Writing contest final results

 Here are the final contest results from this weekend's Triple Threat Flash Fiction contest

Special recognition for using words I had to look up

Lucy Crow 2:39pm

bedight

Amy Schaefer 9:57am

Acheron

Steve Forti Award for dexterity with prompt words

Steve Forti 9:05am

 low rents, fade at home, hombre wranglin, 

To be eligible for this award you have to underline the prompt words in your entry. 

Special recogniton for a great line

Cheryl 10:10am

The first Valentine’s party over, streamers dripped from the walls, the buffet, puddling on the floor like so much discarded happiness.

Just Jan 3:06pm

And a bottle of Jack Daniels reclines, soberly, on the bare floor.

A line that should be required in all future manuscripts

Steve Forti 9:05am

Embiggen the wall

Great metaphor

Michael Seese 9:10am

"a freshly brewed cup of happy"

Not quite a story but superlative writing

Timothy Lowe 9:50am

Lucy Crowe 2:39pm

Kimber 6:17am

Four line perfection

Claire Bobrow 10:05am

She stirred the non-dairy creamer. Nasty stuff.
“Covers the taste,” he said. “You trying to kill me?”
They both had a laugh,
As he clutched his throat.

Example of something that's very well written, but I don't quite understand

MeganV 8:36am

Death can throw a wrench into any man’s plans, but on days like today I swear the cowl-wearing creep has it in for me. Put it this way.
Death of a coffeemaker? No brew.
Death of a tranny? No truck.
Death of a digger? No crew.
Death of a Salesman? No fuck.
All in all a sucky day.
That’s about all I can say.
Or it’s all I would have said, and I could have let it go.
But when Death tries earning street cred with the Devil, the scythe drops hard.
Death of a proposal? No ring.

Here is the long list of finalists

Kitty 9:12am

“Father is threatening to shoot my low-rent brother, Benny,” said Mr. Brewster.

“Low-rent?” said the Sheriff.

“Father calls him a low-rent joyride athlete, because Benny is-- was-- a male prostitute. He says he’s retired.”

“Sounds like he has a problem with Benny’s lifestyle.”

“Father’s indignant about it, but that’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

“Benny has written a salacious memoir, pornographic yet surprisingly literate for him, and…”

“And your father doesn’t want it published.”

“Oh no, on the contrary. Father’s a publisher. Benny’s book would make a lot of money. But purely out of spite, Benny decided to self-publish.”

I love how Kitty used the prompt words here very deftly.
And of course, it's hilarious to touch on the theme of self-publishing.
This made me laugh out loud.

PAH 9:30am

She looked different in death. Was her hair always so red?
Of course, she wasn’t dead. Not really.
A bullet could stop her like a wrench could fix a broken heart.
She’d been my partner. And I loved her. Once.
That was before she was bit.

There’s a Hebrew phrase: gam zu l'tova.

The stake fit my hand. Or, perhaps, my hand had molded to fit the stake.
I raised it and plunged it into her heart, digging it into her chest.
There was no cry of agony. No hellish scream. No death-rattle.
Oops, I thought. Wrong funeral home.

Oops indeed. I really love this little twist at the end. 
And the "A bullet could stop her like a wrench could fix a broken heart." is pure James M. Cain
and that's saying something.

Amy Schaefer 9:57am

Our job: guard the gate. But our passion: helping people. Even today, with our guts a witches’ brew of expired burritos and cherry cheesecake, we succeeded.

“Let me pass,” she begged. “He’s in there.”

We squirmed, trying to avoid the indignity of shitting ourself. What a predicament. Her wrenching sobs tugged our heartstrings, but the rules stipulated: souls only.

The perfect idea.

We mauled her.

Her shade stared at the chunky mess oozing over the rocks.

“Welcome,” we said, moving aside. “Enjoy your death.”

We trotted away and gratefully squatted over the Acheron. “Cerberus,” we chuckled, “you’re a good dog.”

It's a distinct pleasure to have an entry that is set in Hell. And one that involves my favorite doggie, Cerberus.  And this story is gruesome and hilarious, and that's a pretty good trick to accomplish in 100 words.



Susan 10:02am

“One last game?”

Lawrence looked up. At the bar sat a familiar face, flushed beneath the indigo light advertising a glowing deal on craft brew. He nodded towards the vacant poker table.

“You look tired,” Lawrence said. “More tired than the last time.”

“It’s been a while.” Death picked up his cards.

“Eighty-one years. You took my dog.”

“Saved you, didn’t I?”

“Not this time?”

Death threw a red poker chip into the mix. “Afraid not.”

Lawrence sighed. “Yeah, alright. Call it.”

“Not to worry, kid. It’s a full house by now.”

Lawrence grinned and took his hand. “Damn straight.”  

I love the clever play on words at the end.
And the story is both poignant and pointed.

