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Flash fiction is defined (for this competition) as fiction between 300 and 600 words. You are not aloud to go below or above these limits. Flash Fiction is notorious for being wacky, weird, and and quick to the point. For examples google is wonderful. Search terms include, "flash fiction" and "sudden fiction".

You have until December 13th to write an original flash fiction. There are no restrictions on the content of your piece this competition. You may submit one entry and no more.

Entries will be judged on originality and craftsmanship.

As usual, winner gets bragging writes unless a user is up for offering a reward.

Post, drafts on your user page and link to them from this page. The first story you submit in this topic will be taken as your entry and all others will be discarded.

GO! GO! GO!

December 13th?

I might give it a shot.

At 12/2/08 10:19 PM, MonkeyV wrote: December 13th?

I might give it a shot.

Yeah, I know its soon, but the fictions are short so oh well.

At 12/2/08 10:15 PM, gumOnShoe wrote: As usual, winner gets bragging writes unless a user is up for offering a reward.

I got some codes for some XBLA titles if they could be used as prizes. Original Banjo Kazooie, Joust and Worms. Strings of random characters that can be redeemed have no value to me after all.

300 600 words? What?

At 12/2/08 10:36 PM, Sekhem wrote:

At 12/2/08 10:15 PM, gumOnShoe wrote: As usual, winner gets bragging writes unless a user is up for offering a reward.

I got some codes for some XBLA titles if they could be used as prizes. Original Banjo Kazooie, Joust and Worms. Strings of random characters that can be redeemed have no value to me after all.

Alright, if you'd like to offer them up thats cool. You should specify how you are handling shipping, overseas winners etc. But it sounds like there are prizes.

At 12/2/08 11:01 PM, gumOnShoe wrote:

At 12/2/08 10:36 PM, Sekhem wrote:

Alright, if you'd like to offer them up thats cool. You should specify how you are handling shipping, overseas winners etc. But it sounds like there are prizes.

Oh wait, are these for an online store? LOL. I think I misread your post.

Here is my submission:

Stats:
Length (in words): 481
Time to Create: 15 minutes
Passive sentences: 2%
Flesch Reading Ease: 86.4
Flesch-Kincaid Grade Level: 3.8 (Yes! Fourth graders can read it! :0
Messupedness factor (on the Gregor-McLintok sclae): 6.2

A Child at Rest

No one had ever made this much noise before! It was wheezing, muffled and indistinct underneath the pillow, but to him, it sounded like an avalanche! He could feel her voice creep haltingly past his tooth-scarred left hand. The slightly high, slightly feminine voice echoed about the room and reverberated like some shimmering phantasm. Her pale, small hands beat at him in an odd pattern producing more sounds ... oh; those sounds would get him caught.

He had to be quite. He had to press ... just ... a little harder. He couldn't be caught. They all loved him. Why did she have to ruin it! He felt the flush of anger as he pressed more deeply, more passionately on the pillow. Then, out of nowhere he remembered mom. He remembered painting on one of her vases. She loved those vases as much as he loved her. That day was Arts and Crafts day and he learned about color and the power of his fingertips. His fingers were different colors and anything could be his canvas. He could change the world and make it bright and beautiful. It was such a good day. He ran home that day in ecstasy, drenched with anticipation. He applied his powerful fingers to the vase and made them so beautiful and so red. But when mom got home he knew he had done something wrong. He could see it in her eyes. Right before she loosened his left tooth, Danny thought that maybe she loved the vase more than him! But, she always sang to him afterwards. She had such a lovely lilting soprano. She sang just for him and it worked. She loved him with her songs and that was enough.

He could share his mom with the vase, but not another child! He began to sing to his sister in a wispy, childlike voice that sounded concerned for her struggling hands and clenching toes. He sang with a saccharine sweet melody ... trying desperately to calm her twitching and hiccupping sobs. It worked. She began to calm down and the noises were deeper, throatier. He heard her say, "Thank you brother ... she should love you anyway. You paint such lovely pictures!" He heard her mutter thanks again and again until; at last, she was asleep.

It was a long time later, but he still needed to thank her. He understood how much she wanted to live and his stomach felt sick. He started to sob a little and climbed into her bed pulling the covers around them so the dawn wouldn't interfere. She felt different than normal. She felt odd and he couldn't figure out why. He tried to tell her it would be OK. He tried to tell her that she could have some of his toys. He tried to hug her, but it just felt like he was hugging mom.

