Congratulations to Ash Leonard as winner of the March Flash Fiction competition for Entry No. 6, Waste. Take a look at it below.
Flash Fiction entries are open to Ballarat Writers Inc members only, but anyone may vote for their favourite story.
This month’s Flash Competition parameters are:
Key word/phrase: dead sheep
Word count: not more than 25 words (the title is excluded from the word count)
Conditions of entry
Your entry must:
- Be in 12 point Times New Roman font
- Have single line spacing
- Have a title
- Include the author’s name
- Include the word count, not including the title
- Be submitted as a Word.doc, or .docx file (PDF files lose all formatting in their transition)
Submit entries to: email@example.com by 4 pm Friday, 23rd March 2018. Voting will open here the next day and will close at 4 pm on Wednesday, 28th March.
Our next Member’s Night is held at the Bunch of Grapes Hotel in Pleasant Street on Wednesday, 28th March where the winner of this month’s flash fiction competition will be announced. The evening starts at 7pm and all are most welcome. You can have a very good meal there from about 6pm and then stay on for the fun and frivolity.
Flash Fiction Entries for March:
What a bumper crop!
Entry 1 A Waste
Sheep must die eventually,
I know that.
But this was odd.
My big rambling ram now motionless,
joined to dirt and maggots.
What a waste.
Entry 2 Pass the Potatoes Please
I gazed into the book swap box. Dead Sheep by Craig Coulson. A collection of musings by the amused. I read it in one night.
Entry 3 Gunfire
A newsflash crackles over the radio: trouble down Rooney’s Road.
Dead sheep litter the paddocks. Taggerty’s gang again.
I ram home the cartridges – payback time.
Entry 4 Heaven Scent
I opened the front door to a pretty girl holding an open perfume bottle.
“What is it?”
“Perfume; Heaven Scent.”
I smelled; “Nope, Dead Sheep.”
Entry 5 To the Rescue
a fisherman and his tinnie
with a load of hay
for the farmer’s prize ram
on an island of dead sheep
Entry 6 Waste
Lack of rain confuses the land, the livestock, the bank accounts. Dead sheep dot the paddock. Wasted. A sign wobbles in the wind. ‘For Sale’.
Entry 7 A Marketeer’s Dream
Not your loveable livestock
And supposedly not so simple either
Fodder for big business
Bloodthirsty bureaucrats easily bleeding them dry
Sentimentality’s the hook
Entry 8 Lambing Season
The unexpected frost, well into lambing season, claimed a newborn, yes they’re only animals, but one dead sheep was a loss felt by us all.
Entry 9 First-time Mum
First-time mum gave birth to a stillborn lamb, she was perplexed and unprepared, but the flock rallied around her as we removed the dead sheep.
Entry 10 Dead Sheep
Bones alone mark their fall,
Bleached white, like headstones in Bomana War Cemetery.
Jesus, Lamb of God, died for us.
To the slaughter, all.
Entry 11 No more Baa Baa Black Sheep
Dead sheep dotted the paddocks, eyes glazed, slack-jawed, flies buzzing. No more woollen blankets and jumpers, or Mum’s Sunday lamb roasts. Another Nursery Rhyme extinct.
Entry 12 Dolly
I saw it happen twice before. Back to life and a sluggish crawl. The dead sheep without a soul. Science advances, perhaps without toll.
Voting closes at 4.00 pm on Wednesday 28 March 2018