Writing : Flash Me! NOVEMBER - WAR QUOTES

Sugar  (724 words)

The young woman stood in a bar of sunlight coming in through the window of the kitchen.  It was morning and dew was on the grass outside.  She liked this time of day, with its fresh beginnings and potentials new and fresh as the toddler in the living room.  She smiled and decided that she would make a breakfast of cinnamon and sugar on buttered toast for herself and the boy.

Fastidious, she assembled her materials by the toaster so that once the toast popped out, she could smear on the butter and put on the cinnamon and sugar while it was still hot.  It was best that way.  She looked in the little cupboard, which she had never been able to properly stock with her husband’s little, hard-won paychecks.  It had an unexpected blank spot where the sugar canister was supposed to be. She frowned.  Where--?

She heard a squeal of delight from the living room and realized the boy, two years old (the terrible twos, Aggie, they’re after you!), had been quiet for a little too long.  He was never quiet, unless he was into mischief, and she thought she knew where her sugar might have gone.  He’d been so engrossed in Sesame Street when she’d gone to the bathroom, she hadn’t thought he could have gotten into anything.
She hoped he was eating it.  She knew it was an odd thing for a mother to want as soon as she thought it, but Jimmy Carter’s economy was tight and her little family’s economy was even tighter, and she knew she and her husband didn’t have a dime to spare on a new bag of sugar right now.  So she hope he was eating it instead of--

“Oh, mercy, Will!” she said as she came around the dividing wall between the kitchen and living room.  She could see the lights from his show reflecting off the wall.  The little boy sat with his back to her, bouncing up and down on his little butt, squealing and watching t.v.  He was perched on top of a five-pound mountain of sugar he had poured from the canister and into the olive green shag carpet.  His hands jagged back and forth in the air in front of him in excitement.  Her heart sank. 

She began to say, “Little boy, you’re going to get it!”  She could never bring herself to be completely angry with him, he was just a little monkey, but she was really upset and that’s all she could think of to say.  But she only got as far as, “Little b--”  As she came fully into the living room she fell completely silent.  A hand went to her mouth, covering a gasp.  Little Will giggled and shook.

Two men fought on top of the television set.  They were about four inches tall and the grunts and shouts they made were very small, but their fight was very real and very vicious.  It was a clumsy affair, the kind of fight someone might choreograph if they had only seen fights on t.v.  They punched and kicked and bit.  One flew at the other, his movements mechanical and alien, gouging for the face.  The other fell over and impaled the other’s gut with a kick.  As they fought, their heads changed.  Sometimes they would look like the heads of the green plastic army men Will’s uncle Darren had brought for Will’s second birthday.  Then they would warp into hideous, buttery versions of the puppets that lived in Mr. Rogers’ neighborhood.  Their blood dripped down the screen of the console t.v.  They stopped fighting.  The one on the left, now looking like a gore-covered Raggedy Andy, pushed itself to its feet.  They both stood looking directly at her.

Then Will turned around to look at her and she jerked back, recoiled from her baby boy as if he were a snake.  His face, cherubic and fat and sweet, was a new face, the whites of his eyes a bright, stark red, his forehead creased.  He laughed again, that sweet sound so familiar, but when he opened his mouth she saw teeth that had been filed to points.  He looked at her and he knew her and though he could not speak in complete sentences yet he said in his baby-voice, “Mommy, they want to play with you.  Play with my friends, Mommy.”

Maybe you could privately suggest that some of us withdraw and put ours in April.  (Joking, of course, sort of.)

Speaking of April, where's the new thread? 

April should be 100 words max.

That's like saying blue should be green this month - lol.

1000 words is flash to every publishing market - just saying.  100 words would be cool - didn't we do a 50 word for Utah a few months back?  that was cool too.

Sounds like we need a microfiction thread - just so waters aren't muddied.

I'm with you MattF, in spirit - for my March submit I did a 7 part microfiction serial, just for the challenge of it, for the utter fun of it.  7 individual micro-storys - built one on another - as a singular flash of 1000 words.

as for Chester's lasting thread - it's his baby - no matter what anybody else wants to do.  He did after all bump it to 1000 words for May (from - 500 previous) - who is to say the guy won't tweak it again.  He makes the rules for the ride - those that want to play gotta live by them.

I do, however - for the mere sake of working toward publication (which is why most of us are here) - enjoy the 1000 words - it is a good way to start thinking about what the markets want.
 

Chester and I actual discussed that very thing a while back - had a (what I think) good idea.  I haven't pulled the trigger on it - maybe one day it will see the light of day.

*blushes*

But yes, micro-fiction is great fun. I for one would like to see more micro-fiction entries. How about it Chester? Maybe later this year you could run a micro version of Flash Me for a month, maybe a 150 word limit? Would be fun

Love to. Count me in. :-)

Good stuff.

Right people. I want you to flash me, and flash me good. Girls or boys, it's all good. Show me what ya got.

@Chester Are you only publishing winners or winners AND finalists?

And have fun wickedvoodoo - may April submits be greater than March - Here's to 30 submissions in the next 20 days!

See, I like that this thread is open because it's pretty a little bit cooler posting flash here than on some blog-type zine where you're not getting paid anyway, so it's  good release for edgy, rough and daring flash. But then there's if you want to work that story further and sell it, and that this is basically a community-based competition, so this is really for us only. But then there is that this is a good thread for newbies to come in and show everybody up. So, to conclude, Chester, I don't know what you should do. But I'll still dig it either way.

I think I'll try to win April, and secure a spot in a supposed anthology. Except my April stories will strictly be butt sex stories, plus gardening implements.

@Chester:  so have you posted a poll for the March flashes?  Am I blind?  Or just a retard?

Excellent on all counts.  Man I love Nordstroms.  Just say that word.  Nordstroms.  How could I not?

You probably already saw that Chester edited the title but I'll say it here too.

The piece that wins the april vote will be offered a slot on Solarcide alongside Chester's usual (and frankly awesome) prize selection.

So let me have it people.

To maybe inspire you I shall pop the odd prompt into the thread over the next week or so. There are no bonus points whatsoever awarded for actually following the prompts but I'll post them anyway, because I want to and because I can. I will still be happy to see off-the-cuff flashing.

Rock on people <---- that's your cue to flash

Prompt number 1 (The Quote) From the queen of condense writing, madam Amy Hempel.

A blind date is coming to pick me up, and unless my hair grows an inch by seven o' clock, I am not going to answer the door.

Yeah. Fuck it, why not. Chester is paying anyway so go to town. Wanna meet Will Baer in a 7 star hotel in Dubai? Sure thing.

Was that an entry Danny? It seemed fictional enough. Ha.