Who's judging? Just your lonely self?

If you're looking for judges, I'd like to stick my hand up, otherwise I'll just compete. 300-600 words isn't much to work with, but I guess it'll make things a hell of a lot easier for people choosing to participate.

I'll have a go at this, sounds fun and easy enough.

I wish I could judge again like I did back in June, but all the critiques took so much out of me, and I can't afford to spend that much time giving informed reviews during the time beyond Summer.

I might get around to actually writing something, this time, though.

Maybe I'll give it a shot. It's kind of a bad time with finals happening in the next two weeks, but if it's that short I probably could come up with something while I'm in one of my classes this week.

600 words? That won't take too long to write something for. I can do that over the weekend easily. Count me in.

For someone who's holding a writing contest, you made a lot of grammatical errors up there.

I guess I can write. I'm not taking regular English until next semester anyway.

Interesting...Never heard of a "flash fiction" genre. I'll try to give it a shot at and submit it at some point, preferably before the deadline.

Who is judging it by the way? Just out of interest.

I'm the only person judging this time so far, but if you are interested send me a pm.

Flash fictions are short so I figured they would be managable at this time of year. As allways I encourage you to comment on each others work.

I'm probably in. 'Bout time you start up another writing thread, Gum.

Post, drafts on your user page and link to them from this page. The first story you submit in this topic will be taken as your entry and all others will be discarded.

GO! GO! GO!

Must not have caught that part!

Click
here to find my submission.

At 12/3/08 09:05 AM, Brian wrote: I'm the only person judging this time so far, but if you are interested send me a pm.

Flash fictions are short so I figured they would be managable at this time of year. As allways I encourage you to comment on each others work.

^ this is me ^

I might do this yeah.

SO can we write just about anything???

At 12/3/08 09:31 AM, Shadow-1409 wrote: SO can we write just about anything???

Yes.

I'll think about it.

Here is my entry. 521 words.

I'll join in. Do we turn it in on this thread?

My entry. Wrote it a long time ago, but it fits the word count, so I may as well submit it.

At 12/3/08 02:14 PM, Toukeman wrote: I'll join in. Do we turn it in on this thread?

Yes, apparently I didn't make that clear.

POST YOUR ENTRY HERE. 1 COPY, 1 TIME.

At 12/3/08 02:35 PM, gumOnShoe wrote:

At 12/3/08 02:14 PM, Toukeman wrote: I'll join in. Do we turn it in on this thread?

Yes, apparently I didn't make that clear.

POST YOUR ENTRY HERE. 1 COPY, 1 TIME.

Thanks for clearning that up. Turn in is the 13th. Im gonna put some time in this. I'll turn it in tommorow or the day after. Wish me luck.

Here is my terrible entry.

"Mr. Norman," the judge said with palpable contempt for the man he addressed, "you stand trial by a jury of your peers for the crime of raping Ms. Nadine Soaring Eagle. How do you plead?"
"Not guilty, your honor." replied Mr. Jonathan Norman. Not quite middle aged, Mr. Norman had a full head of dark hair, which, when in tandem to his tall stature, made him look like a wet paintbrush from a distance. His slick hair erupted from his head, while the rest of his body seemed confined to grow upward instead of outward. Not a very intelligent man, Mr. Norman was often the cause of many a misunderstanding.

"Very well. Will the prosecution please call their first witness?" the judge said. A large, rotund, piggish sort of man rose from a table and approached the bench. His neck was slick and gleaming with perspiration, his hair greasy and stringy, and his hands and feet curiously small in proportion to the rest of his body, which had no problem in filling whatever space it could. He cleared his throat noisily, and dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief.

"The prosecution calls the defendant, Mr. Jonathan Norman, to the stand." announced the swine-like attorney. Mr. Norman walked to the stand, a look of bewilderment and bemusement on his face. Upon sitting, he was still impressively tall. He and the attorney that summoned him looked like old caricatures of Oliver Laurel and Stan Hardy in an old cartoon, one gangly and the other corpulent, one part unthinking and one part frustration. Mr. Norman fidgeted uncomfortably in his too-small seat, and the prosecutor fidgeted uncomfortably in his too-small suit. The attorney began. "Mr. Norman, you are aware of the charges against you?"