Dena Pawling 12:50pm

Mildred finished digging and smoothed the dirt. Good riddance.

Back inside, her alarm chimed. They're almost here!

She grabbed a wrench. “This'll do,” she said, hammering.

Pictures hung, she shoved dirty clothes under the bed, dirty dishes in the oven.

To cover the deathly stench, she opened a window and brewed some coffee. That's better.

Social services arrived. “Where's Charlie?”

“At a friend's house today. Active boy,” Mildred said, laughing.

He scanned the house. “You've cleaned up quite a bit since last month.” He jotted notes, took photos. “I'll close your case. Congratulations.”

Mildred smiled. Free at last.

oh sweet mother of garamond, this made me reach for a restorative cup of cocoa. Emergency cocoa! Honestly this is Shirley Jackson stuff here, and I may never sleep again.
Brilliant writing, just brilliant.

katie 3:13pm

Digging in Joe's drawer for his utility knife I find diamond earrings. They look expensive and they aren't mine - my tastes run fake and ironic. I put them in my ears anyway because I'm not stupid; they might be useful where we're going. The storm's still brewing when I run out and I smell death, animal or marital, rising in the yard. Wren promised she'd fit me in the car but she takes one look at me and locks the doors. "Can't take you no more, Freddie, those are my earrings and you know it."

Oh how I love the twist to our expectations here! Very deft.

RosannaM 4:09pm

Washing machine came on again—the TV told it to.
I’m sure of it.

My phone brewed a pot of coffee at three a.m. and a Sousa march on repetitive loop kept me awake. I punch the digital display on the furnace but it remains frozen at sixty. As do I.

The appliances are taking over.
Can’t unplug them—they’re hard-wired.

Technology now renders us obsolete.

They said it would advance us, and it did for a while, but it has surpassed us and will cause the death of the human race.

I’m sure of it.

This is deeply disturbing and beautiful all at the same time.
The perfection of this entry is we the readers don't know what's real and what isn't.
This is sublime.

Scott G 11:44pm

We stood at the alter and my heart wrenched as I watched her walk down the aisle.

I’ve loved her since we were five, next door neighbors digging in the sandbox.

I loved her in high school, talking on the phone late at night until mom poked her head in my room and gave me the death-stare.

I loved her in college, bar hopping, drinking brews and throwing darts until last call.

The reverend turned to me. “The rings, please.”

My face reddened as I dug the symbols of faithfulness out of my pocket and gave them to my brother.

And speaking of twists on reader expectations!
I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry here.
Either emotion though; the writing makes you feel something intensely which is terrific.

John Davis (Manuscript) Frain 2:16pm

Whiskered postal worker reads the label on the package. Looks up. You get this a lot.

“Your name is …”

“Death. Rhymes with teeth.”

Whiskers nods. Indignant. “’Course it does. Noel. Rhymes with asshole.”

You don’t argue. He’s accurate.

“If I can just get my package…”

He shakes his head. And the box. “Sorry.”

Noel does rhyme with – you stop yourself.

“Says there’s a bomb inside.”

“Excuse me?” Category 5 headache begins brewing.

“Right here.” He points at lip balm.

You begin to understand the idiom going postal. You leave. Find Wren at home. Tell her, “We’re joining Amazon Prime.”

This just plain cracked me up.


It took some serious contemplation but in the end I went for the entry that was utterly distinct:

RosannaM 4:09pm

It didn't sound like anything we've seen before, and it was highly imaginative. Gorgeous work.

RosannaM if you'll send me your preferred mailing address, I'll get Loretta's books in the mail to you!
 

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And we have last week's caption contest too!
Bad bad contest manager for not announcing the winner in a more timely fashion.

Just a reminder, here are the finalists:

Melanie Sue Bowles 11:44am

Kiss me, you fool

Amy Schaefer 12:01pm

It's my turn with the new Otter book!

Michael Seese 1:02pm

Admit it.
No.
Admit it.
No!
ADMIT IT!
OK. I kissed a dog once.
EEEEEWWWWW!

Kate Higgins 3:08pm

No, I say, I cannot let you go to that place! It's a dangerous place for newbie mewies and it is run by a demanding evil queen named DOY. Only a few kittas have been released!

"What's it called?"

"Catkoon!"

Mark Ellis 4:01pm

Look, I've told you again and again. Funny is good, but not enough. It has to be a story.

Carolynnwith2Ns 5:46pm

Two's company three's a cattastrophy.

I loved all of these entries, but in the end, I had to surrender to Her Grace, The Duchess of Yowl's imperious demand that the entry in which she appears is CLEARLY superior to anything, particularly those that mention DOGS, so the winner is 

 
Kate Higgins 3:08pm

Kate if you'll email me with your preferred mailing address, and the kinds of books you like to read, we'll send you a prize!

Thanks again to all of you who took the time to write and enter. Your talent amazes me. It scares me too, but really, amazing is the best word here.