the syringe, made obvious by him looking at it.
" Tell me another one."
" No need," and the man smiled. "That's the wish, the miracle I've done for you. The one I know you want."
David looked at the syringe then back to the man, but his attention was divided between how he felt and what the man had said to him.
" Feel good?" the man asked, his eyes fixed on David's.
" I don't-"
" Simple. Look at your arms."
David looked. There were no needle marks, no bruises, and he was aware that he no longer had a craving for heroin.
" You mean?"
" Yes."
The syringe fell out of David's hand and he let it drop to the floor.
" I'm not-"
" Yes," the man broke in with seriousness in his expression. Then he smiled before he said. "That's my wish for you."
David's attention went miles away. "Oh God," he said softly and he felt emotion taking hold of him, like a rush coming on. "Thank God," he meant and the reason why he said that was also the reason why he started crying, something he had never done for a long time.
With tearful eyes David looked at the syringe that lay on the floor, then looked up and saw that the man was gone.