Congratulations to our YANovCon 2026 Teen Short Story Contest winners! The theme for the 2026 contest was Fantasy vs Reality: Escape into Fiction. Thank you to all our amazing teen authors who shared their stories. Your creativity and storytelling truly brought this theme to life.
Enjoy the Short Stories from Our Three Winners
- 1st Place: Samyukta K. with the story, The Mind Stays Free
- 2nd Place: Sahana P. with the story, A Thousand Bottles of Moonlight
- 3rd Place: Arwen L. with the story, Crystalwood
We look forward to reading everyone’s stories for YANovCon 2027! Keep an eye on our YANovCon page for updates on next year's event.
1st Place Winner
The Mind Stays Free by Samyukta K.
Picture a feather, a rose, a snowflake.
These are the images you think of when you pick yourself up in the still, dark hours of the morning, anything to distract you from the ache in your joints and the gnawing in your belly.
You light a candle, follow the procession of bodies out the door.
Picture a palace leagues away, a lovely crown, a daring mission. Picture a figure cloaked in black, a Robin Hood of sorts.
You have two jobs, and these are your jobs day upon day, without fail. Load the red rock into the furnace; then later hammer the melted rock until strange metals glint dully from within. No one in your unit knows for sure what happens to it afterwards, and even if they did, you are forbidden to speak. But you have all noticed the wealthy young gentlemen that appear at the estate’s gate from time to time. You have all seen your master’s lavish fur robes, and the mistress’s ornate jewelry.
As your arms work their neverending routine, your mind whirls. Somewhere far away, oceans rise and fall, cities peak and crumble, whole empires are constructed in rich detail at your fingertips. You are immortal; a god. Not one thing in this world could exist without your imagination. The metal forms angry burns on your hands, but you hardly notice. Not until your fingers stop moving and the suffocating little room begins to spin. As your head hits the spongy dirt floor, you see the others turning their faces away. Afraid of what might happen if they leave the forges for even a second.
The world melts into black. You cannot move. Today, of all the days, your body finally decided it could not push on. You hear pounding footsteps but are too drained to be filled with fear. The whip slices your skin, but you are too empty to whisk yourself away. Finally the overseer tips your head back and drizzles a little water into your parched mouth. Then, somehow, you are standing again. “Back to work,” he announces. As if nothing has happened. As if you are absolutely nothing. You hang your head and begin to work, but everything moves as if in a dream.
Picture the places you have created, the visions you so desperately wish could come true. What will the world lose when you go? Is this all you are doomed to be, slave to the privileged and powerful? Will you be erased from history while they live on? Will you always live your life with your head bent down?
Picture yourself breaking the rules—speaking—rallying the others. Why should you follow the rules? You are not someone’s minion. They cannot survive without your labor. Picture yourself with shoulders back and head held high, looking your master in the eye. A sense of freedom swells within your chest as you lay down your hammer. Your fantasy can become a reality.
2nd Place Winner
A Thousand Bottle of Moonlight by Sahana P.
