I was CRAZY busy last weekend but I wanted to write something, since my participation in flash contests has been lacking as of late. So I stopped by The angry Hourglass, only for a moment, and submitted a quick little story. Well, I guess sometimes less is more because I got an honorable mention from our wonderful judge Brett Milam. His comments were very kind and made my day!
“Nietzsche said it was his ambition to say in ten sentences what others say in a whole book. There’s something palpable to brevity when done right, especially in the context of an already limited-word genre, like flash fiction. In this case, you’ve said in six words what others utilized another 354 words to accomplish. But I like it because it’s apropos of the prompt and it says everything in those six words. And now I’ve already gone on over 12 times longer than the story, so I’ll stop.“
This story got an Honorable Mention over at The Angry Hourglass. The picture below was our inspiration. Scroll to the bottom to see what our judge, Brian S Creek, had to say.
I feel trapped in a box here. I don’t know who I am or who I want to be. I need some time away. So, I’ve joined a carnival to be the Tea Cup Ride attendant. I know what you’re thinking. “How can you find yourself, chained to a ride in the hot sun?” But I need a change of scenery. I’ve told you I want to travel. Twelve cities in three months! I need variety and this town, population 1200, just isn’t cutting it. I will be back in time for school. That is unless I meet a cute guy and elope.
Judges thoughts: “Caitlin played with the format and only used one third of the allowed word count but it all works brilliantly. My favourite thing was the outside-the-box take on the prompt, using the cup to represent the carnival ride.”
I did not enter it because I was too busy to write a story during the allotted time. Unfortunately most of these events are on the weekend which is my busiest time of the week. But That’s not going to keep me from trying them out just for the enjoyment of writing.
Cayla’s Worst Fear
Cayla knew that something wasn’t right when she walked in the front door. The familiar cracking and popping of her grandmother’s record player filled the stale air. There was a slight burnt smell coming from the kitchen.
“Grandma? It’s Cayla….you in the bathroom?” No answer.
Cayla made her way to the kitchen. There on the stove was a pot, bone dry, burner still on. She turned it off quickly, dropped her book bag on the floor and hurried to the living room.
“Grandma?” Still no answer. Smokey stretched and arched on the couch and hopped off, prancing over to greet her.
“Where’s your momma?” She reached down to pet him. Purring, he leaned into her hand. Walking over to the record player she stepped on something crunchy…cereal. Her grandmother would never have left anything on the floor. She was the cleanest women she knew, obsessed with having everything just so. Nor would she have left a pot on the stove unattended.
Something’s wrong. She thought to herself, starting to panic.
“Grandma! Where are you?” Her voice cracked with worry. She ran down the hall and into the bathroom. The light was on, but the room was empty. Too preoccupied to worry about turning off the light, she ran up the stairs to her grandmother’s room.
“Grandma?” She ripped the door open, frantic now, and froze. There her grandmother lay, quiet and still. Too still.
Tears welled up behind her eyes, a small cry stuck in the back of her throat. She knew what she would find when she leaned in to kiss her forehead. Cold.
She looked peaceful.
Cayla’s heart ached. The tears, now free falling, dropped onto her grandmother’s cheek. She wiped them off and stepped back from the bed. Her only friend lay lifeless in front of her. She was utterly alone.