Results for The Brrrrrr-ing It On Flash Fiction writing contest!

Ok, this is the LAST TIME I'm using blood as a prompt word. You guys just went to The Dark Side as one! Next contest: puppies! kittens! bunnies! Fluffy chicks! rainbows!

Words I had to look up: puissant (Sousbois96)

diffind (Leilani)

bergamot (Dan Castro)

Aw geeze Kregger!

YIKES!

I can't think of another entry that I just could not read, but this one with the gore...OWIE! Did you conspire with Kate Higgins? Another one that left me shielding my eyeballs.

I'm a sucker for second person narrative. Mat Thorne did a great job with that.

Mallory Love's great pairing: Places where in our teenage years we tested the thrill of forbidden love. Places where it later tested us.

Great first line:

John Davis Frain

I took Mom to dinner every Sunday until she killed me.

Dan Castro cracked me up with this:

I despise acronyms. Am I the Titan Hurling Oversized Relics?

Steve Forti

>>o bill. i feel so sick about our fight. im sorry ☹ ill be better. promise. ur love language may be ‘words of affirmation’, but I hate a realization that its a language me no hablo. o dear, ill try. i think about u 24-7. ur always on my mental radar. kill me and put me in a coffin - dying would be better than losing u. don’t give up, babe. give me another chance. i luv u.

>>>>Lady, for the last time. You have the wrong number. I am not Bill.

>>o. nvm
>>actually… u single?

I just surrender.

Honestly, uvula? In THREE words?

We have met the prompt word wrangler master and his name is Forti.

Here's the long list:

Madeline Mora-Summonte

Moonlight slashes the alley's dark throat. The words – LUV U LARA - are so fresh, so raw they weep. Tears glisten, drop, pool.

Here, finally, is proof of Craig's unwavering devotion.

Lara will find it first thing when she opens the diner that morning.


*****


Lara watches the police cover Craig's body, the bloody message on his chest. Her co-workers chatter, approve.

"Oh, hon, what a relief this stalker nightmare is over."
"Cops finally got their proof."
"Dude carved himself up like a turkey!"

The police bag the knife. Lara smiles.

The cook will never even notice it's gone.

Timothy Lowe

Jimmie was born with a teardrop-shaped heart -- inverted, with only one ventricle. Aorta ripe like a stem, pumping blood to his feet.

His words came out sideways. Thick. Muddy. Uvula-engorged things.

Edward scissor-words, they called him.

Until the slam poetry contest.

Jimmie closed his eyes. Listened to the reverse ricochet of his heart.

Spoke.

“Fairies of dust, muzzles of gold, I have a heart that can hear, an ear that eats art.”

*Cheering*

*Applause*

But it wasn't poetry. It was how he communicated.

Weeping, he stumbled off into the dark, to find somebody who understood.

frenchsojourn

“A plastic eating enzyme…good Christ,” Alex said, he leaned down to pat Ranger. He surveyed the darkened city ahead, hopes of finding supplies were bleak.

“Seriously, wouldn’t such an ungodly creation raise a red flag?” Ranger as usual, didn’t say a word, he just gave a slight wag.

After the enzyme escaped containment it traveled the country. It developed an appetite for telephone and power lines. The grid was lost, governments fell, and then the blood flowed. It only took three weeks to tear the world apart.

“How will humanity ever survive without knowing what’s up with those frickin' Kardashians?”

Leilani

Here will do. At a word, the heavens diffind. I step through the tear, wondering again what men see. Skies deforming? Wormwood falling? Might they - just a glimpse - see me?

That he has withheld. I have not been seen for millenia. Nor may I touch -

"Cool!"

"How'd you do that, mister?"

I whirl. Two boys, eyes awe-stretched.

Impossible.

But wait. Around me, imperatives crumble. The pit is opening. I unfold across the hills. Fear springs deliciously; still, I hesitate. Once, adulation was as sweet as blood.

Eternity looms.

Wings blot out the darkening sun as I slake my thirst.

Katelyn Yaeger

They’d covered the body quickly, but she’d already seen him. Even in the dark, she’d known the bloodied, boyish face. Young, determined, stupid Jimmy. She’d always said his findings would get him killed… all his ramblings about a killer with incredible powers. Inhuman strength. Flight. Heat vision. She’d thought him delusional. Clearly he’d known something.

Clark had pulled her away wordlessly, holding her as the shock hit. No tears from him, but he’d seen death before. She told herself it made sense. It should have.

Except Jimmy had warned her.

"You’ll need kryptonite, Lois. Luthor will help.
Don’t trust Clark."

luralee kiesel

Photo: three of us on the teacup ride.
I resist the urge to tear it up.
-Garbage

From the one who never said the words: plush message cat proclaims “wuv u”
Later, Garfield!
-Garbage
No
-Goodwill
No
-Re-gift!
*Find box with silver bow

Dress you borrowed for our double date.
-Goodwill
You were right, it did look better on you.

Ugly “Best Sister Ever” mug
-where did I put that box*

Invitation, dreaded words embossed in dark blue
-Garbage
?
-Nah,
Blood should be thicker than water, but when he dumps you for your sister they deserve each other.

Barbara

The gopherwood ark teetered atop the mountain.

"Please," Noah coaxed his cockatoo. "You can do it. T. U. V."

"Ulamas."

Noah banged his fist. His cup of tea rattled. His shark-fin dumplings fluttered like a flag. "If you can say words, you can say W. Forty days we've been at this. Forty nights. It's W. W, W, W, you bloody beast!"

Knock, knock.

Noah glanced at the door. "Who's there?"

God spoke. "Ulamas."

