Chuck Wendig’s flash fiction challenge this week was to
write a story in three sentences and 100 words. Like all stories, it needs a
beginning, a middle and an end.
I thought Hemingway won that one with his brevity. According
to legend, he won a bet with a six word story.
“For sale: baby shoes,
never worn.”
Even snopes.com can’t work that one out. They think it
encapsulates his writing style and it definitely appeared in a play about him.
But it is unconfirmed. Pity. It’s too clever and so thought provoking.
But, in any case, here are my less than one hundred word
efforts. I wrote two and then chose to enter the second one. The happy ending
seemed less ‘real’, sadly.
They met, on an
intersection during a summer storm when her skirt blew up and in frantically
pushing it down; she walked straight into him and spilt his coffee all over his
crisp, white shirt. They connected, at an apology lunch because lunches were
safer, that ended with them tumbling into bed in a passionate afternoon of
lovemaking. They continued, through arguments, childbirth, and the unexpected
issues that life throws at you, until together as always, they went gently into
that long good night.
84 words
OR
They met, on an
intersection during a summer storm when her skirt blew up and in frantically
pushing it down; she walked straight into him and spilt his coffee all over his
crisp, white shirt. They connected, at an apology lunch because lunches were
safer, that ended with them tumbling into bed in a passionate afternoon of
lovemaking. They shattered, separated by lawyers and barristers and walls that
they didn’t remember building.
72 words
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