“Thousands and thousands of years ago, the Earth had a companion. She was not the Moon, but a mysterious planet of light and clouds. She loved the Earth fiercely, and they were inseparable. Her name was Selene. But the Sun grew jealous. She loved the Earth too, yet believed her blazing fire was inferior to Selene’s soft whispers. So she borrowed magic from the neighboring stars to grant herself a wish. That was how the Earth lost Selene. The planet fell into turmoil. Patches of land froze as its grief deepened, other parts grew barren and lifeless, like its broken heart. The Sun could not bear to see Earth suffer. With the last dregs of her stolen magic, she transformed Earth’s heart into the Moon, its final companion, and proof of the pain it carried.” I recited Mama’s story as I crept toward the stream. One hand hovered near the sword strapped to my back. The path was overgrown with plants of every kind, eager to trip me and send me into darkness to guard their precious treasure. I would not give them that chance. I hadn’t always been prepared for a journey like this. My father had been the village bookbinder, and I loved helping him repair spines, wrap books in embroidered jackets, and work with sweet-smelling glue. Then Pa died, and Mama vanished. She had once been a warrior who crossed the Expanse before meeting my father. One night, she was taken from the market, leaving behind only her sword and us. Me, and my twin sisters. Bryony and Zinnia. Bryony was fierce and unyielding, able to take down anyone, true to her wildflower namesake. Zinnia was vibrant and warm, able to draw anyone. And then there was me, Alba, named after the Ipomoea Alba, or the moonflower. I finally made it to the stream. It glowed with unnatural brightness and iridescent hues, all framed by trees that seemed to pierce the sky. I knelt at the shore, set down the sword, and uncorked the bottles I’d brought. Moonlight flowed through the streambed, spilled from Earth’s heart in the sky during its waning. I carefully filled each bottle, reminding myself why I did this. Over time, I had learned that moonlight held traces of the magic the Sun used when she shaped the Moon from Selene’s loss. Enough of that power, enough of that moonlight, could grant a wish, like the Sun did. Our wish was simple. We wanted our mother back. Our mother, who broke after Pa died, but stayed strong for us. Who held us close each night, whispering Selene’s story until we fell asleep. Who took us into the gardens on sunny afternoons and taught us how to defend ourselves in any situation. I returned home and gathered my sisters close. Together, we opened the thousand bottles of moonlight I had collected over the course of a year. When the final words of our wish left our lips, she appeared. Weak, shaken, but alive. “Alba?”
3rd Place Winner
Crystalwood by Arwen L.
One of my earliest memories is of dancing beneath a silver-blue moon, my small feet tracing circles in a ring of glowing danooa flowers. Lanterns drifted through the night sky like captured stars, and the warmth of candlelight wrapped around me as laughter echoed. I remember lifting my arms toward the moon, believing the world was gentle and whole. Then the night shattered. Purple fire tore through the darkness, twisting into the shape of a phoenix that devoured the light around it, cutting into the night sky and setting lanterns on fire. Screams drowned music. I was pulled into my mother’s arms as we ran, but fear rooted my gaze backward. Through the flames, I saw my aunt standing where her home once was, her silhouette blurred by violet fire. That memory burned its way into my mind. Eight years later, I am thirteen, and the Silver Moon Festival approaches once again. Elf Village blooms with preparation. Petals scattered across stone paths, crystals strung between mushroom houses, and beautiful sights more than the eye can process. I am assigned to the design crew, spending long days sketching floats and costumes among the silver-and-sage danooa gardens. Everything feels alive and well. On a quiet, rain-soaked afternoon, I find my mother holding an old photograph, her tears falling and grouping up at the edge of her eye. That is when I learned the truth. My aunt never moved away, but was banished for the holes she created into peoples’ hearts. Soon after, I wake within the Crystalwood Forest, surrounded by trees with crystal leaves that reflect futures filled with light. There, Irima stands before me, tired, frightened, and desperate to be understood by everyone. She shows me the past through magic, and I witness the night of the fire as it truly happened. Her firework spell, supposed to let joy come for the community, turned into accidents she didn’t want to happen, buildings burned, a passed one, and a power she couldn’t control. With new determination, I guide Irima back to the village and stand beside her before the court. The city hall glows with sunlight and crystal reflections as we plead her case. The judges grant us one final chance: to prove her innocence by recreating the scene of the festival. On the night of the Silver Moon Festival, everything becomes clear. The moon shines silver-blue, the danooa essence is gathered, and the magic flows into a glass chamber. When Irima’s power swells exactly as predicted, the truth cannot be denied. Her banishment is lifted. As my mother embraces her sister, years of grief dissolve into relief. The festival continues around us—music rising, lanterns floating, magic renewing the forest. This Festival is no longer a scare on our family, it is a day of getting back together, healing, and love.
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