"Yes", Mr. Norman answered. His head nodded up and down with the word, like a giant novelty "drinking bird" often found in fictional corporate offices, adorning the desks of fat cat CEOs. His head went a long way down, and then a long way up.

"So you deny," said the attorney, pointing to his client, a young woman of Native American descent, "that you raped this woman?" Mr. Norman once again voiced his innocence. "My client claims that you were indeed the man who raped her, Mr. Norman. She identified you out of a police lineup as the rapist. Do you still deny raping her?"

"I didn't rape her at all!" Mr. Norman pleaded. "I thought it was consensual."
The attorney looked Mr. Norman dead in the eyes. "You thought it was consensual? My client's recollection of the event had her repeatedly saying 'No' to you!"
"I thought she was being sarcastic", Mr. Norman explained simply.
"Sarcasm does not in any way imply CONSENT, Mr. Norman!" shouted the red-faced attorney. "What you did was rape."
'It most certainly was not", replied a steadfast Mr. Norman.
"Then how do you justify this crime?" asked the prosecutor.
"I claim Manifest Destiny." Mr. Norman crossed his arms confidently. The court room was a mixture of silence and stifled giggles, most of the latter coming from the judge, who hid his face in the sleeve of his robe.

At 12/3/08 02:10 PM, F-E-A-R wrote: Here is my entry. 521 words.

Whoops. Here's my final entry:

This Is A Word Count.

Once again, I bailed on my friends as they needed me most. We were rocking so hard, head banging to MTV that the neighbours blew a fuse and flipped. Maaan, don't they know that Judas Priest is something that you must increase the volume for? Fuck them! THEY GOTTA 'NOTHER THING COMIN'! Anyway, they called the law so I bailed leaving Jimmy to take the fall. Well, it doesn't matter. Jimmy's been in jail and he's experienced it all in there. Especially rape.

Anyway, so I decided to grab a bun and talk to my higher class friends. We're so higher class, we wear suits, have mobile phones and jobs in offices. That's the American dream, to have a wallet full of cash, a nice selection of suits and a nice flat with the latest goods. This week's trend was who had the most money in the bank. I'd finished working at S&T in the accountancy department trying to find additional loop holes to fuck the government out of their bills so I can have more bills for myself.

So I went to a nice little café called Coosh Coosh where they serve the most delicious muffins I have ever tasted! Man! Shame I'm on a diet. We boys in the city, we talk real fast to show how sophisticated we are and don't like to waste time speaking slowly for the lower people. While there I met my friend John. I approached his table as he was finishing up his coffee and sat down. "Hello-John" I spoke quickly, I was surprised only John was there since usually Paul and Gareth is around at this time, he replied just as fast "Hahaha, if-it-isn't-Robert! My-man, I-just-got-paid-and-have-found-$20,000-i n-my-bank-account!".
"That's-nothing! I've-got-$45,000-stashed-away-in-my-bank -account-with-a-high-interest-rate-that-
will-wipe-the-floor-with-you!"
"Hahaha, really?! God-damn-it-Rob...Anyway, I'm-hungry, where-the-fuck-are-we-eating-tonight?!"
"Fuck-knows-man, I'm-eating-in".
"Fucking-hell-Rob...Anyway, gotta-meet-now-at-the-company. Likely-something-useless-like "who-stole-the-cookie-from-the-cookie-ja r" Har har har! See-you-later-Rob!".

As John walked away, I studied his suit and realised that he has a much cheaper suit than me and by the way he walks a much smaller dick than me. The way he tries to walk as though he's made of muscle to make up the small penis size. I then looked down at my nails and looked how smooth my hands really are and how trimmed my nails are. Damn, I look fucking good. Anyway, off to work!

So I walked into a bar I know, had a few drinks. The guy at the bar looked at me strangely but I shrug it off. Maybe the lower class scum is looking at someone else? I hope so. After a few, I go into the toilets, into the stalls and lock the door. After what seemed like ten to fifteen minutes, I hear someone else in the toilet. They go into the stall next to mine and lock the door. I then hear the jingle of a belt. Soon after I saw a large muscular piece of flesh, throbbing with veins and long and thick in size, protruding from the stall wall. I then grabbed the shaft and engulfed my mouth around it.

The things you do to show you are economically and materialistically better than other people.

By the way, I've put hyphens in to make it easier to read but each speech is one word.