"Ulamas who?"

"You llamas stink," God laughed. The cockatoo snickered. "Open the doors and let them out."

Noah groaned. No wonder the world had gone to hell.

Amy Johnson

That morning’s test confirmed it. He’d be surprised. Thoughts of indelible times filled her mind.

No more Bloody Mary. She made a cup of tea. Raspberry Rapture. The label’s wording struck her: A Bright New Day Awaits.

He wouldn’t be home until dark. She’d go clothes shopping, get her hair cut. Something different. Would coloring be safe?

That afternoon, she saw him approaching the front steps. He was early and carried a bouquet. She should have considered the possibility, after last night. He spotted her. She shoved the suitcase into the cab, jumped in.

“Get back here!” he yelled. “Mary!”

KDJames

Never much use as a guard dog, ol' Shep sure had a nose for finding lost things.

My old leather work gloves.

A favorite hunting knife.

A tore up old oil- and blood-stained tarp.

The tattered duffel Betsy packed the day she tearfully told me she was leavin'.

Pure shame the mutt piled his muddy finds in a dark heap on the front porch the very night old Sheriff Brody came by, hawking phlegm past a chaw-coated uvula, offering condolences after word got 'round that my wife done run off.

Fucking clever dog, that Shep. Loyal to the end.

Here's the short list

Lennon Faris

My teens blacktop ice skate with Annie. I load groceries, chatting with Annie’s mom. Last bag tears.

Bagger appears, snatching up cans. Dull eyes find mine –dark eyeliner, greasy hair, blood-drop tattoos.

“Thanks,” I smile.
Loping, wooden gait.
“Pariah’s in Annie’s class, on meds,” whispers Annie’s mom. “Never talks. Check your bags.”

Loaded, backing up, music blaring.
Teenagers fighting in back seat.
BANG-BANG!
Pariah’s double-fisting my window! Eyes ferocious!
Gun it! I think.

I think?

Slam brakes. Music off.
Screaming? –a girl.

Hands shaking. Teens untangle Annie’s coat from my door. Annie’s OK. Mom’s hysterical.

Pariah’s gone.
No talking needed.

I'm in awe of writers who can delicately spin the negative space of what's NOT on the page so deftly.

Tara Tyler R

“Dad! My uvula is bleeding!”

Five words I never wanted to hear. Kylee’s still a little girl.

I find my daughter’s bathroom door in the dark. What the hell am I supposed to say?

“Dad? What do I do? There’s blood everywhere! Dad?”

“I’m here, honey. It’s your time of the month.”

“My what? You mean my period? Oh yuck... Fine.”

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” God, I wish her mother was here.

“I got it.” I hear her sniff back a tear. “You can go back to bed.”

I rub my head. I’ll never sleep again. 

I'm always a sucker for misused words that make the story so clever. This is a great example of that. Plus, can't you just feel the emotion here? GREAT writing.

Michael Seese

I’d paid the rent early. Can't have the landlord barging in and spoiling the surprise.

I’d donated blood, twice, the second time using a fake ID. “Always giving. Too much.”

I’d re-read the letters, and caressed the old photos, desperate to find some reason to stay.

I had none left.

Lying there, transfixed by the dark snake slithering through the cool water in the tub, I was surprised it didn't hurt more. Sleepy now, my eyes fell upon the angry words, written—as always—in lipstick on the mirror and, below them, my terse reply.

“My final gift to you.”

 Took me two reads to see what was happening here.

Do you get it?

Marie McKay

They have her word. Tears roll down my daughter's cheeks. My thumbs trace "sorry" on her swollen face.

WHOOPS from the boys crash through the windows. They play rough and loud. Bloodied knees and chins and teeth. Deep cuts left to gape and scar.

I don't distract her from her rage. Distraction is a lie. Instead, I find her hand and make my silent vow.
"I know they took it, your first word. And they took hers... and hers... and mine. But we'll unpick the dark threads rendering us closemouthed and instead stitch together our voices. You have my word.'

This is just stunning.

CynthiaMc

"Find me in the dark, Baby."

Those were the last words Mommy said to me. I've been looking for her ever since.

Now here she was at my window.

"You're crying," she said.

"You always used to kiss my tears away."

"Let me in, Baby."

"Mommy...there's blood on your face."

"Wipe it off for me, Baby."

"Daddy said no."

"Daddy isn't here. Do you miss me, Baby?"

"All the time."

"You don't have to any more. Take the garlic off, Baby. Do it for Mommy."

 If I'd been wearing sox when I read this, they'd have flown across the room.

This is just stunning. So simple, and yet, not at all.

Did you notice a theme in the short list this time?

Parents and kids.

And all lady finalists except Michael Seese.

I'm having a VERY hard time choosing the winner. (No surprise there!)

I'm going to post this now (11pm Sunday) and then take a look again tomorrow morning.

Let me know what you think in the meantime! 

UPDATE:
I took a couple more spins through the short list, and honestly, all these entries are just wonderful.
I cannot choose between subtle and funny, dark and elegant, and the ones that crack me up even as tears come to my eyes.  To say any one of these is better than the other is crazypants.

And you know what? I have FIVE books to give away.

How about everybody wins?
Prizes will be given in the order of when I get your email saying which book you want.

The choices are:  

The Word is Murder by Anthony Horowitz
Tear it Down by Nick Petrie
When You Find Me by PJ Vernon
Blood Orange by Harriet Tyce
Out of the Dark by Gregg Hurwitz

PLUS
St. Nicholas Salvage and Wrecking by Dana Haynes!!




And yes, I can mail overseas! 

My email: JetReidLiterary/gmail

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