I was reading about Ernest Hemingway the other day. There is a story that he bet some friends ten dollars that he could tell a story in six words. Papa turned in this, “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” His colleagues paid up.
That would become what is called “ short short fiction” or “flash fiction.”
It seemed that it would be a fun challenge. I decided to give it a go. It’s much more challenging than it seems.
These are some of my “flash fiction.”
Longed to have her. Bad idea.
Ninth inning, two outs, pitch thrown.
We killed Mum. She’s a zombie.
Lottery was won. Money now gone.
At the crossroads, the deal was offered. (I cheated a bit there, that’s seven words.)
A play happening, Booth lurked behind.
He sent weekly letters to her.
The gun fired, it was accidental.
He tread water as sharks circled.
And my favorite;
After she died, the cats feasted.
Sure, not quite the poetry of Hemingway’s, but to quote the chimney sweep Bert in Mary Poppins, “they’re better than a finger in the eye.”
Well, maybe they are.
Good night and good luck.