Morley Prize for Unpublished Writers of Colour
Shortlist Extracts
Non-Fiction Entries
“When the geologist James Hutton set off to search a stretch of coast in eastern Scotland in 1788, and discovered the earth to be far older than the world previously thought, he brought back with him not only rock but a revolutionary concept of deep time. Meanwhile, when I set off to search a stretch of silt for mudlarking treasure in 2023, and discovered the brown self to be soiled far deeper than most previously thought, I brought back not only an understanding of silthood but a concept of soiled time. I tap into this timescale when sleeping in the garden shed, a Covid-19 measure of self-isolation that soon evolves into an annual summer ritual. As my circadian rhythm latches onto the landscape for better steer, I notice that time - unmediated - flows differently, in shades of green and brown. It blossoms in buds of new experience, some fruitful, some sterile, or else shrivels into silt and silence: the place no one wants to be. When I sleep among the wooden slats and rusty saws, a small plot of my perspective is rewilded back to an earlier more earth-soiled state, and makes me wonder what new genus of thought might grow. While the mind usually takes refuge inside the body, here my body takes refuge inside my mind. It finds comfort in this siltscape, whose landmarks are thistles and coordinates mapped in muddy brown.”
Jade Cuttle, Silthood
Winner of the Morley Non-Fiction Prize for Unpublished Writers of Colour
"My dad was a storyteller to his soul. Ask him what he had for breakfast and he would begin with the colour of the moon last Wednesday. History was another story he told. For example, in the mid-17th century a Dutch slave ship was capsized. Whether there was a mutiny, bad weather or some combination is for our imaginations. But fate determined that the only survivors were African captives, stolen from what is now Nigeria. They swam - some of them chained together, some chained to corpses - to the nearest land. When this marooned chain-gang reached the black sand shores of St Vincent they encountered the brown-skinned, flowing-haired Caribs. Even if they were all relieved to find no white man, both groups must have wondered if the other would do them harm. Ultimately the Caribs, notorious for their hostility to outsiders, saw desperation and chose humanity. This is how it happened that the first Africans to live on St Vincent were not slaves, but escapees: they were free."
Nina Kelly, Carmen & Hilda
Shortlisted for the Morley Non-Fiction Prize for Unpublished Writers of Colour
Karachi 1963 - 1966
My father was taking us somewhere better. He told my mother that Karachi was where it was at, that the city was bursting with opportunity, under the progressive PM Zulfikar Ali Bhutto. He conjured up a spirit of adventure and glamour in the air as cocktail-sipping expats and Pakistanis alike lounged at the Hotel Metropole’s swimming pools, while calculating business deals and planning the evening’s shenanigans. ‘My country is young, it’s only twenty years old. Believe me, anything is possible!’ he declared.
Zenab Eve Ahmed, First Daughter
Shortlisted for the Morley Non-Fiction Prize for Unpublished Writers of Colour
Fiction Entries
“I marched onto the station concourse, slimy with the muddied footprints of a thousand commuters, and considered all the things that I could not bring to light in a bible study. All my hidden doubts, one particularly profane memory and a thousand unarticulated, ineffable desires swirled and eddied before me. There were things that I wanted, craved - I had realised, even after I was converted - that were not what Christ wanted. I was ashamed. In my early and enthusiastic university days I had assumed that my desires would, in time, melt away or be overcome. Six years and one big, secret mistake later, I feared that they never would. I descended the stairs, pushed my way onto a train and began to recite the fifty-first psalm in my mind, confessing my sin all over again to watchful God.”
Joseph Diwakar, I Shall Not Want
Winner of the Morley Fiction Prize for Unpublished Writers of Colour
“But it was her first strange thought that kept ricocheting around her head like a marble, powerful enough to knock her sideways, like the waves of the Atlantic Ocean : that in the blink of an eye sixty six had rushed by and what, after all, did she have to show for it?”
Emma Allotey, With Love and Regret
Shortlisted for the Morley Fiction Prize for Unpublished Writers of Colour
“The day had begun like any other. It was warm and balmy, typical of a Kathmandu spring morning, and Rachana lay in bed, waking from sleep. A half-remembered dream – she was at a wedding, she wasn’t sure whose. She opened her eyes. She felt still and content, in a half-dream state, her limbs loose and relaxed. She could hear the faint sound of a Nepali folk song being played on trumpets, as if by a band baja at a wedding. She let it play on, trying to identify the tune. Gradually, other sounds made their way in: children, dogs, motorcycles, a radio playing. She could feel the warm sun and the smells of her neighbours’ cooking drifting through her slightly open window. What time was it?
Chandani Thapa, The Fire
Shortlisted for the Morley Fiction Prize for Unpublished Writers of Colour