Another challenge for July for Flash Fiction.
Your entry has to be about a meeting of two people. You have a maximum of 100 words for one person’s point of view and 100 for the other person’s point of view.
So, 200 words maximum – no minimum.
And the winner is …. Entry #3 from Linda Young. Well done. By far the most voted for.
Four entries this month. You can vote for the one you like best using the poll below.
Entry 1 – Of God
1st para 95 words 2nd para 99 words
“Of course there’s a God. He does everything for us. He’s forgiving, generous, takes care of us and loves us all. He rules and orders our lives. He promises us a place beside him in Heaven. He forgives our sins and gives us eternal life. Just look around, do you not see the beautiful world He has given us? The birds, the animals, and all the creatures and living things on this earth and beneath the sea; He made them all, for us, his children, to enjoy. Do you think all this happened by chance?”
“If that’s the case my friend, then why do we have war and pestilence? Why does he cause a bus to crash that kills 40 people, and when one person survives we call that God’s intervention – a miracle? Isn’t that a dreadful thing to do to us?
That great Greek thinker, Epicurus, said,
“Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able?
Then he is not omnipotent.
Is he able, but not willing?
Then he is malevolent.
Is he both able, and willing?
Then whence cometh evil?
Is he neither able nor willing?
Then why call him God?”
Entry 2 – NO LIES
Words – Him 97 Her 67
“Excuse me mister, but my friend Shyanne would not lie to me!”
“No, I reversed out of the parking bay and as I went into first gear, there was the slightest touch onto the rear of a car in the opposite bay. I got out; there was no damage to either vehicle, so I drove away.”
“Shyanne said it was an older man who stove in the passenger side front of my car. She said it was you in a dark blue car.”
“Hey! I’m thirty-three. My car is light blue, not dark, and, if yours was so badly damaged there would have to be some damage to mine. Check please.”
“No, there’s no damage, and it is light blue. But she said it was you in the Aldi carpark.”
“I was in Coles next door. I saw a girl smash a bollard in Aldi. She was young, wearing a red top and tartan skirt.”
“Shit, it was bloody Shyanne! The lying little bitch!”
Entry 3 – Stand in Judgement
She struggles onto the tram, finds her balance and looks around for a seat. Grabs a strap and glares at the young bloke seated near her, his hoody pulled down, eyes on his mobile phone.
“Typical,’ she grumbles, lips pursed, ‘always looking at the phone, doesn’t see anyone else. Just like the rest of them. Look at that dirty jumper, and jeans in tatters, what would his mother think of him?’
She grips her purse firmly in front of her, and tightens her hold on the strap.
The young bloke’s in his own world, looking at photos of his parent’s European holiday. He’s happy; has the house to himself while they’re away. Needs to plan for the exams coming up, so gets off the phone, stuffs it in his pocket and glances up.
He catches sight of her standing there, trying to hold on, and feels a tug of his heart. ‘She looks just like my gran,’ he thinks, and jumps up. ‘Sorry, have a seat, I didn’t see you’. He senses her hesitations so moves away, thinks again of his gran and dials her number.
She grunts, plonks down on the seat and gives a loud sniff.
Entry 4 – The Street.
The young mum held tight to her little girl’s hand, staring, eyes narrowed, at the old man sitting outside the café. His hair was matted; beard scraggly. As he muttered to himself he picked at his fingernails, black and dirty from years of unwashed toil.
“I bet he smells horrible,” she thought, silently vowing to keep clear as she passed by.
Then she was distracted by the sale items in the store window and promptly forgot all about him.
We watched the street together, she and I. She arrived at my table with no announcement, plonked herself down and began her observations. Her ponytail bobbed as she talked, her large round preschool eyes smiling at me.
She liked talking to old people because they had lots of stories to tell. She didn’t mind if people were fat and wobbly or skinny and knobbly. She smiled benignly at them all, passing us by as we chatted.
The young mum turned from the window, froze.
“Narelle – get away from that old derro; get into the bloody car!”
As her Mum grabbed her hand to drag her away, she looked back apologetically and gave me a sad, tentative little wave.
Total word count: 197
Young mum – 99
Old man – 98
Entries close Wednesday 18th July at midnight. Voting will open as soon as possible after that and close at 8pm on Tuesday 24th July. Winner announced at Members Night July 25th.
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)
- You must be a current member of Ballarat Writers.
Submit entries to: firstname.lastname@example.org.