Flash Fiction is a type of writing that I have only recently begun to try. I am not sure how long it has been around, but there certainly seems to be an epidemic of it – competitions, flash fiction websites, festivals, articles about how to write the best, what it truly involves etc etc – so that if you write it is hard to escape the feeling that you should really be having a go …
And, of course, to state the absolute obvious, it doesn’t take up a huge amount of time to try.
So if the main work in progress is stuck in a seemingly insurmountable pit of problems yet the urge to write is strong, the guilt when not writing haunts, a quick bit of flash fiction could be the answer.
So far, in these novice days of writing Flash Fiction, I have tried several 500 word pieces, a 350 and, this week, a more economical 100 word effort.
Discovering Friday Flash Fiction – an online site of – well, yes, flash fiction inviting 100 word pieces on a Friday – I thought I would have a try. I wrote this piece in ten minutes or so and submitted it last Friday to FFF – where it can now be found online.
But you can read it here!
AT THE CAFE
Thin, blanched face, eyes pale and staring, legs ungainly sprawled across the floor as if redundant, loosed from purpose, he talks.
And his voice is loud, lacks nuance, variation, ill adapted to the space. The place. The other tables busy themselves. People resort to newspapers, books, screens, phones. Each other. Attempts to diffuse a situation they find faintly embarrassing. Resorting to distractions from something they are ashamed to confront.
Not the young man with the insistent, strident voice, the body of late adolescence, the understanding of a very young child.
But their own discomfort.
Their inability to embrace such difference.