The Winning Unicorn and Nine Pints of Beer

I don't care if a real unicorn is discovered living in a rain forest in Borneo. I don't care if this real unicorn speaks excellent English and has a doctorate in advanced alchemy from Inter Galactic U. I just don't care. No more unicorns. 

Why? Because I've just spent the last month judging a short story writing contest sponsored by the Toronto Writers' Co-op on behalf of its members. The subject was Space Faring Unicorns, and for a first time event the submission count wasn't bad - eleven - and there would have been two or three more if life had co-operated just a bit.

Bill Clark won the contest with his allegorical tale that used unicorns aboard a damaged spaceship to represent the terrible way we treat each other here on Earth, and how abusers and abused, whether aboard a spaceship or on our own piece of rock, will suffer together. The two runners-up were Kris Westerlaken and John Warren. All eleven entries were judged blind; I didn't know the name of the winner until it was announced. First prize was nine pints of beer and $20, and Bill generously shared his win with Kris and John, John Miller, who runs TWC, and yours truly. I hope the winner and the two runners-up will be posted on the TWC website in the next short while.

There's talk of expanding the contest next year to include all of Hogtown's writing groups. The rules will be the same: a complete short story of no more than 1500 words on a topic suggested by a TWC member, although you can bet it won't unicorns.