Final flash fiction contest results

 

Even after letting these sit overnight, it was close to impossible to choose just one.

 

You like doing this to me, don't you? I can just imagine the huddled conferences on Carkoon where you plot and plan and connive.

 

Everyone making good use of adaxial was just icing on the revenge.

 

 

BUT, the real question is: do you want a flash fiction contest this coming weekend?

It is after all, some sort of obscure holiday.

 

Let me know in the comments section.

 

******

 

 

Several of you mentioned Nate Wilson's entry was your choice, so I've added his to the list. Think of this as the People's Choice Award!

 

Nate Wilson

Mama always said Dusty was destined for big things. Ever since he arrived at 14lbs and she gave him a wide birth. (Her words, not mine.)

After enlisting, he learned how ships affect ocean ecology; it rattled him to his Marine core. (For him, “Semper fidelis” pertained to all God’s creatures.) They’d shaped Dusty, but he was rotten to the corps--portrayed them as a cancer.

And whaddya know, cancer sells. His crew overran the base; other supporters formed cells down the river, giving Dusty complete berth control.

Bastard. Now my unit’s entire arsenal points his way.

Big things, indeed.

 

 

A very clever use of prompt words indeed.

 

 

NLiu

 

The corpse washed in with the evening tide and berthed on the hardcore spit: an incongruous, deliquescing monster.

 

Barnet wept for joy. Home was a frigid cell, spouse and child lost to the iron winter. But here was meat, oil. Even the bones would sell. Silver and heat for a few days’ butchery.

 

He hacked and wrestled. Blood froze on his oilskins.

 

But his hands met – how could this be? The torn monster gushed, birthed a fishtail, slippery and warm. And a mer-child smiled in his arms. Tiny fingers closed round his. Her eyes were an ocean; his heart, becalmed.

 

Did anyone else have to look up deliquescing?

I love finding new words!

 

 

Tim Lowe

 

Two detectives survey the murder scene.

 

“Sweet suite.”

 

“Why groom this particular groom?”

 

“He’s a Baron.” The first detective examines the broad axial symmetry of the blood spatter on the wedding bed. “Her third marriage. Barren.”

 

“You’re kidding. No kids?”

 

“Gave birth a wide berth. What happened to the second husband?”

 

"Dishonorable discharge. He illegally discharged his weapon.”

 

The first detective plucks an eagle-shaped pin from the carpet.

 

The other grunts. “Seal of a SEAL.”

 

“Hard core, that corps. Murder weapon?”

 

“Battery with a battery.”

 

“The lobby sells D-cells!”

 

High-fiving, Detectives Homograph and Homophone depart to check the surveillance cameras.

 

 

 

S.D.King

“Happy Birthday. You’re gonna love these books!”

 

“Thanks. No spoilers. I haven’t read any of these.”

 

“Jane’s a heavy sleeper. Edward dies in the fire.”

 

“Don’t. I said no spoilers.”

 

“Yosarrian loves the corps. Montag resells the books on eBay and Jose Arcadio names his kid George.”

 

“Why’re you doing this? I’ve given you a wide berth, but this is mean.” (Fingers in ears) “LA LA LA LA”

 

“Hester never gave birth. Moby was an albacore tuna. Hercule’s little cells were purple.”

 

“Stop! You know better!”

 

“Then you stop telling me who gets sent home on Great British Baking Show.”

 

I was kinda pleased with myself that I could spot most of the "spoilers."

And yes, DEATH to people (notably on Twitter) who spoil the results of the GBBS!

 

 

Steve Forti

 

At birth life’s a gift. Everything’s new, but it’s scary.

At five, those core pillars of you start to form.

At twelve, it’s sex cells and meiosis to study. Each day a new lesson.

Eighteen the corps calls, citing duty and honor. You listen, you’re brave, you can kill the Others.

Twenty-one. Maybe. You’re angry, alone. Hungry and broke, but you remember that lesson: sex sells.

Twenty-three. Desperate for that feeling when life had axial rotation, something to base your world around. Then you feel the swell in your belly.

At birth life’s a gift. Everything’s scary, but it’s new.

 

Nice twist! 

And honestly, I'm getting a complex about how nimbly you thwart me, Mr. Forti.

 

 

KAClaytor

 

“You got a corpse for sale?”

 

Corey didn’t look up. He’d had to dismember the guts of yet another, this one evidently the result of fire.

 

“The sign outside says, ‘C. Ellsworth, Necromancer’,” the man continued

 

“Neuromancer,” Corey replied, setting down the burnt-out CPU, before looking at the man in the doorway. He was giant, with a dent in his face as though he’d been dropped at birth. “Dude, this is the IT department.”

 

“There’s no dead people?”

 

“Who sells dead people!”

 

“I was told I couldn’t come back without one,” the man replied. “I guess you’ll have to do.”

 

Nice twist!

 

 

KL Sullivan

 

From his cushy berth aboard his soon to be repo’ed luxury 757, he hatched a plan.

 

It was the birth of a tremendous idea, phenomenal. Greater than Einstein, Newton, all those geniuses.

 

There will be abs of steel, core strength like you wouldn’t believe. Heroic poses. They’ll lap it up. Esprit d’corps and red meat for his millions, with millions for him. They’ll all be on their cells shouting you gotta get some of these before he sells them all!

 

Digital NFTs at 99 bucks a pop? It’s bigger than the entire Earth turning on its adaxial.

 

Nice topical reference.

What I find hugely amusing about this whole thing is that DT licensed his name and "likeness" to the company that made these "trading cards." DT may have gotten a nice upfront fee and a cut of the proceeds, but some clever entrepreneur is raking in the bucks.  Although I do like the idea it's a money laundering scheme too.  I think I read too much crime fiction.

 

 

 

Beth Carpenter

 

Harry started the autoclave. “It could work, but where would I get the raw materials?”

 

Maisy repositioned a slide under her microscope. “You could collect them from a corpse, or from afterbirth.”

 

“Ick.”

 

“Baby.” She checked another slide. “How about the amber theory? Fossil bone marrow and all that.”

 

“Sounds hard.”

 

She snorted. “Are you trying to be funny?”

 

“I’ll try harder next time. Any other bright ideas?”

 

Maisy produced a business card. “If you’re willing to spring for 2000 units, try her.”

 

“Sally Schwann. Biotech supplies? She can get what I need?”

 

“Absolutely. Sally sells T-cells by the C-score.”

 

ohh ouch Beth!!!

Great wordplay though!

 *****

 

It's one of those oddities of these flash fiction contests that the entry I read and thought "aha! that's it!" the first time through is exactly the one that did win this week.  That doesn't happen often, but in this case NLiu is indeed the winner.

 

NLiu drop me a line and let me know what book to send!

 

Thanks to al of you who took the time to write and post entries.

I love reading your work.