“Lionel Wexelbaum Will Not Wake Up” by Alyssa Bushell—Our March 2025 Gold Medal Winner
Alyssa Bushell is our first place winner from the contest posted in our March 2025 issue and her story will be published in the June 2025 edition. Congratulations, Alyssa!
What the judges had to say:
“I love the eerie tone achieved in this haunting story.”
“...a total delight to read. Such a quirky, unique take on a visual prompt”
“I enjoyed the narrative tone throughout this piece, which reminded me at times of authors like Neil Gaiman or Terry Pratchett with the cheeky kind of humour and heavy involvement of the narrator, ”
Meet Alyssa
Alyssa Bushell is a flash fiction enthusiast and cozy mystery novelist based in Chesley, Ontario. Her work has appeared in Ellipsis Zine, Leon Literary Review, Reckon Review, and elsewhere. When she's not playing with words, Alyssa can be found near water with a book in hand—or baking up new ways to procrastinate. Connect with her at AlyWrites.ca or on Bluesky and Instagram @WritesAly.
Lionel Wexelbaum Will Not Wake Up
an excerpt of Alyssa’s winning story
On the parquet floor of a grand old stone-clad triplex, in a sticky crimson puddle that can’t be good news for the hardwood, 87-year-old Lionel Wexelbaum finds himself in the regrettable position of being rather dead.
Montreal in spring is nothing short of glorious. Flowerbeds surge to life as though sunshine itself were bursting up through the soil. Tulips and daffodils clamour for attention while trees laden with blossoms dust passersby with their allergenic glitter. Ah, yes, a sneeze. That was what got poor Lionel into this sorry state in the first place.
Outside his window, even now, various songbirds flit to and fro, filling the morning with joy. They can’t be blamed, of course, for they know not why the solitary mourning dove on the telephone line is cooing out a dirge. No need to be upset on Lionel’s behalf. He was nearly stone-deaf before it happened, and he certainly hears nothing now.
It becomes a case of wait and see, for now. The neighbours will carry on coming and going, rolling their eyes in quiet dismay at the garish yellow trim. They’d tried to protest that the colour clashed with the limestone, but Lionel merely removed his hearing aids mid-sentence and never put them back in.
Will they eventually detect a new and concerning odour? Will the electrical company send someone out to see why the bills are yet unpaid? Will the mailman get tired of the aforementioned bills clogging up the mail slot and ask the next officer he sees on patrol to do a wellness check? Will one of Lionel’s (former) jewels or works of art be identified when quietly sold to a contact of a friend of an acquaintance who knows a collector with negotiable morals? All we know for sure is that it won’t be soon.
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to read the rest of the story, order your copy of the June 2025 issue.
