Whitsundays Writers Festival Announces First Fast Fiction Winner
The Whitsundays Writers Festival is pleased to announce Natalie Stockdale as the winner of its inaugural Fast Fiction Competition, a creative challenge celebrating the art of storytelling in 250 words or less.
Held to mark International Day of Storytelling, the competition invited writers of all ages and experience levels to respond to the prompt: “Something unexpected washed ashore on Whitehaven Beach…”
Festival Director Richard Evans said the response to the competition was outstanding, with entries demonstrating imagination, originality, and a strong sense of place.
“The standard of entries in our first Fast Fiction competition was excellent,” said Richard. “It was exciting to see so many writers embrace the challenge of telling a compelling story with limited words and time.”
Natalie Stockdale, an Airlie Beach-based author published by Big Sky Publishing and a professional memoir writer, was selected as the winning entrant.
Like many locals, she draws inspiration from the region’s extraordinary natural setting — including Whitehaven Beach, a place she describes as “our own backyard”.
The winning writer receives a $100 cash prize and a free day pass to the 2026 Whitsundays Writers Festival, to be held on Sunday 13 September at the Whitsunday Marine Club.
A particular highlight of the competition was the enthusiastic participation of students from Whitsunday Christian College and Proserpine State School.
“Seeing teachers and students encourage with the competition reminds us why these opportunities matter – they create space for young people to imagine, write, and share their voices,” said Richard.
Festival Director Richard Evans encouraged all entrants to keep writing and to continue exploring future opportunities through the festival’s competitions and literary programs.
The 2026 festival programme and tickets are now available via the festival website
2026 Fast Fiction Winner: Natalie Stockdale
Winning Story:
Something unexpected washed ashore on Whitehaven Beach.
I noticed it at low tide, half-buried in the white sand. At first glance, it looked like driftwood, or the bones of an animal long gone. But the shape wasn’t right. Too straight. Too deliberate.
My name is Sinclair Bradshaw. I was born in Zimbabwe, and I knew what it was before I touched it.
The sea had taken its time.
I crouched and brushed the sand away. My hands are steady now. They weren’t back then. Metal showed through. Rusted, worn, but still whole. A rifle. My rifle.
Rhodesia came back, not as pictures but as a feeling. Heat. Tension. Young faces with hollow eyes that had no place being there. The silence just before things broke loose.
I carried that rifle through all of it and lost it crossing a river. We were moving fast, taking fire, boots slipping on rock. I went down, and it disappeared under the water. I told myself it was gone, that I was gone, too.
But there it was. And there I was.
I sat with it for a while.
People passed behind me, chatting, taking photos, wrapped up in their own easy days. No one noticed what I held.
To them, it was nothing.
To me, it was everything I had tried to leave behind.
I stood, walked into the water, and threw it back without ceremony.
Some things should never return to land.
(Credit: Natalie Stockdale, 2026)