When The Lights Go Out - By Olivia Osborne

Written By: Olivia Osborne

Category: Short Story - Fictional

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Olivia Osborne captivates readers with her short story "When The Lights Go Out," a fictional narrative submitted for the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Through the lens of German folklore and personal experiences at a Christmas market, Osborne crafts a tale that underscores the impact of small acts of kindness. Within the Short Story category, her work invites readers into a world where folklore and modern life intertwine, offering a glimpse into the magic and warmth that can be found in unexpected places.

About the Work

In "When The Lights Go Out," Olivia Osborne skillfully weaves the enchanting elements of German folklore with the everyday experience of a festive Christmas market. The narrative is rich with vivid imagery, from the biting frost to the glowing illuminations, creating a world where kindness transcends the mundane. The story's mood shifts from the cold and dark to one of warmth and light, leaving readers with a sense of wonder and the reminder that even the smallest gestures can illuminate the darkest moments.

When The Lights Go Out

Original Submission by Olivia Osborne

When the Lights go Out

Statement of intent:

This is a creative short story that integrates German folklore, with my own experience of visiting a German Christmas market. My purpose was to show how small acts of kindness rarely go unnoticed. I have done this by pulling on the timeless themes of the Brothers Grimm tale Frau Holle.

The frost nips softly at my cheeks, biting a cherry-red blush into the tips of my fingers and the end of my nose. I hang my head a little lower. Hunch my shoulders. I sink further into the collar of my jacket hoarding my body towards its warmth. Shielding from the cold. Trudging along the beaten track, my winter boots crunch through fresh layers of snow that still fall in thick sheets. My summer skin shrivels a little more as it yearns for a taste of sun, only to be met with the bleak rays of the north.

Iridescent flakes swirl past, spilling echoes of the Weihnachtsmarkt up ahead. Children's laughter, the clink of coins, and the soft crackle of fire. A stark contrast to the raindrops back home, which fill the air with their sorrow and shroud the streets in its mournful gaze. These icicles however, love to gossip. Frolicking with impish delight they rebel against the pull of gravity. They catch in the tendrils of my golden-brown hair, which dances along and whips my face in retaliation. Although only four pm, night creeps in, bringing with it shadows that bleed from every corner and an even deeper, bone-seeping chill. I stick a little closer to the comforting light of the street lamps above. I pass by empty tram stops and brick apartment walls, which ooze small rivers of newly applied spray paint.

However this gloomy world shatters as I step through the towering archway of the festival market. The bleak winter night is engulfed with light, laughter, and the hum of a hundred voices, drowning out the howling wind. The creeping shadows are swallowed whole by an overwhelming mirage of light from the illuminations above. Nearby someone plays a guitar. Bright notes weave through rows of small wooden stalls. In the centre stands a proud 10 ft christmas tree, its branches alight with candles tipped with weeping wax. Its branches swaying in tune, as thick waves of toasted sugar, cinnamon and spiced mulled wine invade my senses. Underneath the dense canopy of twinkling gold lights, the crowd moves like a wave. I stand in awe. Before I’m dragged along in its magnetic pull.

About an hour later, I’m stuffed full of delicious food and shopping bags carve grooves into my arms. The crowd has thinned, leaving room to breathe and fully take in my surroundings. What captures my attention almost immediately is how one of the lights above me starts to flicker. Slowly at first, and then it's out. Like something or someone has blown too harshly. It soon spreads to the next and then one by one the lights extinguish. Apprehension coils in my gut as my vision tracks this phenomenon all the way up to the last one. It flickers once but remains burning. Stubbornly. In the spotlight, a figure stands. Bundled in scarves, she shields the bottom half of her face. At her feet lies an upturned basket that spills small glass ornaments. They catch the dying light. People brush past without a second glance, their eyes clouded, their focus fixed on the spreading darkness. The woman bends slowly, hands shaking from the cold that no longer nips but bites. I pause remembering my tram leaves soon. If I miss it, I’ll be stuck in the cold for another hour. Surely someone else will help her. Yet no one does. With a sigh I crouch beside her.

“Let me help,” I offer. My breath puffs white in front of me. I kneel, my bare palms press to the wet snow which sticks to my hands making them tacky, as I reach down and retrieve the fallen treasures.

“Thank you dear,” her voice drips with honey and warmth.

I smile, “It’s nothing.”

“It rarely is.” The reply startles me. Confusion furrowing my brow. Once all the ornaments are back in the basket she reaches into her pocket and withdraws a small gold snowflake. “For your kindness.”

“Oh I couldn’t.”

“I insist,” she replies and before I can object further she presses the snowflake into my palm. A strange warmth radiates from within and I watch the light from the Christmas illuminations play in its grooves. When I glance back up, she's gone. Not walking away. Gone. The space under the lone hanging light remains bare, not even a footprint in the snow.

Trying to shake the unease that now coats my skin I hastily make my way back to the entrance, thinking a good night’s sleep will hopefully erase the whole strange encounter. The gates loom ahead, and as I step through, I’m enveloped in warmth. Not from the heated stalls or the fire pits but something deeper. Something that soaks into the very marrow of my bones. The illuminations above suddenly burst! A pillar of brilliant, blinding light cuts through the dark, fracturing into thousands of glowing particles that tumble from the sky. I reach out expecting the sharp sting of the snowflakes, but then one settles on my arm. Gold. Liquid sunlight clings to my skin. It gathers in the folds of my jacket and settles on my head. The market behind me blazes back to life and I stand under a shower of gold. In complete shock I almost miss the snowflakes that whirl past carrying with them the faint sound of laughter. The old woman's laughter. When I look back, one last time, high above the market, I see the outline of a figure shaking out her feather blankets, sending snow drifting over the city below.

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar is a prestigious platform celebrating the diverse voices of writers worldwide. This event encourages participants to explore their creativity and share their unique stories, poems, and essays with a global audience. The competition is renowned for its commitment to fostering artistic expression and providing a space for emerging and established writers to showcase their talent.

We extend our heartfelt thanks to Olivia Osborne for her enchanting submission, "When The Lights Go Out," to the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Her story of folklore and kindness reminds us of the warmth and light that small acts can bring into our lives. We appreciate her contribution and look forward to seeing more of her creative work in the future.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.