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P. 90
Short story Competition
Just Fine | Μια χαρά
by Panagiota Papathanasiou | Παναγιώτα Παπαθανασίου
THE WINNER My father runs ahead like a neurotic marionette. I find
Ms Panagiota it hard to keep up with him. I watch his bent back and
Papathanasiou is one of jerky limbs as he disappears into the distance and I
the four awarded writers slacken my speed still further. It takes him a little while
whose short story is to notice. He waits for me to catch up with him and
published here. takes the suitcase from my hand. “Give it to me”, he says, already holding
Το διήγημα της κυρίας it tightly. I walk faster now but still can’t keep up. I’m panting, my heart is
Παναγιώτας Παπαθανασίου, knocking against my chest. “The old man will outlive us all”, I think. We go
που δημοσιεύεται εδώ, into the departure hall and he heads for a queue. He signals to me abrupt-
έλαβε το ένα από τα ly with his hand. I go up and stand a little apart from him. The hall is cold
τέσσερα βραβεία του but my head is burning. Small sparks gnaw at my skin. I slide a palm over
διαγωνισμού. my greasy forehead. I look at the muddle of people all around.
Short Story Competition “We don’t have any baggage, we’ll take this one with us”, he says to the
Λογοτεχνικός Διαγωνισμός girl at the check-in desk. The small suitcase is almost empty. It has a pair
Διηγήματος of trousers, three short-sleeved shirts, one long-sleeved shirt, four pairs
of underpants, cotton socks, a swimsuit, a small tube of toothpaste, a
As part of its ten-year anniversary celebration toothbrush, soap, some samples of sun cream, pills, a phone charger, a
and in cooperation with the literature magazine black dress and a pair of old, black sandals. It also has a plastic bag with a
Diavazo, Athens International Airport organised change of underclothes for my father, his shaving things and a sponge bag.
a short story competition entitled Journeys by He is wearing his black suit and white shirt. He doesn’t need anything else.
Air, which was completed last June. Well-known
Greek authors acted as the judging committee that We have arrived early, my father goes outside for a smoke. He pulls the
assessed the short story entries and the names suitcase along with him. I go to the toilet and throw some water over my
of the winners were announced a few months face. I stand pinned against the mirror while fleeting reflections of women
ago. Each winner was awarded a trip for two hurry back and forth. My face, soft and doughlike with yellow, damp
persons. This the the third of the four awarded strands of hair, looks back at me without recognition.
short stories published by 2board. | Για την επέ-
τειο των δέκα χρόνων του ο ΔΑΑ διοργάνωσε, σε I cross the hall slowly, observing the people. We pass and greet one another,
συνεργασία με το περιοδικό Διαβάζω, λογοτεχνικό partners in some obscure dance. They are all beautiful. The excessively
διαγωνισμό διηγήματος με θέμα Ταξίδι στον Αέ- tall and the very short, the stout and the skinny, the ones who walk with
ρα, που ολοκληρώθηκε τον περασμένο Ιούνιο. H a lilting gait, and all those who are scarred in face or body, even those
απαρτιζόμενη από γνωστούς Έλληνες λογοτέχνες who march past frowning and strutting, all of them are very beautiful.
κριτική επιτροπή αξιολόγησε τα διηγήματα και τα
ονόματα των νικητών ανακοινώθηκαν σε εκδήλω- Before the exit I get tangled up amongst the members of some kind of tour
ση που πραγματοποιήθηκε στο αεροδρόμιο πριν group, standing around together, holding forth, casually listing the tours
από μερικούς μήνες. Οι νικητές κέρδισαν από ένα they’ve been on. “In Cappadocia we went up in an air balloon, it was amazing,
ταξίδι για δύο άτομα, ενώ το 2board δημοσιεύει the whole sky was full of balloons” and “In Thailand we ate fried insects, they
τα διηγήματα που βραβεύθηκαν. were crunchy like chips”. I am swept away into the middle of the group. Their
leader hands out leaflets and bags with the agency’s logo. He takes them out of
the heavy duffel bag he carries over his left shoulder. He turns to me before I
have a chance to get away. It is John. We stand there, quite still, surrounded by
the crowd. “What are you doing here?” he asks me. He takes hold of my arm
and pulls me out of the group. “What are you doing here?” I tell him that we
are going to the island, my father is waiting for me outside. I must go, and find
him, we’re going to the island, I’m in a hurry. We’re going to Manolis’ funeral.
