Anthology by WGA

New Anthology book by the Writers’ Guild of Acadiana

Creative Writing Competition Winners 2012-2014 – An Anthology from the Writers’ Guild of Acadiana.

WGA front cover

Anthology cover

From the back cover: An anthology is a collection of selected writings by various authors. This selection of stories is brought to you by the Writers’ Guild of Acadiana in Lafayette, Louisiana. We are pleased to present the winners of our writing contests from the past three years whose stories include a variety of entertaining genres. You’ll find murder mystery, poetry, plot twists, science fiction, love stories, a limerick, and much more entertaining reading.

Available at in ebook and paperback.

Only a man would not be able to tell… not to mention, I got a look at her perfect figure and I could actually see the implants. “Come on, honey. You can fool men but you certainly cannot fool me. Odds are, there is nothing natural about you, except maybe your feet.”
…D. M. Soileau
You are probably wondering, if I am dead, how am I telling this story? Well, it’s complicated. I’ll tell you the story if you promise not to judge me. What we did was wrong, but it was the only way.
…A. Burleigh
Suddenly my eyes fell upon Frances and our eyes met intensely. She parted her moistened, luscious lips and spoke softly. “Are you going to give me my package?”
…L. Broussard
First of all, Santa hated snow. He hated the icy cold. He hated driving that drafty sleigh year after year on Christmas Eve. It was way too small for all the stuff he had to carry, anyway. And there were too many children. And speaking of children, he’d grown to hate them.
…J. François
Mary had been dead for at least a week. I had killed her with my own hands. Killed her without a second’s thought to the long-term ramifications of my impulsive action. The instant it was over I felt shell-shocked.
…C. Bethel
As I looked at him in the casket, I realized that this was the second time that I had seen him killed. I wanted to make certain that he was really dead this time as I reached down and squeezed his hand.
…G. Foche