February 2019 Flash Fiction

It’s that time again …

The prompt for this month is “S is for …” Only 100 words maximum this time. Should be easy, right?

Apparently S is for Snare!! Or so the polling tells us. Congratulations to Richenda Rudman for her contribution.

Seven entries this month – and you have a tough choice to make. Read, enjoy and vote below the last entry. You have until midnight on Tuesday 26th February to choose your favourite Flash Fiction entry.

Entry # 1 – S is for…

Scintillating simple. Sally had a way of making everything so obvious. She wasn’t like other girls. You never had to guess at how she was feeling or wonder if you’d done something out of line with her expectations; if you had, you’d know.

‘Say what you mean and mean what you say’ was her motto.

Never a more uncomplicated relationship had there been. She and Ludo were happy and so, when Sally started getting overly sensitive and questioning Ludo’s every move, he became suspicious.

What had changed in her world that could effect them like this? Soon he’d find out.


Entry #2 – S is for …

… your silhouette, like a shadow is just a spectre, a sneaky shape-shifter that doesn’t move

the same as you move, it stretches you and it shrinks you, as you stroll around.

Sometimes it vanishes, simply disappears, one moment it is there, the next it is gone,

but it will eventually come running back and stitch itself to your feet. If you stand still, it will stand still too.


S is for silhouette, that most awkward of words to spell, a work of moving art, that dances along with you; whether you want it or not, the silhouette doesn’t care.


Entry #3 – Innocence

It’s written in big letters up on the blackboard. S is for…….

Miss Green addresses her 4th grade students.

‘Can anyone tell me what S is for?’

She looks around the room as the students stare back; frowns on their faces, eyes blank, shuffling and squirming in their seats.

Suddenly Penny’s hand shoots up. She waves madly as excitement lights up her face.

“I know, I know,’ she yells out.

‘Very good Penny, tell us, what is S for?’

Penny jumps up. ‘S is for slut, that’s what daddy calls mummy.’

Then she frowns. ‘But what does it mean Miss?’


Entry # 4 – S is for . . . Simply Shakespeare

Cry havoc, the old scribbler wrote. Lend me your ears! Wherefore art thou succumbing to the disease of not listening? Idiots, mad mustachio purple-hued maltworms govern! Midsummer madness! We cannot protest too much, methinks. Screw courage to the sticking place! Find faithful friends and take arms – against a sea of nunneries if needs be! Is this a dagger? How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is! Only believe that tomorrow and tomorrow the best may yet come. We’ll be or not be. Frailty, thy name is . . . though what’s in a name when all the world’s a stage?


Entry # 5 – S is for Snare

I only played with Stephanie once. Her mother was Swiss and their large house had a housekeeper and a turquoise pool, which I had long coveted through the fence.

After swimming, Stephanie showed me her dolls from around the world.               ‘They are for display only,’ she said sternly.

In her mother’s bathroom, Stephanie insisted on putting some moisturiser, from France, on my face and then told her mother I had stolen it.

I was sent home, sobbing, and Stephanie’s mother rang mine to say I was a liar and a thief. My mother called her a bitch.

I still agree.

Entry # 6 –

Stupid last minute instructions, he didn’t need. He knew what to pack for the long journey to Perth from Geraldton , and after all , hadn’t he given her the long letter on what to bring for the baby when they moved her and the four boys from Mt. Barker to Geraldton , all those years ago…

The old truck was comfortable enough for the two of them , well for a man maybe, but not so much for a three year old girl …still there was no way that she would stay behind.

They left happy that morning ..


Entry #7 – Second

700 submissions.

600 serendipitous situations.

70 serenades.

Several somber.

Some, seductively secretive sweaty seclusion’s, supporting secretions.

Scary spiders.

Sumptuous stilettos, separating seasoned sexagenarians seeking solitude.

Sony shoppers sipping sangria’s.

Skinny Señorita’s satisfying sleazy screenwriters.

Syllables smashing sideways, slipping subliminally.

Soliloquies soothing souls.

Stockings stuffed.

Seaside sounds shifting sadness.

Socceroo’s sporting speedos.

Sunsets solidifying soldiers sacrifice.

Silver Suzuki’s saving stranded salty sea-lions, stupid.

Suffering scribbles searching shifting solutions.

Soaring sonnets.

Suicidal slits seeping sorrows.

Sedated sissy’s subjugating status.

Stormy Seattle, still serene.

Somehow she said see-ya.

Stories, scenarios, settings, salvation.

Sequels suck.

60 seconds stolen.






Normal rules apply:

Entries must be in by midnight Wednesday 20th February 2019. Voting will open soon after and close at 11.59pm on Tuesday 26th. Winner announced at the Members Night on 27 February 2019.

Conditions of entry

Your entry must:

  1. Be in 12 point Times New Roman font
  2. Have single line spacing
  3. Have a title
  4. Include the author’s name
  5. Include the word count, not including the title
  6. Be submitted as a Word.doc, or .docx file (PDF files lose all formatting in their transition)
  7. You must be a current member of Ballarat Writers.

Submit entries to: competitions@ballaratwriters.com

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