Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Spicin' It Up Wednesday Flash Fiction Contest!

**CLOSED**
Congrats to this week's winner Laura Peters!
 
 
 
This week's writing prompt is: He stared at the tattered shirt
 
Now the Rules:

I'll give you a writing prompt and you'll write a story including said prompt that's between 150-250 words. That means it must be at least 150 words BUT no more than 250 words. Leave your story in the comments section below. I'll be the weekly judge and you'll want to leave your name, email address, and word count for me at the end of your story. I have to have all these things, especially the email addy to contact the winner. :)

The contest will run from Wednesday 12 AM Eastern (U.S.) to 11:59 PM Eastern (U.S.). Make sure to get your story in before closing! Any posted after 11:59 PM will not be entered. I'll announce the winner Thursday on this blog post, the Beachwalk Press Readers' Group and will also email the winner by Thursday evening.

And what does the winner receive? The above nifty button to show off where ever they darn well please and bragging rights that they told a fantastic story in 250 words or less! :)

(FYI All stories submitted are the intellectual property of the authors.)
 
 
You must include the exact words in the writing prompt above. It can be anywhere in the story, as long as it's in there.
 
This contest is open to everyone, now blow me away with your awesome stories!

3 comments:

  1. He walked through the door and approached the bed with shuffling footsteps. She stared, trying to figure out how this was possible. The things they told her, the things she had seen, words that created the mantra that had been replaying in her mind for weeks:

    Your life is over.

    “How are you here?”

    He looked at her, a deep sadness in his eyes that made her heart melt where it stuttered in her chest. But he didn’t speak.

    “They said…I saw you...”

    He stared at the tattered shirt that barely covered a body that was more familiar to her than her own, confusion rushing across his face in waves that were nearly palpable. He looked up, desperation in the unasked questions in his eyes. But then his expression softened as he let his gaze move over the curves of her face, the tear stains that suddenly seemed unnecessary.

    She reached out her hand and he took it, allowed her to pull him down onto that bed designed for two.

    “I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered.

    He answered with a kiss that stole everything from her soul.

    Laura
    188 words
    laurabethpeters@yahoo.com

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    Replies
    1. Wonderful! Thanks for sharing with us :D

      Delete
  2. (non-entry)
    He stared at the tattered shirt. It wasn’t much so why did it mean everything?

    “We have to go.” The words were somewhere between anger and a plead, yet his feet wouldn’t budge. The muted red scrap of material was caught on crumpled cement pillars of what had once been a highway overpass. Such a small shirt—the child couldn’t have been more than four or five years old.

    “John, we have to go.” This time hands grabbed him, dragging him away from the heartbreaking sight. The sound of helicopters filled the air, a steady chop chop chop that rattled his nerves. Were they friend or foe? Did he even know the difference anymore? Did anyone know the difference?

    The two of them stumbled along, noses and mouths hidden behind strips of cloth. Dust and smoke still burned their unprotected eyes. Will we get cancer from the fall out? A laugh welled up then burst from his lips, and his companion shot him a stern look. Like they’d live long enough to find out.

    Olivia Starke
    174 words
    Oliviastarke@ymail.com

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