Flash Fiction Contest

Today it's my privilege to publish Tim Knopp's winning story. Vonda and I have absolutely loved reading this stories and I'm certain this contest will become an annual event. Not sure what I"m referring to? Here is the first and the second about our first annual, Flash Fiction Contest!


'Til Forever
by Tim Knopp
Morning cast her golden countenance over the room rescuing Eric from a fitful sleep.  His lower back twinged as he rolled to where his wife should lay.  Empty.  Had she slept?  Or like him had she tossed until the night kindly dragged her away?  The coolness of the sheet suggested she hadn’t waited for morning’s coaxing to rise.  Throwing back the blanket, Eric stretched on the edge of the bed unsure how his comforter had been so inappropriately named.

He stepped on stiff legs to the dresser by the bedroom door.  A framed picture of his wife held a tiny note in its crook, and he lifted them both to his tired eyes.  Funny, he thought staring at the picture, how the years had aged her without his noticing.  She had outgrown the homecoming queen of his memories.  Still, a beautiful woman was a beautiful woman, and he thanked the Lord for such blessings.

Pulling the note from the frame, he opened the bedroom door.  A half dozen strangers occupied his living room, some lounging their grey heads on his couch, others in white uniforms moving busily around the place.

“Hey,” he called, his voice hoarse and dry.  “What’s going on here?”

A small, middle-aged thing approached him.  The tag on her uniform read “CLEARVIEW RETIREMENT”.  “Oh, Mr. Stewart.  Good morning.  Have you read your wife’s note yet?  That usually helps.”

Confused how this woman would know of his wife’s note, he gazed at the paper held in his shriveled fingers.

“God doesn’t just love; He is Love,” Eric read aloud.  “Remember that when you can no longer remember me.  Yours ‘til forever, Eva”.

The tear of a half-memory soaked the faded note.  Eric smiled at the nurse in bittersweet recollection, just as he had each morning for years.

Flash Fiction Contest Winners!

Today, I'm posting our Second Place Winner in the Upstate Fellowship of Christian Writers Flash Fiction Contest! Not certain what's going on? Read Friday's post here and get up to date!

Soraya
by Marcia Moston

Soraya Rasheeb closed her mind to the metallic stench of blood and raw meat that settled on her hair and lined her nostrils. She plunged her latex-gloved hand into the cavity of the chicken and tugged at its innards before the conveyor belt delivered the next clammy carcass.

“Listen, Sugar, this isn’t exactly the fine jewelry department at Macys. I ain’t gonna get my black butt fired cuz of you. Yank them things out of there and get goin’.”Sweat beaded on Latisha’s smooth dark skin. She was one of the women from the shelter who was thankful to have landed a job, even if it was at the chicken factory. Next to her was Lori. Both were rebuilding lives that had been shattered by drugs, men or misfortune.

Soraya nodded and pushed the chicken down the line. She remembered a time when strands of fine jewelry had slid through her fingers, when someone else cooked her meals and washed her clothes, a time when … she pushed the memory away. It was best forgotten. They were all refugees of one sort or another now.

A commotion snapped her out of her reverie.

“Hey, whatcha doin? You okay?”

A silver-haired woman stumbled away from her spot in line. Her slurred words incoherent. She swayed and then fell onto the conveyor belt, her hand catching in the rollers before the emergency switch shut down.  Blood squirted from her wrist as she lay unconscious.

A yelled, “Someone Help her!” failed to mobilize the shocked group standing there in their white paper jackets and hair nets. “Can’t somebody do something?”

Slowly, like an emerging photo in dark room, a memory surfaced, took form, propelled Soraya Rasheeb, gifted doctor from Kabul Afghanistan, to action.

“I can.”

Thursday Review—Flash Fiction Contest Winners

I purposely didn't post my Thursday review yesterday. I wanted to wait a day so you'd have the opportunity to read some great flash fiction. Our local writers group just held our first annual Flash Fiction Contest. Yesterday we announced the winners at our group's Christmas party.

If you're not familiar with Flash Fiction, it's a growing genre of micro fiction. It's an entire story told in a very short word count. The word count for our contest was 300 words. Depending on the submission guidelines, the word count can vary, any where from 100 words up to 1000. It's harder to do than you might think. But our winners did a great job!

So with no further ado, drumroll please!

First Place
Lori Roeleveld for
Old Soldiers Never Die


Second Place
Marcia Moston for
Soraya


Third Place
Tim Knopp
'Til Forever


And we decided to add an honorable mention because the scoring was so incredibly close:

Honorable Mention
Jen Bobo for
Her Favorite Thing


The next few weeks you'll be in for a treat as we publish some of the winners. Today we're starting with Lori's first place offering.

Old Soldiers Never Die
by Lori Roeleveld

Grandma’s been hearing critters in that attic. See anything, boy?” Howard took a step up the ladder, wincing when it creaked.

“Not one more move, Howard. Leave it to Tommy.” Alice hollered.

“Fine.” He grimaced but then Tommy’s feet appeared. “You got something?”

“No squirrels, but I found this.” He passed down a rectangular package wrapped in Christmas paper.

Howard set it down, bracing the ladder as the teen descended.

“Did I spoil someone’s surprise?” Tommy asked.

Howard sniffed, shaking his head. He folded up the ladder door.

 “What gives?” Tommy asked.

Howard put a finger to his lips and motioned him into the study where he gently unwrapped the G.I. Joe action figure. Tommy examined it then raised his eyebrows, puzzled.

“I bought it for your father when he was, I don’t know, ten.” Howard nodded toward the door.

“You know how your grandmother feels about war toys but, it was all Dennis wanted that year. I meant to surprise him.”

“What happened?”

“Got word on Christmas Eve about my brother. Vietnam was almost over but no one told the land mine that took Trevor.” Howard paused. “Guess I just forgot about it.”

Tommy ran a finger over the clear plastic window. “Dad told me Uncle Trevor’s death is what made him decide to become a missionary, did you know that?”

Howard nodded. “Losing someone young changes you. Made his mother proud.”

“Funny.” Said Tommy. “When he died in that church fire in Indonesia, Grandma said he was a casualty of war.”

“Battle for the kingdom.” Howard sighed. “Keep the toy soldier. Maybe it’ll remind you that we’re all soldiers on a vast battlefield. Always remember what you’re fighting for, Tommy.

Howard watched his grandson flip over the little tag still taped to the box.

“Merry Christmas, son. Love, Dad.”


Be sure to visit Lori on her blog, Deeper With Jesus in Rhode Island.