500 Words 2025/26: read a finalist's story from the 5-7 category

Remember, spelling, punctuation and grammar are not taken into account for a 500 Words story, therefore all the top 50 stories have been published how they were submitted.

Hey - It's Jude Again by Tamera A.

Hey - it's Jude again.I never thought I'd be this nervous…but here we are, first day for Atlas, my little dude, five years old, tics and all.

Sun spills gold across our little suburban house in Tennessee,toast and laughter scattered across the table.

I hum softly, like my mum did,to steady both my nerves and Atlas's.

"Ready, Atlas?" I ask.He nods, fists clenched, body steady,His tics flare - a whistle, then a roara whispered sound that pulls attentionto the neighbours doorI remember my first day at primary,heart slow, palms sweaty,faces blurry, laughter surroundedand how Mum held me in her arms, calm.even when I stuttered and swallowed my words.

I kneel, eye-to-eye,"Hey, buddy. You've got this.If it gets too scary, I'll be right here.We'll breathe through it. Just like a cloud,"

He smiles, small but upbringing.I grab his little hand - warm, fragile, steady -and we walk to the gate of St Heritage Primary.

Mrs. Clark smiles, warm, kind.Other kids launch into the classroom.some stayed back.He flinches, I squeeze his hand,and the rhythm of my hummingwraps around him like a cosy blanketon a winters day.

A tic bursts out, one after the other, -I nod, steady."All good, Atlas.I'll wait here. You're a superhero you know!?"You're brave. You're strong,"

The bell rings, the crowd grew bigger,and he steps inside, slowly but surely.

I stay on the playground outside,heart beating and swelling at once,remembering every last day,every birthday, every time he friendand how he makes courage bloom.

Tennessee's morning air hums around me,my mum's off-beat singing,the quiet chaos of home -and now it lives in me,as I watch my son create his own story.The bell finally rings, and Atlas bursts through the wooden door,his little curls bouncing, shoes sliding on the floor.

Tics still flicker, quick and sharp, but he's fast , small and proud.I scoop him up in a superhero pose, warm and steady,"Tell me how was it?" I say,and he chatters on and on, words tumbling over tics, laughter , and excitement.

We walk home through the dirty streets,noticing the sun going down . low.the old teasing I had, had no repetition.and I hummed my mums hum she hummed when I was smallletting the rhythm steady us both.

We talk about his new friend,what made him happy, what made him sad, whatand I remember my sister,how she held me tight on my first day,and now I can do the same,because In this chaotic familyechoes across generations never stop

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