UPDATED WITH WINNER - LitReactor's Flash Fiction Smackdown: May Edition
Flash fiction: A style of fictional literature marked by extreme brevity.
Welcome to LitReactor's Flash Fiction Smackdown, a monthly bout of writing prowess.
How It Works
We give you inspiration in the form of a picture, poem, video, or similar. You write a flash fiction piece using the inspiration we gave you. Put your entry in the comments section. One winner will be picked and awarded a prize.
The Rules
- 15 words. You can write less, but not more.
- It can be any genre.
- Give it a title. Please keep it to 10 words or less.
- We're not exactly shy, but let's stay away from senseless racism or violence.
- One entry per person.
- Editing your entry after you submit it is permitted.
- LitReactor staffers can't win, but are encouraged to participate.
- All stories submitted on or before May 29 will be considered. We'll run the winner on May 30.
This Month's Prize
This month's winner will get an ARC of Not For Nothing, (one of) the latest from LitReactor Alum Stephen Graham Jones. Here's a teaser:
A novel written in second person. The town is Stanton, Texas, population three thousand; the private investigator is disgraced Midland homicide detective Nicholas Bruiseman, who's so down on his luck that he's forced to take a job as a live-in security guard for the town's lone storage facility. This is his new life—starting over with nothing in the town he grew up in.
Your Inspiration
Photo by John Ryan
Now get writing!
And the Winner is ...Thuggish
This goofy entry stood out among the wistful and somewhat creepy entries that predominated this month's contest. This entry was funny, but also instantly imaginable to me. I can totally see this as an album cover with Mr. Mathers in the foreground in a hoodie looking pouty/hard.
Marshal Mathers LP 3
When Eminem relapses again, he thinks this was his house growing up.
Column by Taylor Houston
Taylor Houston is a genuine Word Nerd living in Portland, OR where she works as a technical writer and volunteers on the marketing committee for Wordstock, a local organization dedicated to writing education. She has a BA in Creative Writing and Spanish from Hamilton College and attended Penn State's MFA program in Creative Nonfiction. She has taught writing at all levels from middle school to college to adult, and she is the creator of Writer’s Cramp, a class for adults who just want to write!
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Comments
My Father's House
Their rot started from the inside, chewing at the edges, until they both collapsed.
entry withdrawn.
good luck you all. :)
Home is the Lonliest Prison
With the windows broken and doors unhinged we were finally free to live.
First and Last
He asked. "Yes."
Laid warm together. Later, woke cold.
She asked. "No."
Living changed everything.
The Withered House
A withered house beckoned quietly, echoing eternally.
House of Memories, House of Fears
Beneath the many gables of your house of memories, the boarded windows flank no doors.
Land of Discovery
His hands were too busy to be handy.
The internet sirens trapped him.
Decay
The stench lingered long after they found the bodies.
Childhood Home
Black skies
Scorched earth
Burned alive
But never again
What I See When I Look At Old Family Photos
Invisible man. Too close. Wants to touch me. Comfort. Soothe. I resist. He dances away.
Abandoned
Scabby and stilted. Waiting and withered. He can't accept that she's not coming back.
The House Always Wins
When he gained possession of the house, he'd no idea the house would
possess him.
The Black Widow
His haunting cries from below the eves, the merry black widow rolls up her sleeves.
Marshal Mathers LP 3
When Eminem relapses again, he thinks this was his house growing up.
Sounds of sepia
In its debacle, the crippled crib cries a loud dread, shushing my worries.
Driving Past
"What's that place?"
"A house someone built but never lived in. Problems with the bank."
The House
When you're in you can't get out, you're stuck forever noone can help.
Grandmothers, Gods, and Dreams
Trees, once bearing fruit, held these on handmade swings.
Dust covered my old chair. But it couldn't cover the memories.
Madness Comes Home
The sound wasn't wind echoing through broken panes, it was laughter.
Don’t Close Your Eyes Lest It Disappear
Smelling the wood rot in disbelief and wonder. These days, even human remnants are sparse.
DHS
Four walls, two guardians, and a roof does not a home make. Missing my tent.
The House Made Me Do It
He twisted the wedding ring on his finger and looked around. This place was perfect.
Oak Flooring
We tore down the forest to build shelter from it.
http://williamgrit.com/2014/05/10/the-rent-is-cheap/
Unintended Consequences
I approached the home of my childhood. If only memories let me be.
When The World Moves On
Paint peels.
Wood splits.
Foundations crumbles.
We saw it coming, but that made no difference.
Bleak House
My body decays, the weeds suffocate, by-passers shun, trespassers have fun.
Horror modeling sucks.
::Foster Care::
The cumulus clouds evanesced, but the horrors committed upon those abandoned children never will.
SKY
See the sky is made of dust, a longing, a promise of long lost lust.
Bleached Painted Lady
I’ve found another home for the thoughts and pray for locks on the doors.
Patience
The house was just as he left it, but she wasn't.
Childhood Home
What memory and magistrate condemned, only time can erode.
Settlements
Executives in hard hats and glossy shoes thrusted shovels in a homesteads previously tilled soil.
I never questioned your winners. But this month, damn.
Congratulations Thuggish.
I quite liked the entry, and am just happy to have participated in this fun competition. So thank you for giving us the opportunity to create.