90
Just Fine | Μια χαρά
by Panagiota Papathanasiou | Παναγιώτα Παπαθανασίου
THE WINNER My father runs ahead like a neurotic marionette. I find
Ms Panagiota it hard to keep up with him. I watch his bent back and
Papathanasiou is one of jerky limbs as he disappears into the distance and I
the four awarded writers slacken my speed still further. It takes him a little while
whose short story is to notice. He waits for me to catch up with him and
published here. takes the suitcase from my hand. “Give it to me”, he says, already holding
Το διήγημα της κυρίας it tightly. I walk faster now but still can’t keep up. I’m panting, my heart is
Παναγιώτας Παπαθανασίου, knocking against my chest. “The old man will outlive us all”, I think. We go
που δημοσιεύεται εδώ, into the departure hall and he heads for a queue. He signals to me abrupt-
έλαβε το ένα από τα ly with his hand. I go up and stand a little apart from him. The hall is cold
τέσσερα βραβεία του but my head is burning. Small sparks gnaw at my skin. I slide a palm over
διαγωνισμού. my greasy forehead. I look at the muddle of people all around.
Short Story Competition “We don’t have any baggage, we’ll take this one with us”, he says to the
Λογοτεχνικός Διαγωνισμός girl at the check-in desk. The small suitcase is almost empty. It has a pair
Διηγήματος of trousers, three short-sleeved shirts, one long-sleeved shirt, four pairs
of underpants, cotton socks, a swimsuit, a small tube of toothpaste, a
As part of its ten-year anniversary celebration toothbrush, soap, some samples of sun cream, pills, a phone charger, a
and in cooperation with the literature magazine black dress and a pair of old, black sandals. It also has a plastic bag with a
Diavazo, Athens International Airport organised change of underclothes for my father, his shaving things and a sponge bag.
a short story competition entitled Journeys by He is wearing his black suit and white shirt. He doesn’t need anything else.
Air, which was completed last June. Well-known
Greek authors acted as the judging committee that We have arrived early, my father goes outside for a smoke. He pulls the
assessed the short story entries and the names suitcase along with him. I go to the toilet and throw some water over my
of the winners were announced a few months face. I stand pinned against the mirror while fleeting reflections of women
ago. Each winner was awarded a trip for two hurry back and forth. My face, soft and doughlike with yellow, damp
persons. This the the third of the four awarded strands of hair, looks back at me without recognition.
short stories published by 2board. | Για την επέ-
τειο των δέκα χρόνων του ο ΔΑΑ διοργάνωσε, σε I cross the hall slowly, observing the people. We pass and greet one another,
συνεργασία με το περιοδικό Διαβάζω, λογοτεχνικό partners in some obscure dance. They are all beautiful. The excessively
διαγωνισμό διηγήματος με θέμα Ταξίδι στον Αέ- tall and the very short, the stout and the skinny, the ones who walk with
ρα, που ολοκληρώθηκε τον περασμένο Ιούνιο. H a lilting gait, and all those who are scarred in face or body, even those
απαρτιζόμενη από γνωστούς Έλληνες λογοτέχνες who march past frowning and strutting, all of them are very beautiful.
κριτική επιτροπή αξιολόγησε τα διηγήματα και τα
ονόματα των νικητών ανακοινώθηκαν σε εκδήλω- Before the exit I get tangled up amongst the members of some kind of tour
ση που πραγματοποιήθηκε στο αεροδρόμιο πριν group, standing around together, holding forth, casually listing the tours
από μερικούς μήνες. Οι νικητές κέρδισαν από ένα they’ve been on. “In Cappadocia we went up in an air balloon, it was amazing,
ταξίδι για δύο άτομα, ενώ το 2board δημοσιεύει the whole sky was full of balloons” and “In Thailand we ate fried insects, they
τα διηγήματα που βραβεύθηκαν. were crunchy like chips”. I am swept away into the middle of the group. Their
leader hands out leaflets and bags with the agency’s logo. He takes them out of
the heavy duffel bag he carries over his left shoulder. He turns to me before I
have a chance to get away. It is John. We stand there, quite still, surrounded by
the crowd. “What are you doing here?” he asks me. He takes hold of my arm
and pulls me out of the group. “What are you doing here?” I tell him that we
are going to the island, my father is waiting for me outside. I must go, and find
him, we’re going to the island, I’m in a hurry. We’re going to Manolis’ funeral.
90
