The heartbreak competition had a wide variety of entries, and I truly enjoyed reading all of them. Some by highly skilled writers, and then there were very sincere sad stories by people still in the throes of heartbreak. Sometimes, our tales of heartbreak leave us feeling bewildered and wronged, but many people have picked themselves up and moved on. I was told that one entry was by an 11-year old girl. Her grandmother told me this and was shocked that someone this young could have already had her heartbroken. A lot of excellent, very well written entries came from the Stanford Creative Writing Program. And many heartfelt stories came from as far away as Argentina, and across the US from California, to Kansas City, North Carolina and New York City. One woman told me that she was finally inspired to sit down and write the story that she has been meaning to tell. I hope that this experience was cathartic for everyone and I thank you for participating and sharing your story. The winning story was chosen, based on many elements, but in particular for its ability to translate in to a tango song.
The winning story is “The Key” by Cherie Magnus. The judges wrote: I’m often drawn to characters living in the aftermath of their own successes, and I thought the author did a nice job of evoking that quality of nostalgia and regret. The vivid imagery and lyricism makes it suitable for a song.
As I send this, Marlan Barry is hard at work composing a tango song and we hope to have it completed by May.
THE KEY
My old house sits under the full moon of Hollywood as I drive past where I lived so long ago. As always, the street’s ancient cedar trees perfume the air, and in the black night, the glimmering Observatory hovers above like a friendly space ship.
The courtyard gates are locked, but the closed windows shine from within and call to my heart. The drawn draperies glow like a candle in the window lit for me, calling me home.
It looks just the same as when I lived there so content with my husband, my children, my beautiful life—all gone now.
Perhaps inside the wrought-iron gates and behind the cozy golden windows is my old lost life. Maybe if I stare long and hard enough, I can catch a shadow of a vanished time, the comings and goings of a happy family. If only I had the key, maybe I could go in and find it all again.
What if I found the key and opened the door into another dimension, and came home?
Cherie Magnus
